Bring Me Your Midnight(65)

I have a different strength, though, one I didn’t know I had. It takes strength to put duty and loyalty above all else, to find happiness in a life that wasn’t chosen—Landon’s strength. But it also takes strength to disappoint every person I’ve ever cared about because I’ve found something I believe in more.

I don’t have the kind of strength my coven was relying on, that I was relying on. But I am strong enough to choose something for myself that the rest of my world believes is wrong. And for someone who has lived by the measure of others for far too long, that’s an accomplishment.

I doubt I will ever stop caring. I doubt I will ever be fully comfortable with the enemies I’ve created and the heartache I’ve caused. But standing in Wolfe’s bathroom, knowing he is on the other side of the door, I wouldn’t take it back.

When I get out of the bath, a large black robe is waiting for me. I slip into it and wrap the belt around my waist. I towel dry my hair and let it fall down my back, and then I slowly open the door.

Wolfe is sitting in a large wingback chair in front of the fire. His chin is resting on his hand, and he’s looking into the flames, lost in thought.

The door creaks and Wolfe turns toward me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look nervous. He swallows as he takes in the sight of me, and I fight the urge to turn away, force myself to stand here in all my vulnerability and let him see it.

Let him see me.

“How was your bath?” he asks.

“It was just what I needed. Thank you.” I pull a blanket from the bed and put it on the floor in front of the fire. “Sit with me?”

He nods and sinks to the ground next to me. I lie on my side, propping myself up on my elbow, and he does the same. And for a moment, we just look at each other.

“Tell me what happened,” he finally says.

So I do. I tell him about Ivy and the nighthawk and how I saved her life, how something inside me took over and I let it. I tell him about the deal my parents made, the consequences I would have to endure in order to stay on the island and have my secret protected. And I tell him that during the rush, all I could think about was running, but not running away from what I’d done—running toward what I want.

“What you want,” he says, repeating the words.

“You. You and your magic.”

He looks away, into the fire, and I see his jaw tense. Something flashes across his face that I can’t read, and I sit up.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

He sits up, too, but doesn’t meet my eyes. He shakes his head, and I’m suddenly worried that I chose something that isn’t available to me. My heart races and my throat gets dry.

“No,” he finally says. “I’m used to being in control, Mortana.” He pauses, looking at the chaotic flames. “But against you I am powerless.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” I ask, the words quiet. “That I make you weak?”

He looks at me then, an intensity in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine. His jaw is tight, his mouth a hard line. “I would set the world on fire just to see your face. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

I slowly lean into him, my lips brushing against his. “Then we can burn together.”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me with desperation, like we will never have to leave the safety of this room if he kisses me long enough, deep enough, fervently enough. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into me, shifting to get closer, angling myself so I can reach more of him.

My robe slides off my shoulder, and Wolfe moves his fingers down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. I lie on my back and pull him down with me, his lips following the trail his fingers left. He pauses when he’s at my sternum, lets his head rest against my chest. His eyes close.

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

His mouth finds my rib cage, and he kisses the bones around my heart as if they’re sacred, as if they’re guarding the most precious thing in the world. I slowly undo my belt and let the robe fall open.

Wolfe hovers over me. I lie perfectly still as his eyes follow the curves of my body, committing them to memory.

“Mortana,” he says, his voice like gravel. “You will be the end of me.”

His lips are back on mine before I can tell him that he is my beginning, brilliant, beautiful, and new.



* * *



The manor looms behind us as Wolfe and I walk down to the shore. I’m wearing a borrowed nightdress and one of his sweaters, but I might never give it back. It smells like him, and I love being wrapped up in it.

Several witches are crowded around a grimoire in the greenhouse, but otherwise we are the only ones out here. The full moon casts enough light for me to see where I’m walking, and magic stirs in my belly, waiting to see what I’ll ask of it.

I’m no longer willing to dump my magic into the sea, unused and dangerous, killing our animals and harming our island. But it has to get out somehow. It might as well be tonight, beneath the glorious moon, next to the boy who changed everything.

“What’s your favorite place?” Wolfe asks when we get to the beach.

“The sea.”

“Why?”

“Because of its silence. I like the way nothing above the surface matters when I’m submerged in water. I like the way the silence is louder than my thoughts. It’s peaceful and slow. It calms me.”