Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I lower my head, then hesitate. I know—know—that she’s my mate. If I kiss her, the words will tumble out. As much as my instincts scream yes!, if I follow through, I’ll tie myself irrevocably to her, to magic, and this place. I’ll be stuck with a destiny I don’t want. And I’ll put Sydney in more danger.
With a growled curse, I lever myself up on shaky arms and settle on the edge of the bed, away from her. Bloody hell, if I’m not breathing hard.
My every muscle and nerve urge me to kiss her, spill the words, complete the deed. My head knows better.
“What was that about?” Sydney sits up and is suddenly at my back, melting me with her nearness.
“I should be training with the others.”
“You order me about.” Her voice hitches. “Tumble me into bed to change the subject, then avoid kissing me, as if I’m diseased.”
I stand and find her earnest face. There’s temptation; it’s so close. I step back and put distance between us. “Sydney, the more tangled up in you I get, the more dangerous it is for both of us.”
“That didn’t stop you from spending two days in my bed.”
I hesitate, hurt tingeing both her words and her expression. Sydney doesn’t often show her vulnerabilities. Now that she is, I have no good answer.
“Witches and wizards require sex during transition. Without it, they will die.”
The hurt deepens. “So I could have been anyone? Or was merely convenient because I happened to have that book you wanted so bloody bad?”
“No. I wanted you.” I grab her by the shoulders. “Only you. Duke insisted I choose someone else to transition with me, and I refused. It was helpful that you had the book, but even if you didn’t, I would have insisted on being with you. I’m not a heartless cad. I care about you. But starting a relationship now isn’t smart if we want to stay alive.”
“Rubbish! Excuses. Every time we’ve had sex, you’ve more than hinted it was against your better judgment. I propositioned; you refused. After you beat down my door, you couldn’t run away quickly enough the next morning. The evening you bent me over my sofa, you couldn’t zip up and get me to the pub to talk to your ‘experts’ fast enough. Then your transition hit, and I happened to be the only woman handy. All along, you wanted to stop my story more than you wanted me.”
My jaw drops. “You’re mad. I want you until I can’t breathe, until my thoughts are tangled, until I could nearly die for not touching you. But I can’t have your death on my conscience. And I don’t want to hurt you when I leave.”
“Leave?” She blinks, clearly fighting tears.
I want to reassure her. But that’s pointless.
“Once your brother is well, you’re really planning to go back to Dallas?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
Saying the word will hurt us both, so I merely nod.
“Which leaves us nowhere.” She absently plucks at a stray thread on the coverlet to avoid looking at me.
“It’s for the best.” I will her to understand. The sooner she can safely leave, the sooner I can resume my normal life and put magic behind me. We can both live, if not happily ever after, at least without constantly looking over our shoulders.
“You’re being a coward.”
The slur pierces my chest like a flaming arrow. She doesn’t understand how much I fear mating or how much I hate magic. She’s never run happily through the grass with her laughing younger brother one moment, then watched errant magic hit him the next and die at her feet. She can’t fathom the devastation this war will bring. If I mate with her, she will be targeted for death. If I don’t find a way to exit this war soon, magic will not only change my life, but it will destroy hers for good.
Sadly, more explanations will only prolong the inevitable and change nothing.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” I straighten my clothes and don my trainers.
“For the first time in my life, I thought I was falling in love with a man who liked and understood me, who didn’t think my theories were crazy. Who supported me. Even my own parents don’t.” Her voice is a low thing that throbs with pain, striking my heart. “If you’re going to kill my hope, help me understand.”
Love? She might love me? Bloody hell. Yet isn’t the reverse true? If I really consider the situation, I’m falling for my stubborn, brave, intelligent, and loyal-as-hell reporter.
What a bloody mess.
“They’re waiting for me on the training field.” I back toward the door. “You won’t believe me, but I never meant to hurt you.”
I cast one last glance at Sydney, looking so soft and kissable among the rumpled bed. Then, before I do something reckless, I leave, closing the door with a soft click behind me.