Chapter 15 #2
“Why?” A half dozen barely formed words tumbled out of her.
“Because of the alley. What I—” She set her palms on her cheeks and pushed up until her eyes squeezed shut, then took a breath, laced her fingers in front of her stomach, and looked at him directly.
“Because I used that magic on you. Because I manipulated you and took control of your will and did exactly what I promised myself I would never do. I unleashed evil on you, Maxim, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
It had all come out in a rush and had left Pippa feeling winded.
She wasn’t sure what she expected in response, but it wasn’t Maxim Sheppard frowning down at his half-eaten brownie.
And he wasn’t looking at it—he was looking through the plate, his concentration inward and not on anything in her apartment.
“When I first found out that you were a witch,” he said at last, “I thought of old book covers. The dramatic fantasy ones, painted by people who liked horror and whirling colors and chaos.”
He never said what she thought he would. Pippa’s hands disentangled and fell to her sides. But she did know the covers he was talking about.
“And boobs?” she added.
At last, a sliver of a smile made its way past Maxim’s stoicism.
He tipped his head in agreement. “Cleavage aside, they all had a sense of fear. Of power and destruction. And when I first saw your magic outside the restaurant, I wasn’t able to connect that at all with you.
It felt like I should be able to, but I couldn’t. ”
He fell silent, and Pippa’s guts twisted as she suspected where this train of conversation was headed.
“And the other day, when you . . .” He pressed his lips together and frowned. “You looked like those illustrations. Power surrounded you like an invisible wind and you glowed with it. You could destroy.”
Before she could shrink into herself even more, he continued.
“But even like that, even when I should have been terrified out of my life, I felt your magic and I felt you, and you were still good. That magic was still you. The power gripping my arms and holding tight to me had the warmth of your skin. And it smelled like peaches. The taste in my mouth was just . . . you.”
Pippa felt dizzy. Elated. Dizzier.
There came the tic in his jaw, and a slight shake of his head, an embarrassed twitch of his lips. “Plus, someone who makes desserts this good”—he finished off the brownie in another bite—“can’t possibly be evil.”
“Hansel and Gretel would like a word.”
He gave her a look. “Let me know if you suddenly have the urge to bake gingerbread.”
Pippa huffed a laugh through her nose.
“Did you use the, uh . . .” Maxim jerked his head at her bookshelf.
“No, these are just ordinary.” She hadn’t had time to visit any shops for Quillgluth extract or fairy wings, so her demon cookbooks sat unloved and unused on the shelf.
Pippa glanced down and rubbed a crumb of chocolate off her knuckle. She wasn’t sure how to begin saying what she wanted to say, so she decided to just start.
“The coven will never let me in.”
Maxim sighed and set his plate on the table. “I’m sorry I said that to you earlier. It wasn’t right. I know how much it means to you that—”
“No.” She bit her lip. “I overheard some of them talking when I was there. They’ve never actually intended for me to become part of their house.
They’ve been using me to do their work for them, but still see me as something that, I don’t know, taints their image.
No matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough for them. ”
Maxim’s look of outrage felt nice, and she let herself appreciate it even though she was long past that point herself.
“Jesus,” he snarled. “Are you serious? What are you going to do? We can go there right now. There must be some litigation that can pull their assholes through their necks.” He paused, considering. “Maybe there’s a spell that can do that, too.”
Pippa shook her head, though a little snort escaped her. “It’s not worth it. And it’s better this way. I’d been so caught up in needing to be a part of the Ash Coven that I never stopped to ask myself if it was something I even wanted.”
She risked a glance at him, and though the outrage was gone, his intensity wasn’t. She felt it snag her by the sternum and she wasn’t able to look away.
“You were right,” she said.
Maxim closed his eyes and raised a finger as if he were a musician paying close attention to a quiet note. “What was that?”
Ass. If not for the hint of a smirk at one corner of his mouth, she would have said the word out loud.
“You were right.”
He tipped his head back and let out a groan far too close to orgasmic for the situation. “God, that feels good.”
A sweet squirm low in Pippa’s belly sent heat flooding up her neck. She shifted, hoping that it would calm her body, because she wanted to see that look on his face and hear that phrase and feel that groan rumbling against her skin and hell why was she such a mess right now?
