by LJ Swallow
Ash pulls his mouth away. Our hot, heavy breaths mingle and every nerve ending in my body is alight as he pushes my long hair from where it half-covers his face. His breath comes quicker to match mine.
"You're special, Maeve," he runs his fingers along my lips, swollen from his hard kiss. "I don't want to push this and scare you away."
I chuckle and rest my head on his. "You don't scare me, Ash."
"I did once."
"You were angry."
He huffs and holds my cheeks in both hands. "The anger that takes over until I can't think, Maeve."
How hard is he trying to hold back the raw power—how controlled is Ash as he moves towards his shifter future?
"Are you worried you'll hurt me?" I whisper.
Ash is tender with a gentle soul, but the way he kisses me spins my head. I’ve experienced the possessive, passionate need beneath this gentleness, but I trust him.
"No. Sort of." He pulls my bottom lip down with one finger. "Shifters don't lack control around witches like vamps do, but we're driven by something primal."
My aunt's words drift into my head, about liking primal guys and how she worried Ash might devour me. My heart thumps harder as I snatch a memory of the out of control Ash outside his parents' pub. Surely, he'd never lose control with me?
I sit back, still straddling his hips, and smooth his T-shirt back down with my palms. "Do you mean you want to stop? Slow down?"
He groans. "Hell, no. But I'm cautious." He frowns when I burst out laughing. "What?"
"I guarantee I'll tell you if you're going too far, Ash." I place a hand over his rapid heartbeat. "Don't overthink this."
Ash opens his mouth to protest, and I lean forward to close mine over his. He kisses me softly again, his touch light as he works his fingers beneath my T-shirt again.
With a sigh, I push my hands back beneath his shirt too and hold him to me. The heat from Ash's skin runs hot through my veins and sends tiny explosions across my skin.
Did I intend this? Maybe. I know we'll stop, but because he has more self-control than I do. My body aches for more, and for the day we're close enough that he doesn't overthink. I've caught glimpses what kind of lover Ash would make. But not yet.
But also, that doesn't mean we can't go with more than kisses.
The way our bodies shape against each other pulls us into our intense world where we can escape the way we did in the snow. Ash runs his tongue along my bottom lip and I part my mouth, allowing him to kiss me deeply again. Losing my grasp on anything but the places our bodies touch, I grip his hair and tangle my tongue with his. He tastes of Coca Cola and of the guy whose passion sent me sky-high at the winter ball.
Ash moves to kiss my neck, his stubble scraping along the skin, firing heat to the centre of me. He places his lips gently against the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His hair tickles as he moves to planting kisses along my throat, before crushing his mouth against mine again.
Someone hammers on the door and Ash abruptly stops. I pull back, half-amused by the look of panic on his face. His hair is mussed and cheeks flushed as he pulls his T-shirt back across the hardened muscle I'd love to see more of. Damn.
I curse the person on the other side of the door as I climb from him and straighten my clothes.
"Did you lock the door?" I ask and smooth my hair.
We're not naked, but if somebody walks in, we can't hide we're doing more than chatting.
Ash frowns. "Yeah. Who the hell is—"
"Ashley? Get your arse out here." Ash's expression freezes as Vincent yells through the door.
He jumps to his feet in a flash and runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to look closer to normal.
"You look more dishevelled now you've done that," I say with a laugh.
"Shit." He darts a look around the room.
"Calm down, Ash, we're not naked." I sit back on the bed.
But whether we're naked or not isn't the problem. I'm not stupid—the problem is I'm here with Ash.
"I'll wait, and he'll go." He perches on the bed beside me and I take his hand to run my fingers along his arm.
"Ashley! I need your help. Now." For someone desperate for help, he sounds demanding. "What the hell are you doing in there?"
"Shit." Ash stands and drags the door open. Vincent stands, arms crossed, immediately looking behind Ash to where I sit on the bed. "What's wrong, Vince?"
Vincent's eyes remain on mine and his face hardens. "I need you to help me with team selections."
