The memory makes heat pool low in my belly, and I have to focus on keeping my magic contained as I walk into the dining hall for breakfast. Because apparently, that’s my life now—trying not to electrocute people while daydreaming about my secret boyfriend’s very thorough teaching methods.
“There’s my favorite witch.” Oliver’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as he slides an arm around my waist. “Ready for tonight?”
Right. The Halloween ball. The event I agreed to attend with Oliver while the man I’m in love with watches from across the room.
My stomach churns at the thought.
“Can’t wait,” I manage, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. Because even though Oliver Thorne isgorgeous, charming, and exactly the kind of guy I should want, he’s not Logan. Which makes every casual touch feel like a betrayal.
“You two are disgusting,” Evie teases as she approaches, but there’s something off in her tone, and her eyes don’t quite meet mine.
Does she know? Can she sense the lie I’m living?
Avery trails behind Evie, shooting daggers at me that could rival my electricity, and the chandeliers overhead flare to life.
Across the hall, the light above the fourth-year table pulses as well.
Logan.
My eyes find his, and the world narrows to just us.
The way he holds himself this morning—controlled violence barely leashed—makes him look devastating. His dark hair falls across his forehead as he leans back in his chair, the picture of casual indifference, but I know better. I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the table in a rhythm that matches my heartbeat.
His gaze drops to where Oliver’s arm wraps around my waist, his knuckles whitening as he grips his coffee mug. The intensity in his storm-gray eyes is just he had last night when he made me balance on the edge of release for what felt like hours, whispering in my ear about all the things he wanted to do to me once I learned proper control.
The memory sends electricity skittering along my spine, and I have to look away so I don’t light up like a human sparkler.
The sphere,I remind myself.Contain it in the glass sphere.
As always, it works.
I take a deep breath, centering myself. “We should head to our tables,” I say, needing distance from Oliver’s casual affection before the sphere cracks and I accidentally shock him.
Or before Logan sets him on fire from across the room, which looks like a real possibility right now.
Oliver turns so we’re facing each other. “I know you’re nervous about tonight,” he says, his eyes soft and full of understanding. “First official event as my date and all.”
Hisdate?
I still, frozen in place. He doesn’t think I’m his girlfriend because of this, does he?
Gods, I hope not. But he’s watching me, waiting for me to say something, so I reach for the simplest, most obvious response ever.
“I’m not nervous,” I lie.
“Your hands are literally shaking.” He catches one, steadying it. “But it’s just a dance. No pressure. We’ll have fun, I promise.”
The gentle way he holds my hand makes the guilt worse. Because he deserves someone who wants to be with him—not someone who’s counting down the minutes until she can sneak away to meet someone else.
“If you two are done making the rest of us nauseous,” Avery interrupts, and I’ve never been more grateful for her timing in my life, “we need to get to our tables now.”
Oliver releases me reluctantly. “I’ll see you after morning classes. We can go over costume details one more time.”
“Right. Costumes.” I’d almost forgotten we’re supposed to coordinate. He’s going as Hades, which makes me Persephone. “Sounds great.”
As we walk away, I risk a glance at the fourth-year table again. Logan’s not looking at me anymore, but I can still see the tension in his shoulders and the white-knuckled grip he has on his coffee mug.
“You okay?” Evie asks as we take our seats. “You seem... distracted.”
