Page 55 of Magdalene Nox

It was Sam’s turn to recoil as if slapped, but the wound in Magdalene’s chest pulsated with the force of her own conviction.

“You don’t really mean it, Magdalene. You know that I’d never want anything to happen to you. Maybe that’s why I was much more comfortable—if you can call it that—with these incidents happening to me and not thinking that there is a possibility that they’re aimed at you.”

Magdalene gave her a long perusal, studying Sam’s face. Her shoulders relaxed again as she slowly scanned the now well-known angles and planes illuminated by the flickering candles. Features she dreamed about, features she had no business thinking of anymore. Yet here they were, and the bright, sad eyes gazed at her with so much sincerity, so much longing…

No, above all else, Magdalene knew the truth. Had already had that truth reaffirmed earlier, when the expression on the sharp lines of her face had told her Sam wasn’t the one hunting her. And now more than that—and perhaps more importantly than that—what she saw in Sam’s eyes told her that Sam wished her safe.

She nodded, settling the matter both in her head and outwardly for Sam. “I believe you.”

Her words did something to Sam then. The longing turned hot, and the spark that was always banked between them roared to life, like a volcano erupting, all fire and heat.

Their eyes met, and they both hovered for what felt like an eternity, just a breath away from each other, before Magdalene allowed her hands to delve into Sam’s hair again, further disheveling it and finally bringing their faces closer, crushing their mouths together.

The kiss wasn’t tender. It managed to be sharp, cutting through both pain and longing. Like the undertow, it sucked her into the deep, robbing her of breath, and when the sensation spread, she wondered why she needed air at all.

Initially, Sam allowed her to lead, to drink her fill, to get the solace in her arms. And so Magdalene took everything she needed, strength, tenderness, bravery, then gentled her mouth, caressed instead of unnerved, allayed instead of frightened, and gave instead of taking.

When the raw need ebbed, Sam seized control the way she had in Manhattan, sweeping her off her feet. A touch of Sam’s tongue drew out a moan Magdalene could not have withheld if her life depended on it, and it was as if it set Sam ablaze. It was Sam now, demanding, taking, bruising. Magdalene surrendered, allowing herself to be taken, the sensation still so unfamiliar yet so very right coursing through her, and making her vibrate much like the live wire Sam had held in her hands just an hour ago.

As Sam finally surfaced to draw in a breath, the kiss coming to a natural close, Magdalene stepped away from her, putting several feet between them. Her mind and body were reeling. Wet and dizzy, she needed distance, even if only to be able to breathe again. She had indulged enough. But despite setting her jaw and squaring her shoulders, signaling Sam to back off, she didn’t need to. Sam’s eyes, still foggy with lust, were full of understanding.

“I know, you can’t…” Magdalene, who wanted to howl at the rain-cloud-obscured moon, instead flicked her wrist, silencing Sam in an instant. They were fools, both of them, really. And they were being overtaken by a situation so much bigger and so much more serious than either of them truly comprehended.

Despite Sam’s intelligence and intuition, Magdalene had been beaten and bruised by life enough to know better. It was also time to heed her mother’s advice. The school, with everything she hated and everything she was beginning to cherish again, was still paramount. And perish the thought of her ever quoting Candace, but keeping her eyes on the prize was paramount.

“I can, Sam, but I won’t. I know you won’t denounce me to the trustees or give me away in any other way. But you aren’t the only one fighting on that side of the barricades, and so far and by far, you’re the only one fighting fair. Nobody else on your side is, judging by the little gifts and not-so-little ‘accidents’. You and I are risking everything by even being here like this. And I’m not prepared to do that. I came here to do this job and I will do it, no matter the cost.”

It was Sam’s turn to raise her hand to try to explain, though Magdalene had no idea what she could say. The simple truth was they were on different sides, and Sam knew this, too. They were both deeply aware of how much separated them. Magdalene’s emotions and whatever kind of sexual awakening at the hands and mouth of this woman ultimately didn’t mean that much in the big scheme of waiting for her destiny for thirty years.

Yes, they were blurring all the lines between them, dangerously so. But the risk was too great. Blurred was fine, but crossed? No. If they were caught, she was finished at Dragons. And the way their profession forgave men every single transgression and punished women in the harshest ways imaginable, Magdalene knew it would end her career.

She lifted her eyes and the hurt and ache mirrored back at her in Sam’s was akin to agony. Magdalene went still, watching the emotion play out, so alive, so awful in its enormity. And the tug on her heartstrings, the ones dangling exposed in her chest, was so painful, she almost gasped.

Sam watched her as if she was leafing through the pages of a book, periodically stopping at a paragraph before moving along. Like the restorer she had once been, Magdalene could almost sense the gentle hands turning her pages.

She had wanted to be seen like this. Nobody ever had, nobody ever dared. She wasn’t entirely certain anyone had actually ever wanted to. For all his bravado and hunger, Timothy was never this interested. At least not overtly.

And here was Sam, eyes avid, brow furrowed, studying her like an age-old tome, like a riddle that held the mysteries of the universe. Reverent, curious, interested.

Magdalene met the gaze head-on. There was no avoiding it, and they simply looked at each other. One with hurt and longing, the other with defiance. After all, there wasn’t anything else she had to give Sam. So her defiance would have to do, would have to be enough—because, despite or perhaps in spite of her own dreams of being seen and being known, she still didn’t trust.

What would Sam find if she stared long enough? What would she glean from Magdalene’s eyes? And would she stick around if she actually managed to see? To read? To decipher?

Magdalene didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. Sam already understood certain things about her that Magdalene herself was only barely beginning to comprehend. Sam had power. The true power that came from genuine interest. And Magdalene couldn’t allow anyone to have that kind of sway, that kind of leverage over her now. Not until she was certain they were on her side. Because her entire life, nobody truly ever had been, and that was both an ache and a comfort.

Her heart twisting in her chest and Sam’s taste still on her lips, Magdalene finally averted her gaze. It was time to leave. Head held high, sensing Sam’s eyes watching her every move, Magdalene swept out the door.

* * *

The corridor wasdark and silent, and Magdalene’s dramatic exit did not leave her any room to grab either the flashlight or a candle. And so she stretched out her hand, allowing the walls to guide her. The stones were cool under her fingertips and she followed them like Ariadne’s thread. The storm was still unleashing its fury on the island, thunder rolling and the lightning illuminating the cliffs, but here, among the shadows, Magdalene, at last, felt safe. And as her guides delivered her directly to her door, she also felt determined.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what Sam saw, since it ultimately wasn’t enough for her. And so Magdalene had no one to fear. She could never truly trust anyone to allow herself to simply be Magdalene and notthe Headmistress.

When she reached her room, Willoughby meowed from the spot she’d left him in earlier in the day. Magdalene had to smile at how she was so reluctant just weeks ago to even let him into her space, and now she made a point of making him comfortable here.

He was lounging on the pillow by her bed, and now Magdalene chuckled. She had been telling herself she would throw out that pillow any day now, and instead she ordered a brand new one that was supposed to be much more comfortable for corpulent cats.

Well, he deserved the very best, and if that was some fancy chonky feline accommodation, so be it. He was her knight in orange armor and for him, perhaps the only creature on this island, she was just Magdalene and maybe that was enough.

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