Red flags and warning lights flashed in Logan’s brain, but he found them easy to ignore. All his blood had rushed south, to the place where his hips circled against her belly. His first kiss was soft, a question. When Polina pulled him closer, he took that as his answer. He dug his hands into that bright red hair.
Hungry, he was so fucking hungry for her. He’d dreamed about kissing her a hundred times and hell if the real thing wasn’t better than anything his sex-deprived brain had produced. Her lips were soft, full, eager against his. She followed his lead, adapting to his cues in a way that gave him the impression of inexperience, although her immortality meant that couldn’t be the case.
She opened for him, took the kiss deeper, and he responded in kind, showing her with his mouth exactly what he’d like to do to the rest of her. He stoked her tongue with his, cupped the delicate bones of her neck in one hand. Her scent was enough to tip him over the edge, chrysanthemums and pumpkin spice. It mixed well with chocolate. Intoxicating. Combusting. Damn, she practically melted in his arms.
His erection kicked. He wanted her, all of her. Tracing her ribs with his hands, he rounded her ass and scooped her up to set her on the counter. He slid between her thighs, the skirt of her dress bunching around her hips. In response, she arched into him, the full contact of her torso as much an invitation as her open and enticing mouth.
His hand coasted up her inner thigh. Smooth, milky-white. The tips of his feathered over the thin strip of cotton he found covering her core. He wanted to kiss her there, lick and touch until she screamed. He circled his thumb. She groaned.
But then his brain played a dirty trick on the rest of him. He pictured Dream Silas in his head saying, You respect her too much to use her, even in your dreams. He did respect her, despite the fact she was a witch who didn’t normally care for humans. The way her lips moved, he suspected he’d changed her mind on the subject.
As painful as it was to stop, he retracted his hand and threaded his fingers behind her neck. Pulling back, he stroked her jawline with his thumbs. She looked at him with hooded bedroom eyes and swollen lips. The pulse in her neck throbbed against his palm. “Go out with me, Polina. A proper date. I want to know you better. I want to know everything about you. Before we do this.”
She blinked three times quickly and straightened. She seemed to shake herself from a trance. “This was a mistake,” she said.
“No. It’s not a mistake. Just too soon.” Logan groaned. “Is this about the human thing? Maybe if we got to know each other, you’d change your mind. I thought I’d never trust a witch again, but I’m willing to take a chance. I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Tears had formed in her eyes, causing them to glow sapphire. He almost gasped at the color, the contrast with her pale skin and deep red hair. Why was she crying? He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t.” She swallowed. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” She drew her wand.
“What are you doing?” Logan held his hands up, the wand’s crystal tip glowing like a purple sun between them.
“It’s for the best, Logan. If I wipe your memory, it will be easier for both of us.” Her voice cracked.
A white-hot rage came over Logan. “Wipe my memory? Like I’m some kind of animal to use for your pleasure and then cast aside? Tell me, Polina, is this the first time we’ve made out or just the first time I remember?”
“It’s the first time,” she said. “And the last.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if we’d had a torrid love affair and you’d simply struck it from my mind when things got tough. That would explain why I can’t stop dreaming about you or thinking about you. Fuck, you’re like a disease with no cure.”
That made her take pause. “A disease?” she asked through her teeth.
“Yeah.” He pointed a finger at her face. “You are a fucking flu that keeps on hanging on. You know something else, sweetheart? This is why I hate witches. You all think you’re so goddamned superior. Rules don’t apply to you. You take what you want, do want you want, and don’t give a damn how it hurts people. If you wave that thing and wipe my memory, I will never forgive you, Polina. You will have proven to me you are no better than—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. I am nothing like her,” she said, shaking. She lowered her wand. “You think I take what I want when I want? I can assure you I’m not doing so now. As much as it seems like I’m acting superior, if you had half a brain in your head you’d see this for what it is, taking responsibility. Relationships between witches and humans never work out—”
“Seemed to work okay for Grateful and Rick.”
Polina tipped her chin up. “She was a reincarnated witch! You of all people should understand the complications.”
“Complications? I kissed you and asked you on a date. It’s not a marriage proposal. Why do we have to overthink it? Why can’t you just go with it and see what happens?” He tossed up his hands in frustration.
“Can we agree to pretend tonight never happened?” she asked.
Logan planted his hands on his hips. “I only wish it hadn’t.”
She raised her wand again.
“Fine. It never happened.”
She tucked her wand back into the neck of her dress, into the holster sewn into her bra strap—always next to her heart and within easy reach. “I wish I could ‘go with it.’ I wish I didn’t know what happens. But I do. You might not believe this, but I think about you too. And, despite what you might believe, I don’t feel superior, Logan. Especially not now. Not to you. But I am embarrassed, because I should know better.” Wiping her eyes, she reached into her bag and grabbed a handful of gold dust.
“That doesn’t make any sense. How can you say you know what happens? You can’t possibly tell the future. Not for sure,” Logan said.
She shook her head, looking as sad as Logan had ever seen her. “No one can see the future. Tomorrow isn’t an absolute, aside from its coming and going. Witches like me don’t see, we predict. And almost five centuries of living has made me quite good at noticing the patterns of things. I had a very nice time tonight. Can we leave it on a positive note? Remain friends?”
Logan could still smell her flesh, still feel her silky hair in his fist. He did not want to be friends. “Sure. Why the hell not?”
She nodded once and raised her fist over her head, then paused to snatch the pan of cake from the counter.
“Hey!” Logan said.
As she released the gold dust in her hand, it swirled around her, breaking her and the cake apart into floaty bits of metal that blew up the faucet of the stainless steel sink and out of his kitchen.
“I could have covered that for you,” he yelled, wondering if the cake would arrive intact. He picked up the plate with the remains of the slice he’d fed her a moment ago. As he stared at it, the sense of being victimized stung in his chest.
“Best fucking cake I ever made.” He hurled the plate into the sink, watched it shatter. And did nothing to pick up the pieces.