Page 72 of Truly Madly Magically

Maybe it’s because I know I should that I don’t. Can’t. Won’t. “We could go to my apartment instead.”

Zander’s thunderstorm gaze goes dark and thrilling. He stands, pulling me with him, and then we’re flying. I think that we can worry later. That we can deal with anything and everything else...later.

When we land, it’s not in my bed as I expect, because that’s how we usually do things. We break the seal, we go a little crazy, we rip each other into pieces in as many ways as possible—

Tonight we land on the stairwell that leads up to my apartment door.

Maybe we’re both being a little more careful with each other tonight. Because it’s not Beltane. Because things are different in ways I really don’t want to analyze right now. I unlock my door with a quick, muttered spell since my not-so-magical keys are back in Zander’s truck at the Rivers house.

The truck. The night. This. “Isn’t your dad going to wonder why your truck is sitting outside his house all night?”

I push the door open and head into my apartment while Zander mutters a few words to magic his truck outside my shop. “Problem solved,” he says, following me inside.

He carefully locks the door behind him. He shrugs out of his jacket. His gaze never leaves mine, but he doesn’t reach out for me either. Like we would if this was a normal night between us. Meaning if this was Beltane—not that I ever let our Beltane thing happen in my space.

This changes everything. He said that to me what feels like forever ago, even though it’s barely been two weeks. Two weeks can’t change everything, is what I want to argue, though he hasn’t said it again now.

I think of Zelda dying. Her last breath would have been a moment, nothing more. It changed everything.

I think of this baby inside of me. The making of her only took a very long night and a single moment where my magic was too tired to work.

Little moments with such big consequences.

Sometimes everything changes so gradually that it’s impossible to notice. Like growing up. Like accepting what other people have chosen for themselves that you might not have chosen for them. Like having friends who shift into a coven that’s trying to save the world.

Then, other times, change happens so fast you don’t really notice until it’s done. Until you’re sorting out the repercussions and glamouring away your pregnancy.

I’d rather have his hands on me than decide what this is tonight, but he’s standing at the door, and I’m standing a few feet away. I’m not sure I know who I am right now because I feel nervous.

Like this is our first time, when I’ve seen this man naked so many times I can’t begin to count. When he’s been inside me every way there is to be inside a person, repeatedly.

Maybe it takes an eternity or two to stand there, watching each other like this, in the quiet of a fall night that isn’t lit with Beltane fires.

Then, slowly and deliberately, Zander makes his way across the room to me.

I am rooted to the spot. My heart is going haywire. Nothing is settling in me the way it should. My control, my walls, the reassuring presence of my comfort and my boundaries—they aren’t all weak tonight, they’re missing.

Like they never existed at all.

Especially when he reaches out and holds my face with his hands. His thumbs sweep across my cheekbones. His gray gaze isn’t filled with thunderstorms, not this time. It’s something softer, quieter. A gentle rain, maybe.

I tell myself I hate that, but I don’t. It feels like it’s filling me up. Like I’ve been thirsty, so thirsty, for far too long.

We could magic our clothes off each other. We could rush. We could insult each other a little to get the edge back into this. We could do all the things we usually do.

But we don’t.

He lifts the oversized top I’m wearing up and over my head. I unbutton his flannel with less-than-graceful fingers. We’re wearing matching Rivers pendants, and his hands smooth over my bare skin as I slide mine up his impressive back.

Our mouths fuse. Our hearts beat out some rhythm all their own, but together.

Together.

He backs me into my bedroom with lazy strides and deeper kisses. No rush, just doing our level best to rid each other of clothes without our mouths parting. A game we lose and win together as he takes me to my bed.

Then there’s nothing but his calloused hands against my skin, my fingers in his hair. Then the perfect, smooth slide of Zander on top of me, around me, and finally inside me. Everywhere.

Puzzle pieces that have always fit too well to bear.

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