Page 90 of Jinx

When we reached the back door, he handed me the hoodie that he was carrying. I mumbled a thanks as I slipped it on, and he watched with satisfaction simmering in his gold eyes. Whether it was because I followed his direction or because I was wrapped up in what was his, I wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t get an argument from me either way. I could roll around in his scent all day.

The moment we stepped outside, I understood why he gave it to me. The day was gorgeous, the sun high in a cloudless sky, but there was a whisper of autumn in the air. A hint that summer was fading. Quinn didn’t pause as he descended the stairs and set off toward the treeline. He also didn’t check to make sure I was following him. He knew that I would be.

As we entered the woods, a well-worn trail opened up before us. Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting shadows along the path. In the distance, I could hear running water. The trail curved, and the trees parted to reveal a brisk creek. Quinn stopped at the edge, and I joined him, careful to leave a bubble of space between us. For a few minutes, we just listened and watched and breathed.

“You believe I hate you.” His unexpected statement—not a question—fractured the peaceful silence. My head jerked around to stare at him, but he was still looking out over the creek.

“No.” My answer was quiet, laced with surprise.

He finally turned to face me, his expression uncharacteristically open. “Cordelia⁠—”

“I did,” I quickly amended. “And I didn’t blame you for it. But I don’t think that anymore.”

He winced, the afternoon light pulling strands of gold from his hair.

“You think I’m lying?”

“No,” he sighed, and the sound was so weighted with exhaustion that it made my own heart tired.

I blinked at him, waiting for the rest, but it didn’t come. He just watched me. “Quinn.” My lungs hitched on his name. “How do we fix this?”

He turned away again, gaze set in the distance. For a moment, I thought he’d shut down, and I’d lost him. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained.

“Some things can’t be fixed, foxglove.” The admission cost him; each word dragged up from a dark and painful place. “I can’t be fixed. Eventually you will realize what a mistake you’ve made.”

“No.” That single syllable echoed with power pulled straight from my soul and sent birds scattering from the trees. “You are mine, Quinn Braxton. There is no mistake.”

The divine magic ebbed as quickly as it rose, but the declaration hung in the air. Quinn faced me fully, and the space between us felt endless.

“I know you believe that.” His expression clouded with remorse. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you, Cordelia, but I’ll never be good for you.”

I straightened, infusing my words with all the truth I could muster. “You are exactly what you need to be. What I need you to be.” I paused, but didn’t give myself time to second-guess my next words. “And if you stop pushing me away, you might see that I can give you what you need too.”

His eyes darkened to bronze, pupils expanding with hunger. “And what is that?”

My pulse quickened, a current racing through my veins. “Control.”

His jaw ticked under his beard. “You think you can give that to me?” He took a step forward, eliminating the distance. “You think you can submit? Put your pleasure in my hands? Follow my commands?” His face was inches from mine, his scent driving me wild. “Answer me, foxglove.”

My body responded like he already had complete control, heat pooling between my thighs. Every cell in my body screamed for his touch, but I locked my muscles in place. “Yes, sir.”

The effect was immediate and electrifying. Quinn’s eyes blazed, and a low growl rumbled from his chest, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. His nearness made my head swim, my body aching for him. But still I didn’t move.

For a breathless moment, we stood frozen like this—his face hovering just above mine, our bodies not quite touching, the air between us charged. My lips parted, and Quinn’s gaze dropped to my mouth. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

Then he stepped back, and the loss of him was like plunging into cold water. I swayed slightly on my feet, body humming with lingering desire. But Quinn looked pleased.

“Good girl,” he praised in a raspy whisper, the words almost tender. “Let’s get back.” He tipped his head in the direction of the house. “You can help me finish packing.”

He didn’t offer me his hand, and that was fine. Quinn was still too guarded for that, but we both knew this had been progress. He’d put down his sword, at the very least.

“Okay.” I smiled up at him. “But I’m not giving your hoodie back.”

He quirked an eyebrow with an amused look but didn’t say anything. As we walked back toward the path, our heartstring pulsed. There was still tension there, some deep pain that Quinn wasn’t ready to share, but I trusted that someday he would.

He would always tell me the truth.

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