#3
We could simply help train the other instructors—a thirty-day intensive that would be over before we knew it. We can also support the initiative by promoting the Academy on the 3 Sisters app, once that’s up and running, and even help select the inaugural class of witches.
“I believe in what the Council is trying to do,” I admit, shifting so I can turn to face Morgan in our bed. At least one of the cats is offended by the change in position, jumping to the floor, little feet scampering away.
“But?”
“I don’t want my whole life to be a reminder of everything I lost.”
Morgan brushes the hair out of my face, warm fingers settling at my neck, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “Even if we went all the way in on this, it wouldn’t have to be your whole life.”
“How do you figure?”
“Cal said we’d only teach a few hours a day, and the island will have internet. You’d still have time for art. Hell, more time than you do now, probably. You could build up your base of freelance clients.”
I tip my forehead to hers and loop an arm around her waist, pulling our bodies flush. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Plus,” she continues, “with how much the Council is willing to pay, if we decide we’re done after the first semester, you’d still have enough of a buffer to try working for yourself. No more boring corporate design clients.”
The air is heavy with her hope. It’s an aching, electric thing.
“You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“It’s tempting,” she admits, her fingers trailing down my side to rest at the small of my back.
“Between my bookstore shifts and teaching kids dance and trying to write my book… I feel like I’m constantly pulled in so many different directions.
It would be nice to streamline how much I’ve got going on.
To be part of something important and have more time to write.
I know there’d be a lot of logistics, but it kind of feels like winning the lottery. ”
“I get that,” I admit, even as misgivings continue to tighten my chest and swirl through my stomach. “But after we defeated the Hunters, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let what happened take over my life. This feels too close to that.”
“This isn’t about them , though,” she insists. “This is about continuing to improve Clan relations. It’s taking the brilliant discoveries that you made and finding out what else our combined magics can do.”
“Discoveries that we made,” I correct, leaning in for a kiss that leaves me hungry for more, but she needs credit for what we did together. “Without you, I never would have known Blood Magic made Elemental gifts stronger. I wouldn’t have thought to try mixing Elemental magic with Caster potions.”
“Fine. Our discovery. Which is exactly why I won’t do this without you. If helping with publicity is all you feel comfortable doing, I’ll be there, at your side.” She leans in for another kiss. “And if you want to spend a month, or a year , at the academy itself… Where you go, I go.”
Despite her assurances, her hope is still heavy in the air.
She wants to go. She’ll stay in Salem for my sake, but I can already picture her thriving in some wind-tossed Scottish island, writing her sexy vampire books and teaching Elementals and Casters how to work with Blood Witches instead of fearing them.
“I need to sleep on it,” I tell her in the quiet dark of our bedroom. In the house that we bought thanks to the trust fund the Council set up as payment for everything we sacrificed to stop the Witch Hunters all those years ago.
Morgan’s hand tightens against the small of my back. “Are you ready to sleep now or…” The mischievous grin that spreads across her face in the dark sends a thrill of desire through me.
It requires only the smallest effort to reach for a spark of fire, and the candles placed around the room burst into flickering light.
The tiny flames cast a warm glow against Morgan’s skin that leaves her looking utterly kissable.
So I do. I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, her jaw, down her neck.
A gentle moan hums at the back of her throat.
“I’ve been thinking about this since our shower,” she murmurs.
“Quick can be fun, but I want to take my time with you.” Her fingers trail up my spine and thread in my hair.
Her grip tightens, and the bright sting against my scalp drives me wild.
It’s a very different kind of magic to be with her like this.
To have the coziness, the safety, the familiarity…
And also the passion. The burning need to touch and taste and devour. To ache to be taken apart and put back together again.
To come utterly undone at her touch.
It’s a long time before we even think about sleep.
* * *
I wake alone in bed, the late-morning sun warm against my bare skin.
The last fragments of dreams cling to my consciousness, formless but unsettling. I check the bed for one of the cats, but even they’ve abandoned me this morning. With a deep breath, I connect to the air and trace the currents to find where everyone has gone.
