The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance, #1)

by Sara Raasch

The autumn-chilled air stabs into my lungs. It smells like damp leaves. Dying, mildewy rot, but in the comforting way that promises the season’s changing so you can change with it.

He tips his head up to the sky one more time, and I recognize the gathering of strength, the frantic scramble to cling to resolve.

Elethior’s lips part in disgust. “Your ex-girlfriend cursed your familiar?” “Hence the ex part. Apparently I can be a workaholic and she felt I neglected her for my junior year course load. But let’s loop back—you bought my familiar food?” His blush deepens. “I looked into what foxes eat and bought a few things for the next time you summon him. Again, as an apology.” “You bought my familiar food.” My lips curve into a grin. “You bought Nick snacks.”

His chair skids but he holds on to me; I’ll definitely have bruises. “Stop!” he shouts. “You’re not the only one whose project hurts!”

He glances at me but doesn’t pick up the banter. Our gazes linger, his softening. I don’t want to hurt him.

I’ll obliterate the ever-loving shit out of it, and it won’t matter that there’s no iron, it won’t matter what they ask me to do; I choose how I use my own power.

“Have dinner with me.” He stiffens. Glances over his shoulder. “What?” “Have—” I twitch. “Have dinner with me. A … a date.” Gods, I’m flayed open. This morning has done nothing but peel back my layers until all I have left is pathetic neediness, and I know it’s painted on my face. Thio lowers his arm, chalk pinched in his fingers. I’ve seen him smile so many times. So many different flavors of it, I could write a thesis on the dozens of ways Elethior Tourael’s lips move. But this smile? It puts all the others to shame. It’s joy and relief, it’s ecstasy and an unspoken, vibrant finally.

“I need to get this out of my system before you drive us anywhere,” I whisper against his skin. He shivers, hands going down to grab my ass. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve stopped believing there’s a way to get this out of my system at all. I’m pretty sure you are my system now.”

“Let me take care of you,” he implores. “Please.” No, I don’t need that; no, I’m not broken; no, I’m fine. My jaw clenches against all my self-preservation, and I nod.

Instead of letting the argument barrel on, I kiss him, hot and heavy and anxious. And there’s that dread again. The bruising throb of This can’t last. This is too good. You’re too broken to handle this. We’re both broken, though. And our jagged pieces don’t exactly fit together, but we know how to move around the sharpest points of each other’s, how to adjust and make space so no one bleeds.

A month, two months, hell, two days—it doesn’t matter how long Thio and I have been together. This is real. We decided this is real. And that means he should have told me how upset he was getting, and I should have realized how upset he was getting, but I was lost in my own issues, and fuck that.

I don’t want to look back anymore. I want to, am able to, look forward now. And the only thing ahead of me is him.