“Like what?”
How could he be holding it? And more importantlywhy? I didn’t understand why my magic needed to leave me during a vision. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure that they were visions if this was the result.
The bigger question was, how did I get my magic back?
Byron placed his hand over mine. His skin was warm and rough, and I had the sudden urge to know what his hands would feel like brushing over my chest. Would he be gentle or would he leave marks?
I turned my gaze up to his and felt a chill roll down my spine. There was something so off-putting about his eyes. They were so empty. How could they be so bright, but project so much darkness?
“Like what?” he repeated, his thumb brushing along the length of my forefinger.
My brain stuttered for a moment, my thoughts fixated on the feel of him.
Oh God, I was touching him. I yanked my hand away and wiped it down my thigh, trying to remove the remnants of his touch.
He scowled at me as I did it, like he was annoyed that I’d wiped him off my skin.
“I’ve never heard of a human holding witch magic before. It shouldn’t be possible.” My voice trembled as he stared at me with all that darkness lingering in his gaze.
“Yet here we are.” The softness in his voice had disappeared.
Great. I’d pissed off the hitman.
Well, it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have followed me in the first place. Urgh, why couldn’t he just let me be?
“Will it kill me?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“How do you get it back?”
“I don’t know.”
Byron scowled, his dark brows making it seem more severe and intimidating. “You don’t know very much, do you?”
“Fuck you.” I stood from the sofa, thankful my legs were feeling steadier, and stalked towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he called after me.
“To find my sister,” I shot over my shoulder.
“So, you’re just going to walk away?”
I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face him. “What? No.”
He stood and casually slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “Looks like it to me.”
I scoffed at him. “Are you twelve now? I’m going to speak to the head of my coven to see if they know more than I do. Since I apparently know nothing.”
Byron cocked his head in that infuriating way, his cold gaze assessing. “I thought witch magic was instinctual.”
“So?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t that mean you should subconsciously know exactly what to do?”
In theory, he was right—asshole—but I didn’t even know where to start. I hadn’t lost my magic before.
A faint memory stirred at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. Something from my childhood… somethingpainful.