I sigh, and the air whisks away the sound in an effort to soothe me. The conversation with Cal has been running on an endless loop through my brain since dinner. Naming the Council’s new venture after Dad is one thing. That’s an easy yes, assuming Mom also agrees.
Gettinginvolved, though. Uprooting the rest of my life… That’s something else entirely.
“I like our life,” I say into the dark. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
Morgan traces her fingers along the waistband of my pajama shorts, the familiar pattern soothing even before her Blood Magic flows through me a moment later. “Cal gave lots of options,” she reminds me. “Do any of them interest you?”
Eyes closed, I sink into the safety of her warmth behind me and the familiar comfort of the cats curled up at my feet. Cal’s major offer involves Morgan and me moving to Archer Walsh Academy—which the Council is currently building on a magically hidden island off the coast of Scotland—where we’ll teach the next generation of witches to mix magics. For at least a year, we’d leave behind Salem, our cats, and the home we’ve built together.
He had other, less life-altering, options, too.
We could simply help train the other instructors—a thirty-day intensive that would be over before we knew it. We can also support the initiative by promoting the Academy on the3 Sistersapp, once that’s up and running, and even help select the inaugural class of witches.
“I believe in what the Council is trying to do,” I admit, shifting so I can turn to face Morgan in our bed. At least one of the cats is offended by the change in position, jumping to the floor, little feet scampering away.
“But?”
“I don’t want my whole life to be a reminder of everything I lost.”
Morgan brushes the hair out of my face, warm fingers settling at my neck, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “Even if we went all the way in on this, it wouldn’t have to be yourwholelife.”
“How do you figure?”
“Cal said we’d only teach a few hours a day, and the island will have internet. You’d still have time for art. Hell,moretime than you do now, probably. You could build up your base of freelance clients.”
I tip my forehead to hers and loop an arm around her waist, pulling our bodies flush. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Plus,” she continues, “with how much the Council is willing to pay, if we decide we’re done after the first semester, you’d still have enough of a buffer to try working for yourself. No more boring corporate design clients.”
The air is heavy with her hope. It’s an aching, electric thing.
“You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“It’s tempting,” she admits, her fingers trailing down my side to rest at the small of my back. “Between my bookstore shifts and teaching kids dance and trying to write my book… I feel like I’m constantly pulled in so many different directions. It would be nice to streamline how much I’ve got going on. To be part of something importantandhave more time to write. I know there’d be a lot of logistics, but it kind of feels like winning the lottery.”
“I get that,” I admit, even as misgivings continue to tighten my chest and swirl through my stomach. “But after we defeated the Hunters, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let what happened take over my life. This feels too close to that.”
“This isn’t aboutthem, though,” she insists. “This is about continuing to improve Clan relations. It’s taking the brilliant discoveries thatyoumade and finding out what else our combined magics can do.”
“Discoveries thatwemade,” I correct, leaning in for a kiss that leaves me hungry for more, but she needs credit for what we did together. “Without you, I never would have known Blood Magic made Elemental gifts stronger. I wouldn’t have thought to try mixing Elemental magic with Caster potions.”
“Fine.Ourdiscovery. Which is exactly why I won’t do this without you. If helping with publicity is all you feel comfortable doing, I’ll be there, at your side.” She leans in for another kiss. “And if you want to spend a month, or ayear, at the academy itself… Where you go, I go.”
Despite her assurances, her hope is still heavy in the air. She wants to go. She’ll stay in Salem for my sake, but I can already picture her thriving in some wind-tossed Scottish island, writing her sexy vampire books and teaching Elementals and Casters how to workwithBlood Witches instead of fearing them.
“I need to sleep on it,” I tell her in the quiet dark of our bedroom. In the house that we bought thanks to the trust fund the Council set up as payment for everything we sacrificed to stop the Witch Hunters all those years ago.
Morgan’s hand tightens against the small of my back. “Are you ready to sleep now or…” The mischievous grin that spreads across her face in the dark sends a thrill of desire through me.
It requires only the smallest effort to reach for a spark of fire, and the candles placed around the room burst into flickering light. The tiny flames cast a warm glow against Morgan’s skin that leaves her looking utterly kissable. So I do. I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, her jaw, down her neck.
A gentle moan hums at the back of her throat. “I’ve been thinking about this since our shower,” she murmurs. “Quick can be fun, but I want to take my time with you.” Her fingers trail up my spine and thread in my hair. Her grip tightens, and the bright sting against my scalp drives me wild. It’s a very different kind of magic to be with her like this. To have the coziness, the safety, the familiarity…
And also the passion. The burning need to touch and taste and devour. To ache to be taken apart and put back together again.
To come utterly undone at her touch.
It’s a long time before we even think about sleep.