"What the hell? Now? Why?"
"I didn't think you'd be busy."
"Vince, I'm tired. We have all day tomorrow."
"And I'm busy tomorrow," he says in a hard tone. "I have to attend a meeting with the shifter council and more bloody health examinations."
Ash's shoulders droop. "Oh. I didn't realise."
He looks Ash straight in the eye. "I can't do all this without help. I thought you'd understand."
"You never said you needed help. I saw you earlier."
Uncomfortable at them bordering on an argument, I look away and slip my shoes on. Ash half closes the door to block me from Vincent's view, and their conversation continues in low, urgent tones.
My stomach sickens, a deep discomfort replacing the arousal. I'm aware how Vincent feels about witches, and my discomfort turns to irritation. I stand.
Sidling around the half-open door, I look at Ash and ignore Vincent. "I have to go, Ash."
His cheeks are flushed still and he self-consciously pulls at his top again.
Before I leave, I need to know one thing.
Tiptoeing, I place my lips against Ash's and wait for his reaction. Instead of hugging me, he rubs both my arms in a weird, affectionate—but not intimate—gesture.
"I'll catch you tomorrow at class," I say and he nods.
Vincent doesn't speak so I give him a thin-lipped smile. "Nice to finally meet you, by the way."
Leaving my pointed comment behind, I walk away. Ash didn't introduce us, and I'd almost think he's ashamed of me. Shaking with a mix of anger and frustration, I make my way from the Gilgamesh building.
How influenced by his brother will Ash be? I swallow the rising lump in my throat and fight frustrated tears. Fine. Vincent can come between me and Ash, but I refuse to let him interfere in Ash's friendship with witches.
Vincent can't storm into the academy and break Ash's connection to us.
Can he?
Chapter Ten
MAEVE
The witches' sanctum's vibe sets me on edge. I’ve visited a few times since the day the ground shook and nothing more happened, but the event sticks with me. Each time I’m beneath the library in the secretive chamber, I’m paranoid the walls will close in or the roof will crash down on the small room.
Which is how I feel about my life too.
The witch students visit the sanctum in pairs as usual. I work with Jamie in the same room as always, and this time Jade and Bianca join us. They wander to the other room along the narrow hallway, chatting about their Christmas, ignoring the task list Jamie hands to them.
Alone in the room, I resort to pleasantries, as I don’t know where to start our conversation. We attended class yesterday and met up at dinner and in the common room, but this is our first chance to discuss events alone.
Where do I start?
"How was your Christmas, Jamie? You haven't spoken much about it."
He pulls his laptop from his bag. "Stressful. Since Theodora told Mum and Dad about your visions, they’re paranoid I’ll get hurt. They almost refused to let me return to the academy. I had to remind them I’m safer here."
My stomach sinks at what I've caused for him. "Oh. Why didn’t you say?"
He shifts in his seat and opens his laptop lid. "Because I don’t like to talk about this. I wasn’t allowed out anywhere. Couldn’t catch up with my friends."
"I’m sorry," I whisper.
"Why? This isn’t your fault."
"But it
is."
"How? You can’t control your visions." Jamie rubs my arm. "I don’t blame you, so don’t blame yourself."
He busies himself opening files on his laptop and I watch, remembering the almost-kiss that happened last time. I care deeply about Jamie and hate how our connection could hurt him.
"I can control whoever will do this," I blurt. "I’ve decided I'll put all my energy into the mind-control side of my powers, until I’m confident I can use them. What’s the point in working on visions if I haven’t perfected the ability to stop people’s actions? That’s the most important, isn’t it?"
"I guess. But I’d rather have the ability to help myself. I’m pissed off that Tobias took the pendant." He focuses on opening his laptop but can’t hide the fear flicker in his eyes before he dips his head.
I’d tell Jamie not to worry and that he’s safe, but the words sound hollow with nothing to back them up. If I’m honest, part of me was relieved when Jamie found protection. Until I discovered how dangerous Blackwood magic can be.
