Unwanted Magical Beings.
Weapons.
None of them outright say ‘scythe,’ but it feels like there’s a strong possibility it could be in one of those categories.
“Where are we exactly?” I ask, flexing my fingers at my sides in an attempt to stop myself from running off toward the first row of books.
“In the restricted area,” Thorne explains, making my eyes widen even more as he confirms my suspicions.
“Assholes,” Ocean grumbles before she darts off to the Pre-Sanctum Era section without a backward glance, leaving just the two of us.
Gulping, I build the strength to tear my gaze away from Ocean, but I startle when my eyes latch back onto Thorne’s. He’s back to standing a wisp away from me.
I tuck a loose curl of purple hair behind my ear as I clear my throat. “Thank you,” I mumble, and he shrugs, digging his hands into his pockets.
“Whatever you need,” he states with a new air of confidence, and it makes my heart race.
“Are we doing that hot and cold thing again? Because I’d rather not. You stalked off from the dining hall like your ass was on fire earlier, and now I’m supposed to just guess that everything’s okay?” I blurt, unsure where the words are even coming from.
I might be confident enough to stand up for myself, but that’s my survival mode kicking in. Saying what I think when it feels like my heart is about to rip from my chest is something else entirely.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he agrees, eliminating the final distance between us, and I immediately go lightheaded as my chest burns. His eyebrows gather in just a way that makes me pause, wondering if he’s feeling it too.
It’s like I’m floating out at sea without a raft, ready to succumb to the pain in my chest, and he’s the lighthouse at shore, coaxing me to safety, but the lack of reliability of his offer makes me wonder if the light will stay on the closer I get.
So close, the pain is at its peak, but my heart continues to pound rapidly, pleading with me to eliminate the rest of the distance to soothe the burn inside.
Pressing my lips into a firm line, I slowly lift my hand, watching him watch me as I dare to touch his chest.
The second my fingertips touch his t-shirt, he stiffens, a groan parting his lips as my eyes widen. As promised, the burn in my chest turns into a different kind of heat. His jaw falls slack, leaving me desperate to know whether he feels the shift too, but my tongue doesn’t seem to work. Instead, his hands clasp onto my waist a moment later, his thumbs pressing even more firmly into my hip bone, and I shudder.
The room shifts, my entire focus on him as if nothing else exists. It’s like that exact moment when he saved me from Willow’s scratch across my face all over again.
He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, and I don’t know what I need to do to satiate my body.
Sensing my internal battle, he lifts one hand to my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine as his calloused thumb swoops across my skin.
He tilts his head forward.
Eyes fixed on my lips.
Another inch disappears.
My palms tingle against his chest.
His heart races under my touch.
Another inch disappears.
My eyes widen.
And my core heats.
Another inch disappears.
Our breaths mingle between us.
His lips are just a breath from mine.
