Chapter 14
Thank Goodness For Sound Wards
Ihaven’t seen Rowan for more than twenty-four hours now, and I feel like I’ve caught a human flu. Every muscle in my body aches, and I have no energy. My stomach is off, my head hurts, and if he doesn’t hurry home, I’m probably going to die.
Okay, die might be a touch dramatic.
He texted when he was leaving Albany, and I wrapped up in a blanket on my bed, resigned to the fact that I won’t see him tonight. He’ll arrive in Moss Hollow after midnight.
The house falls silent as my people head to bed, and I lie here, unable to sleep.
But I must eventually doze, because I wake to a quiet noise at the window.
I freeze, my heart beating wildly, wondering if it was a dream.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I nearly jump out of my skin.
Preparing to run from the room and get my dad like the grown-up pixie I am, I grab my phone. But before I’m out the door, the device buzzes with a text.
I look down.
Rowan: It’s me. Open the window.
Relief hits me so hard, I nearly melt onto the floor. Flipping on the lights, I hurry across the room and pull back the drapes.
Rowan stands on the other side of the window, shrouded in midnight. He points to the lock, gesturing for me to flip it.
I quickly follow his instructions and pull the window open, cringing when it loudly protests.
“What are you doing?” I whisper when I have it open just enough that we can talk.
“I tried to text, but you didn’t answer.”
“I was sleeping.”
“Lucky you.” He pulls a wand from inside his waistband and points at the window. Blue magic envelops it, and it slides open, silent as can be. “I felt like our magic was going to shred me from the inside out.”
He hoists himself up, crawling in with more grace than I could manage.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I say.
“I did my fair share of sneaking out when I was a teen.”
“Who knew you were such a rebel?”
He drops into the room and closes the window. Then he casts another spell. This one washes over everything—the window, the walls, the door.
“There,” he says in a regular, conversational tone, stretching his shoulders like he hurt them crawling in.
“Shhh!” I warn, cupping my hand over his mouth and looking fearfully at the door. “You’re worried my parents don’t like you now; imagine what will happen if they find out you snuck into my room.”
He takes my hand and kisses the inside of my palm. “This is a strange conversation for two people our age to have.”
“Rowan!” I whisper, desperately trying to shush him. Has he no notion of self-preservation?
“I muffled the room,” Rowan laughs. “Just like Ansel did before he dispelled his magic. I used the spell all the time when Ryder and I would stay up late at Marshall’s place playing video games.”
“That’s a handy trick,” I laugh, relaxing.
“It is.”
“How long does it last?”
“A few hours.”
Before I can respond, he pulls me into his arms, wrapping himself around me as though he can’t get close enough.
“Better,” he groans.
And it is. So much better.
“I felt like I was sick while you were gone,” I admit, clinging to him as our magic finally chills. “It was bearable for the first part of the day, but by evening, it was awful.”
“I’m sorry.” He nestles his nose against the crook of my neck and breathes in deeply. “Albany is apparently too far.”
“What are we going to do when you go to school?”
“I don’t know.”
He pulls back just enough to twine his fingers into the hair at the base of my scalp, and then he kisses me.
Kisses me.
There’s no warning, no little soft, nippy pecks leading up to it. Zero to sixty in two-point-five seconds.
I sure hope Rowan’s muffling charm works, because I make a very embarrassing, very needy mewling noise and drape my arms over his shoulders.
“Forgive me,” he says, his lips hot against mine. “I know we shouldn’t. Especially not here. I just…”
I bring my hand to the back of his neck, massaging his tight muscles. “You just what?”
His eyes find mine. With a dark catch in his voice, he says, “I need you.”
The confession is a jolt to my magic and my heart.
“And I want you.” Rowan tilts his head, claiming my lips again, softly this time. “And I’m so tired of trying to fight it.”
My eyes flutter shut. “To be fair, we haven’t tried very hard.”
“This is me trying.” He laughs, kissing the underside of my jaw. “Imagine if I weren’t.”
“Yes, please,” I laugh.
He drops his face to my shoulder, holding me. “I missed you.”
The connection chases away all the discomfort, leaving me warm and happy.
“I missed you, too.” I glance toward the window. “Is your horse out there?”
“No, I rode my bike to the parking garage this morning. I left it at Ash’s place where no one would notice it and then walked over.”
“Then you don’t have to leave. Why don’t you stay with me tonight, like you did the night you saved me from Russell?”
He lifts his head, his eyes sweeping over me. “I shouldn’t.”
“We won’t let the bond manipulate us,” I promise. “I just don’t want to be alone.”
He brushes his hand over my back, thinking. Finally, he nods. Then his gaze falls to my lips. “One kiss probably wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“Certainly not.” I grin, standing on my tiptoes and brushing my lips over his.
