Page 72 of Morning's Light

Hastily they broke apart. “I think that’s your cue, Elon,” she said woodenly.

Elon shook his head. “Don’t let it end like this.”

She turned her back on him as Israel trotted toward them, a plastic cup held in one mitten-covered hand, his red hair clearly visible.

“Hey, babe!” He swooped in for a loud, smacking kiss, completely ignoring the other man. “What’s the fuss about? God, you look horrible.”

“This guy? Are you serious?” Elon pointed jerkily though he kept his ground. “What is this, the icing on the fuck Elon cake?”

Aisanna stood next to Israel, their shoulders touching. “My world isn’t safe for you,” she told Elon, not daring to look higher than her own feet. She did not need magic or a sixth sense to see the testosterone seething. “You’re human.”

Both men sized each other up within moments, chests rising and shoulders squaring.

“But I love you,” Elon told her simply. “Don’t do this to us.”

He took a step forward and Israel raised a hand to block him. “Dude, back off. This is better for everyone involved. A human couldn’t possibly understand how to love a witch properly. Besides, what are you, like, seventeen?”

Elon sprang, his fist releasing from his side and slamming into Israel’s jaw with a resounding clap of flesh on flesh. Contrary to his size, he packed a punch and Israel went flying, crashing into the snow drift at the side of the building and leaving a furrow in his wake.

Chest heaving, Elon stared at him. “Go screw yourself.”

“You’re acting like children,” she muttered, helping Israel stand. Already a bright red bruise marred the skin of his chin. “This has nothing to do with him. You both need to stop.”

The hint of Darkness rose inside her and ached to start the fight anew.

Elon looked as though he wanted to speak, the worlds bubbling up on the brink of spilling over. He kept his thoughts to himself and his fists clenched at his sides. They itched for contact, to wrap around the other man’s neck and squeeze until something snapped. He did none of those things.

Israel sent him an accusing stare. He leaned against the wall. “Dude, dick move.”

Aisanna held up a hand. “Elon, go home,” she urged. “I’m ending this because I have to. Because it’s best for everyone.”

“You’re really choosing him over me?”

“I choose no one. That’s what you don’t understand.”

Elon forced himself to go back inside, gather his things, and walk out the back door without another word. Sliding behind the wheel of his car he took a moment to think. To stew. To clench his fingers and punch angrily at the dashboard until his knuckles swelled and blood dripped from the broken skin.

His car engine turned over several times before catching. He punched the gas and sped off, jerking the wheel as tires skidded along the icy street.

He tried to ignore the pain in his hand. In his lip. In his heart. He would give anything to erase the last hour of his life.

All he knew was that the instant he’d seen her for the first time, he felt weightless, as if a certain sense of destiny had fallen over him. Now he felt merely empty. Unwanted. He was a problem for her. A problem she solved by running back to a man who treated her with nothing but disrespect.

That smarmy, no-good jackass whose only redeeming quality was the fact that he could conjure magic. And Elon could not.

He hardly paid attention to the road, giving in to the bitterness and resentment. Knowing he would never again find a woman he loved as much as Aisanna Cavaldi.

Yet through it all, he cared enough to wish her happiness. Even if it wasn’t with him.

Then he gave himself over to the doldrums.

A single yellow rue flower materialized on the passenger seat. Rue for genuine repentance, everlasting suffering, and sorrow.

He never saw it.

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