If that means the shadows that are so much a part of him eventually become a part of me . . . well, then, I’ll deal with that when it happens. Because anything else is nonnegotiable.
Declan knows what I’m thinking. It’s in every implacable line of his face, every steady breath he forces himself to take. He must be a hell of a poker player, because he’s giving away nothing. But for me, that’s his tell. Because lately when he looks at me, there’s so much emotion in his eyes, his face, that I can’t help but know what’s going on inside him.
I pull him close because I can’t do anything else, press soft kisses to his eyes, his cheeks, his forehead. With each press of my lips, he relaxes a little more, that terrible rigidity draining out of him inch by inch. By the time I get to his lips, he’s ready for me, his hand tangling in my hair as he holds me in place. Then he ravages me, using his lips and teeth and tongue to brand me in a way I won’t soon forget.
I’m gasping when he finally pulls away, my body shaking with need and love and a bunch of other emotions I’m too wired to identify. Reaching up, I grab fistfuls of that wild black hair of his and tug, waiting until his eyes meet mine. “We’re not done talking about the Council.”
“You can talk all you want.”
I make a frustrated sound deep in my throat. “No. We’ll talk.” I narrow my eyes at him, knowing that if I give in now, it’s just an invitation for him to walk all over me later in our relationship. And while my feelings for him are often overwhelming, I’m no pushover. Better that he know that now. “I mean it, Declan. I don’t want you doing anything without talking to me first.”
He watches me closely as he says, “Fine. We can talk. But that doesn’t mean I’ll end up agreeing with you. And in the end I’m going to do what needs to be done. They will not hurt you again.”
Determined to stay on task, I brace myself not to melt at the concern and possession evident in his words. “That’s fine. I’m all for them not getting near me again. All I’m asking is that we take a little time to figure out what that is before you turn all avenging angel on me.”
“I’m no angel, Xandra.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “But you’re no devil, either.”
“I could be.” He grabs me, tumbles me into his lap. “I’ve been on my best behavior for you.”
I can’t even imagine a universe where that’s true. And if this is his good behavior, what on earth does it look like when he’s being bad?
Choosing not to go there for now, I watch him finish his sandwich. Then say, “I don’t believe everyone on the ACW is corrupt. You want to kill them all because you think they’re all involved in the soulbinding and in what happened to us. But some of the Council members are new—they might not know anything about what’s going on. You can’t tell me you honestly think they should die, too.”
“If you lie down with dogs . . .”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Sure it is.”
“No. It’s not.” Determined to win this battle, I try to stare him down. But Declan just looks at me, the left corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin that tells me he’s not budging. He looks hot and I want to jump him again, even as a part of me wants to strangle him.
“Look, can we at least think this through? Try to figure out who’s doing the killing? Because I don’t believe everyone on the ACW is corrupt and I can’t stand the idea of someone innocent dying when there might be a chance that we can stop it.”
For long seconds, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me with that shit-eating grin. Then, with a shrug, he says, “Okay.”
“Okay?” I narrow my eyes at him. “After all that fuss, that’s all you have to say?”
“Pretty much.” He breaks off a corner of the cookie I brought him and holds it out to me.
I eye him suspiciously. That agreement came way too easily. “Really?”
“Why do you look so skeptical? I am capable of being reasonable, you know.”
“Oh yeah. Reason is your middle name.” I continue to watch him distrustfully.
“Fine.” He reaches for my hand, squeezes tight. “You said we. I liked the sound of it.”
“Enough to give my way a shot?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”
His concession is the last thing I expect to hear. But as I watch him, see the pleasure in his eyes that he’s no longer trying to hide, it hits me. Declan is one of the most powerful, most feared warlocks in the world. But that kind of power isn’t exactly conducive to a real relationship—any kind of relationship. No wonder he’s so close to Ryder. For centuries, his half brother has probably been the only one he can count on to see beneath the power to the man.
“Just so you know, I like the sound of it, too.” More than I ever thought I would.
Eighteen
After Declan leaves for a meeting he “can’t miss,” one that he promises won’t end with him splattered in blood this time, I head back out to the front of the house. Help out brewing coffee, as the predinner crowd is just beginning to descend. As I do, I work hard to keep the just-got-laid smile off my face. I think I succeed, too—at least until Travis, who is working a split shift today, puts his tongue firmly in his cheek and points out that my shirt is on inside out.
So much for Declan’s transubstantiation skills.
After ducking into my office to fix my shirt, I switch places with Lisa, who’s working the kitchen orders. Actual food orders are slow right now and will be for the next hour and a half or so—which makes this the perfect time to prep my dough for the morning. Each day, I make four different kinds of cookies, two kinds of muffins and a couple of different cakes. Lots of people have told me it’s too much work, that I need to streamline or hire the baking out, but the fact of the matter is, I enjoy it.
Back before my magic kicked in, this was the only kind of potion making I got to do—mixing ingredients and creating beautiful, delicious treats for people to enjoy. Then again, who am I kidding? Even with my new powers, this is still the only mixing I get to do. Potions are really more of my mother’s thing. Hence the reason I know so much about them. When I was younger, and still trying to be her, I struggled with hundreds of different potions, desperate to get one right. Just one.
It never happened, though, and eventually I moved to Austin to get away from the craziness of being the only latent princess in Ipswitch’s history. I was a huge embarrassment to my family—a reminder of how things could go terribly wrong—so I figured it was best to get out of town. Plus, here I can live my own life, relatively safe from my mother’s interference. At least some of the time.
Of course, now that my powers are kicking in, things are getting weird on that front on a whole new level. My mom wants me back in Ipswitch, even though my life is here. Now that I finally have magic, she expects me to claim my rightful place in the family, but the fact of the matter is, I’m in no way ready to go back to the restrictions of that life. Especially not now that I have Declan.
After I prep the chocolate chip cookie and sugar cookie dough, I set about making the red velvet cupcakes I try to do a couple of times a week. I’d have them every day—they’re big sellers—but they’re my favorites, too, and if I have too much access to them, I completely lose the ability to fit into my jeans.
As I’m whipping up the batter, I try to ignore the fact that I may not be able to stay in Austin much longer. Oh, I have no intention of giving Beanz up—I love this place—but it’s only a matter of time before my mom and dad get wind of what really happened here a couple of weeks ago. So far, Donovan has covered for me—telling them that my involvement with Kyle came only from my magic and not because he was hired by the Council to kill me.