He groans, his eyes closed, and then tugs me toward the bed. “Maybe two kisses.”
“Three, and then we’re done,” I laugh.
I crawl onto the bed, dragging him with me. My head falls onto my pillow, and Rowan lowers himself so he’s resting his weight on his elbows. He gazes down at me, gray eyes drinking me in.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper.
“How pretty you are with your hair splayed out on your pillow.”
His words make me shiver, and I lower my eyes to his waistcoat. “Surely you don’t sleep in that?”
“It would be uncomfortable.”
“May I?”
Watching me, he nods.
Slowly, I work the silver buttons until the fabric falls open. He shrugs out of it and tosses it to the end of the bed. I’d like to get rid of his button-up shirt, too, but I suspect Rowan will object, so I fist my hand in the fabric and pull him down.
His mouth meets mine, his kiss unhurried, savoring the moment. I revel in the feel of his weight as it pushes me into the fluffy comforter. His smell, the slight stubble on his jaw, the way he kisses me like I’m precious—everything about him drives me mad.
He trails his mouth down my neck, creating a trail of fire.
When he pushes aside my collar to kiss my collarbone, I say, “You know, one button wouldn’t destroy my modesty…”
He playfully scrapes his teeth over my skin. “That’s a slippery slope.”
I laugh…
And then I bolt upright, pushing him aside. Bewildered, he raises his brows, wondering what got into me.
“My magic,” I whisper, horrified.
“No one can see your sparkles.” He looks around as if he needs to confirm we’re alone.
I am sparkling, but that’s not what I’m worried about. “My summer magic. Am I flooding the house with joy? Will someone wake up and notice?”
Rowan looks like he wants to argue, and then his forehead creases. He presses his lips together, wincing a little, and then reaches for me again. But this time, he lies next to me and tugs me into his arms. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”
Horrified, I laugh. Rolling over, I burrow against him, tucking my cheek to his chest. “Shifters are lucky they don’t have emotion magic. It makes this bond business far more complicated.”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I lift my head to look at him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he says immediately.
But his nothing is definitely something.
“Tell me.”
“My mind wandered to the day’s research, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”
“Did you learn something?”
“Maybe.” He chases his frown away with a tired smile. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. It’s late.”
“Okay.” Yawning, I close my eyes, shamelessly cuddled up next to him, my magic and my heart content. “Night, Rowan.”
For the second time in less than twelve hours, I wake to a quiet knocking—but this time, it’s coming from my bedroom door.
“Kit,” Mom calls. “It’s getting late, and we were starting to get worried. You need to open the tea shop in an hour. Are you okay? Can I come in?”
My eyes snap open. Rowan must wake at the same time because we stare at each other, frozen in place, not daring to move.
We forgot to set an alarm.
“I’m fine,” I call, widening my eyes to ask him what we’re going to do. “I just slept in.”
The doorknob turns, and Rowan rolls off the side of the bed—and not a moment too soon. Just as he hits the floor, Mom opens the door and pokes her head in.
“Have you heard from Rowan yet?” she asks. “You seemed out of sorts yesterday while he was gone.”
“Oh, yeah.” I brush my fingers through my hair, trying to act normal. “He texted last night.”
She comes into the room and sits next to me. “Did he make it back from the college okay?”
“I think so?” I nearly squeak, realizing his waistcoat is at the end of the bed. Right there.
She notices it seconds after I do. “Is this yours—” A strange noise cuts her off, like the sudden rush of wind, and she forgets about the vest. “What was that?”
“Chester, probably.”
“Chester is outside.”
“No, wait!” I exclaim as she crawls over the bed and peers down.
I freeze, eyes clenched shut. This is going to be really awkward, really soon.
“Huh,” she says, her tone far too calm. “I don’t see anything. Is the wind blowing? We might need Dad to weather-proof the cottage. If you’re getting gusts in summer, imagine how cold you’ll be in winter.”
Where is Rowan?
The bedframe sits too low for him to roll under the bed, and his wand is on the dresser near the window, all incriminating-like, so he couldn’t have worked a quick charm.
And what was that noise?
Mom leaves the bed. “I have blueberry bread in the oven. It should be ready in about ten minutes. Why don’t you get ready and then come join us for breakfast?”
“Okay.”
She turns to look back at me from the doorway, concerned. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Frowning, she nods, closing the door behind her. “I’ll make some coffee. You look like you could use some this morning.”
The moment she’s gone, I scramble over to the other side of the bed. “Rowan?” I whisper urgently. “Rowan!”
A shrill, startling screech comes from under the bed, chilling me right to the bone. I lift the dust ruffle and come face to face with a very small, very startled-looking owl.
We peer at each other—me lost for words, him unable to use words.
“Rowan,” I say dumbly. “You’re a bird again.”