Page 61 of Demon's Beauty

Given the choice between an arrogant wielder and a mundane man whose very understanding of the world I might upend by simply being honest about who I am, it’s always felt easier to just… not.

But Finn already knows who and what I am.

He lives in a world where magick is a given, where me being a witch is nothing to bat an eye at. There’s no need to explain or make myself vulnerable hoping he’ll accept that part of me.

Which probably isn’t the best reason to jump into a relationship, all things considered, but it is… something to think about.

Especially considering everything else.

Considering how handsome he is.

Considering how he didn’t hesitate for a single moment to put himself in harm’s way for me.

Considering how his teasing, flirtatious personality should irritate me, but never has. At least so far.

Considering the magick that’s taken up residence in my chest.

Goddess, could I… do this?

It’s probably a terrible idea.

The worst idea.

My life is a mess. I’m on the run from my responsibilities, and dragging someone else into it would be entirely unfair.

Not to mention the wholematesthing.

The most important thing.

As if encouraged by the reminder, the tendrils of magick inside my chest perk up, and I swear from somewhere on the other side of camp, a faint tug answers.

I shut that feeling down immediately.

Clamp down on the magick, make myself ignore the tug, face the stark reality that Finn’s not just some guy and I’m not in any place to pursue anything with him.

More than likely it would all end up a mess, anyway.

He already basically told me he’s all in on this, so where does that leave me?

If I’m not able to give him the same, to commit to this—whatever it is and whatever it might be—then maybe I should leave well enough alone.

I’d never claim to be great with people, but I’m not a monster. I don’t want to toy with Finn’s emotions or make him think I can give more than I actually can.

With all of that in mind, it’s probably best if I keep some distance, keep my head on straight, be professional.

I turn that mantra over and over in my head as I drift off to sleep, but as hard as I try, I can’t forget the rest of it.

Crimson eyes, magnificent wings, a devilishly handsome smile.

A demon who makes me feel… different. Like I’m a better version of the grumpy, surly, perpetual stormcloud of a witch I’ve let myself become these last few years.

A witch who has no business having a fated mate.

A witch who needs to remember what’s waiting for her back in her realm.

A witch who was never meant for any of this.

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