Page 16 of For Dear Life

“No. Because in weak moments like this, I want you here. With me.”

My chest goes tight. Violet’s again another step from the girl who practically shoved me through the door with Holly and the others and didn’t want me to walk back in.

Today, Dorian accused Violet of allowing her emotions to weaken her. If that’s what he taught Violet, it’s wrong. He has emotions. Connections. Bonds. Love. Hell, hatred is an emotion, and he has that in spades.

I’ve seen kids under pressure to meet parental expectations as they project themselves onto their son or daughter. How much of that’s happening here? Or is she merely a daughter who loves her father and wants to follow his lead?

Violet’s brain is wired differently, but she’s still a person. A supernatural oddity, but a person.

Without thinking, my lips meet hers. This time when I kiss Violet, I struggle to hold back, hugging her hard to stop the emotions from breaking free. She responds hesitantly again, but this time her mouth stays on mine for a little longer even though her fingers remain curled around my upper arms as if she might push me away.

Violet’s sweetness is another step away from the acerbic girl who’d once throw me across the room for even looking at her the wrong way. I taste the chocolate on her lips, inhale the subtle fruit scent in her hair, and I’m half-blinded by the ache to move beyond this tender moment. To show Violet everything she means to me because I’m still unsure she understands my feelings are more than from a bond.

“I can’t lose you,” I whisper, as her head tucks so naturally beneath my chin and I stroke her hair. “And I’m sorry I make you feel out of control.”

Violet’s hands move from my arms to circle my waist as her warm breath brushes my neck. I could push into her mind, see Violet’s thoughts in this moment, because I’m catching hints that her mental barriers weakened too.

But I won’t invade her mind, and as Violet holds onto me, not moving, she’s communicating more than she could imagine. This girl who’s a world away from everybody is allowing me into hers.

Finally, she looks up at me, still silent, those glacial eyes unreadable.

“I’m staying,” I say firmly. “Even if I have to sit on the floor all night.” Holly didn’t react well when she heard I’d slept in her bed, which kind of annoyed me like she’s some little girl bothered by boy germs.

“The phone. The witch’s,” she says eventually.

“What about it?”

Violet moves away to take the phone from a desk drawer, the loss of her from my arms weirdly as big a hit in the chest as when I held her by the lodge. “Can you confirm who this belonged to using a spell?”

Subject change. “Now? I’m pretty tired, Violet.”

“I’ll help with the magic energy,” she suggests and holds out the phone.

With a wry smile, I shake my head. “Back to business, huh?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Alright. But I’m not leaving,” I repeat.

She rubs her lips together and nods at the phone, so I sit on the floor beside Violet’s bed and motion her to join me. She places herself down, back against the side of her bed, and holds out a hand.

The magic passing from Violet is much weaker than last time we worked together, and even with my own, I can’t find much at all from the phone’s past. Still, I relish her soft hand in mine, the thrill that comes from her energy meeting mine that’s a different level to the physical desire earlier—a part of us already joined by fate that courses through my soul and my life.

“There’s a charm on the phone,” I say, eyes still closed. “Which shouldn’t be a surprise. I guess we’ll use the old-fashioned human techniques and wait for somebody to call or send a message.”

Violet doesn’t respond with either a frustrated retort or a—less likely—word of understanding. As I loosen my grip on her fingers, Violet’s hand slides from mine, and I open my eyes. Her head lolls forward, dark hair falling over her face. Panic strikes, and I kneel to take both Violet’s hands. She mumbles something, still breathing thank god, and shifts to rest her head on the bed.

I suppress the laugh that tries to bubble from me, at how annoyed Violet would be to lose control to exhaustion and fall asleep mid-spell. Although vulnerable, I’m betting the hybrid would spring into action if she felt threatened and I hope to hell that hybrid sleeps too, as I gather Violet from the floor.

I’m tempted to sit on the bed and hold her, but that’s too big a reminder of the girl who bled out in my arms earlier. Instead, I lie Violet down and pull a soft fleece blanket to cover her.

Violet’s face softens with sleep, and I run the back of my fingers across her cheek before placing a kiss on her forehead. Half a bar of chocolate remains, partially unwrapped on her desk, which I take and sit back on the floor beside Violet’s bed.

Silently, I eat the chocolate chunk by chunk, again listening to the breaths of the girl who crashed into my world and flipped everything on its head. Violet Blackwood, a force of nature beyond anything I could create. She’s right. If I’d stood in that room and not Grayson, that witch would’ve died at my hands—but not instantly. I would’ve taken my time to kill him.

6

VIOLET

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