Page 93 of For Dear Life

“Do you care about me?” he demands. “Is all this bullshit about staying apart for our own good, or you hiding from yourself?”

“We had this discussion,” I say, catching my own breath. “Stop fighting with me.”

“Tell me you don’t care, and I’ll go. I’ll accept that I’m nothing but your bonded witch and will never mean more.”

“I’m protecting you. Us.”

“Stop saying that!”

How? How is Rowan keeping me held in his emotion-fueled space? How’s his strength surpassing mine?

“Let me go,” I say evenly.

“Tell me. Do you care?” he shouts.

“Yes!” I shout back, heart unleashing and battering against my chest. “Yes, I care about you, Rowan, but this scares me. You interfere with my thinking. I can’t cope with how I feel when I’m around you.”

Rowan says nothing and slides a hand around the back of my neck, the touch against my sensitive nape pulling me further to his bonded energy. To him.

“Rowan,” I warn.

Rowan’s eyes drop to my mouth, his own lips still set hard. “Go on. Push me away again. Slam me against that wall and walk away.”

His body isn’t touching in the way Grayson’s did at the party, nor am I in that crazed state of a hybrid wanting blood. Yes, I’m soaking up Rowan’s magic, whether I want to or not, but there’s something more.

Something terrifying.

Desire.

Closing my eyes, I hold my breath and summon a barrier to make my skin burn to the touch. Rowan yelps, and the moment he releases me, I slam a spell into Rowan’s chest and shove him backwards.

Only this time, I don’t keep at a safe distance from the magic pouring out of Rowan. I’m against him in a heartbeat.

My fingers wind into his unruly hair as I stare at Rowan, brimful of the emotional energy that tangled every part of me into knots. We’re bonded and I feel him. Something inside this guy is part of me that’s beyond the shadows we now share—more than our magic recognizing each other.

Like meets like.

Every minute since I discovered the bond, I’ve fought myself while swearing the fight is against him. I’m constantly struggling to ignore my heart and soul, paralyzed by fear that the world might slip from my control if I allow myself to feel the emotions he’s created inside me.

Pressed against Rowan’s body, my chest against his, our synchronized hearts tell us what we are, but it’s the memory of his past touch, and the desire for more that moves through my blood. Not the magic. Not a bond.

Rowan.

Rowan’s hands go to either side of my face, fingertips humming magic against my cheekbones, and his hair tickles my forehead. The question in his eyes can only be answered one way, and my lips go to his. Hard—harder than any kiss he’s given me. The scent of Rowan’s witch blood blooms, but I’m overwhelmed by the desire for him, as our mouths seal.

Rowan tastes of darkness and sweetness rolled into one, intensely swirling between us, delving past my frustration and snatching hold of an unknown inside me. This kiss is what I needed to truly understand what we are—deep and searing, rough and raw, soothing an ache I’ve ignored.

His soft kisses and touches from before never felt right; something bordering on annoying about the tickling gentleness. This kiss feels right—our bodies weak against each other despite how harshly our mouths move, tongues pushing against each other as the frustration from our argument continues to flare.

Hard fingertips push into my cheeks and my fingers remain threaded in his hair as the kiss’s ferocity opens me further. I don’t like people’s touch, but this… This is Rowan whose desire that I share thrums through my veins. This is the touch I want. Not the cautious gentleness, but one that my darkness feeds on and loves.

And even though I pull my mouth away, lips tingling, I don’t move back. I can’t ever step back from the world I never imagined I’d be a part of. One where I accept emotions can create a place of safety and happiness, and where touch is natural. A place with Rowan.

“That was one hell of a kiss from a girl who doesn’t like kissing,” Rowan says hoarsely.

“I came to the conclusion that I don’t like soft kisses,” I inform him, dizzied and breathless. “That’s what irritates me—not you.”

Rowan coughs a laugh. “Noted. But you can’t end arguments with a kiss.”

---