Yet, everything seems to matter.
Everything seems more important now. I can’t explain it, and I have no clue what to do with it. All I know is that I can’t deny there is something here with her. It’s more than this curse connecting us. It’s greater than anything I’ve ever known.
Astra has the power to undo me, but I also think she is the key to everything I’ve been missing.
TWENTY
Astra
I’ve been wandering the house most of the day.
To say my head’s been a mess and I haven’t had enough things to distract me from my thoughts would be an understatement.
I think I’m still trying to process what happened this morning. I went from nearly dying at the hands of Donovan to figuring out I’m a natural-born caster and didn’t even know it.
Then it went completely haywire. I don’t even know how to describe what happened between us, but it felt like the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced. Just thinking about it makes me blush. And I don’t even think the sexual part of it was the most intimate moment of the encounter. He let me in. For a brief moment, his guard was down, and he was, for lack of a better word, mine.
All mine.
I had him completely in that moment.
I’m still not sure what to do with it or how to act when I see him again.
Which will be… who knows?
After he held me for a long time, it was like neither of us wanted to be apart. So he kissed me and I kissed him back. And when he shifted me in his lap until I was straddling him, I took him in slowly, riding him until he snapped. It wasn’t enoughthat I was wearing his seed before, he wanted me filled with it. Believe me, I was happy to let him.
When it was all over, he gathered himself and insinuated that he had things he needed to do, effectively shutting down our private moment. He seemed distracted as he promptly escorted me out of his office, but not before making sure I was fully clothed again. I wouldn’t even dream of him trusting me enough to leave me in his office unattended. While I headed down for breakfast, he stayed in his office with Torrin for a couple of hours. When he finally emerged form his office only to leave the house, he stopped long enough to look at me. I hadn’t been sure if he was trying to silently communicate with me or daring me to say something. It was very confusing.
Was he angry at me? At himself? Conflicted about what happened this morning? Was he surprised at how things had taken a turn?
Not having the answers has only added to the things I’m stressing out over.
I look out the window. The storm has been raging all day, which has forced me to stay inside. Definitely not helping with the whole walls-are-closing-in-on-me thing. I could really use some fresh air.
I end up in the kitchen, seeing as that is where most of the life in this house seems to be coming from.
“Can I help?” I ask excitedly when Lucille doesn’t look like she’s going to shoo me away immediately. However, I’m not sure what I can really do. I’m not good in the kitchen.
“No,” she says with a serious shake of her head. Did I insult her? “Sit.” She points with a huge chef’s knife at one of the chairs under the expansive kitchen island.
I do as she says with a smile. At least I’m not alone anymore, and maybe she’ll talk to me so I won’t be as bored.
And that’s how I learn a little bit about the woman who has known Donovan as long as Torrin, if not longer. While she doesn’t tell me any embarrassing stories or talk about the things she’s probably not supposed to talk about, she does leave me with a sense of knowing her. Of seeing why Donovan has kept her close all these years, and why—whether or not he will admit it—he cares about her.
Donovan arrives back right as I’m starting to feel drained and weak. I can tell it’s affecting him too by the dark circle under his eyes and the grumpy expression on his face. Torrin’s not far behind Donovan, looking irritated and worried.
I feel the tension in the air, and figure it’s best to stay silent as he goes stomping through the house, Torrin nearly his shadow. The moment Donovan notices me sitting at the island in the kitchen, he freezes. The homemade chicken tenders I ate an hour ago feel like lead in my stomach.
His hair hangs in soggy clumps around his face. Water goes flying as he scrapes his hair away from his eyes with one hand.
“I’m going,” Torrin tells Donovan’s back. His eyes connect with mine for a second before he turns to leave.
My attention is drawn back to Donovan.
It’s like nothing in the world exists but me. His eyes bore into me, relief becoming apparent the longer we breathe the same air. The ache in my bones begins to recede, and the bands around my heart ease.
Donovan scoops me up and carries me bridal style out of the room. He smells like tobacco and rain. His skin is cool as I loop my arms around his neck and hold on tight. My side is soaked in an instant. What’s he been up to? How long was he out in the storm?
