Bring Me Your Midnight(83)

But I can’t give him what he wants.

“I don’t know,” I say quietly.

He tenses beside me. When I don’t elaborate, he exhales sharply. “You’re going to marry him, aren’t you?”

I don’t reply.

He shoves himself off the ground and throws his arms in the air. “Damn it, Mortana, why did you make me go through this? Why did you insist I tell you everything if it doesn’t matter?”

I stand as well and follow him down the beach. “It does matter,” I say, my voice rising. He won’t stop walking, won’t turn to face me. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t remember any of it.”

He stops then, looking at me so intensely I almost turn away, but I don’t. I force myself to see him, really see him. “This is real, what we have, and I know you can feel it,” he says, gesturing between us. He’s angry, this visceral, strong reaction that radiates off him and stops me from moving.

He closes the space between us and takes my hand, pressing it firmly over his heart. “I’m right here, Mortana, standing directly in front of you, promising I will recreate every single memory if that’s what it takes.”

“I believe you,” I say, keeping my palm against his chest.

“Then let me. Please.”

“It isn’t that simple. I have a duty to my family, to my coven.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” he says, tightening his grip on my hand.

“It should have,” I whisper.

As soon as I say it, I wish I could take it back. A wall rises between us, and any vulnerability Wolfe was willing to show me is gone. He drops my hand and backs away from me, my arm falling to my side. For some reason, it makes me want to cry.

He nods slowly. I try to read his face, but he gives nothing away. “Got it. Well, let me make it easier for you this time.”

And with that, he dives into the sea, leaving me standing alone on the shore.





thirty-seven





I’ve been here before. Lying in bed when I should be asleep, thinking about a boy I shouldn’t be thinking about.

My Covenant Ball, as well as my wedding, is in three days, and all I can think about is how just weeks ago, I was so deeply in love that I was willing to turn my back on both. Wolfe told me how I got there, recounted every detail of our relationship, but I can’t feel it. And even when I could, I still chose to take the memory eraser; I still chose my coven in the end.

And I know that’s for the best.

Wolfe’s passion scares me. His willingness to show me his anger and pain, his frustration and vulnerability, is unlike anything I’ve experienced. He was so desperate for me to remember that he cut himself open so I could watch him bleed, knowing I might never suture the wound.

And I know that if I live a thousand years, no one will ever feel that way for me again.

But it isn’t about me, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if I turned my back on my family, my duty. I have one role to play, and my happiness, my wants, my desires have never been a factor. They can’t be.

When I hear my parents moving around downstairs, I force myself to get up. Another sleepless night. My mother will scold me for the darkness under my eyes and the pallor of my skin, but it’s nothing a little magic can’t fix.

We’re destroying the sea and ruining our island, but at least we can look well rested as we’re doing it.

I brush my teeth and wash my face, thankful I don’t have to work today. My mother says it will make the wedding more impactful if the rest of the witches don’t see me in the week leading up to the ceremony. Everything is for show in one way or another, but I’m thankful for the time away.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask when I get downstairs.

Mom looks up from her leather-bound planner and smiles. “Morning, honey. He’s harvesting some lilac before heading to the perfumery.”

I pour myself a cup of tea and sit down next to her. “Ivy told me about the memory eraser,” I say, watching her.

She slowly closes her planner and looks at me. “I had a feeling she might.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “You’ve been best friends since birth. Keeping secrets from the other isn’t a skill either of you possesses.” She sounds so calm, and I wish I knew what she’s thinking, wish I knew if her mind is a chaotic mess of to-do lists and worries and overreactions or if it’s as put together as the rest of her.

Her words grate on me, though. “Not like you, right, Mom?” The words are quiet, and I can’t believe I said them. It is so unlike me to question my mother, and I look down.

“Tana, why don’t you ask me what you want to know instead of making snide remarks?”

I swallow and nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” I say. “I want to know why you lied to me about the old coven.”

She walks into the kitchen to brew more tea. “The simple answer is that we never would have gotten this far if the mainland knew dark magic was still being practiced on the island. They had to believe the old coven had been disbanded if we were to be on solid ground with them. The old witches are selfish and stubborn, but they aren’t stupid; they knew that if the mainland was aware of their existence, each and every one of them would be caught. So they vowed to remain hidden if we vowed to perpetuate the belief that they were gone. The council members are the only ones who know the truth.” The kettle whistles, and Mom pours the water over the leaves. “And it has worked rather well, up until now.”