Sinking back in the armchair, I shove a hand through my messy hair. "You're fragile."
"You know I'm not," she says quietly. "Especially when you're all with me. We'll all be there. Nothing could happen."
I splutter a laugh and she glares at me. "Maeve. Spells and magic have broken your mind before."
I'm right and she knows, but we both know that returning to her visions may be the way forward now.
The Blackwood magic that took hold when Nikolai attacked her worries me. The witches wanted to nourish that inside Maeve. Have they taken steps to allow this to happen—steps that we’re unaware of?
"We should talk about this tomorrow," I say stiffly and stand.
It's Maeve's turn to laugh. "You can't be like this with me any longer, Tobias. Now I'm here, we have a lot to talk about."
"It's four a.m. You need to sleep. We can discuss more tomorrow with the others."
"Like the curse?"
“No.”
Maeve leans forward to take a discarded cushion from the floor, and her top moves, giving me too clear a view of what's beneath. I hide this badly as Maeve takes the red cushion and wraps her arms around it in front of her chest.
Sorry.
Speak to me.
I wipe a hand down my face. "Okay, but I don't want the curse discussed with anybody else.” Her face brightens. “I don't know what else to tell you."
“I have two questions that keep coming to me.”
Crap. I nod.
"Which family cursed you?" she asks. “You never told me the name.”
I lift my eyes upwards to stare at the ceiling. A name I never wanted to utter again. "Winterfall. The Blackwoods wanted the family eradicated as they were the only witches as pure-bred as their family, and as powerful.”
“And I don’t understand why you spent time at Ravenhold when you... eradicated them. Why weren’t you killed?”
“To begin with, the authorities told me that I would be—once they’d subjected me to time at Ravenhold. As a witch killer, my time there was... painful.”
And also something I don’t want to remember.
“But you survived?”
I give a wry smile. “Friends in high places and my unusual powers. Andrei’s grandfather wanted me to use those powers on protecting his grandson from the Dominion, and if I failed, he hoped I’d be strong enough to take on Gabriella.”
Her mouth parts. “Kill her? You didn’t try in the woods that night.”
“Jamie’s survival was my priority at the moment I had the chance to attack. But I doubt I’m strong enough.” I bite my lip. “Perhaps that’s the curse. I’ll die saving you from her.”
Maeve’s eyes glisten. “We have to break this curse, Tobias.”
Her naivety touches me again. “That’s impossible. Winterfall magic bound me and no more exists.”
“But what if there’s a spell book, like the Blackwood grimoire?”
I drop my gaze to the floor and rub my forehead. “The house burned along with everything and everyone inside. Like the Blackwoods, the family kept themselves private. The book would never have left the house.”
Images from the night flick through my head and I shake them away. I don’t have time to sink into regret and disgust—Maeve is my priority right now.
Maeve falls silent and when I look up, I’m confronted with what I hoped to avoid. The tears Maeve held back stream down her cheeks as she looks at me for help.
“I want this to stop. I don’t want to be controlled by imaginary heartbeats. Be part of a curse I don’t understand. I don’t know who I am anymore!” Her voice cracks and the magnitude of her distress surges forward and breaks through my wall.
She leans forward with her hands over her face and her back racks with sobs. She's a mess, every cell in her body filled with anguish and pain.
“I wish I could fix all this, Maeve.”
Her reply is a louder sob. I want nothing more than to be here and comfort her, but equally wish that one of the other guys could take my place. If Maeve was the only one with strong emotions, I may be able to cope, but my shock and anger at her sudden breakdown builds the energy in the room and grows with each second.
Maeve wraps her arms around her head and the distressed crying hits me harder than anything else. "Maeve."
I sit beside her and make the physical contact I swore I wouldn't. As soon as my arms go around her, Maeve curls up into a ball and pushes her face against my chest. There's no slight tingle from touching her, instead a sudden shock sparks across every place we touch. Sudden. Immediate. Her arms go around me and she remains curled up, breathing rapidly. Her distress guards her from experiencing the same as I am—an overwhelming need to kiss her. More. Comfort her, distract her, love her.
The fucking curse.
We stay like this and I'm shaking too. Why did I bring her here? Her fragrant hair and soft skin send me spinning back to memories of my hands on her body and how she yielded to me.
Don't think.
But each passing second tugs away my ability to stay in the moment and not drift into a risky one. Maeve shifts and her puffy eyes look into mine, as her thoughts untangle and are as plain as if she'd spoken them. Tentatively, she touches my cheek and when I don't respond, she moves closer. Maeve's lips are a whisper away and the magic charge around focuses entirely on that tiny space between us.
"Maeve, " I murmur. "You need to rest."
She presses her mouth on mine in response. I should say no, but fate already plotted against me. She keeps her small hand on my cheek as she urges me to kiss her and I slide my hand into her hair. She tastes of a sweetness I've only ever experienced with Maeve; an intoxication as strong as any blood.
The curse? More? We have to accept this will always be a part of us. I kiss Maeve slowly, holding back the fierce energy threatening to spill into passion for her. She accepts my gentle kiss, but I pull away as I sense her need.
What the fuck am I doing? "You really should sleep, Maeve. You've had one hell of a night."
Her dark eyes look back at me with an unmistakable plea, one I've seen before, on the night at the Blackwoods when everything ended badly. Jamie's accusation last term, that I took advantage of a vulnerable girl, rings in my ears. Maeve is vulnerable. She needs me, but not in the way her kiss tells me she wants.
Maeve reluctantly allows me to peel her arms from around me. “Sleep. Tomorrow we’ll work on ending whatever is happening to you,” I say.
I don’t know if she believes we ever can, or if I do.
Leaving her, I slip down the short hallway and to my bedroom. As I move towards the room, I can breathe properly again. There's respite from the desire, but not much, because we're bound again. Gathering a pillow and soft purple blanket, I head back to find Maeve hasn't moved from the spot she's in.
"I'll sleep here. You can have my bed."
Her eyes widen and she watches me place the thick purple blanket and pillow on the armchair I sat in earlier. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'll show you."
The neatness she associates with Professor Whitlock flies out of the window when she steps into the chaos inside my bedroom. Clothes are flung over chairs, the bed unmade, and half-empty cups strewn on every surface. The heavy curtains are drawn, and a small lamp offers light.