Page 63 of A Witchy Spell Ride
Too close.
Which meant something was coming.
And I could feel it.
Selene was in the main room of the clubhouse, seated on the old leather couch with one of her knees pulled up under her, picking at a chipped polish spot on her fingernail. She hadn’tslept much. Wasn’t eating right either. Briar had tried stuffing her with beignets earlier, but Selene just picked at them, lips pressed tight.
I stepped in, closed the door behind me, and leaned against the wall. “You ready for the party plan?”
She didn’t look up. “Is there a plan where I get to throw a drink in someone’s face and pretend this whole nightmare never happened?”
“Not yet.”
She huffed. “Then no. Not ready.”
I crossed the room, crouched in front of her. “Selene.”
Her eyes snapped to mine.
And that’s when I saw it.
The breaking point.
The wall starting to crack.
“I want my life back,” she said, too fast, too sharp. “I want to wake up and not wonder if someone’s watching me brush my fucking teeth. I want to light sage in my shop without wondering if I’m marking myself. I want to walk down my own street and not feel like prey.”
I reached for her hand.
She didn’t pull away.
“I want to sleep without knives in my head,” she whispered. “And I want to laugh at stupid Halloween decorations and flirt with the guy I’ve wanted since I was twenty without thinking it’ll get someone killed.”
That last part froze the air.
I didn’t speak.
Couldn’t.
Because if I did, I’d lose control.
She swallowed hard. “Ghost, I—”
I kissed her.
Hard.
One hand to her jaw, the other fisting in her shirt like I was afraid she’d vanish if I didn’t anchor her there.
She gasped against my mouth.
Then kissed me back.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was desperate.
