Chapter 26

26

DECLAN

I drive us to a hotel that Carolina mentioned she and Camila stay in when they visit. Opting to do so rather than cram themselves into Esme’s studio or stay with Annabelle. Evidently, Camila would rather die than stay at Annabelle’s.

I notice that Carolina has drifted off in the car again when I pull into the hotel parking lot. Her head is tilted slightly, lips parted in a soft sigh, and despite the exhaustion etched into her features, there’s a certain peace there. A peace I haven’t seen in her while she’s awake. I didn’t blame her in the slightest; I was practically counting down the minutes until I could get some rest.

“Carolina,” I say, hoping my voice is enough to wake her up, but she doesn’t so much as shift in her sleep. The rising and falling of her chest remains steady, deep. “Carolina.” This time, I reach out to jostle her shoulder.

I gasp at the images that suddenly fill my mind, much like that night in her bedroom. Except there’s something different this time. The images flash and change abruptly, like swiping through photos on a phone.

It’s all skin. Carolina’s mouth on me. My mouth on her. Tangled sheets. I’m gripping her hips, and she’s biting my shoulder.

Just as quickly as it started, I’m back in the car. I blink rapidly, trying to ground myself back in reality, the sudden shift leaving me breathless. Carolina lifts her head and looks at me with a confused expression.

“Declan?” I can feel the heat rising up my neck and into my face. “Are you alright?”

My chest is heaving, and I’m staring at her like I’m seeing her for the first time. Carolina’s gaze drifts to my hand on her shoulder and back to my face. I drop my hand and press it to my chest instead.

“Did you…did you see my vision?” Her face is horrified, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink that I don’t see on her often.

“Your vision?” I breathe out, but I can’t look her in the eye. Shame and confusion war with the lingering heat from images I saw. It was too real, too vivid.

“You did and that’s why you aren’t looking at me, but how is that possible?”

I think that question is rhetorical, so I don’t answer it, opting to exit the car for much-needed fresh air. The cool air hits my face like a slap, but it does nothing to erase the images burned into my mind. Once I’m outside, I keel over with my hands on my thighs. I’m still breathing heavily. I’m not even sure it has anything to do with what I saw…What she saw? Confusing.

“It’s the magic,” Carolina says, closing her door and walking over to me. She stands close but not close enough to touch, and I’m grateful because I don’t know if I could handle that right now. “It can be overwhelming.”

Between heavy exhalations, I say, “It wasn’t like that last time.”

Her brows knit together in confusion. “Last time? That wasn’t the first time this has happened?” Then, realization dawns on her. “That night in my room. You saw that?”

“Not a lot. You told me I needed to leave. Only lasted a few seconds, I think.” The breathing is slowly but surely becoming easier.

She nods. “Seeing the future requires more magic than receiving a nightvision ; that must be why you’re like this. It’s also probably why you were able to pass out on the floor after seeing it. Humans shouldn’t be able to wield magic. You’re not built for it.”

You can say that again.

I give her a thumbs-up before putting my hands on my hips and walking around in a circle aimlessly. “So you’re probably really fit if you can get those without…” I gesture to myself and my reaction.

Carolina laughs. “Magically, sure. Physically, not so much. I could run up a flight of stairs if it would make you feel better.”

I wave her off. “No, it’s fine. I’m going to go get rooms.”

It would give me a distraction from the memory of the images of her fingernails scoring lines down my back, my hands sliding up her thighs, and her head tilted back, lips slightly parted.

Enough of that.

“I called Camila,” Carolina says when I get back to the car. She’s leaning against the trunk of the car, arms crossed over her chest, and her hair is pulled up into one of those clips that people shouldn’t wear while they drive. “Things seem normal back in Grove Meadow. I filled her in on the new prophecy, so she and the familiars are going to work on that while we’re here.”

I nod. “Good call. We should try to work through it too, but honestly, I think I’m on the verge of passing out. ”

Concern flashes over Carolina’s features. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” I pause, considering my next question. “Why did you ask me to come? It seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

Something passes between us when she meets my gaze. It feels like a livewire, charged and unforgiving.

“I’m not sure exactly. I got in my car, and then suddenly, I was parked beside your car in the parking lot of your hotel. Given my track record at being dragged back to Grove Meadow, I decided to bring you along…or at least, my magic decided you were coming along.”

“Your magic made you bring me?” I asked skeptically.

She lets out a deep sigh, her arms uncrossing and tapping her fingers against the lid of the trunk. “Believe or don’t, but it’s what happened.”

I narrow my gaze at her, studying her reaction. Weighing whether or not to bring up the thing that’s been on my mind since we left Annabelle’s townhouse.

What the hell?

“And it has nothing to do with this mirror soul thing?”

Carolina’s skin pales, her body stiffens, and her fingers look like they might be denting my trunk. The shift in her demeanor is instant, a wall slamming down between us. Maybe bringing it up wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“It has everything to do with this mirror soul thing ,” she practically seethes.

I wonder if this usually works for her. She seems like someone who’s used to controlling the narrative, deciding when things get discussed and when they don’t. Ignoring things until people stop bringing them up. Pretending that things aren’t happening when they so obviously are. She’d be a terrible police officer…or maybe a good one, depending on the jurisdiction.

“But we’re not going to talk about it,” I say stepping closer to her.

“I thought you wanted to rest.” She’s back to crossing her arms over her chest.

“Will we talk about it after I rest?” My voice is doubtful, and I pause a few inches from her. I’m close enough that her arms brush against the opening of my jacket.

“Unlikely,” she deadpans.

