Page 116 of De-Witched

He blinked. “I’ve never thought about it.” His serious expression didn’t change as he asked, “Would you want magic?”

“Uh...yeah.”

“Even if it came tangled with my world?” he pushed.

She almost said yes out of habit, having longed for that for so many years. But something caught the word before it left. Hers had always been a child’s answer, one without thinking through the consequences. Now...

“I don’t know,” she said after a minute, the truth quiet. It made his eyes darken. “Part of me says yes,” she admitted, looking at the potion that simmered. “Your world...glitters. But the idea of watching my back for a knife at all times, being careful what I say, who I say it to, constantly fearing rejection or being cast out...” She spread her hands. And as she’d already thought, she’d deliberately turned away from a similar world once.

His response hung on a timeless second before he nodded, short, sharp. As if he had no feeling one way or the other. “Understandable. It’s a game, but we don’t play. It’s not fun.”

“No.”

The mood had darkened, twisting his offer of a piece of his world to her rejecting it. She hated that.

She brought the topic back to her friends with some effort. “I don’t regret that they told me. Or...anything else.” You, she thought, fingers curling into her palms. Not brave enough to say it aloud.

“It’s the greatest show of trust they could ever give.” Gabriel inclined his head. “We, none of us, trust easily.”

She read between the lines and swore she heard her own heart crack in two. But that was to think about later. For now, she wanted to give something back to Gabriel. For the warlock who never played for fun. “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re right.”

“One more time?”

She poked him, smiling. “I said, you’re right, Goodnight. They trusted me enough to let me in the door.” She tilted her head back, basked in his gaze. “And so did you.”

The music had shifted to something bluesy, an outpouring of soul that shivered through her blood. Just as he did.

Her smile turned sly. “The question is, how much do you trust me?”

The snap of lust in his blood was tempered by wariness. Leah’s face spelled nothing but trouble.

“Why?” Gabriel asked, standing perfectly still.

She toyed with one of his buttons, quirking a brow. “Why don’t we play pretend?”

His mind flashed back to the first time she’d said those words, the night that had followed. “Pretend?”

“Mmm.” Her eyes were so blue, they could lure a man in, under. “How about I’m the all-powerful witch and you’re the powerless human?”

“You have never been powerless.”

Her hand paused for a second before it slipped his button free. “Very smooth.”

“Truth,” he countered, watching her undo his buttons and spread open his shirt. “I don’t think you know what you do to me, Leah.” What she created inside him, more than just desire. More than just affection, concern. If she didn’t, perhaps her rejection wouldn’t have cut so deeply. But he shied away from that. Because this was temporary anyway. No point in examining feelings that had nowhere to go.

For a moment, her gaze connected with his and an acknowledgment ran between them. The sharp ache, the sweet torment of now. Only now.

Then she smiled, as only Leah could. “Wait until you see what I’m about to do to you.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Depends on if you’re willing to play.”

He allowed her to slide the shirt off, pulse thrumming as her fingers skimmed bare skin. “What does the powerless human have to do?”

---