His fingers trail along my cheek, my shoulder, working their way down to the loose neck of my dress. And even though the feel of it’s icy, bracing, in the strongest sense of the word, I can’t help but lean into it, can’t help but close my eyes and immerse myself in the feel of it, urging him to scoop lower, explore further, prepared to go wherever he takes me—

“Ever? Is that you? Are you fugging kidding me?”

I open my eyes to find Haven standing behind us. Her eyes narrowed, blazing with anger as they dart between Roman and me. Not letting up in the slightest when he laughs and pushes me away, discarding me quickly and easily, as though it meant nothing to him.

“Told you she’d be back, luv.” His gaze sails over my shaky, sweaty body, so overcome with unrequited yearning, it pains me to see him slide his arm around her. The two of them turning their backs on me and heading inside as he says, “You know Ever. She just can’t stay away.”

eleven

I run.

Covering the blocks in a matter of seconds, appearing as a fast-moving blur to all whom I pass. But I don’t care about that. Don’t care what they think—what they see. I care about only one thing—ridding myself of this horrible invader, this mystical trespasser—so the old me can return.

Bursting through the door just as Jude’s about to lock it, nearly knocking him over though he’s quick to jump out of my way.

“I need help.” I stand before him, gasping, wheezing, broken beyond repair. “I—I don’t know where else to go.”

He looks me over, eyes narrowed, brows knit with concern, leading me toward the back room where he pulls out a chair with his foot and motions for me to sit.

“Easy,” he coos. “Deep breaths. Seriously, Ever. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

I shake my head and lean toward him, gripping the arms of my chair, fighting to stay rooted, to not go back there. “But what if you’re wrong?” I say, eyes wild, cheeks flushed, voice high-pitched and shaky. “What if it can’t be worked out? What if I’m—what if I’m broken for good?”

He moves around his desk and drops onto his chair, swiveling back and forth as he slowly takes me in, his face still, placid, impossible to read. But something about the movement, that gentle, constant pivoting, instantly calms me. Allowing me to settle back in my seat, slow my breath, and focus on the way his dreadlocks spill over the colorful picture of Ganesh that’s splashed across his tee.

“Look,” I finally say, starting to feel better, almost human again. “I’m—I’m sorry for coming here like this. I was actually on my way over to give you this.” I reach for my bag, rooting around for the small white package I then hand to him. Watching him peek at the contents as I say, “It’s your prescription. I picked it up earlier and meant to leave it on your desk, but then I forgot all about it ’til now.” He nods, silent for a moment, studying me carefully as he says, “Ever, what’s this really about? Clearly, you’re not here to talk about my meds.” He pushes the pills aside with his cast, catching my look when he adds, “Trust me, I have no plans to take ’em. Pain pills and me—not a good mix. As I’m sure you’ve already witnessed.”

And when he looks at me, I know he remembers. Everything. All of it. The full-on confession he made.

I press my lips together and lower my gaze, fiddling with the hem of my dress, knowing I’m just going through the motions when I say, “Well, you might want to take the antibiotics at least—you know, to ward off infection and all.”

He leans back in his seat and places his feet on his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle as his amazing green eyes narrow on me. “What do you say we move past all this and get to the point—what’s really going on with you?”

I take a deep breath, smoothing my dress over my knees before tentatively meeting his gaze. “I did come here to bring you the pills, really. But on the way over—something happened—and—” I look at him, knowing I need to just get to the point, spit it out already before he loses his patience with me. “I think I accidentally bound Roman to me.”

He looks at me, trying hard not to balk, though he still kinda does.

“Or, actually, I bound myself to Roman. But not on purpose—it was an accident. I meant to do just the opposite, but then, when I tried to undo it, it just made things worse. And even though you have absolutely no reason to help me—believe it or not, I have nowhere to turn.”

“Nowhere?” You sure about that?” He lifts his spliced brow.

Gathering my words, hoping they’ll work to convince him, I heave an audible sigh when I say, “I know what you’re thinking, but you may as well forget it. I can’t tell Damen—he can never know what I’ve done. He doesn’t work magick—doesn’t really trust it for that matter—so it’s not like he can do anything to help. I’ll just be hurting and disappointing him for no good reason. But you—you’re different. You know your way around a spell. And since I need help from someone who’s familiar with this kind of thing—well, I thought you could show me how to set things right.”

“Sounds like you’re putting a lot of faith in me.” He tosses his dreadlocks over his shoulder and rests his arms on his lap.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “But then I truly believe that it’s warranted. I mean, now that I’ve proved you’re not evil—” I nod toward his arms, the sight of them sparking an idea, something I just might broach at some point, something that just might be the perfect way to make it all up to him—but in the future, not now. First I need to get through this. Swallowing hard as I lower my gaze, horrified to have to admit this, to say the words out loud, but knowing it’s the only way. “It’s like I’m obsessed with Roman.” I glance at him briefly, seeing him blanch slightly but grateful for his efforts to contain it. “I’m totally and completely fixated on him. He’s all I think about. All I dream about. And no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop it.”