I don’t need strong empath abilities to feel Jamie's distress, and I move to wrap my arms around him. "We’ll fix this."
"Can you pass me the blue incantations book?" he asks and points at a shelf behind me.
Dropping our conversation, I turn away.
His brows are still tugged deep when I return with the book.
"You and Ash, huh?" He asks as he takes the book from me. "You’ll be centre of academy attention."
"Don't say ‘me and Ash’." I sit opposite him at the desk. "We’re not exclusive. You guys tell me to fit in, and not everybody here is exclusive." I nudge him beneath the table with my toe to show I’m only half-serious.
Jamie arches a brow. "Interesting."
"But I won’t play people off against each other." I feel my cheeks heat. Why isn’t Jamie honest about what he thinks?
"I have a chance then?" he asks softly.
Does he? I’m confused. So bloody confused. How can people be happy to share someone? And then there’s the Andrei issue. We hide from each other, but can’t hide what exists between us forever.
I give a small smile. "You’re both special to me."
"Well, make sure you stop at two guys," he says with a light laugh. "Otherwise people will accuse you of being a lamia hybrid."
"Can we not have this conversation?" I whisper. "I’m not sure I could handle a relationship with one person, never mind two or three."
"Oh? And who would be the third?" The amusement grows.
A flash from my vision about Andrei jumps in. "Surely not Andrei?" asks Jamie, and his amusement drops away when I don't throw an immediate denial. "You do know about issues between vamps and witches, right?"
I nod.
"Plus, he’s a dickhead."
"That’s unfair. There’s more to Andrei than he shows us."
"Don’t get sucked in." Jamie scowls and looks at the book. "Like Ash is sucked in by Vincent. Wrong book, by the way."
I stare after Jamie as he stands and walks to the bookshelf at the far end of the room before climbing out of my chair to follow.
"Have you told Ash how you feel?" I ask as he pulls a different book from the shelf. "He’ll notice soon enough. I know you don’t believe Vincent is telling the truth."
His earnest eyes meet mine. "What do you think? Of course not—Ash would lose his shit with me. I’ll find proof first."
"Jamie, powerful witches have searched Vincent’s memories. Senior shifters have questioned him. His whole family believe this man is Vincent." I shake my head. "I never thought you’d agree with Tobias on something."
"But that’s the point. If Tobias is suspicious, and supposedly here to help protect the academy, that has to mean something."
I stare in disbelief. "You trust Tobias?"
"Not much. A little more since Theodora told me she does, but some of his motives are sketchy. Such as you—normal professors don’t behave towards you the way he did."
"I have the situation with Tobias under control," I say.
Jamie eyes me doubtfully. "Fine. But what about Vincent? Has Ash introduced you to him?"
"Not exactly." I look down at the desk.
"You sound annoyed."
"We, uh... bumped into him. Ash didn't introduce us."
"Huh." Jamie rests back in his chair. "Why not?"
I pull a face. "I'm a witch, Jamie. Ash is probably ashamed of me."
"Don't be ridiculous. Ash isn't prejudiced."
I fold my hands in my lap and hope Jamie can't see how much this has affected me. I haven't seen Ash since last night, although he did text me our usual good night as if nothing had happened. I didn't want to start arguing via text message—I need to tell him how I feel face to face. Ash might've been worried about being 'caught' with me and not thinking straight.
I need to not overthink.
But his actions still niggle.
"Explain to me what happened."
Shit. "It's umm… personal, Jamie."
His eyes widen. "Ohhh. Did Vincent catch you making out?" I squeeze my eyes closed. "Ash was probably embarrassed for other reasons, not that you're a witch. Nobody likes family members walking in on them."
"Walking in?"
Jamie's mouth twitches with amusement. "Amelia told me you snuck off with Ash."
"Wow, thanks, Amelia," I mutter. "It wasn't like that."
"Then why are you pink?"