She wrangled her thoughts and said, “It shouldn’t have been on me to fix it all. It never should have been.”
Maxim sobered and nodded. His expression was one not of pity, but of understanding. Maybe, if she looked close enough, a little bit of pride, too. I’m glad you figured that out, said with nothing more than a dip of his chin.
He gripped the back of one of her chairs and leaned forward, a casual stance that also reminded her of a sprinter preparing to launch.
“While we’re on this subject.” Maxim sighed and gave her a chagrined smile. “You were right, too.”
Pippa couldn’t resist. She let out her own breathy moan, a high “Aaah” that darkened Maxim’s eyes. “Say it again.”
The chair creaked in his hands, and he gave her that look again, the one that made her feel like she was the dessert handed to him on a plate.
What revelation would he share? Pippa’s pulse lurched beneath her skin, her body excited and nervous all at once.
Then he cleared his throat and shifted, his attention wholly on the table in front of him. “I’ve been thinking of my time with you as a way to give me what my job doesn’t provide. You accused me of it before—twice, actually—and both times I’d been too fucking stubborn to see it.”
Well, that wasn’t the revelation she’d hoped for. The taste of sugar and chocolate soured in her mouth.
“So that’s the only reason you—”
“I’m not finished.”
Although he didn’t raise his voice, intensity laced his tone and the look he pinned her with. Pippa blinked, startled by the sudden heat it instilled.
“The other day, when I was here last, I stopped you because I was scared.”
Pippa stayed quiet and let him finish at his own pace. Memories of him on his knees and his mouth working feverishly threatened to overwhelm her, but she dug her fingernails into her palms and kept them at bay.
“The more time I spent with you, and the more I learned about everything you live with, the more I wanted to be part of it. It was the excitement that I’d always wanted and the fulfillment I’ve felt I needed. I was forcing myself somewhere I didn’t belong, and it wasn’t right of me.”
“You were scared of not belonging?” Pippa let out a high, short laugh. “It’s funny, I can’t think of anyone else in this room who might have been going through that exact same thing.”
“No, that’s not what I—” He swallowed and took a deep breath as if he were preparing to dive into treacherous water. “I’m not magical. I’m not special. How could I compare to anyone you would want to be with? I was scared that I would fall for you, and you would never fall back.”
Pippa noticed that her mouth had fallen open in her shock, and she snapped it shut.
“Are you serious? I don’t think that at all!
Can’t you believe that you’re nice to be around?
Enjoyable, even? God.” She dragged her hands down her face.
“I never wanted just a fling with you, Maxim. I like being with you. I like talking with you, and arguing with you, and do you know how obnoxious it is to suddenly realize that seeing you is the best part of my day?”
Maxim was staring at her, the slightest crease between his brows. It looked like he was fighting with a smile and losing.
“Then why did you keep the mark on your neck?” he said. “It reminded you of what you like. Something that I couldn’t fully give you.”
Oh, that’s what he’d been thinking? It made a certain sense once she remembered the vagueness of what she’d said in that closet, when she’d intended to be coy and flirty and had apparently instilled a lingering sense of self-doubt.
Pippa let out a frustrated groan. “Goddammit, Maxim. I kept your bite mark on my neck because it reminded me of you. Because I love—”
She broke off. There were a thousand ways to end that sentence without leaving her exposed and raw.
A quick readjustment could send her on a tangent far away from words she wasn’t sure she was ready to say out loud.
Because I love knowing that someone might see your mark on me.
Because I love how straight the welts from your teeth are, did you have braces as a kid? Because I love scarves.
Pippa had spent enough time recently dancing around the edges of honesty.
“. . . You,” she finished in a whisper.
Maxim strode toward her, swept her into his arms, and kissed her harder than she’d ever been kissed in her life, consuming her gasp like it was nourishment. He tasted like chocolate and sweetness and him.
The stubble on his chin and upper lip scraped at her skin, but she didn’t care.
She wrapped both fists in the soft collar of his shirt, and she tugged him down in an effort to keep him as close as possible.
When she slid one hand up his nape and dragged her nails along his scalp, he gave a little groan, perfect in its desperation.