Page 47 of Our Covenant

“I’m sure our professor will understand my predicament.”

She kicks her feet in gentle circles. The water ebbs around her in rhythmic waves.

“Knowing him, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s let a privileged white student get away with murder as long as their grade didn’t suffer.”

“Sounds like you know him as well as you do the rest of us.”

She smiles at that and leans back on the heels of her hands without answering. I should leave and keep my distance while Thorne and Maddox are gone, but I don’t want to disturb the ease she’s found with me. Has she acted this way around Fox or Thorne?

The thin material of Thorne’s shirt stretches over her chest, not leaving much to my imagination. With every kick of her feet, the well-worn cotton inches up her thighs, and I can’t help my gaze from settling at the small space where silky skin meets fabric.

Her foot kicks up above the break, splashing me to bring me out of my trance. “You looked like you were overheating,” she teases as I wipe the water from my face.

“Something like that,” I reply into my hands, giving myself one more moment to reel in the building intrigue. “I should get back to work. Can’t miss that deadline or Doctor Rennick will have my head.”

“You really haven’t finished your term paper?” Her brows knit together.

I move through the water to stand in front of her. “I’ve been under some unexpected pressure this semester. I’ll get it done.”

“What sort of pressure would one of the precious legacies have?” The way she says our title feels like a curse and reminder. Of what, I can’t place, but out of curiosity, I indulge her.

“Being devoted to the cause you were born into and having no choice but to exceed everyone’s expectations is a lot to carry on our shoulders.” I take another step closer and she doesn’t recoil. “But you know that feeling yourself, don’t you?”

It’s a guess but not a farfetched one. The way her determination has carried her for months feels like me holding up a mirror to myself.

“Everyone has a monster they’re fighting,” she muses, her thighs pressing firmly together as I get closer.

“Some more than one.” She watches me carefully as the pressure of my fingertips settles on the inside of her knees. “As much as you mock it, the coven wouldn’t exist without the protection of the legacies. The four of us don’t have the type of control you think we do.”

Her knees part, giving slow inches of skin over to my fingers as I trail my touch up her inner thighs. “What do the most powerful witches in the world need to be protected from?”

She shifts so that my torso can settle against the warm cushion of her legs. I rest my hands on either side of her on the painted tiles, opening myself up to her fully. Our gazes meet at this new proximity, and I can feel her pulse quicken at my hips.

How long can I keep her like this?

She’s hanging on to my every word, and I find myself wishing I had poetry memorized to impress her with. I wonder how many of our professors she has wrapped around her finger. Probably every last one of them if she looks at them with half the interest she’s giving me.

There is something haunting about her. She’s like the ghost of a dream days after you’ve had it. Subtle memories that you’re not sure are true or if they’re from whatever dimension you visit when your eyes are closed. Ethereal and out of reach. But maybe I’m making that up to forgive my carelessness and slack on my observation skills. She’s more beautiful up close, and I’m a shallow piece of shit to most of our peers. Not being permitted to date outside the coven has given many people in our class the perception that I’m a playboy who goes through a new girl every week.

They’re not wrong. But they aren’t right either.

Fox is a constant reminder to not get too invested.

But wasn’t it Fox who said we need to get close to her to find out what she wants?

“You’d be able to tell me that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?”

A blush creeps up her neck.

“It takes a lot of magic and energy to keep our coven’s status,” I admit, giving her shoulders ease from the tension of my accusation. “Our elders are growing feeble, and our younger generations need what feels like an endless supply to explore their budding abilities. Not to mention, we have to be prepared if another coven decides they no longer want to follow the common rules our kind established hundreds of years ago.”

“Prepared how?”

“I can’t speak for the others, but endurance has to be exercised. Otherwise I can lose myself to my own strength and desires.”

“What does strength have to do with desire?” she whispers, and I lift myself closer, bracing my arms on either side of her.

“Desire is one of the most powerful emotions we possess. More than the flames of anger. Giving into our fantasies and letting go of our corporeal selves gives us the freedom to indulge in our cravings without the care of repercussions.”