Hush (Witches & Warlocks Book 2) Read Free Page A

eyes and become aware of the nasty little smile I’ve been wearing. My face goes slack and my eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” I whisper in conjunction with Todd, my words overlapping his.
    I can at least fix the bleeding. Make up for the pain I caused. With a discrete wave of my fingers under the table, I call upon the tiger - the tiger with the thumping tail, just as disappointed in me as I am in myself - and I ask for her strength.
    “Sanibit percuro.” I keep my voice as quiet as a sigh, which is a little silly because there’s so much commotion around me, no one would be able to hear the incantation.
    Todd stops bleeding, and his tears dissolve into sniffles, but he doesn’t stop rocking, and he doesn’t stop apologizing. At some point his girl came back to the table and he’s fallen to his knees in front of her, holding her legs, apologizing over and over and telling her he loves her. She looks equal parts uncomfortable, vindicated, and grossed out. His blood is smeared on her clothes and hands and I don’t think she knows what to do about that.
    Noah tugs on my arm and I follow him. There’s a moment - just as he touches me - that my magic, my dark magic, reaches out to him. I feel it creeping from my hand into his, and worse, for just the tiniest fraction of a second, I feel the answering nudge of his own magic. His own dark magic. The stuff he’s worked so hard to keep locked up.
    That’s not ok.
    Noah’s good. Even if, like me, he came with access to too much power, his heart and soul are pure. When he agreed to be my mentor, I knew he was taking on a lot of responsibility. I knew he was putting himself in danger. Dark magic is like whiskey to an alcoholic. As long as you keep denying yourself, you’ll probably be ok, but the effort to deny yourself is a constant thing. Being around someone who drinks, or in this case, being around someone who can’t help flinging dark magic around, that makes it all the more likely the alcoholic will fall off the wagon.
    When Noah took the job of helping assimilate me into this magical world, he put himself at risk. Sure, I have to tolerate minor injustices like the tracking spell he has on me that makes him aware of every place I go, but he has to fight hard to keep the integrity of who he is and how he wants to live whole.
    And I just totally messed all that up.
    “You think we’ll need a cleaner?” I ask as he leads me away from the coffee shop.
    “No.” He’s not looking at me and there’s a whole hell of a lot of concentration straining across his face. “It’s just a bloody nose and a troubled conscious.”
    Noah closes his eyes and swallows hard and there’s a flare of magic that pours from his hand, up my arm, and into my entire body. Maybe even my soul. It feels good. Like praying. Like singing. Like dancing.
    I totally understand why Noah continues to choose light magic. It’s pure. It’s wonderful. It’s light streaming through cathedral windows and birds singing on a sunny day. It’s new fallen snow, crisp and white and bright in the sun, tiny glittering flakes drifting through the air. It’s a soft touch and a warm hug.
    It’s the way the world should be.
    Judging by the path Noah’s taking, we’re heading back to the car, and probably back to Windsor Manor. I stop walking and pull on his arm. He takes one extra step, exhales, and then just stands there. Great. I’ve upset him. Noah, the guy who doesn’t get upset, is upset. He sighs, more of a forced exhalation really, and faces me.
    “I’m sorry.” I say it and I mean it. My stomach is doing that icky sickly nervous dance it used to do when I thought there might be a chance Becca was upset with me. Except this time, I’m nervous about what Noah’s feeling because I genuinely care about what Noah’s feeling. Because I genuinely care about him.
    “I know.” He gives me a weak smile and drops my hand. I don’t like either of those things. I want his sexy smile, and I want him