The last couple of weeks, I’ve imagined what would happen if I kissed Matt. I pictured him pushing me against a wall, in a breath-snatching moment that would be over as quickly as it began. Where he’d walk away again, unimpressed by my response.
I moisten my dry lips as he shifts and holds his mouth a whisper away from mine. We could be touching—the invisible gap charged with what we both know is inevitable.
Matt gently presses his lips to mine for just seconds before withdrawing; I’m as stunned as if he had kissed me until I was breathless. His face remains close, his breath against my lips, hands remaining on my cheeks. Waiting. I tip my head and meet his mouth, curling a hand around his neck to pull him closer.
Matt circles an arm around my waist and holds me as his lips press harder against mine. The warm pressure of his mouth moves from tentative to firm as I eagerly respond, pushing myself into him. Mouth harder against mine, Matt parts my lips with his tongue, exploring as I push mine against his.
My body jerks as the magic energy between us meets, tearing me away from everything apart his mouth on mine. Our chaste touch drops as I dig my hands into his hair, and he holds my head as our mouths move against each other. Desire surges through my body and my self-control is a step away from jumping over the edge.
Stop.
I pull my mouth away with a gasp and touch my swollen lips. I’ve made out with guys, of course, but never experienced this from a kiss. This isn't just Matt’s skill, but the magic connection that scared me last time.
One that scares me more than yielding to him, because the energy I felt this time was shadowed at the edges.
And we’re alone.
“I’m sorry, Matt,” I mumble and pull away from him.
I don’t have a chance to find out if he’s unimpressed by my kissing, because I’m the one that runs from the room like a stupid high school girl who’s never been kissed.
9
AMELIA
I sit at lunch and read a postcard from my sister, sent from Colorado. Usually we email, but Genevieve sends a card from every place she visits in the States to add to my collection. One day, I hope to travel more and visit some of the places friends and families send me pictures from. On days I feel claustrophobic in the academy world, I leaf through the cards and dream about spending days on Hawaiian beaches or skiing in the Alps. Whether this will happen, I don’t know, but I’m determined to visit everywhere I can.
Witches live and work in all areas of human society, and I’m eager to meld my life with humans, even if some supernaturals resist this. I don’t agree with Matt’s attitude—those who weren’t born into money, and who’ve learned how to use their powers in human society, are now as wealthy as the old families.
Genevieve notes her latest adventures on the postcard, about her camping in the national park, and the camaraderie between her and the other witches as they work on gathering nature’s energy to teach each other skills from their different covens.
I’m jealous, but mostly I miss her.
Somebody snatches the postcard from my hand. Katherine holds the card between thumb and forefinger and reads the message with a curl to her lips.
“Ugh. Genevieve is full of herself, but this is pathetic. She was chosen to travel to an overseas academy and look what she’s doing—living in a forest.”
Clive chuckles. “I bet they’re dancing naked around the fire and asking for moon goddesses to bless them or some shit.”
Why is he like this? Clive and Ash were great friends—the school’s two most powerful shifters—but since Katherine set her sights on him, Clive has changed. Petrescu vamps separate themselves and look down on the other houses, and now Clive’s joining that elitist attitude.
“She must’ve really burned you,” I retort. “Did Genevieve ending your relationship turn you into a heartbroken jerk?”
He sits on the edge of the table and looks down at me. “I ended it.”
“That’s not what my sister told me.” If I were a worse person, I’d spill everything I knew about what went wrong between them, but this isn’t my business.
The fact he’s insulting Genevieve is my business.
“Clive doesn’t care,” puts in Katherine. She stands behind him and massages his shoulders. “I think he’s forgotten about her.”