Daisy’s features burst into a smile as she begins sharing her plans. Sloan is held captive by the passion in Daisy’s tone and how her eyes are alight with life, the most she has seen in the past twenty-four hours. It’s intoxicating. The energy Daisy gives off as she explains she wants to host a weekend community retreat that fosters relationship-building among members has Sloan’s magic buzzing under her skin. She moves a hand forward without thinking and clasps Daisy’s hand in hers. Daisy stops speaking instantly, taken aback by the contact. Sloan pulls back immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I was so engrossed in what you were saying. It sounds like you have this off to a great start, and I can’t wait to hop in and see how we can truly make it shine.”
Daisy’s eyes narrow as the light in her eyes vanishes and is replaced with suspicion. Shit. “You don’t think it shines already? I’ve worked my ass off these past couple of weeks.”
Sloan leans back, putting space between them, hoping it helps Daisy to feel less defensive. Less trapped. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. We could do wonders together with your planning and my connections. We could truly make this event something to talk about.”
“And you don’t think I can do that on my own? That’s what you’re saying. You think it wouldn’t be good enough as it is.”
“No. I think what you have already is great, but we could make it even more so,” Sloan replies, trying to ease the tension.
“Because it couldn’t be great without you and your precious connections,” Daisy scoffs.
Flo arrives with their meals and does her best to avoid addressing the thick tension surrounding their table. “Here you go. Please let me know if there is anything else we can help you with.”
“Thank you,” Sloan responds, pulling up a fake smile of appreciation as Flo steps back, turns, and walks away. With Flo gone, Sloan takes a breath and carefully says, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m very appreciative of the work you have done on your own—despite being instructed to work together and you doing everything you can to avoid that, I might add. You’ve made a great choice with The Dandelion. However, we need to work together to succeed, and I think we both have skill sets that could benefit this project. I want you to include me. I want to be included. I want to have a civil conversation about how we can make this successful—together.”
Sloan finishes with what she thinks is a calm and rational statement, only to look back at Daisy and almost see sparks shooting out from her head. “I knew you would make this all about you and how you’re better than me. That was why I tried to do this on my own. You need to stop trying to force this. I don’t think this partnership will work.” Daisy picks her napkin off her lap, tossing it on the table as she stands. “I’ve lost my appetite,” she says, walking away from the table.
Sloan sighs. “Well, that went about as well as a backfired hex,” she says to herself, cutting into a scallop and popping it in her mouth.
Sloan opens the door to their room, expecting it to be empty. Except what she sees is Daisy’s bag lying on the bed and Daisy pacing back and forth beside it.
“I have to go. I have to go,” Daisy repeats to herself, hands running up and down the back of her neck in frustration. “But I can’t go. If I leave, this all falls apart.”
Sloan clears her throat. Daisy stops and turns. A flash of something resembling embarrassment crosses her eyes, but the fire of a thousand cauldrons quickly replaces it.
“Can we talk about what happened back there?”
“No,” Daisy responds with barely contained anger as she picks up a pair of socks and tosses them in her bag.
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no need. You’ll never stop thinking you’re better than me, and I’ll never stop seeing you as the witch who tried to ruin my life.”
Her words land like hellfire on Sloan’s skin. While it’s been less than twenty-four hours together, she thought she had made some tiny bit of headway with breaking through Daisy’s fortress. She was mistaken.
“You’re right. I didn’t do anything to try and stop Franny and Gwen when we were younger. I take full responsibility for that. But I think I deserve a second chance.”
Daisy spins, eyes ablaze, “Oh, do you? You think you deserve a second chance to ruin my life? To destroy everything I have worked so hard for? To take away any chance I have at proving to this stupid fucking town that I’m worthy of being here. Worthy of existing.”
Sloan steps toward Daisy. Slowly. Cautiously. Afraid that too quick of a movement will send her running. She’s within arm’s reach when she says, “No. I want a chance to show you I am not that scared teenager anymore. I was terrified of going against what people expected of me. I would have rather leaped into a burning lake than tell those dumb witches to give it a fucking rest. I never thought that you deserved that treatment, but our families did. Oh, our families hated yours and what your parents did. All we heard about was how your parents targeted innocent supernaturals and humans alike and how they caused so much harm. How they were the scum on the bottom of our broomsticks. I had no fucking choice!” Sloan watches as her words land. Daisy’s expression falters slightly, softening just enough that Sloan can tell she’s making sense. “I had to follow along if I wanted to make it out.” Her eyes cast down to Daisy’s plump lips, waiting for the next rebuttal. Daisy’s tongue glides slowly along her lips. As much as Sloan knows Daisy doesn’t lick her lips for Sloan, the action still sends ripples of heat through her as her mind wonders what she tastes like.
“All I hear from any of that is that you were too chickenshit to stand up to your stupid prissy friends. Instead, you let them—” Daisy’s tired tirade is cut short as Sloan’s hands roughly grasp Daisy’s arms and pull her against her own body. Her hands clasp the side of Daisy’s face before she has a chance to hesitate, and then her mouth is on Daisy’s. Their lips meet forcefully, backed by an unwavering need to taste her.
Oh, goddess. What the fuck have I done?
As panic rampages through Sloan’s brain and time slows to a crawl, she feels Daisy relax into the kiss and respond. Her head tilts to the side, allowing better access, and her mouth opens, welcoming Sloan in. Daisy’s arms wrap around her, and her hands work unhurried and uncertainly into Sloan’s hair. Daisy’s fingers curl into Sloan’s hair, grasping it and tugging lightly as her tongue meets Sloan’s, sending shockwaves of heat to her core.
Witches’ tits. She is perfection.
Sloan keeps one hand on the back of Daisy’s head while the other roams down her body, hungrily feeling every curve. She presses up against Daisy, relishing how their bodies meld together like they were meant for each other and memorizing how Daisy feels against her in case she never feels it again.
The kiss ends as quickly as it was initiated. Daisy releases her hold and pushes Sloan away. Flustered and flushed, Daisy glares at Sloan, moving to the other side of the bed and putting space between them. “What the fuck was that?”
“I needed you to shut up. I needed you to hear me.” That was probably the wrong thing to say.
“So you kissed me?” she asks incredulously.
“It was the only thing I could think to do.”
