Page 23 of Alpha's Twins
“Yeah,” I say, and it feels almost true.
The witches finish dancing and saunter toward us, laughing conspiratorially. I let Cora refill my glass again, watching as her fingers linger on mine. “You should come back to mine,” she says, her eyes dark and knowing. “I’ll show you the full collection.”
I hesitate, the word yes resting on my tongue, but I drain my drink instead. “You’re trouble,” I tell her, and her smile is wicked.
“Only if you want me to be.”
This is it, the moment I could grasp and really have some fun. But instead of feeling excited about the potential night ahead, I feel empty.
“Maybe another time,” I say, and it feels like a lie, even as the words leave my mouth.
Cora’s face shifts, surprise flickering over her eyes. “Really?” she asks, and I know she’s used to getting exactly what she wants.
“Really,” I say, and even through the haze of the brew and the noise of the bar, I can feel the sharp edge of certainty cutting through me. “But thanks for the drinks.”
She laughs like it doesn’t matter, but there’s a hint of irritation in the set of her shoulders. “Suit yourself,” she says, and turns away, her hair a blaze of fire.
Jace raises an eyebrow, watching me like I’m insane. “You sure, man? Leaving me with all these beautiful witches?”
“Yeah, I think you’ll cope,” I say, knowingly, and he laughs. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
I step outside, the cold air hitting me with clarity, and I walk away from the bar before I change my mind. I cross the square, feeling the weight of what I’m doing and not doing, and the ghost of Cora’s heat still on my skin pisses me off more and more. The house is silent when I get there, and I stand in the dark hallway, listening, but there’s nothing. No sound. No movement. No Serena. She’s not waiting up for me. She’s not calling. She’s not texting.
I head upstairs, my feet heavy, the familiar guilt pushing its way back in as the brew wears off. I’m barely through the door of my room before I’m pulling my shirt over my head, my jeansfollowing. I don’t bother with the lights. I don’t want to get into my empty bed. I just want her.
I take a breath and turn toward her room, the floor cold under my feet. Maybe she’ll tell me to go to hell. Perhaps she won’t even let me in. I turn the handle, and it’s unlocked. It’s dark, and she’s in bed, her form barely visible beneath the covers, but I can hear her breathing, soft and steady.
She shifts slightly as I slip into bed beside her, pulling her warm, soft frame against my hard, cold body. She tenses slightly, and I know she’s awake. Moments pass, and she says nothing, not rejecting me, but not exactly welcoming me, either. Eventually, she softens slightly, and that’s how we remain all night, wrapped together in uncertainty.
Chapter 13 - Serena
Aiden's stare prickles the back of my neck, and I find it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Marian follows my gaze toward the window, her lips curling into a wry smile.
“I think he's trying to make sure I don’t break you,” she says, her eyes glittering with amusement. Emily snorts, flicking a loose tendril of hair from her eyes, and I can’t help but grin. Aiden’s shadow tenses in the window, and I must admit it is amusing how intimidated he is by Marian.
Who wouldn’t be, though? The old witch arrived with Emily early this morning, breezing through the house as if levitating, her long white-blonde hair blazing around her. It didn’t take long to realize that Aiden would rather face a hundred Maliks than one Marian, and he retreated to his office.
I think I quite like her.
Marian turns back to me, her expression softening ever so slightly. “So, Serena, tell me again what happens when you’re working with the flowers? Tell me exactly.” Her voice is surprisingly gentle, unwinding the tight coil of anxiety I’ve been carrying. I look past her to the garden, where riotous blooms swell and sway, and try to explain.
“Sometimes it feels like…like I breathe with them. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s like they grow into me, and I grow into them.” I pause, searching for the right words. “But it’s more intense now. Uncontrolled.” The last word hangs heavy in the air, admitting more than I’d meant to. Emily touches my arm, a warm anchor.
“Maybe it’s just grown faster than you expected,” she suggests. Her empathy is tangible, soothing. “Like a snowball effect. Once it starts…”
Marian nods thoughtfully. “And you’ve never felt anything similar to this level of power before? No hint of this as a child?”
I shake my head. “Nothing like this. I was just good with plants, you know. It was always magical, but it was gentle. People just thought I had a green thumb.”
“Some green thumb,” Emily says, gesturing to the garden. Her eyes dance with a mix of envy and admiration. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve been around a while.”
“But I don’t even know what it is,” I confess, the frustration creeping back in. “And I don’t know what it means for…if it means anything at all. I just need to be able to control it. I think.” I glance up at the window, but Aiden’s gone.
“Can I see it again?” Marian asks. She’s like a curious crow, her attention sharp and consuming despite her soothing tone.
I close my eyes, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach, and reach toward the small potted plant in front of me, my fingers dancing lightly over the tiny, wilted leaves. At first, it feels like nothing, just the familiar hum of connection beginning to thrum, and I’m sure the plant will bloom, but then something new and unspoken seems to amplify it, and I feel the energy swell, rushing toward me like a tidal wave. I pull back, not wanting it to get out of hand, and when I open my eyes, I swear I see a look of triumph spark in Marian’s eyes.
“Remarkable,” she says, grinning widely.
