I smirk and her throat bobs. I don't know what I'm doing, but I can't walk away from her now. Magic keeps my feet planted. Doesn't matter either way. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here bickering with her.
This is it. The moment he walks away again. Or vanishes without an explanation. Or his cat will show up. Or Dimitri.
Something always gets in the way of whatever we're hurtling toward. The past six months were hell, no pun intended. I went through all the stages and came out the other side…not the best version of myself, but better. I was handling things. Then he shows up again and all the walls I built around myself crumbled. He didn't even have to do anything other than appear.
As much as I wanted to see him, I never said his name. I knew the moment I did, I'd be pissed at myself. Once someone leaves, I let them stay gone. Dragging them back into my life doesn't do anything other than hurt both of us. Omen doesn't want to be here.
Except he has that look in his eyes. The same one when he hauled my ass out from behind the washer and when he crawled into bed with me that last night. I always explained it away. I don't think I can anymore. And I don't want to. Being alone isn'tfun and I don't want to do it anymore. So, I'll just let him do whatever he wants. If he walks away, I'll just pick up the pieces of my shattered heart once more.
My chest seizes at the thought. Did he break my heart? Have I fallen for him? We've barely spent any time together, which isn't entirely accurate, I suppose. They feel like stolen moments and I'm the thief who took them. I hoarded them, convincing myself it was all I'd have to sustain me through the years. If he leaves again, I doubt he'll remember me. These times will fade for him, and I'll be nothing but a wisp of remembrance from a lifetime ago. He has an endless existence to forget people—including me.
“Going to tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Well, that was condescending,” I mutter as I glance away. He hums and his fingers brush my hair behind my ear. I beat back a shudder, not willing to give in just yet. Not completely, though my resolve is crumbling pretty damn quickly.
“Yet my calling you little witch isn't? Explain that one.”
I press my lips together. There isn't any difference, but I'm not about to admit it. He thinks he's so damn—his fingers grip my chin and he forces me to look at him. A smile slowly splits his lips and my heartbeat tap-dances out a lively rhythm in my chest. I swear I can hear music flitting through the air. It's lilting and lulls me into an unexpected semblance of tranquility. I don't know whether to trust it, but I don't think I care very much. As long as he keeps looking at me like he is and the melody continues and my heartbeat remains. As long as I can stay in this bubble of tranquility.
“You're awfully quiet. Time to make a decision, Clara.”
“A decision about what?”
“Whether you're going to get rid of the summoning circle or keep it as is.”
I huff out a breathless laugh. “Six months, Omen. I didn't get rid of it for six months and you're asking me if I'm going to do it now? Right after you showed up again?”
He shrugs and releases my chin before boxing me in again. “Why didn't you wash it away?”
“I couldn't,” I whisper. “At first, I thought you'd come back. Then I was mad at you even though I knew you didn't owe me anything. Despite my…earlier statement. I'm sor?—”
“Do not apologize to me again,” he growls, leaning closer.
“Sorry. No, I mean, um, sorry for the sorry. Shit.” I wince as he chuckles.
“Nervous, little witch?”
Without a thought, my tongue flicks out and brushes against his bottom lip. He groans, the sound rumbling from deep within him. He seals his mouth to mine, and my mind goes blank. It's like I'm floating outside my body, gazing down at the scene spread out. My back against the bricks, him leaning into me, the sun beating down on us, my flushed cheeks and my eyes closed.
I snap back into my body, and butterflies erupt in my belly. My chest tightens and my hands end up clinging to his shoulders. His own hand grasps the back of my neck, and he tugs me closer. He breaks off the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.
“Say something,” he breathes.
“Why'd you stop?”
He grins, then pulls away. I let out a shriek when he tips me over his shoulder. His large hand wraps around my thigh and his long strides eat up the distance to my front door, which he kicks closed behind us. Shadows chase us down the hallway, and I bite my lip to contain my smile.
My breath whooshes from me as he drops me onto the bed. His wings snap out, the claws on the tips curling, then disappearing. His shadows blend together, forming tendrilsthat reach for me. My heels slip on the sheets as I scramble backward. He grabs my ankle and drags me toward him. A giggle bursts from me until he drops to his knees.
His long fingers wrap around my calves, the heat seeping through my leggings. His dark eyes find mine, twin flames flickering in their depths. When he leans forward, my breath hitches. With my knees bent over the edge of the mattress, he's perfectly placed to fit himself between my legs. My mouth waters and my mind spins off into a thousand different possibilities. I can't read him, though. I have no idea what he's planning.
His palms slide up to my hips, and he rests his chin on my stomach. “I need you to talk to me.”
“What?” I rasp, struggling to keep my eyes on him while not giving myself a double chin. Thankfully, he tugs me upright and kneels between my legs.
He sighs, the flames winking out in his eyes. “It's been less than an hour for me. For you? It's been six months. Then I waltz back in and we find ourselves here after a few minutes. I don't want you like this.”
Pain lances through my chest and I attempt to keep the hurt from my face. I tuck my chin to my chest and my hair slips over my shoulder. Another rejection wasn't on my to-do list for the day.
