5
EVIE
“ H ave you ever thought about doing something more? Like completing a course at university or getting trained in something?” Jacob asked as we strolled through the summer markets in the heart of Etherdale.
I paused for a moment, trying not to read into the negative implications of the question—the question he’d asked nearly a dozen times since we’d started dating. Instead, I leaned into the excitement bubbling in my chest. I hadn’t told anyone about the secret project I’d been drafting the past couple months, squirreling away funds and ideas as I dreamed.
I began selling my goods to tiny merchants and shops before Celeste’s made me a deal to sell exclusively to them. Ever since, demand for my products had steadily grown as word spread. I imbued each good with distinctive spells and magick, mostly for healing or protection. I guessed customers found them especially potent, and as my confidence in my abilities grew, so too did my desire to scale up.
After all, I was helping people. I’d never been more fulfilled and certain about my place in the world as when I was using my power for good.
“I actually think I want to open my own shop,” I said. “You know, instead of selling my goods to others.” I smiled, examining the beautiful pendant necklaces at one of the booths. They shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, and I was particularly attracted to the moonstone. As soon as my fingertips brushed the crystal, a flash of intuition about its magickal properties flooded my mind.
The merchants were helping a customer, clearly annoyed with his aggressive haggling.
Jacob’s heavy sigh behind me made me tense up on instinct. “Evie, my love,” he started, the condescension already sending a pool of disappointment to my guts. “How can you possibly open a shop of your own? You don’t even like people.”
My smile faded. “That’s not true.” Well, not entirely. It was more complicated than that. I wanted to like people. We just often didn’t understand each other, and I found it hard to trust them. But I didn’t need to be especially charismatic to own my own store; my goods would speak for themselves.
“And there are a million witchy stores in Etherdale already.”
I deflated, the last puff of excitement leaving my lungs. “I know that. I’d have to be unique.”
Jacob sighed again, and I couldn’t bear to turn and see his irritated features. I kept thumbing the jewelry, reading each signature, busying myself with new spell ideas to distract from my boyfriend’s doubts about my dreams.
“I’m not trying to be a downer. It’s just reality.”
There was that word again. Reality. I’d never been a fan of the notion. Perhaps why I spent so much time escaping to other worlds between the pages of a book.
Still, it stung just as much as when Idris had said it, along with his condemnation of my sensitivity and childishness. Predictably, my eyes pricked with tears. And I hated it.
Stop crying! a voice that didn’t belong to me screeched. It was the voice of a ghost, one I tried desperately to forget—one who might haunt me forever.
Not that I wouldn’t deserve it.
“No, it’s fine,” I said, hoping I sounded stronger than I felt. “You went to university, and I didn’t.”
It wasn’t merely that I didn’t go; I couldn’t . That was what no one understood. To go to university as a witch studying magick, I’d have to be tested. Examined. Studied.
It wasn’t an option. Not for me.
Jacob spun me around and kissed my forehead. “I didn’t mean it like that. I push you because I think you’re brilliant. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I would hate to see you waste your potential.” He paused. “And it’s not just that I went to university—I actually studied business. I’m only trying to help you.”
My vision blurred with tears, and I blinked them away, praying they didn’t spill over.
Jacob scanned my eyes and let out yet another frustrated breath. “Gods, Evie. Not in public. You make me look like some kind of abusive dickhead.”
He recoiled from me, anger flashing in his eyes.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“I need to go soon,” he said.
My heart dropped. Clearly, my vision for the day had been very different from… reality. I swallowed, but it didn’t shift the mass in my throat. He’d been gone for so long, and he’d been too busy and nomadic to write to me. Or maybe he’d wanted to live in the moment. Either way, I hadn’t heard anything from him in weeks after barely receiving notice of his departure.
I’d hoped we’d walk around the market longer, and I’d tell him all about my ideas for my future shop. All the new spells I’d been working on. The things I’d read lately about philosophy and mythology. And maybe we’d do something romantic like a picnic, or a romantic dinner in?—
“I’ll just go now, actually. I’m clearly not making you happy, and I want you to enjoy your day. I have to help out with preparation for the party tomorrow night.”
My last thread of hope for a beautiful day together died. I wondered if what he’d said was even true. Who planned their own welcome-home party? Especially when you had a mother like his. It would be strange for Cindy to make her darling son lift even a finger for his own celebration. Or for anything at all, really.
I nodded. “Oh, okay. I understand. I’m sorry. I just…”
Wanted more from you. Wanted more for us.
“… haven’t seen you in so long. I’ve missed you.”
Jacob’s eyes softened, pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll see you at the party.”
