Halfway up, my phone vibrates. I stop so quickly on the stairs to check it, I nearly lose my balance. But it’s not Rowan.
Ryder: I just talked to Anna, and she said Rowan spent the night in the clinic? What the heck happened last night?
Kit: We broke the bond.
Ryder: Are you at the tea shop?
Kit: Yeah.
Ryder: I’ll be right over.
I plod up to the apartment, pull a towel from the linen closet, and am in the process of drying my wet hair when I hear the front door open.
“That was fast,” I mutter, my eyes on my phone as I walk down the stairs.
Still no message from Rowan.
Before I reach the back hall, a familiar voice calls, “Kit! Are you here?”
I take off at a run, coming to a stop when I spot Rowan in the middle of the tearoom. He pauses mid-stride, watching me warily, wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking a little rough around the edges. His shirt is wrinkled, his chocolate-brown hair is disheveled, and his gray eyes are worried.
I’ve never seen a more welcome sight.
“Hey,” he says softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “They said I had to wait for the doctor, and she wasn’t going to be in until nine. I was about to go out of my mind, so I…broke out.”
“You broke out of the clinic?” I say dumbly.
“I asked to see you last night when I woke up.” Disgusted, he shakes his head. “They let Ash in instead.”
An uncertain smile flutters at the corners of my mouth. “And Anna.”
“They told me you were in the waiting room.”
“I was, until Ansel made me go home.” I swallow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. The doctor confirmed I just overextended my magic.”
“And the shadow pixie magic?”
“She didn’t notice it, probably because I expelled most of it with my own. I battled with the remnants of it last night, but I don’t think it’s done any permanent damage. My days of experimenting with spectral magic are behind me, though.”
I take a few hesitant steps forward. “How do you feel?”
His eyes search my face. “Like I’m in love with you.”
I gasp softly, scared to allow myself to believe it. My heart beats faster, and sparkles dance over my skin.
“What about you?” He takes a step forward, nervous but eager. “How do you feel?”
“Like I love you, too,” I whisper.
Rowan closes his eyes, savoring the words, and then he rushes toward me. We collide, holding each other so tightly. He smells faintly of a rosemary healer’s tincture and feels like heaven.
Even though there is no longer a mate-bond tying us together, this is right—it’s always been right. The mate-bond magnified our feelings, but it didn’t create them. This isreal.
“Why didn’t you answer your texts?” I demand when I can bear to pull back enough to look up at him. “Did they take your phone?”
“I must have set it down in Ansel’s workshop. It wasn’t with my things.”