“Then now’s good.” I can feel my mouth quirk into a half-smile.

“Also unlikely.”

Carolina’s gaze is zeroed in on my mouth, and it sends a heat licking up my spine. I’m not thinking clearly anymore, though whether I was before was already questionable. My hand reaches out to cup her chin, but her arm stops it. The place where our skin touches sizzles, and we both recoil.

“Carolina,” I whisper because it’s all I can manage.

She’s staring at my hand like I might have actually been burned. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get some rest.”

There’s no arguing with her as she slips past me and heads toward the hotel entrance.

Even if she didn’t want to talk about it, I knew one thing for certain: the more she fought whatever connection we had, the more her magic pushed us together.

I could weep at the sight of the bed in the center of the room, but Carolina’s surprised and sharp gasp pulls my attention away.

“They only had one room left,” I explain. “I can call the front desk for a cot if you’d be more comfortable.”

She shakes her head, walks over to a desk under the window across the room, and drops into the chair. “It’s fine.” Carolina hasn’t looked at me since the almost…whatever it almost was.

“You’re sure?”

She nods, lifting her hand and moving her fingers in a circular motion in front of her. A carry-on luggage that looks a lot like mine and another duffel bag appears at her feet.

“I need to shower. Care if I go first?” she asks, picking up the duffel bag and rifling through it.

“All yours. I’m going to order room service. Any preferences?”

“Don’t bother,” she says, waving a hand and making an array of takeout boxes appear on the small dining table in the corner of the room.

Well, that was certainly faster. I mutter my thanks as she walks over to the bathroom entrance near where I’m standing. I don’t want to sit on the bed until I’m in cleaner clothes, so she presses against me as she passes, the walkway too tight to avoid it.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

I wonder if she’s worried about me seeing another vision. Whatever’s been building between us in the past few weeks has to come to a head at some point, and I think that the vision was just proof of that. Proof that she might feel just as insane about me as I do about her.

My magic seems to like you. The thought echoes in my head as I collapse in the armchair near the dining table .

I’m hungry, but not as hungry as I am exhausted. Leaning my temple against my fist, I shut my eyes for just a moment.

My eyes blink open at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Steam emerges from the room and dilutes the light that surrounds Carolina. Her wet hair is already curling, and she towels the ends of it to keep from dripping water on the floor. The oversized pajama shirt she brought hits her mid-thigh, and I can’t help staring at the exposed skin of her legs.

“All yours,” she says, sitting on the bed with one leg beneath her while the other dangles on the side.

Hoisting myself out of the chair, I stretch out my back, which cracks in at least three places. Because I’m kind—and still half asleep—I don’t even smirk when I catch Carolina staring at the sliver of exposed skin from my shirt riding up.

“Be right back.”

The shower is the perfect temperature, and the pressure is just enough to uncoil all the knots in my back and shoulders. I practically groan at the feeling, and my eyes close of their own volition.

When an image of Carolina flashes in my mind, I have to brace myself against the shower wall, and my head dips low between my shoulder blades. This is so not the time.

My dick hardens to an uncomfortable degree as I fail to stop the images from coming, except now they’re mixing with the dream from the other night and more recent ones of Carolina. My lips press together, suppressing a moan that’s made it’s way up my throat.

I need both hands to keep myself upright as the mental images become overwhelming. If her magic is causing this, I’d like it to stop, and if it’s my own imagination, then I’m officially a masochist.

God , there were so many other things I should be thinking about other than this. The disappearances. Bas investigating Esme. Who planted Camila’s necklace. The prophecy. Anything other than imagining Carolina on top of me.

On top of me. Under me. Wrapped around me.

This time, I do groan softly as my balls tighten. I couldn’t possibly come just by thinking about her…and her body and—I slam my mouth closed to muffle the sounds that bubble into my throat as my dick twitches, spurting lines of cum onto the tile. It seems to go on forever, but all I can do is continue to brace myself, teeth gritted, and pray Carolina can’t hear anything that’s happening in here.

That would be a first.

I rinse off and realize I didn’t grab any clothes. Great . This was going great.

Wrapping a towel around myself, I open the door and step onto the carpeted floor. Carolina is sitting at the table with her legs tucked under her, eating something from one of the boxes, her phone pressed to her ear.

“Yeah,” she says, and then takes a sip from a drink in a Styrofoam cup with a red straw.

She glances at me when she feels me staring and almost drops her cup. “Sorry,” I mouth, walking past her to grab my suitcase.

“W- What was that, Annabelle?” Carolina stutters, which fills me with a strong sense of satisfaction. “Well, let me know what you find out,” I hear her say as I head back into the bathroom to change.

When I emerge again from the bathroom, Carolina’s still sitting at the table, but her phone is beside the takeout box. “Annabelle says she hasn’t heard any rumors, so either someone’s trying to throw us off, knowing that we’ve been talking to Esme, or they’re keeping it from Annabelle.”

“You don’t think Annabelle could be lying?” I ask, pulling down the sheets .

Carolina looks over at me. “She could be, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“The prophecy suggests that someone powerful will take over the Magical and Mortal Worlds. No one with a mirror soul would want that to happen. A witch’s mirror soul is their human half. Mirror souls are created for balance. They’re granted to powerful witches as a way of reminding us that we’re supposed to be living in harmony with mortals. Christian is Annabelle’s mirror soul, and she’d sooner die than allow the possibility of…It doesn’t matter. Annabelle wouldn’t risk Christian.”

She says it with such certainty; it sounds like she knows exactly what that’s like.