Nothing happened.
Then he grimaced. “Ugh. That felt wrong. But not… magickally wrong. Just morally offensive.”
A watery laugh burst out of me.
“All right, my turn,” he said softly. “Test number two.”
He cupped my face in his hands, rough thumbs brushing away the dampness under my eyes. His gaze searched mine, open and unshielded.
“I don’t care about you,” he said.
Something inside me flinched, even though I knew what we were doing.
He exhaled. “That was an easy test,” he went on quietly. “Because it’s a lie.”
My heart thudded.
“Was it?” I asked, my voice thick.
“And I definitely don’t love you.”
My eyes filled as his hands slid down to my shoulders, then to my waist, pulling me in until my chest brushed his.
“Look at that,” Torin said, his voice dropped low, his lips hovering just over mine. “Another lie.”
My world narrowed.
“It is?” I gulped, my throat tightening as I pressed closer to him.
“Aye, it is. Liora.” Torin brushed his lips softly over mine. “I love you.”
No shimmer of spell light. No pressure forcing them out of him. Just a man, choosing to stand in a kitchen that smelled faintly of woodsmoke and herbal tea and saying the one thing I’d secretly, desperately wanted and had been afraid to hear.
“You—you do?” I croaked, because eloquence had left the building.
His mouth curved, tenderness flooding his eyes. “Aye,” he said. “I do. I love your optimism and your tarot cards and the way you talk to yourself and your squirrel like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I love that you leave crystals on my windowsills and that you’re scared and you still run toward people in need instead of away.” His voice went hoarse. “I love that you walked back into this town knowing what they usedto say about you and decided to stay anyway. I love you, Liora Webster. Spell or no spell. Just as you are. That’s the truth I’m choosing.”
My vision blurred completely.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered, forehead dropping to mine. “You’ll break my bloody heart.”
“It’s just—” My laugh came out strangled. “That’s a lot.”
“It’s honest,” he said simply.
I let out a watery breath. “Well, I suppose it’s convenient, Torin,” I said, voice shaking. “Because I happen to love you too.”
His fingers tightened at my waist. “Aye?”
“Aye.” A smile broke through my tears. “A ridiculous amount, actually. For a man who leaves muddy boot prints down the hallway and talks to trees more than people.”
“They’re better listeners,” he murmured.
“I might fight them for that title,” I said, and then I was laughing and crying and he was laughing too, relief etched into every line of him.
He dipped his head, brushing his mouth over mine in the softest kiss. Just a press of lips, a question.
I answered by sliding my hands up into his hair and pulling him closer.