Page 20 of For Dear Life

“Whoa. Holly isn’t a witch. Is she?”

I scratch my nose. “No. I’d sense if she is, even if only a little. Do humans join covens at Thornwood?”

“No. Well, not that I’m aware of. I’m not popular with witches, am I? Maybe ask Rowan?” I side glance Grayson as he remains beside me. “What will you do?”

“I can’t take anything,” I say as I hide the stones and bag beneath the ostentatious boots. “Do you have your phone?”

With a nod, he reaches into a pocket, and I stand again to take a photo of the runic circle. I’ve a lot to investigate—what else might be hidden in this space? Holly’s love of strong perfume could serve a greater purpose than attracting a mate. Are the scents she uses designed to mask even my ability to pick up on magic energy?

“Good grief,” I mutter to myself. I’ve trusted someone who’s at the center of everything happening to me.

I startle as the door to the room opens, my pulse speeding as I stand and shuffle as far back into the dark space as I can. Grayson stands in alarm too, and I grab his jacket sleeve, tugging him after me.

“Holly,” he whispers, and I nod as I scent her too. “I bloody hope she isn’t here for a change of clothes.”

“Holly never misses lessons,” I whisper. “She won’t change from her uniform until this evening. That’s why I thought I’d investigate her closet now. Forgot her books maybe?”

“Yeah, but still.”

My chest goes tight as I sense her approaching, and Grayson squashes himself against the wall in the darkest corner. Ordinarily, I’d protest at him pulling me closer, but Holly steps into the entrance to the closet and we need to take up as little space as possible.

Thank the stars she doesn’t have supernatural senses.

“I have a green one,” she says, and clothes hangers slide metal against metal.

“She’s with someone?” I mouth at Grayson.

“Witch,” he mouths back.

I tense further. How far back into this closet is the ‘green one’? “Good grief,” I mutter to myself again, and press harder to Grayson’s chest. “How on earth do I explain this?”

He places a finger to his lips, and I seal mine together.

Twice Grayson’s held himself against me like this. Once when he stopped me screaming in the woods and again when I was half-crazed for his blood at Kai’s party. The first time caused no physical reaction, besides the shock at the taste of his blood. At the party, I experienced an odd mix of desires for the blood and kissing him.

This time, the airless space becomes a vacuum that sucks me further into him. I swallow and vainly focus on the newcomers.

I’ve never encountered whoever’s with Holly in the room, otherwise I might recognize their aura—but definitely witch.

“Or did I wear that yesterday?” Holly asks herself. If she did, the girl would take some time to find the item as there’s usually a discarded clothing pile surrounding her bed. “Check the drawers at the back.”

No. Oh, no. No. I meet Grayson’s eyes. Even Violet Blackwood’s crazy reasoning couldn’t explain why I’m in the corner of Holly’s closet with Grayson Petrescu. Clothes move and Grayson shifts again, pulling us beneath the coats opposite the drawers, this time squished further together.

His heartbeat thrums abnormally loud in my ears, and I can almost taste the blood again. I hate the knowing look sparking in his eyes—that I’d struggle to walk away from him even if the way was clear.

I hold my breath. Right now, my focus is on explaining why I’m here if Holly encounters us.

“Oh. No. Is this the color you needed?” asks Holly.

“Sure. That one’s good,” says a female voice, no longer close by.

Holly leaves the closet. I’m aware of nothing else, purely focused on where the girls are and hoping that no other colors are required. Only when the room door closes do I untense.

Who was the witch with her? Marci, or any one of Holly’s many witch friends.

As I snatch the chance to move away, Grayson’s hand catches mine again. “Sometimes it’s hard to pull back from the edge,” he says hoarsely.

I lift my eyes to his.

---