He’s hiding something from me, there’s a deeper reason why he has me in his house, why he tangled me up in this agreement,and I have to put that over my stupid hormones that need to get under control.
Like he knows I was thinking of him, he appears in front of me; I clutch my hand at my chest.
“Fuck. Can you make a little more sound when you stalk around?”
Warin clears his throat and sits next to me on the blanket without an invitation.
“I’ll work on making a little more noise next time,” he says sheepishly. “How is the spell coming?”
I blow my hair out of my face, holding the journal open.
“I didn’t know witches could specialize in magic that affected vampires so much.”
Warin nods. “Yes, well, I’m pretty sure a lot of vampires destroyed any evidence of this type of magic over the years. There were times vampires and witches loathed each other, especially in large cities. A lot of vampires are the reason witches were hunted. In the last fifty years or so, tensions between the two have turned into more of surviving the mass population of humans over fighting each other.”
“Why haven’t you destroyed these spells, then?” I question him.
“Maybe I’m more sentimental than you think,” he says with a wink and I shake my head.
“No, I don’t think that’s it.”
He sighs. “These grimoires. They belonged to a friend,” he says it like he didn’t want to be honest with me, like it pained him to tell me a truth about himself.
Why do I crave him being honest with me? It’s like I crave these small little secrets he’s willing to share, like it makes me special. It’s rather pathetic and I chastise myself.
“A witch was your friend?” I ask, and he barks out a laugh, making me jump, and I can’t help but smile. He’s got one of those laughs that makes you want to laugh along with him.
“I suppose friend is a strong word. She wanted them preserved, and so I preserved them.”
My cheeks heat. Did he used to date a witch? Why does it irritate me?
“Pauline probably hated me, no she absolutely hated me. I had only met her that night, but I felt like I owed her.”
“Why?”
“It was the least I could do.”
“Always so cryptic.”
“It’s a story I’ll tell you another day. When you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I say under my breath and he sits up straighter, adjusting his suit like he’s nervous.
I might be confused about how I feel about the secretive vampire, but it’s definitely not hate.
“You know a lot of…friendships”—I say friendships, because I’m not sure what other fucking word to use for the predicament I’ve found myself in—“start with sharing information about yourself. You know, honesty.”
“Honesty…I think I looked it up on the internet earlier, it’s an interesting concept.”
I roll my eyes at him and stare down at the spell, changing the conversation. It’s clear that Warin struggles with sharing information about himself. It makes me want to crack him open even more. What would it feel like for an immortal like Warin to trust me with his secrets?
“The basis of this spell reminds me a lot of memory retrieval, the way you’re looking into someone’s mind,” I tell him and he makes a noise of agreement.
I glance up at the moon, wondering if I should bring up that I’ll need to be with my coven in a few days. It’s a gorgeous spring night, the sky with scattered stars. It’s the type of night’s sky that makes you feel insignificantly small.
When I turn back, Warin is staring at me. I blush against my will.
“Have you retrieved someone’s memories before?”
