Chapter 42 Concoctions and Confessions #2
“This is one of my favorite spots,” he says, settling me in his lap. “When everything gets loud and chaotic—work, missions—this is where I come.”
I look out at the shimmering pool, the overgrown maze beyond, the impossible colors of the flowers. “I can see why you love it.”
“I can’t wait to show you Hyland.” He watches me like he’s memorizing the moment—like he knows it’s fragile.
“I kind of feel like we should be at the gym, working out. This feels suspiciously like a vacation.”
He tilts his head back and chuckles. “Would it help if I made you do lunges across the patio?”
“Honestly, probably.”
His laughter is a soft rumble vibrating through my shoulder, curling through me, warmer than the sunshine.
I grin, feeling that startling, ridiculous sense of victory that I do every time I make him laugh.
These glimpses of him, where he’s carefree—beyond the minutia of rules, secrets, and order—have me constantly starved for more, and also terrified, knowing how easy it would be to fall for him.
His blue eyes shine as his hand around my waist tightens, drawing me closer, a silent question, allowing me the time to lean away.
I don’t.
I run my fingers along the edge of his jaw as I’ve imagined doing countless times—lost to the warmth of his skin, the roughness of the scruff, and the way his breath catches. My heart beats so loud, I’m sure he can hear it, pleading for him to kiss me.
His fingers curl around the back of my neck, and his lips brush against mine.
Finally.
The world doesn’t just tilt—it fractures.
His lips are warm and sure, tasting like mint and something sweeter I can’t name, and for a heartbeat I freeze, too stunned by the reality of Griffin kissing me to do anything but feel.
Then his thumb brushes the pulse point beneath my jaw, and something inside me ignites.
I kiss him back. Tentatively at first, learning the shape of his mouth, the way he makes a low sound in the back of his throat when my fingers slide into his hair.
But tentative doesn’t last—can’t last—not when he shifts, angling his head to deepen the kiss, not when his other hand spans across my lower back, pulling me impossibly closer.
I’ve been kissed before. In the back of theaters and dark cars, moments I’d rather forget.
This isn’t that.
This is Griffin’s careful control cracking, his kiss turning hungry, urgent, like he’s been holding back for months and finally—finally—he doesn’t have to. I melt into him, clenching his shirt because if I don’t hold on to something, I’m going to float away.
Or catch fire.
Or both.
That space in my chest that tugs when one of them is around pulses with recognition. Like it’s been waiting for this. For him.
“Bri.” He breathes my name against my lips, and the sound of it—rough and wanting—does something devastating to my composure.
“Don’t stop.” The words escape before I can filter them. “Please don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
His kiss turns softer, slower, like he’s savoring me. Like he has all the time in the world and intends to use every second. His hand slides from my neck to cup my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
I’ve spent so long building walls. So long convincing myself I don’t need this—don’t need anyone.
And he seems to sense them. And the terrifying part is that I want him to tear them down.
When he finally pulls back, I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can only stare at him, his face inches from mine, blue eyes dark and intense and so full of want it steals whatever air I managed to find.
“You’re trouble,” I whisper, but my voice is wrecked.
His mouth curves into that rare, devastating smile. “You have no idea.”
I’m pretty sure I might be falling for him—might already have.
The thought hits me so suddenly, so completely, that I nearly pull away. Nearly run. Because caring about someone means giving them the power to destroy you, and I’ve been destroyed enough times to know better.
But Griffin’s hand is still cradling my face, his thumb brushing across my lips like he can’t quite believe he gets to touch me like this, and I find myself leaning into the touch instead of away.
Maybe I’m tired of running.
Maybe, just maybe, I want to see what happens when I stay.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice low.
The question lands heavier than it should. I think of all the ways I’ve been betrayed. All the questions and doubts I still have. “I’m trying to,” I admit.
His expression turns tender, patient. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so casual, so intimate, it makes my heart stutter. “Call this a trust exercise.”
Before I can ask what he means, he stands, keeping me in his arms. He walks to the edge of the pool. My stomach drops as he steps off the edge.
I yelp, gripping the back of his neck, bracing for cold water that never comes. We slice through air, water surrounding us like we’re in a tunnel.
Griffin’s feet barely graze the bottom of the pool, and then we’re floating higher, the water filling beneath us, without ever touching us.
Joy—pure and startling—floods my chest. My laughter comes out breathless and off-key as I peer around, trying to grasp another impossible moment. “How are you doing this?”
