Page 977 of One More Kiss

But I would have given anything to have her feel the same.

“This was a mistake.” She starts to move past me, but I block her path. Her nostrils flare, lips parting as she turns her face up to me. “Move.”

“You came here. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I shouldn’t have come.”

“You caught me off guard,” I counter. The idea of her leaving terrifies me. So much so that I’m willing to bury my pride just to spend more time with her. “What do you need?”

Mags closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back up at me. “I think I’m being followed.”

All of my anger towards her drains, replaced by fear. Magnolia is one of the most powerful witches in existence. If she’s being followed, it can’t be for any good reason. “Why? Who?”

“I don’t know who. Or why. But ever since Salem, I’ve—” She stops speaking as if she’s searching for the words. “I’ve felt it.”

“And you came to me. Why not Delaney? Or Bronywyn?” Both witches were Magnolia’s mentors for a time. It would make far more sense for her to have gone to them. Which only gives me a dangerous dose of hope that maybe she’s been thinking of me, too.

“Delaney and Bronywyn both have their own lives. I don’t want to bring anymore danger to any of them.”

“But me being in danger is fine.”

“You’re still hunting.”

“I am,” I reply.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to turn their back on this life.” Gaze sharper now, she shakes her head. “This was a mistake,” she repeats as she starts to open the door. Before she can, though, I slam a hand on it, shutting it quickly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other in a while,” Magnolia says carefully, “but I’m not one to be pushed around.”

“And I’m not someone you can fucking toy with whenever it strikes your mood. It’s been eight years, Mags. Eight fucking years since I begged you to stay. To give us a shot. Now, you show up here, asking for my help, and expect me to—what—drop to my knees?”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “No. Of course not.”

“Of course not,” I repeat. Pushing away from the door, I head back into the kitchen.

“We were young, Drex, and I had things to figure out.”

“Things that have taken you eight years.”

“And I’m still not done,” she repeats. “Being captured like I was, thrown into a cage, seeing all the damage magic has brought into my life and those I care about made me want to find a way to control it. To grow it.”

“Because growing magic always works out for the best,” I deadpan, thinking of all the times I’ve seen the effects of dark magic on good people.

It never works out.

“Actually, it has. And before you try to lecture me, I didn’t screw around with any dark magic.” She crosses her arms and glares at me, the expression so familiar I want to cross the room, bury my hands in her hair, and take her mouth like I was too stupid to do all those years ago.

“Then why are you here? If everything worked out.”

“I worry I’ve brought attention to myself and the person following me is trying to get ahold of my magic.”

“You want me to kill them.”

“Word on the street is that you’re quite the assassin these days.”

“How touching. You’ve been checking up on me.”

“I never forgot about you, Drex. I just couldn’t come back. Not until I was ready.”

“That’s the thing about pushing stuff aside until you’re ready though, isn’t it? You never are.”

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