I kick him under the table and he chuckles as he leans down and rubs his leg. "Don't stress. Ash is cool and thinks for himself."
"I hope so, Jamie."
"He does. I have faith. But I hope he introduces us to Vincent soon, because I want to suss this guy out." Jamie sighs. "We should talk about this later. All of this. Let's get the work done and leave."
Jamie places the book on the small table nearby, beside the black pillar candles reduced to stubs where wax has pooled around the base. Then I take both Jamie’s hands and force him to look at me.
"I'll also work on sharpening the vision I have about you."
"Sofia hasn't been much help so far, has she?" he mutters. "Nor was I when I tried to help you focus."
"But you have helped before. I want to try now. I want to see if being in the sanctum helps."
He tries to pull his hands away. "I don't think we should try without Sofia."
"Jamie." I take hold again. "I lost focus on this in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and I'm sorry. I want to see more. I need to focus on who else is there."
"You never saw anybody, Maeve."
"But they must be there if they hurt you." He tenses and I squeeze his hand tighter. "I could memorise faces. Sofia showed me pictures of Dominion members—if I immerse myself in the vision, I might recognise someone."
"I don’t know... What if your vision takes another step away from reality and you find yourself too immersed? You should wait for Sofia’s help."
Does the idea scare him more than me?
"This sounds strange, but I’m uncomfortable with Sofia teaching me. Especially now Theodora says everyone is under suspicions. We need to start banding together more." I pause. "Even Andrei. He’s in this with us."
Jamie rubs his lips together and smooths a thumb over my hand. "Maybe you’re right."
"Whatever I see will help us. Even a glimpse."
Last time we held hands is the night we danced together, both of us sensing more but holding back in confusion. Even in this tense situation, we still hold back. I lift my eyes to his.
His pupils dilate—the connection between us stronger than our magic. The attraction draws us like magnets and repels us when we turn the wrong way. Is this the secret to my reaching full power? That we need to allow ourselves to attach?
I don’t have time to make that decision, because as I look into Jamie’s eyes, I’m transfixed. The subtle colour differences in his irises draw me in until the colours seem to swirl. I'm compelled to keep looking and I can no longer see myself in them.
Jamie's touch disappears and I look down at my empty hands. Jerking my head back up, I look to Jamie.
But he isn't there.
I’m alone in the silent sanctum surrounded by the scent of burned vellum. We didn't burn vellum.
No.
This burning is stronger than paper. Panicking, I turn three hundred and sixty degrees to check the whole room, steadying myself on the table as the wood-panelled room shakes.
Nothing looks any different—the secretive darkness, bookshelves crammed with books, and the old, scratched table that serves as a desk for performing magic.
Only the candles aren’t stumps—these are fresh with barely any wax dripping. I reach out to touch one and the warm wax solidifies on my fingertips.
A tremor runs through my body from my scalp to my toes as intense dread washes over me.
Something’s wrong.
Chapter Eleven
MAEVE
I lurch forward towards the door and pull on the ornate black handle. Usually the door opens easily, but this time there's tension as if somebody is pulling the door handle on the other side.
I focus harder on the door and drag on the handle until my arm hurts. Every sensation is real—the way the curved metal cuts into my hand, how my arms ache from pulling, and the strange odour mixed with the burning smell. The stench is gross, like rotten eggs and bins that haven’t been emptied in a week.
The door finally gives and I almost fall onto my backside as it opens. Righting myself, I step out and gag as the fumes grow.
The normally lit lanterns in the hewn stone hallway are dim, and I can barely see the stairs up to the library door. The opposite direction leads to the other rooms and the end of the hallway. A direction with no exit.
My chest constricts as my breath shortens—what might wait in the darkness? This fear propels me towards the darkened staircase. I place my hands on the wall to feel my route to the exit. The ground is warmer than the slate floor should be—the heat warming my feet through my shoes. Smoke tickles my nostrils and the smell dizzies me. Focus. Get out. Library.
