Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(10)
Eighteen. Out of his hair. It didn’t take Beck more than a few seconds to realize she could leave school the day she turned eighteen. She wasn’t concerned, because she had other plans. The school and its instructors created the most positive environment on the planet! What made her so desperate to leave them?
Morgan was watching him, her full lips pressed together as if to keep more words from coming out and her large eyes unblinking. The need to settle her magick was distracting him, almost as much as her shapely body and direct look.
His first challenge as a mentor, and he wasn’t certain how to respond. Would she risk running away sooner, if they put her in a corner? Or would she realize things weren’t that bad, if she gave this place a chance?
“I think Amber needs more than that,” he said. “Maybe just … try harder this week? Show her there’s no reason to call your parents?”
“There isn’t any reason to call my parents.”
“Except you’re flunking.”
Morgan sighed. She appeared thoughtful, gaze distant.
“Look, if something is wrong, if someone here is bothering you or you really do hate it here, you can tell me. I can keep a secret and run interference with Amber, if needed.” You wouldn’t believe how well I can keep a secret, he added silently with dark humor.
“You would do that for a total stranger?” Morgan asked.
“Let’s just say, sometimes horrible things happen and you get sworn to secrecy by a bigfoot,” he said, grinning.
“Bigfoot?”
“It’s an inside joke. But, I’m serious about the secret. You can trust me.” He had her attention; that much he saw. What she was thinking, though, was beyond him.
Chapter Four
Morgan saw the flash of darkness that crossed Beck’s gaze, even as he forced a smile at the weird joke about a bigfoot. She hadn’t gotten that vibe from him at all; he seemed like someone who had a perfect life. His family was richer than God, according to everyone she spoke to. He was sexy with a perfect body, and he went around sleeping with models.
Yet the instinct whispering to her that something … bad happened was unmistakable. If there was one gift she hated about her fire magick, it was her sensitivity to pain in others. She had the urge to burn it, to turn it into something happier, warmer, because pain was like snow: cold, bleak. Fire was a purifier, one that created hope and potential and life out of despair.
“What happened to you?” she asked, before she was able to stop herself.
Beck held her gaze, unaffected, despite the heat creeping up her face once more.
“Technically, nothing.”
“That’s not true,” she returned with a shake of her head. “I mean, I know it’s none of my business. But I know something happened.”
“Yeah,” he said and then paused. “Bad stuff happened to people I cared about. So, technically, it didn’t happen to me.”
“Right, because bad things happening to someone else have no impact on you whatsoever. You just go on with life like everything is fine.”
“Okay, you’re right,” he said, smiling. “I nearly lost my brother a few months ago. To help save him, I had to do things I never thought I would, like walk away when he needed me most.”
“How awful,” she whispered. The pain was in his voice this time, and it disturbed her more than she thought it should. “Is he okay now?”
“Better off than I am,” Beck said with a laugh.
“I couldn’t imagine losing Connor,” she said, upset by the thought. “He’s the only one who cares.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is.”
“Your parents? Cousins? Friends?”
She flushed. “No.”
“I don’t believe that for like a second!” Beck said. “You’re sweet and cute.”
Her heart fluttered at his words. She was suddenly aware of her situation, of being alone with some guy she had just met in a place where no one would be able to hear her scream, if something bad happened.
Like four years ago.
Morgan pushed her fear away. She’d learned to manage it, but she couldn’t stop it or the urge to run to her room, lock the door and take two hundred showers. Sometimes, she still felt his hands on her, and it made her feel sick. Dirty. Disgusted.
Only Connor had believed her. She’d never trust anyone but him, and she would never deserve someone as good looking as Beck. Even if she got him, how was she ever going to tell a boyfriend what happened? How did she make someone understand that other girls her age were having sex, but she may never be ready for that?
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong,” she told him, withdrawing from her dark thoughts.
“Did something bad happen to you?” he asked.
She looked up, startled.
“Or to Connor?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said.
“If you ever need to talk …”
“I don’t.”
“Morgan, give me something to work with here,” he said. There was no sign of impatience or anger in his voice, nothing but firm determination.
She hesitated. “Okay, something bad happened to someone around this time of year. Every year, I think about it, and it bothers me. Once the new year starts, I’m fine.”