Page 47 of Morning's Light

“I guess I don’t, not when it comes down to it.”

He saw the moment her shock registered, surprised at the words flowing from her mouth. She hadn’t expected to feel that way, and certainly hadn’t wanted him to know.

“I was upset on principle,” she continued, ducking her head. “When it comes down to brass tacks I know who to trust, Elon. I guess you can keep your key.”

“I appreciate it. Especially because I know how hard it is for you to let me in. To the store,” he clarified to get her to smile.

“I know you aren’t going to vandalize the place while I’m at home, or out shopping.”

“Or trying to convince naïve country boys about magic?”

She chuckled. “Yes, sure.”

After a few long moments had passed, Elon spoke again, the quiet flow of his voice soothing her. “I notice you didn’t answer my question earlier. Have been dancing around it quite well, actually. Makes me think you would be great at the foxtrot if we ever went out.”

“I don’t have any answers for you.” She kept her eyes averted. A classic sign that she had no interest in divulging details to him. “And people don’t do the foxtrot anymore.”

Shyness, Elon decided, was not her normal way and instantly made him wary. “All right. I’ll leave you alone.”

He stood, his joints protesting the movement though he was only now approaching his mid-twenties. He stared at her for a moment longer, her face devoid of cosmetics and fragile, heartbreaking.

He hated to leave her, the desire swamping him. Inappropriately. That sort of response did not come around often. Certainly not with any other woman besides Aisanna.

With Elon’s last few girlfriends, their feelings had been more of a quiet romance, sweet and easy. Easy to find. Easy to get over. Aisanna was different. Even before his knowledge of her magic, being around her was like fighting a tide, being dragged by the undertow until you lost sight of the shore. He didn’t mind.

Restless, he walked the length of the counter and back again. “You’re worrying me,” he said, for lack of anything else. “I need to know you’re okay.”

Aisanna opened her mouth then closed it, everything she wanted to say evaporating. She needed a moment before she responded. She may never be okay. But how could she tell him?

She lied. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“Impossible.”

He approached her before she could shoot him down, pressed his lips to hers and stilled any protest. His mouth was hot and instantly brought a throbbing ache to certain parts of her anatomy.

He did not push her, and she was eternally grateful. Keeping it light, Elon let her dictate the direction of the kiss. Whatever the risks involved with Elon, whatever the price, she would gladly pay them. She enjoyed the taste of him and the texture of his tongue. The way his fingers twisted in her hair, trailed along the lines of her scalp and massaged lightly.

Opening her mouth with a sigh, they dove deeper. A slight nip on his upper lip before her tongue slid against the ache to soothe it. Aisanna tilted her head to the side and changed the angle of the embrace. He followed her seamlessly, moving with her as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

It was natural, timeless, one small step from falling. She refused to press her luck and drew back, though her lips vibrated with the memory of him.

“Elon, I…”

Her heart stuttered. Darkness stole over her for a moment, like a cloud passing before the sun and blotting out its light. For an instant, she found herself imagining how good it would feel to wrap her hands around his neck for no reason other than she could. Veins, tendons, bone would crush under her grip as life faded from his body. It would be delicious. A treat. He’d die and she would watch the world—

She jumped back, freaked. Elon reached out to her and she dodged, lost her footing and fell against the shelving. Clay pots crashed to the floor.

“Aisanna, what the hell?”

“Get away!” She blinked and kicked off the towels, rushing to the door barefoot through the clay shards. “I need to leave.”

“You don’t have to go. I-I’m sorry. If you’re bothered, then I’ll go. This is your shop!” Elon hurried after her and captured her hand, stalling her when she tried to run out. “Please.”

“Let go of me!”

The force of her voice, the harshness of the command, had him releasing her quickly.

Her fingers bent into claws and her nails trailed along his skin. She fought the urge to bite deep, draw blood and run her tongue along the line of crimson. Her jacket slipped, giving him a glimpse of the Cyrillic script burned into her skin.

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