Colby, I find in the kitchen, napping next to his food dish. Jack, meanwhile, is in the second bedroom-turned-office down the hall, curled up at Morgan’s feet. With barely more than a thought, I direct the air to dance through Morgan’s hair in a silent hello.
Laughter echoes down the hall. “Morning, babe!”
“Morning!” I call back, sliding out of bed.
My body is deliciously sore after last night, and I make my way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
The first spray of water against my skin fills me with a steady thrum of power, which is probably why I’ve never developed a taste for coffee.
Who needs ground up bean water when a shower literally fills you with energy?
Once I’m clean, dressed, and my teeth are minty-fresh, I wander down the hall to the office Morgan and I share.
It’s a cozy space, two desks separated by a plush couch, the room filled to bursting with house plants .
Morgan is at her desk, headphones in, her favorite candle burning as she types away at her novel.
The flame flickers to acknowledge my arrival, the fire’s bright energy a welcome hello.
I slip my arms around Morgan’s shoulders and press a kiss against her cheek.
She finishes the sentence she’s on before lowering her headphones and turning her chair to kiss me properly. “You working on client projects this morning?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmur in agreement. “After I grab some breakfast. Do you need anything?”
“What are you making?”
“Eggs probably. On a bagel, if we have any left.”
Morgan grins. “Well, if you’re making your famous Walsh egg sandwiches, you know I want one.”
“Two bacon, egg, and cream cheese bagels with red onions, coming up!” I start to pull away to head for the kitchen when Morgan’s fingers circle my wrist, holding me in place. “Yeah?”
“How are you feeling? About Cal’s offer?” Her thumb brushes along my inner wrist. “Do you need to talk about it? I can take a writing break.”
“Later. You looked like you were in a good groove. Keep going.” I kiss her forehead and spin her chair back to face the computer. “Once you finish the first draft, I’ll mock up a cover for you.”
Morgan wiggles in her chair, a grin brightening her expression. “My girls are just about to get to their first kiss!”
“Make it a good one,” I say before leaving the office. Jack follows at my heels all the way into the kitchen.
Colby greets me with a big stretch as I fill their food dishes, and then I settle into the rhythm of a typical Saturday morning.
Breakfast made and shared with Morgan while she updates me on her book.
Finishing some final changes for a cover design on my computer before shifting to the office’s couch to start sketching a new project on my tablet.
Colby and Jack curl up at my feet, their gentle purrs vibrating against my toes.
As I sketch out the initial design for the client’s requested just-about-to-kiss pose for their characters, my mind wanders away from the work at hand.
For a moment, I let myself imagine a future where I get to work on this kind of project all the time.
No more boring corporate clients. No more basic ass fonts over a palette of neutral browns and grays.
Instead, I could fill my days bringing other people’s creativity to life.
Designing covers for stories I believe in.
Seeing my art help inspire readers to pick up a new-to-them author.
I have a decent following online already, and if I didn’t have a nine-to-five, I could take on more clients.
And if I say yes to Cal’s offer…
My gaze flicks up from the tablet to where Morgan is scrolling back through her document, her brow furrowed with concentration. She wants to go. Teaching at the academy—the Archer Walsh International Academy of Witches— would give her so much more time to write.
While part of me is still nervous about the idea of giving up my normal job with its health insurance and retirement plan to gallivant across the ocean to spend a year surrounded by experimental magic…
I know it’s not just that holding me back.
Despite Cal and Morgan’s insistence that this new Council project is about looking forward , I worry I’ll feel trapped in the past. I don’t know if I can handle spending an entire year surrounded by reminders of the worst moments of my life.
I worked so hard to heal. To build a life for myself that’s based on what I want, not what the Witch Hunters thrust upon me when I was seventeen.
And what if Morgan loves teaching there? What if she wants to stay ? She said last night that she’ll go wherever I want to be, but I can’t stomach the thought of holding her back. Of putting my happiness before hers. I want to be her forever, but not if that means she has to deny her own dreams.
“Han? You good?”