Page 92 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“Hey.” Nevan thumbed them away. “What’s going on?”

“Nevan.” I shook my head. “I can’t—We can’t do this.”

His face fell, but a determined look flashed in his eyes. “No. I’m not taking no for an answer. I know that you love me too. I can feel it in the way you kiss me . . .” He leaned forward, voice dropping low, warm breath dusting my skin. “In the way you look at me.” His cheek pressed to mine as he whispered, “In the way you stood up for me.”

I wrenched backward violently, the movement making me dizzy. “Yes. I love you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “It is, actually.”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

Confusion flitted across his face. “Why?”

“Because you and I are from different worlds, Nevan.”

“Why does that matter?”

I backed to the edge of the bed. “It just does. No one will ever accept me. And eventually you’ll tire of it.”

“No, I won’t,” he argued.

“You’ll resent me.”

“Never.”

I curled my hands into fists. “Enough,” I said, voice a deadly calm. “Enough of this.”

Nevan’s eyes grew wide, pain flashing in them.

“My answer is no. I do love you, but love isn’t enough, not when I don’t want a relationship with you.”

His jaw ticked. “Okay,” he said finally, sounding so defeated it utterly crushed me. He looked away. “I guess I’ll leave you alone, then.”

“Thank you.” I couldn’t even look at him. I just needed him to leave. To get out of here before I completely lost all my composure.

He got up from the bed, sniffling, tears wetting his eyes. “I forgot to tell you. I brought you some tea and a cupcake. Figured they’d make you feel better.”

With that, he walked down the stairs, his boots thudding across the floor, and finally, the cottage door creaked open and clicked shut.

Tears streamed down my face, and I covered my mouth to muffle my sobs. Vine stretched around my shoulders, squeezing me tight.

“I can’t be with him,” I said through tears.

Vine let go of me and pointed to my heart.

“Oh, so someone was awake during our conversation?” I raised a brow, but Vine refused to let me deflect.

It laid its tail against my heart.

“Yes, I love him,” I said miserably. “But it doesn’t matter. You know why I can’t be with him. It would be disingenuous to start a relationship with someone who doesn’t even know who I really am. If he’s making the choice to love me, to be with me, he should know me.”

Vine lifted my amulet and shook it in front of my face, the green smoke swishing and swirling.

“Why don’t I tell him about my magic?” I huffed. “How can you ask that? I’m a”—I lowered my voice—“a demi-godwitch. And not just any demi-godwitch. The one who created all these monstrosities that attack people.”

Vine stiffened.

“Sorry,” I said. “But that’s how everyone views you, you know.”