Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(21)
But I need to touch him. The sense that they were supposed to be together had never faded despite their time and distance. The powerful bond she didn’t comprehend was more than magick, more than physical, more than anything she could possibly explain – and it was aching so badly for one single touch, it almost drove her to her knees.
“One step at a time,” Summer said.
Morgan blinked and realized she was standing dumbly in the middle of the room. “Sorry. Just …” Flustered, she started forward again.
“I understand.” Summer’s smile was genuine.
Morgan studied the quiet girl. The last time they’d seen one another, they were locked in a stone coffin and left to suffocate by Dawn. Summer had been hurt. “You look really good, Summer. I wondered how … how everyone was.”
“We’re all healthy,” Summer replied. “Connor, too.”
Morgan’s spirits dampened at the mention of her brother. She pulled away from Summer to finish the unexpectedly taxing trek to the bathroom. She was exhausted, weak and hungry – and the last thing she wanted to deal with was how she was going to tell Beck and Connor why she’d left.
And why she had to leave again in order to protect them, the Light and all the witchlings from the soul stone Dawn wanted to use to destroy them. She had to find a way out of the hospital, to bypass the edgy twins in the hallway outside and Summer in her room.
Closing the bathroom door behind her, Morgan leaned against it briefly to rest. I’m in no shape to run anywhere. Desperation unfurled within her, and she swallowed the urge to cry. If Dawn had drowned her in her apartment, she’d quickly figure out to check the local hospitals.
“I’ll get you some clothes!” Summer called.
With irritation, Morgan realized she needed something more than a hospital gown if she was going to leave. “Thanks.” She tested her body, relieved to discover she was healthy, just fatigued.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged after a hot shower, the scrubbed soul stone in hand. Her body temperature stabilized without it to mess with her system, and she sat down on her bed in a towel with a sigh. Summer had left clothing folded on her bed next to a baggy of homemade cookies. Morgan couldn’t stop the smile that started to form when she touched the warm treats, knowing full well who had brought them. Beck could survive off cookies. While she liked them, she needed real food.
Still, the offering touched her. If anything, he should hate her for almost killing him then lying to him about what happened.
Maybe he does. She toyed with the cookies. Maybe he was concerned for her the way he was for every witchling, because he was a good person and good people didn’t run away and hurt those who cared about them.
The idea that Beck was there as a friend, that he had gotten over her or worse, was unable to forgive her, struck her hard enough that she doubled over with invisible pain. Morgan forced shallow breaths through her tight throat, unable to straighten until she had calmed some of her emotions. There had been a time when she trusted him, and for the most part, she still did. What she couldn’t trust: herself and her ability to protect him from the stone when she knew without a drop of doubt it was bad for him.
Which meant she was, too.
Why, then, did the sight and thought of him after so long still hurt and fill her with such exhilaration, she wanted nothing more than to let her fire tangle with his calmer earth magick and for their bodies to tangle with one another the same way?
She nibbled on a cookie then set it aside and got dressed. Summer had guessed her sizes correctly. The designer jeans, top and cardigan felt soft and expensive while the booties were comfortable and trendy. Morgan felt one step closer to normal with the nice clothing. She wrangled the tangles out of her hair and managed to subdue the wild curls with a little water then tucked the soul stone into her pocket and glanced towards the windows.
With any luck, she was on the ground floor and could jump out and run. The fleeting hope was crushed the moment she peered out the window to see she was on the fourth floor of the hospital.
She leaned her hips against the walls below the window with a sigh and nibbled on another cookie.
“Can I come in?” Beck’s muffled words were accompanied by a tap at the door.
Her heart skipped then raced. Morgan started to panic and drew a deep breath. “Yes.” She prepared herself mentally as much as possible before turning to face him. She needed to push him away, to let him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t welcome in her life and she was leaving.
The moment the door opened, her courage melted, and all she could think about was taking away the hurt she saw in his gorgeous teal eyes.
Beck closed the door behind him it, studying her. He wore a goatee, and she inadvertently recalled how sexy he had looked with a day of scruff on his features after the night they’d spent cuddling. She could almost smell the cookies on him, feel the soothing warmth of his magick and his body heat. The memories of their kisses, of how he’d held her, rendered her breathless, aching … scared she’d lost everything.
She crossed her arms, unable to stop her fire’s reaction to his presence. Her magick adored him and how he fed her passion and emotions, how he managed to soothe her, too, the way no one else could. She’d always experienced a sense of safety in his arms, something she’d never known anywhere else.
He walked towards her deliberately, holding her gaze as if aware she wanted to flee. This part of him she had forgotten, too, the confident, self-assured man who never suffered from her problem of constant instability. His earth magick was touching her ahead of his step, and she eased back. If he were anyone else, her father or uncle or even Connor, he’d be furious.