Not to restrain. Or hurt. Just to claim the space between us.
Her pulse leaps against my palm like a struck match. Her thighs press subconsciously together. Her voice goes faint. “What… what are you doing?”
“Confirming something.”
Her lashes flutter. “C-confirming what?”
“That youfeelit.”
“Feel what?” she whispers.
“The pull.”
The bond. The tether. The magic that should never have touched me—let alone chosen me.
She shoves at my chest again. “Get away from me.”
I lean in, thumb stroking her pulse. “I don’t think you want that, sweetheart.”
Her breath catches. Her magic flares, brushing against my aura like a curious animal. “This is insane,” she mutters. “I don’t even know who you are.”
Good. That’s better.Safer.
But the bond squeezes hard, demanding the introduction. Demanding the connection. I give in. Just barely. “Like I said, I'm just Slade.”
The name rolls through the air like thunder. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating. She feels it. The click. The lock. The ancient recognition.
Fuck.
I pull back before I do something reckless—like push her onto the counter and taste that pink mouth.
She bolts toward the shop door. “I—I need to close. Now. I need air. I need…” She grabs her phone, throws up a post on her social media about a “family emergency,” and flips the sign to CLOSED.
Then she turns and points a shaking finger at me. “You’re not following me.”
I follow her anyway. Down the street. Through the cold. Up the stairs to her apartment. She keeps looking back like she expects me to vanish. Or… combust. Or explode into bat wings.
Cute.
She unlocks her door and steps inside. I cross the threshold—and something launches at me. A cat. Black. Round. Feral. It attaches itself to my boot like a tiny demon attempting murder. I stare down at it, bewildered confusion mixed with annoyance.
Seriously?
“Newt!” she shrieks. “Let go! He’s—he’s not a chew toy!”
“He attacked me,” I say flatly.
“You walked throughthe door!”
“That’s hardly justification.”
She runs to pry him off.
I lift the creature by the scruff, eye to eye. “You’re lucky she’s cute,” I inform him.
“HEY.” She snatches the cat away.
I step deeper into her apartment—warm, cozy, cluttered with books, plants, and blankets. Soft lighting, colors, and apparently a soft witch. It smells like vanilla, cinnamon, magic, and her. The bond twists in my chest—hard.
