Autumn Storm (The Witchling #2)(32)

Decker’s kiss. A fire. A cabin.

A headache hit her hard as the memory almost formed, yanking her out of the lingering fire. Autumn gripped her head with both hands.

Touched by the kindness he showed this night and that of the football game, she couldn’t quite swallow the idea that he killed people or that she’d let herself fall for his strange game of seduction. She was stronger than that. She was stronger than him. She thrived on their interactions. He didn’t back down. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t treat her like others did, like she was someone who should be pitied.

The combination of his fire and the chilled air magick in her blood was enough to drive her crazy. What was it like to surrender to something that wasn’t pain? To truly feel alive without worry or fear? She felt it in his kiss, a promise of what awaited her. She’d felt something else in him: a struggle, not for control with her, but an internal battle.

Maybe with the strange presence she’d sensed on the cliff?

Her migraine grew stronger, until she was ready to throw up. It took all her strength to force herself to stop thinking about him. Exhausted, exhilarated, Autumn reached for the remote and lay down. She couldn’t walk with this headache. She’d rest until she could return to her room.

She prayed he didn’t mean to return tonight. She didn’t have the strength to resist. Uncertain if she should when the kiss was so natural, she nonetheless wanted to be with him by her choice, not because the shadows influenced her.





Chapter Eight





Decker returned to his dorm room and reached for the knife on top of his dresser. His hand trembled hard. He knocked the weapon to the floor. The voices in his head were at a scream that threatened to drop him to the floor. The sense that a soul had gone bad slammed against his brain.

The blond girl was right: he had no control over the elements, not when it came to her. As much as he wanted to think he’d walked away, he knew the call-out was all that saved either of them from what he’d wanted to do to her.

There was something about her he hadn’t quite figured out. Something hidden, like a pearl in a clamshell. The sense was too fleeting. He’d thought he misread her the first time they met at the cliff. This time, he was certain the girl was more of a mystery than he’d thought. He just didn’t know what that meant.

Heart racing, he gripped the edge of the dresser with both hands to support himself. She’d silenced the voices and the Dark side of him with her passion. He’d wanted to lose himself in her soft skin and scent, the taste of her honey. Worse, he’d wanted to claim her as he had Summer, to make her his, and not for a single night. For every night of his life.

She felt like Summer! How was it possible?

He couldn’t get over the sensations remaining from the incredible kiss or his horror. Summer died three months ago today. It was supposed to be his day to honor and remember her. Instead, he was compelled to someone else and considering replacing the love of his life with a girl whose name he didn’t even know. Was he so weak that he fell for the first pretty face that tempted him?

You must not make the same mistake you did with Summer. We will protect her from you, but you must let the Darkness control you, Bartholomew told him.

With a frustrated roar, Decker shoved his school books onto the floor.

“I can come back.”

Was this voice inside his head? Unable to tell, he sucked in deep breaths. The wild magick in his blood began to settle. When his limited control return, he snatched the knife from the floor. Straightening, he noticed for the first time that someone was in his room.

A girl was under the sheet of his bed. By the outline of her body, she was naked. It took him a moment to register the familiar face of an ex-girlfriend.

“Alexa,” he said. “What’re you doing here?”

“I heard you’ve got an open invitation to your bed for Dark girls. Thought I’d take you up on the offer.”

The call-out was demanding his attention. He grabbed a jacket from the closet. He’d need the brief comfort he found in a woman’s body tonight. He wanted it to be the blond girl. With her in his bed, he’d never need anyone else. He’d never want to leave, either.

His final act of failure: betraying Summer. There was no other line for him to cross. He was weak, broken. Maybe it was better that Summer died. She deserved so much better than him. The blond girl did, too. She deserved someone like his brother, who had already staked a claim at the football game.

Decker hated himself more this night than most.

“You want me to come back later?” Alexa asked, disappointment in her voice.

“No. Stay here. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said then paused, gauging the level of fire in his blood. “You got any friends you can invite over?”

“What?”

“I’m gonna need a couple of you.”

“I … I guess.” She sounded pissed.

Decker didn’t care. He summoned his shadows and let them take him to the call-out. The Darkness didn’t claim him as it had most nights. Instead, he remained wired and hyperaware, his emotions at a scream with the voices.

The Dark side of him roared for blood. Like sex and drugs, it was a temporary fix and a high that got him through a few more hours.

The shadows took him to the bad soul across the world. It was dark, balmy and warm where they left him. He smelled the ocean on the breeze.