"Complicated," he finished.
"That's putting it mildly."
The walls had settled to a soft, steady rose. Notthe chaotic pink of earlier—this was quieter. More certain.
Margaret stood, satisfied. "Better. The binding is still there, but you're managing it instead of being managed by it." She looked between them with an expression Cassie couldn't quite read. "Fair warning—the more emotionally invested you become in each other, the harder it's going to be to break this cleanly."
"Is that a problem?" Cassie asked.
"That depends. Are you planning to keep him?"
The question hung in the air.
Liam's thumb brushed across her knuckles—a small movement, possibly unconscious, but it sent sparks down her spine.
"We should probably figure out how to break the binding first," she said quietly. "Before we make any other decisions."
"Aye. Probably wise."
But neither of them let go.
Margaret gathered her things, shaking her head with what might have been amusement. "I'll be back tomorrow. Try not to burn anything down tonight."
"No promises," Luna said from the doorway. "They're terrible at self-control."
"You're not helping," Cassie told her cat.
"I'm helpingreality. Again, lonely place."
After Margaret left, Cassie and Liam stayedwhere they were, hands still joined, the binding humming steadily between them.
"I should let go," she said.
"You should."
"In a minute."
"Aye. In a minute."
The walls pulsed softly. Rose-gold now. Warm and steady and absolutely refusing to be subtle about anything.
And somewhere in the kitchen, Jacques began humming a new tune—something slow and sweet and unmistakably romantic.
Cassie was definitely going to have words with that toaster.
Tomorrow.
5
ALMOST KISS. EMOTIONAL CRACK
Two weeks into magical cohabitation, and Cassie was starting to understand why witches historically lived alone.
It wasn’t Liam’s fault. Not entirely. He was a model houseguest, if you ignored the part where he hadn’t chosen to be there and couldn’t leave. He kept to his space, helped around the house, and only looked at her like she’d personally ruined his life about three times per day now instead of constantly.
Progress.
The problem was her own stupid heart, which had apparently decided that five years of emotional hibernation was enough and it was time to start wanting things again. Inconvenient things. Scottish things. Things that wore too-small shirts and made her coffee without being asked and sometimescaught her staring with an expression that made her forget how to breathe.
