Once Renata is settled behind me, I slip my own helmet on, throw my leg over my bike, and turn it on. She reluctantly reaches out, holding onto the back of my thick crewneck. Biting back a smirk, I grab her hands and pull them around to the front of my chest until they’re firmly around me.
She lets out a littlehmph,but interlaces her fingers anyway, holding tight.
Once I’m out of the property line and moving toward the main square, her grip tightens as I speed up. Whisper comes running out of the nearby treeline and catches up. Her fingers tickle my upper stomach, I drop my eyes for a second, catching the small wave Renata offers him. He lets out a happy yip in response and sprints faster.
It’s a short drive, but there’s a reason I chose to restore this old bike with the mechanic in Junimere rather than something more practical like Sybil’s choice.
It feels free—likeflying.
Despite calling it a death trap, I know Renata has spent her life searching for liberation, and I hope she finds the short-lived sensation on the back of my bike.
Within a few minutes, I’m pulling to a stop outside of the library and dismounting to help Renata do the same. The heat charm will only ward off so much of the chilly air, and I want to get her inside as soon as possible.
I have no idea what my plan is once I do. At the very least, I can let her look through the same books Sybil and I have had the opportunity to since none of the other witches have gone to the library since we moved in.
With my hands on her hips, I help her slide off, making sure she doesn’t burn her leg on the engine. A shiver racks down her body when I grab onto her waist. There’s a soft blush visible under the moonlight, but her arms immediately wrap around each other as she waits for me to take the helmet off. As much as I want to believe it’s solely because of my hands on her body, it’s partly because of the cold, night air.
“Let’s go inside,” I say and quickly lock both helmets in the rear basket.
She glances around the empty street but nods, following me up the stairs.
Chapter 31
Renata
Stepping through the doors of the library, I bite back my reluctant smile. Nothing about this night is what I expected. There’s even curiosity radiating off Hexate through our bond.
When Archer knocked on my door, I was flipping through Petra’s journal. I’d read it in its entirety already but wanted to go through it again in case I missed any small detail. With the full moon high in the sky, I knew sleep would evade me for at least a few more hours, and Nestor has been keeping a distance over the last few nights. It brought about a surprising wave of loneliness, but I understand why our new roommates might be stirring up old emotions.
I felt like someone was watching me, but with Nestor off on his own, it was impossible. When there was a quiet knock on my door, I figured it was Esme and Clover after hearing their giggles from the top of the staircase.
None of the witches have come to my room in the middle of the night, so I hurried, worried something was wrong. I wasn’t expecting Archer standing on the other side, a cocktail of hope and guilt in his eyes.
As much as I should hate the change of plans, I don’t.
Not even when I got on the back of his motorcycle. I’ve always been wary of them. Now, I find myself hoping to have the opportunity again. I made Rowyn reluctantly promise to keep him busy so I could breathe without the worry of running into him around every corner. The only reason she agreed is because I admitted that we spend every night together in our dreams.
It was enough to appease her. She’s done a miraculous job, despite Esme’s subtle actions to do the complete opposite. I’m skeptical to accept even a glass of water from her right now after her love potion joke—which reminds me to warn Archer about her possible antics.
There’s an equal chance he’d help her execute the whole thing.
The very idea should piss me off, but it doesn’t. Not that I want to be under the effects of a love potion, but Archer’s interest hasn’t wavered throughout his time at the inn.
A soft chuckle slips out at the thought of them scheming to get a love potion past me—much less Rowyn—at the same moment we get to the front desk. Swiftly, he pulls off his leather jacket, revealing a black short-sleeve button up underneath, throwing it on the counter. I don’t miss the curious, amused look he shoots me before schooling it into feigned innocence again.
He turns until he faces me directly. One arm is perched on the surface behind him, and the other is resting on his muscular, jean-clad knee. The sight of him is overwhelming, even weeks after seeing him for the first time.
Mix in his musky, dark scent, and the strong, calloused hands he always finds a reason to place on my body, and it’s addicting.
It’s exactly why I’ve put as much distance between us as I can.
“Where are the books?” I ask, taking a step forward and gazing at the empty countertop. I stop by his knees, not quite in the comfort of his open thighs, but close enough to siphon some of his warmth.
I was recklessly excited at the prospect of going on a late-night adventure with him that I didn’t think about changing into something warmer. It was stupid, really. At least I grabbed the cardigan Rowyn charmed when she first moved in.
He innocently smiles, making me squint in response. “Looks like Sybil restocked,” he says with a shrug. “Some of them will be up here in the main atrium. Most of the good stuff is in the basement.”
Rolling my eyes, I wave my arm in the air, directing him to the door to the restricted area. When he stands, he’s only inches from me, The one time I’m actively wishing he’ll touch me, he doesn’t. He turns on his heel and strides down the corridor.