He pulled away with a smile that didn’t reach his hazel eyes. Then, he left.
There was a place I retreated to in my mind in order to make this world less crushing or confusing or disappointing. It was a lens of fiction, a way to layer fantasy on top of the physical world. In this place inside my mind, I could fantasize that people were different. That my life was more exciting—that I hadn’t been born terrified and alone.
Right after Jacob left, I retreated to that place. I came up with solid explanations for his behavior, ones that made his actions hurt a lot less. He was this way because his dad was so hard on him growing up. He learned to express love differently than what I wanted—with pushing and questioning and toughness—and that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t understand gentle, thoughtful love, and my expectations were probably too high, anyway. Ruined by romance novels, like he always reminded me.
Besides, he was right. There were too many witchy shops in Etherdale. I wasn’t ready. I needed to be more than just special. I needed to be the best. Maybe then I wouldn’t be such an outsider, and Jacob would love me differently.
There was only one obstacle before me, and it was a rather large one.
There was nothing I feared more than the full brunt of power buried in my veins. Power I’d been blocking and avoiding for years now—power that I, frankly, wanted nothing to do with.
But enough time had passed, and the small amount of magick that I was currently tapping into was helping people. Jacob had been right: I needed to do something more.
And I knew Idris felt the same. You need to face reality. Your sensitivity is childish.
You can’t run forever.
The truth was, I was being left behind by two of the only people who’d ever cared about me. And I couldn’t bear to be any more alone than I already felt.
“What in the heavens are you thinking so hard about?” a deep, amused voice said from behind me.
I tensed, realizing I’d been staring at a shelf of magickal objects, motionless, for far too long.
A presence was at my back, accompanied by the scent of dark musk, leather, and fresh mint and berries.
“Let me guess: Pretty flowers and picnics in meadows?”
I swallowed and slowly turned. He was standing far too close, his body heat pressing against me. I had to lift my chin to stare into those dark blue eyes.
“Hilarious,” I said. “You know green witches can specialize in poisons, right?” I smiled warmly.
His powerful jaw ticked, a strange intensity brewing in his eyes. Had that turned him on?
I tried to step back before I realized the shelves were behind me. I was trapped. He wore a dark blue shirt similar to the shade of his eyes and black pants. On his feet were heavy combat boots.
“Do you have a name, pretty little forest nymph?” he asked, his voice deceptively sweet.
My fists tightened. “Yes. Do you?”
He took a step closer to me, his body nearly brushing against mine. His gaze was intense enough that I could feel it in my stomach, a warmth that spread lower and lower…
The merchant at the counter cleared her throat.
The man didn’t move at first, his eyes flitting from my eyes to my lips as his breathing quickened.
Electricity jolted through my system. Anticipation and confusion warred in my mind as the world slipped away.
“I’ll tell you my name if you allow me to accompany you through the market,” he said, low and commanding. “There are a lot of vampires here today.”
I lifted a brow, struggling to concentrate as he overwhelmed all my senses with his proximity. “So?”
He bent down, his breath fanning over my face, our lips only inches apart. “ So , angel, you’re the most delicious looking prey for miles.”
Something coiled inside me—heat and danger and desire.
“You’re an incubus, aren’t you?”
His brows drew together, the intensity in his eyes melting as he broke into a deep laugh that vibrated beneath my skin.
“If I was an incubus, you wouldn’t suspect it. That’s literally the entire point of their defensive glamour.”
Oh, shit. He was right. Why did the idea of him not being a sex demon frighten me even more?
“Let me protect you,” he said softly. “I can also offer charm, wit, and, dare I say, fun. It’s a spectacular deal for you, truly.”
No. Hell no. Also, I had a boyfriend.
I didn’t realize I was chewing my bottom lip until he was glaring at it.
“You’re arrogant,” I said.
He lifted a brow. “I prefer confident . Arrogance is born of insecurity and a lack of humility. Confidence is knowing exactly who you are and taking pride in your particular skill sets and strengths. Such as protecting vulnerable little angels while they stroll through markets.”
That fucking smile. It looked like he wanted to devour me whole. I opened my mouth to say no, but “ Fine ,” came out instead.
“Correct answer,” he purred. “Very good girl.”
The words shocked me, a confusing mix of yearning and shame swirling in my blood.
I scoffed. “I already regret my decision.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, finally backing up and giving me space. “My name is Kylo.”
“Well, Kylo, I’m going to poison the hell out of you with my pretty flowers.”
He groaned. “Enough with the dirty talk. I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re making it extraordinarily difficult.”
I walked next to him, my stomach nervous with butterflies, as he moved even closer to me and scanned our surroundings as if for threats.