“I’m using my Air and Water elements,” he explains.
“Is it an air shield?”
Griffin shakes his head. “Not a shield. Just a buffer.”
“Will anything I do break it?”
“No,” Daire says, appearing at the edge of the pool. “Not with us around.” My heart races at the sight of him in his swim shorts.
I reach out, testing the boundaries of the buffer before slipping my fingers through it into the pool. It’s nearly as warm as the springs at Mysthaven.
Kai joins Daire, standing at the edge, dressed in a pair of bright orange swim shorts. He chugs the contents of a glass and then distractedly scratches the planes of his perfect chest.
“Want a rematch, old man?”
Daire laughs good-naturedly. Naturally. “No elements?”
Kai shakes his head. “No elements.”
Daire grins, then shoves Kai into the pool, but Kai seems to expect the push, and he grabs Daire’s arm at the same time that he flips. The two crash into the water, sending violent waves that rock around us.
Somehow, we remain still.
“You’re safe here,” Griffin murmurs against my ear, feeling my pulse spike. “I promise.”
They swim beneath us, going the full distance of the pool and then returning, completing three laps.
Kai’s the first to surface, his dark hair slicked back, water cascading down his sculpted shoulders and chest as he wears a triumphant grin. “Pay up,” he says to Daire.
“Double or nothing,” Daire counters.
“Deal,” Kai says without hesitation.
“First,” Griffin says. “Let’s show Brielle what Water Elementals can do.”
My curiosity is piqued. While magic resides everywhere in Mysthaven, proof in the fires that constantly burn and the air that warms and cools, they rarely make grandiose gestures. It’s subtle. Details that could easily be overlooked.
Daire extends his hand toward the pool’s surface. The water responds instantly, rising into a spiral that slowly opens, revealing tree branches and leaves, before a bird takes flight.
“Amateur,” Kai remarks with a smirk. He flicks his wrist, and the tree lowers without a splash. Just as quickly, a school of fish appear underwater, swimming toward us with such lifelike precision that I hold my breath.
“Watch this.” Griffin’s breath is warm against my neck. Without releasing me, he extends a hand toward the fish, and they become crystalline, scales catching the light in a prismatic dance of color.
A laugh escapes me.
“Now, who’s the amateur?” Daire taunts, jabbing Kai with his elbow.
Kai laughs.
“I thought I was the judge,” I say, leaning forward to run a finger across a fish that comes close enough.
“Are we having a competition of party tricks?” Lochlan’s voice has me turning to where he and Holden stand beside the lounge chairs. I expect a look of scathing, but to my surprise, he looks calm. Intrigued, even.
He surprises me further by diving into the pool with perfect form, barely creating a ripple. Holden creates stairs out of air—or at least—I assume that’s what they’re made of as he descends effortlessly into the pool.
When Lochlan surfaces, he’s holding what appears to be a water orb, but it shimmers brighter. “Have you memorized the emotion colors from the drinks last night?” he asks, holding the orb in Daire’s direction. It shines a bright shade of yellow.
I shake my head. I only recall magenta.
Lochlan makes a lazy movement with his finger, and a list of colors and emotions appears behind me, revealing that yellow reflects happiness.
He moves the orb to Kai, and the orb turns a stunning shade of dark blue—content. Lochlan shifts the orb to Griffin, and it flashes magenta.
“Do you have other emotions?” The joke comes out of me without thought or deliberation, and just as surprising, it’s met with a chorus of laughter and jokes aimed at Griffin.
Griffin joins them, wrapping his arms around me even tighter.
I enjoy it entirely too much.
Lochlan shifts the orb in front of me, and it becomes a shade of dark pink—playful, joyful, and lustful. A week ago, I would have been embarrassed, today, I don’t even flinch.
“That’s what I want to see,” Griffin says smugly.
“For the record, she’s facing me,” Daire says.
Lochlan scoffs, but I’m fairly sure I see amusement in his eyes before he lowers the orb.
“You missed two,” I point out, waving my finger from him to Holden.
“Motivation for you to tap into your element, Witchling,” Lochlan says.
“You’re around Holden enough to know he’s permanently annoyed,” Kai jokes.
“Only when I’m around you assholes,” Holden fires back, but his voice is too light, his shoulders relaxed.
They’re different here—or maybe I am. Regardless, I like seeing this version of them.