Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(41)

After exiting through the concealment spell hiding his office, I paused to see Noah perched against the brick wall. When our gazes met, he straightened. “Hey, Pais.” His voice was soft, expression concerned. “Is everything okay?”

I was late for my next class, so I waved for him to join me as I started to walk. “Totally fine. I just wanted to chat to the headmaster about Belle. He said she’s supposed to return tomorrow. I’ll push harder if that doesn’t happen.” Tilting my head back so I could take in his expression, I asked, “Is everything okay with you? Is Logan okay? I mean, it’s not that I don’t enjoy our brief but scintillating conversations, but I’m guessing there’s a reason you tracked me down.”

His lips quirked, and I was shocked when he reached out and ruffled my hair. “Just keeping an eye on you when Logan can’t be here.”

A soft huff escaped me. “He’s a bit of a possessive psychopath, isn’t he?”

Noah’s smile grew as he shrugged. “He’s your possessive psychopath at least.”

There was that. “So, where is my psychopath? I thought he’d conveniently offered to help out in every class I had in my schedule.”

A crowd of warlocks pushed into the hall, loud and large, and I was almost trampled until Noah stepped closer, using his bulk to keep me from being touched. No one would dare trample a warlock of his size and power. “He has a class of his own that he can’t miss, so you’re mine for this afternoon.”

Excellent. “And why do I need a babysitter exactly?”

Noah’s face tightened, his easygoing facade vanishing. “Logan’s decided that we’re done playing Rafael’s games—he won’t stay away from you any longer. That asshole doesn’t take well to being ignored, and we have no idea what he might do in retaliation.”

In all the time I’d known Logan, there’d been the sense that he was at war with himself, torn between his feelings for me and what was expected of him. No one had confirmed it so much until right now. Along with the fact that he was taking a massive risk in so openly choosing me.

“Paisley?” Noah’s voice broke through my confused panic. “Honey, what’s happening?”

“Logan’s in danger,” I said in a rush, meeting his worried gaze. “You are both in danger. What are we going to do to stop Rafael?”

Noah’s expression eased up into relief. “Dammit, Paisley. I was ready to kill someone and I had no idea who to kill. Don’t worry about Logan or me. We’ll be fine. You’re his priority, as it should have always been. His loyalty is yours, his love and magic too. I’ve known Logan almost my entire life, and I can promise you that he will destroy anyone who tries to take you away from him. You’re his.”

You’re his.

And he was mine.

Whatever this was between Logan and me, it was potent and destructive, and . . . absolutely the best thing to ever happen to me.

“Let’s go to class,” Noah said, scooting me along again. My last class of the day was spell making, which was a branch of magic where I really shone—mixing and concocting spells and potions, following directions, and then adding my own little touch to bring them to life.

If I had really been a spellcaster, there was no way anyone would expect me to love crafting spells. It was considered the artform of those not quite powerful enough to use their affinities, but the subtle magic of hexes and spells, potions and tinctures, really spoke to me.

By the time class was over and I’d dropped my bags off in my dorm, after assuring Noah I would be at dinner in ten minutes, my ever-present exhaustion had pushed itself to the forefront again. My limbs were heavy as I changed into jeans and a sweater, and pulling on my black, fur-lined boots felt like torture.

With it being only the first day, classes hadn’t been particularly difficult, and especially not with all the professors going easy on me.

I really had no idea why I felt so wrecked.

Throwing on Logan’s hoodie against the chill of winter, I forced myself to leave my dorm and head for the dining hall.

Food would help with my energy level.

When I reached the entrance of the busy hall, Trevor was waiting, perched in the doorway. He looked like shit, dark rings under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Hey,” I said, when he noticed me. “Is everything okay?”

“Do you know where Belle is?” He watched the witches and warlocks who passed by, as if searching for her face. Fires burned deep in his eyes, and the heat of his energy washed over me until I was almost too hot. “Why isn’t she here?”

He’d brought Belle up more than once over the winter break, but I’d been too caught up in my own shit to really think about why. They were friends, I knew that much, but the way he was acting now . . . it was so much more than that.

They were more than that.

Like a slap up the side of the head, I finally understood what the Hel was going on. “You’re the one she was seeing last year,” I said softly. It wasn’t a question. “She told me he was older, but she never mentioned a name.” For reasons that now made a lot more sense.

Trevor’s big body lurched forward, and by instinct I reached out to steady him. I’d never seen him so out of sorts. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Pais,” he whispered miserably. “We just kept running into each other, and the snarky banter morphed from annoyance into . . . more.”