“My name is Evie, and this is platonic,” I blurted.
“Of course, Evie. Wouldn’t dream of anything more.” Kylo slowly turned his head to side-eye me with a smirk.
He spoke as if he wasn’t taking me seriously, and it was irritating. And once again I was confused by the effect it had on me.
I felt clunky and awkward walking next to him. He moved with such fluid grace it was eerie—especially for someone so tall and scary-looking.
I knew rationally that his bravado and talk of protecting me was part of his game. He was only trying to seduce me. Even if I knew it was fake, the act produced very real palpitations in my chest.
Why had I agreed to this? This was a horrible idea.
When the third person waved hello to Kylo, I eyed him curiously. “You have a lot of friends.”
“They’re meticulously curated, I assure you.”
I slowed my pace, eyeing a booth with rare and ancient books. Kylo noticed and immediately stopped moving. I felt the warmth of his hand near the small of my back, subtly guiding me toward the stall. He still hadn’t touched me, and he made no move to.
“What are your friends like, angel?”
Friends. I was friendly with a lot of Jacob’s friends. And with the owners and regulars of Celeste’s—the people I helped with my spells. And, of course, Mena’s circle found me fascinating . I’d always gotten along better with older humans than people my own age. I generally didn’t even bother with witches, fearing they’d pity or distrust me for not belonging to a coven. Or worse, they’d immediately know how different I was and shun me.
I preferred to reject others before they could reject me.
And, hey , points for self-awareness.
“They’re mostly human,” I said blandly. I feared everything I said would end up shattering whatever fleeting fascination this man had with me. Though, shouldn’t that have been what I wanted?
Entertaining him was a shitty thing to do to Jacob. The only person who would approve of this uncharacteristic behavior was Mena, and she was hardly trustworthy when it came to long-lasting romantic endeavors.
Perhaps I should be myself and let that scare him away.
“I’m closest to my brother. But he’s living on the university’s campus now. Studying architecture,” I offered.
I examined the beautiful, ancient texts spread before me on one of the folding tables before the counter. There were a couple of other people browsing—a human woman and a shifter man. As soon as my fingers skimmed over a thick book with golden emboss detailing, a flicker of knowing infected my mind. It was a book on divination—the psychic art of telling the past, present, and future.
I hadn’t realized how intently Kylo had been watching me until I focused back on the world around me. I quickly retracted my hand. I was sure I looked more than a little eccentric zoning out like that.
“What do you study?” I asked quickly.
“I’m not a student.”
I glanced over at him. “Then what do you do?” He appeared to be in his mid-to-late-twenties, too young to be a professor—but perhaps he was training to be one.
“I’m a private tutor.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Of what?”
“Philosophy,” he said, studying the row of books before him. His eyes snagged on one that was black and nondescript, the title in tiny golden letters. Diary of Theo Renee.
“Of course, you’re a nihilist ,” I said with a sigh, recognizing that philosopher’s name.
Kylo’s eyes flashed to mine, amusement ripe on his soft-looking lips. “Said with such venom.” His grin spread as he leaned over the table between us and stared hard into my eyes. “Not a fan of nihilism, angel?”
The blue of his eyes was so deep, like the darkest depths of an ocean during a violent storm. “Nihilism is intellectually lazy.”
Surprise colored his features for a moment before he laughed, the sound of it stirring something potent in my stomach.
“Intellectually lazy,” he repeated with another chuckle. He held my gaze intently, as if he saw something inside me that he wanted to drag out into the light.
I squirmed under his prying eyes, resisting the urge to back down and look away.
“It’s easy to say it’s all random, that none of it means anything at all. I feel like too many people use nihilism as an excuse to avoid being earnest.”
Kylo’s eyes softened.
“But maybe that’s just me avoiding reality. Being childish and idealistic,” I said quickly. I winced. Why the hell did I feel the need to say my inner monologue out loud? Gods.
Kylo frowned, not speaking for several moments. I was suddenly too hot and exposed, my skin itchy and uncomfortable. I finally broke our locked eyes to pretend to study the books again. My heart was beating hard and fast, his gaze a brand on my soul.
“I agree with you,” he said softly. “Reality is malleable. If you don’t like your current one, you can always surround yourself with those who dream of something more.”
Whatever the opposite of disappointment was—that was the warm, surprised feeling that burrowed in my heart.
He was so… unexpected.
“Choosing meaning over meaninglessness is vulnerable, and vulnerability isn’t wrong. It’s beautiful and brave.”
I slowly met his eyes again, the only part of him that was soft and open.
“It’s not childish to be idealistic,” he continued. “All the greats are.”