Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(9)

Most of the time I’d known this spellcaster, he’d been putting me in his clothes . . . surrounding me in his warmth and scent.

I fucking hated it.

I fucking loved it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked. “And why, for the love of Selene, did you just refer to me as your mate?”

He held out a hand. “Do you trust me, Paisley?”

“Not even a little.”

The burn of his eyes increased. “Good.”

I took his hand anyway because I needed answers.

He led me into a small alleyway near the club. It looked deserted, and I gasped when Logan opened a portal right there in the fucking human world with no prior arrangements.

“Are you allowed to do that?” I said sharply, looking around for witnesses.

Logan shrugged. “Define allowed.”

He loved to use that line, and I didn’t bother to reply. Clearly Logan was above such trivialities as the law or the High Council of Magic, and I honestly didn’t care tonight. Between the wine, his energy, and my own powers, I had much larger worries.

Our hands remained linked, but Logan didn’t force me into his portal. He gave me the choice to go with him or not, and I wondered what would happen if I just spun on one booted heel and left this alley. Left the spellcaster who was as dangerous as he was destructive.

His expression remained cocky, as if he expected me to run, which had me stiffening my resolve. Straightening my spine, I stepped into the unknown. We traveled through the magic together and Logan’s hold on me never wavered.

On the other side, I found myself staring up at a set of wrought iron gates that rivaled Weatherstone’s. These didn’t have glittery gold accents but were solid black, with just a large K in the center. Swirls of lavender-scented air moved around us, and it was warmer than back in Spokane.

“This isn’t your dad’s place, right?” I scrutinized the shadows for Rafael Kingston.

Logan’s laugh was low and strangely soothing. “I’d never bring you near him, Precious. You most definitely wouldn’t be safe, and the last year of keeping you alive would have been for nothing.” He had kept me alive, and I still had no clue why.

When Logan approached, the gates opened. The scenery beyond remained shrouded in darkness, which he could have easily lit up with magic but didn’t. A shiver traced down my spine at how alone I was with a spellcaster who I desired but didn’t trust.

Still, if Logan wanted me dead, he could have killed me hundreds of times at Weatherstone. He’d promised me that I’d be safe tonight, and I believed him.

We were silent as we walked up a wide driveway. “We’re in Michigan,” Logan said, surprising me by freely revealing information. “This was where Mom grew up.”

The mention of his mom twisted my heart until my chest ached. The knowledge of my power and how she died wouldn’t stop bugging me. Mom might not be a night witch, but she’d been there the day Logan’s mom died. Her best friend had been killed by a shadowy creature, and I couldn’t help but think it was still somehow all connected to me.

“Is it your dad’s house now?” I asked, forcing those worrisome thoughts away.

Logan shook his head. “No, she left everything to me. A full property portfolio at six years old.”

My steps slowed, and he slowed with me as I tried to comprehend how much he’d lost at such a young age. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Logan. I wish you didn’t have to grow up without your mom.”

His expression was somber as he lifted his free hand and brushed it across my cheek. “She wasn’t the only one I lost,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You were beautiful as a child, Paisley. I can remember the first time you raced across the park and tackle-hugged me. I mean, I’m sure you did it before that, but I don’t remember those times. I remember you at four, fierce, and so loyal. You defended me against my dad.”

“I did?” Flickers of memories, there but out of reach. “Was your dad an asshole even back then?”

His lips tugged into a brief smile. “In a manner. He wasn’t as hard as he is today, but he’s always expected a lot of me. You didn’t like when someone bossed your Logie around.”

I snorted. “Fuck. That’s kind of cute, actually.”

Even in the low light of the moon, I could see the twinkle in Logan’s eyes. “Better than ‘Stalkcaster.’”

Heat infused my cheeks, and I hoped the darkness hid my flushed face. “How do you know that? You really are a stalker.”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “When it comes to you, Paisley Hallistar, I have no fucking limits.”

With that, he tugged me toward his house once more. The driveway was paved in a gorgeous gray mottled stone that reflected the moonlight. When the house came into view, it was as impressive as Weatherstone. Huge, it sprawled over what looked like an acre of land, and went up three stories. I expected it would be Gothic in style, but instead it screamed country Hamptons, with wraparound porches, light gray weatherboard walls, white shutters, earthy stone accents, and pillars leading up the front steps.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

Logan pulled me closer to his side, his warmth seeping into me. “Mom was a country girl. She wanted me to experience this as well, countering Dad, who enjoyed penthouses and glass cages. This is my sanctuary. A sanctuary I’ve never shared with anyone.”