Page 56 of De-Witched

More silence wove between them, a tapestry of unsaid things and fast beats of her heart as he didn’t let go of her hand and she didn’t let go of his. It was too much, the taunt of a future she couldn’t have.

“Listen to me, playing the violin for you.” She saw his confusion at the idiom, motored past it. “Families are complicated. You’d know that, right? Doesn’t mean we have to focus on the bad stuff.”

His thoughts were hidden behind his usual veil. “You confuse me.”

“I know.”

The green of his eyes was startling in the low light, hypnotizing as he stepped closer. Close enough she had to tip her head back to keep eye contact and suddenly that became the most important thing. That and the slow swish of his thumb against her hand.

“I’ll help you save your place, Leah.” His voice, the lovely low, liquid tone, did things to her. Goose bumps spread up her arm from that rasp of his thumb.

“I knew you liked Chuck,” she teased through the wild drumming of her pulse.

His gaze skimmed her face, settled for a brief, heart-stopping, moment on her lips. “I don’t like anyone.”

“Goodnights have more important things to do?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s better to be lonely?”

“It’s better to be alone,” he murmured.

She gazed up at him, barely thinking it through as she let the words go. “You can be alone with me.”

He didn’t answer; she wasn’t sure she expected him to. In the silence, her skin exploded with heat, her knees all but melting under the force as he tightened his hand on hers. And tugged.

Helpless, she went where he commanded, so close now that their feet brushed. He was taller than her, the disparity in their heights causing a raw darkness to twist in her belly. The memory of waking up tangled with him that morning was a beat in her veins. How his hands had been on her bare skin. How he’d pressed his face into the sensitive skin of her throat.

For the first time in her life, words abandoned her, her bottomless energy all directed into quelling the desire that pulsed like a living thing inside her. Her legs clamped together where it beat the hardest.

Sparks danced in her blood, in her vision.

Actual sparks, she realized, with a jolt. Magical sparks.

Gabriel had conjured magic.

She immediately dropped her gaze, pretending not to have seen the floating specks of magic. Firework sparks.

But he’d seen. And knew she had, too.

He dropped her hand, his chest laboring with the same breath she dragged into her lungs. They both stared at each other as the sparks gradually vanished.

She’d only seen sparks a couple times, only when Kole or Tia had been mad about something. This hadn’t been anger, but it had been something.

Something she wasn’t supposed to have witnessed.

They both stepped away as if they’d choreographed the movement.

“I, ah, should get going.” Her voice was a rasp, lust playing with it. “Thanks for your help.”

He nodded but said nothing as it took her a good five minutes to gather her dogs up. He had, however, ordered her a town car, she realized when she got downstairs and the driver called her name. She didn’t know what to read into that, if she should.

She settled back into the buttery leather and rubbed her face with her hands as the car pulled smoothly away.

They’d crossed a line tonight. And tomorrow they’d have to face the consequences.

After the upheaval of the last few weeks, it felt good to be in the New Orleans office at Goodnight’s Remedies. Familiar, and a solid reminder of why he was putting himself through it all. He’d intended to check in with August anyway, but after the night before, Gabriel had needed to get out of Chicago. Find his normal. Which was not hanging out with human men at bars or teasing human women, throwing himself into their problems to make the shadow of worry clear from their eyes. Or almost tasting them.

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