Page 39 of A Witch and Her Dragon
AS SOON AS I GOT back into my room last night, the girls were all over me, asking me what happened with Raelan. But I just put on my best neutral smile and told them it was nothing; we simply spoke and made amends, and he returned me to my room.
They didn’t believe me.
And neither did Yuki.
But I want to keep this secret—oursecret—to myself, if just because I don’t even know how to feel about it yet. When Raelan kissed me in the hallway, then again in his room last night, I felt his hunger, his desire. While I was pinned against his wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, I could feel how hard he was through his thin trousers, and it just made me want him more.
In a moment, though, he went back to the cold, professional Raelan I know, the one who treats me like a princess rather than a person, like I’m his duty and not his desire.
And I don’t know what to think. The only thing I do know is that last night after I crawled into bed and drew the drapes around the mattress for privacy, my hand slipping between my legs to relieve the pressure that had been building all evening, the only face in my mind was Raelan’s. Even now, as I lounge about the dorm room with a cup of tea, still wearing my nightdress and a thin satin robe, he’s all I can think about.
He’s probably standing outside our door right now, in his usual spot beside the stained glass window, his jaw held firm and his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. It’s his typical look, the one I’ve come to know from him. But it’s not the one he was giving me yesterday, when his eyes burned with black and gold and his pupils tightened into thin slashes, like a beast was lurking just beneath his skin, waiting to burst free.
And burst free it did. Because of me.
I move to the window and push the drapes aside, then peer down from the tall north tower. But I can’t see the courtyard from here, can’t tell if anyone has noticed that something strange took place there amidst the storm and the torrential rain.
“Good morning,” Maeve says from behind me, startling me enough that I almost spill my cup of chamomile tea. I turn from the window and lean against it, letting the sun warm my back and shoulders.
“Morning,” I say. “Water’s hot if you want tea.”
Maeve and Poppy descend from the loft and into the main living space. They each pour a cup of tea, and then Maeve sinks down onto one of the couches, tucking herlong legs beneath her, while Poppy goes to stand before the hearth, where a small fire is burning.
“Lyra still sleeping?” I ask.
“Of course she is,” Maeve says, her voice a bit husky with sleep. “Snoring like a wildebeest.”
Poppy giggles. Her short light lavender hair is pulled up halfway, and her big round glasses glint in the sunlight coming through the window behind me. She looks soft, like spun sugar at a summer festival.
“I was thinking maybe we could go into Wysteria today,” she says, voice small, timid. It’s taken her a while to start warming up to us. “My mom owns a café. We could get scones, walk around a bit.”
“Your mom owns a café?” Maeve asks, perking up. Her dark purple hair looks glossy as ink, falling over her shoulders and down her chest in a sleek sheet. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it tangled or rumpled. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”
Poppy’s cheeks go a tinge pink. “Oh, I don’t know. It just never came up, I suppose.”
“What’s it called?” I ask her. “The café, I mean.”
Poppy’s lavender eyes light up. She lifts her teacup with a small smile. “The Wandering Cup.”
I’VE NOT BEEN BACK IN the city since I left for Coven Crest, and it feels oddly comforting to be walking the familiar cobblestone streets. Some people recognize me and bow their heads or offer friendly greetings as I pass,but I mostly blend in with my group of friends—if not for Raelan walking a few strides behind us, we’d hardly draw any attention at all.
I can feel his eyes on my back, and his gaze warms me more than the bright autumn sunlight shining down from the cloudless blue sky. When I told him earlier that we planned to walk into the city today, he seemed unsure, jaw feathering, but he voiced no complaints. Now here we are, sharing laughter and banter as we head toward Poppy’s mom’s café.
When we arrive, the door to the quaint little shop is already propped open, and the smell of chocolate and baked goods drifts out, making my mouth water. The other girls enter first, and I follow behind them, Raelan a few steps behind me.
The café is warm and welcoming, with glass display cases at the back and plants taking up all the sunny spots near the front windows. A cat lounges in a patch of sunlight, sleeping all stretched out, soft belly pointing to the ceiling. A few other patrons are just finishing up at the counter, and when they step away and Poppy’s mom sees her, they both squeal, and Poppy’s mom comes around the counter to sweep her daughter into a hug.
Maeve, Lyra, and I exchange quick smiles. Lyra still looks a bit sleepy; we had to drag her out of bed this morning. Only the promise of sweets got her feet into her boots and her boots out the door. She leans against me and yawns.
Poppy makes introductions swiftly, then gestures to Raelan over my shoulder.
“And this is Raelan,” she tells her mother.
The woman, Layla Waverly, widens her eyes at Raelan. “Well, it’s good to see you. I wondered why you hadn’t been around lately.”
We all turn to look at Raelan. He offers Layla a small smile. “Got any of those chocolate-strawberry croissants today?”
Layla grins. “Of course. And what would you girls like? I’ve got fresh blueberry scones, cinnamon rolls, and strawberry shortcake.”
