Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(12)

A derisive laugh escaped. “Control it? Not a chance. The advice was to hide my power for the rest of my life.”

Now he was definitely pissed off. “That’ll never work long term. You’re too powerful, Pais. You cannot let this magic control you. You must do the controlling.”

Easy for him to say. His affinity wasn’t outlawed and punishable by death.

“She gave me a book with information.” I had no idea why I was spilling all of my secrets to Logan when he told me nothing, but it appeared I couldn’t help myself. “I’m not sure I’ll ever control my power. It said that this reaper energy should be used with others in our affinity. That’s why it was so hard for me to unlock my magic at school. It also indicated that the energy I’d felt freshman year, when I thought I was being followed, was my own power reaching through the planes of existence. I can touch almost all of them.”

Logan was watching me closely, but he wasn’t saying anything, which left me feeling out of sorts. “Did you know it was me all along?”

“No,” he said, without hesitation. “Definitely not at first. I knew when I touched your energy that you were unlike other witches, but I assumed it was because of me.”

“Because of you . . . ?”

His laughter was low as he took in my incredulous expression. “Because we’re bonded, Precious. And have been since we were very young. It made me a stronger spellcaster, and I figured it had a similar effect on you, only you didn’t have my father to train you up in our magic.”

“How are we bonded?” I asked, tension pounding in my temples. This was the answer I’d needed all along—what happened in our past to connect us in the present? The reason he’d called me mate.

Logan somehow noticed the ache in my head, and when he brushed his hand across my face, his soothing magic took away the pain. “You’re tired,” he murmured. “We can talk in the morning after you sleep.”

I wanted to protest. I’d followed him here for answers, and we were right on the cusp of real information sharing. But he wasn’t wrong about my exhaustion. I’d slept badly for weeks now, and with my belly full of delicious food, I was two seconds from a sleep coma.

Logan had managed to get me to eat my first full meal in weeks; maybe he’d pull off the miracle of getting me to sleep as well. When we stood, I stumbled until I found my footing.

“I’ve got you,” Logan murmured, sliding one hand across my back and the other under my thighs, lifting me into his chest. “We’ll talk in the morning. I promise.”

I tried to protest, but Logan smelled good, and my feet hurt, and I decided to fight this battle when I wasn’t so wrecked. He carried me up the stairs without any use of magic to aid him. He was stupidly strong. All those days of bench-pressing small cars in the gym had paid off.

When we reached the second landing, he strolled down a long hall, stopping only when he reached a set of double doors. They opened for him, and the room was dark enough that I could only just make out the huge bed in the center. There were floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the moonlight, but it wasn’t a bright night.

“Shower first?” he asked, lowering his face and breathing me in.

I nodded, struggling for words in the intimate setting of his dark room.

When we entered the bathroom, it was lit only by two low sconces on either side of the mirror. Enough illumination to see the shower and freestanding bathtub, but not so much that it hurt my head.

“Will you be okay on your own?”

My heart flipped at this caring side of Logan; he was completely tearing me apart, the seams of my existence dissolving, until I was nothing more than a mess of emotion.

“Yes,” I whispered, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.

He set me on my feet, holding on until I was steady. “Towels and toiletries are there,” he said, pointing to a cabinet beside the double sinks. “I’ll bring you a shirt to sleep in.”

“Always trying to get your clothes on me,” I teased, even though I secretly loved it.

“Well, I prefer you naked, if I’m being honest. But second to that is you in my hoodies. Still sleeping in them, Precious?”

Did this asshole have cameras in my bedroom?

I shook my head and lifted my chin. “Nope. No idea where they even went.”

His smirk grew. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more for you to borrow and lose.”

Then he was gone, and on weakened knees I stumbled over to the shower. There were four levers, and with no idea what I was supposed to turn on, I lifted them all to find multiple showerheads shooting water around the large stall. Okay. Rich people had better showers too.

Stripping off my clothes, I stepped under the warm streams, groaning at how good the hot water felt. Steam surrounded me as well, and I wondered which one of the levers controlled that. There was a hint of mint and lavender in the spray, and I could die a happy witch in Logan’s shower.

A tiled bench ran the full length of the far wall, and I lay across it, letting the water beat over me. Being naked and vulnerable in the house of a Kingston shouldn’t be congruent with relaxing, but I found my eyes drifting closed as I enjoyed the sensation of water beating across my skin.

I started at a knock on the bathroom door. “Clothes are just outside,” Logan called, and I pulled myself up to sit, knowing I’d fall asleep otherwise. Finishing my shower by using his amazing bodywash, I turned the water and steam off and stepped out. After drying myself with one of Logan’s cloud-soft towels, I cracked open the door to grab the shirt.