Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(35)

Logan reached down for his hoodie and I shivered as his arm banded around my center. He gently pulled the material over my head, and I tried not to show him how much it affected me, but we were too close for him to miss my reaction.

“Your pupils dilate when you’re turned on and happy,” he murmured, and I found myself locked in his icy gaze, the mossy center expanding as he stared at me covered in his hoodie. “You like wearing my clothes, don’t you?”

There was no point in lying. He’d caught me too many times in his hoodies to deny the truth. “When they still smell like you,” I admitted, with a shrug. The small pieces of myself I kept giving Logan were really adding up, but I was trusting that his feelings and actions were real.

“In that case, whatever I’m wearing is yours,” he said, brushing his lips down my throat. “Fuck knows I like seeing you in my clothes. Tells everyone else that you belong to me.”

Just take my feminism card, because that line was my undoing. “Always with the smooth words, bestie,” I murmured.

Logan saw straight through my bullshit. “Not smooth words. The truth, Paisley.” His expression had never been more serious. “I know you need actions to back up my words, and I will prove it to you.”

He released me to pull on his sweats, standing there delicious and shirtless. He showed no physical signs that he’d had less than a few hours of broken sleep, and I’d bet good magic I wasn’t faring as well. A quick brush over the tangles in my hair told me I was a hot mess and would need every second in the bathroom.

“Will you tell me the truth,” I asked as I gathered up my toiletry bag, “about why you came to Weatherstone last year? What your dad has planned for my family? Will you clear up all the unease about our families and lives so we can start with a clean slate?”

He reached out and brushed a finger down my cheek, expression giving nothing away. “I’ll tell you as much as I can, but I don’t have Rafael’s full trust when it comes to you. He was there when we were first separated, and he knows how badly I reacted to your loss. He didn’t know about the bond, but he was aware that I might not fall in line. He’s keeping a lot from me as well.”

That made sense, but I couldn’t shake the unease unfurling inside me. “If you knew we were bonded in an old-magic way,” I said, “why did you wait so long to find me? Why weren’t we together when we were younger? I mean, I get why you couldn’t come to me as a child, but you’ve been a powerful spellcaster for years. Years longer than me . . . So where were you? We should have been each other’s firsts in all ways, and yet . . . you let years go by.”

My words grew faster and harsher, as if the pain had been simmering until it finally boiled over. If what Logan said was true and we were forever mates, where the Hel had he been for all of these years?

The familiar flash of ice in his eyes bothered me as he moved closer. “I didn’t lie, baby. I couldn’t come for you until I was strong enough to keep you safe.” He leaned in closer, and I somehow knew that what he was about to say next would tear me to pieces. “And while I might not have been your first, I’ve never touched another witch. You are it for me. Now and always.”

With that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek and strode out the door, leaving me a broken mess about to collapse on the floor.

Had he . . . ? Did he just . . . ?

Logan had been a virgin?

How was it possible? He kissed like an expert and fucked as if he’d spent his formative years in tantric classes. There was no fumbling or unease in the powerful spellcaster.

How was that possible?

I had no idea how long I stood in my room staring into nothing, my mind buzzing. There was no way to define what was happening inside my head, outside of an overwhelming abundance of emotions. Strongest of all was the devastation that I hadn’t waited for Logan. There’d only been a couple of warlocks before him, but that was too many.

The knowledge itched under my skin.

“Paisley!” I jumped at the shout through my door. “Witch, are you in there?”

Forcing my shaking limbs to move, I hurried over, dressed just in Logan’s hoodie. I had no idea what expression I wore when I wrenched the door open, but Sara and Haley both jumped back a step, concern creasing their faces. I waved them inside, and when they hesitantly shuffled through, I slammed the door and fell against it, my chest heaving.

“Pais,” Haley said, reaching out but halting just before she touched my arm. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Is your family okay?”

“Talk to us, babe,” Sara said, pressing closer on my right side. “You’re starting to scare us.”

I was starting to scare myself.

“Logan,” I whimpered. “He . . . he—”

“What?” Sara growled, her concern morphing into fury. “What the fuck did he do? Do I need to kill myself a spellcaster?”

Tears burst from me, hot and furious, and I had a suspicion that I might be losing my mind. “He waited for me,” I sobbed. “He’s never been with another witch. He knew we were bonded and he . . . waited.”

My friends stilled on either side of me, and I had no doubt they were exchanging glances, but I was too fucked-up to try to interpret their looks. Haley’s voice was softer when she finally grasped my hand. “Honey, that’s a great thing, right? What’s got you so upset?”