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“Babe!” Connor gasps.

“Oh, and Max is coming over after classes today.”

Connor almost drops me but manages to lay me down on the couch. “What? Why?”

I shift my ankle and grimace. “Because we’re friends, and he wants to get to know you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because we’re getting married, and he’s my friend.”

Connor is about to protest when he finally realizes I’m in pain. He sprints across the room, calling for Luke.

Luke comes down the stairs two at a time and hurries toward me. He slowly waves his hand over my leg. “Torn tendon,” he murmurs under his breath, and his palm starts to glow. “There’s not a whole lot I can do. I’ll repair it as much as I can, but it’ll be sore for a few days.”

Connor gives me a dark look.

“What?” I ask.

“You hurt yourself,” he almost growls.

I reach up and grab him, pulling him down on top of me.

“Luke, give us a minute?” Connor groans.

Luke leaves promptly, and I kiss Connor deeply. Connor moans and bites my lip.

“No hurting my fiancé,” he demands.

I curl my fingers into his waistband. “Maybe you can heal me…”

Connor’s groan is filled with need. “Is that so?”

I push my hand into his pants and wrap my fingers around his hardening length, squeezing. “I think that’s definitely what I need.”

“We should be going.” My whole body tenses as an icy-cold voice settles over us. I glance over Connor’s shoulder to see the headmaster standing by the door.

118

Summer

Connor’s cheeks go bright red, and I pull my hand from his pants. “Headmaster, you’re early!” Connor says, sitting up hastily. Connor offers me his hand, and when I take it, he tugs me up next to him.

The headmaster throws him a disapproving, bored look, and then his silver eyes slide to me. “Miss Tuatha De Daanan, you should be ready.”

Holding his gaze, I refuse to back down. “I would have been ready.” I glance at the clock on the mantle, noting that I still have twenty minutes before he was supposed to arrive. “Had you arrived at the agreed-upon time.” I kiss Connor softly and whisper against his lips, “Sorry, big guy. Later.”

Connor nips my lower lip in a promise for more when I get home and then stands to help me up. I limp upstairs to get dressed. I’m secretly happy that I have to opt for my cute white sneakers today, thanks to my ankle. When I come back downstairs, the air is still heavy with tension. Connor is now leaning against the kitchen door, sipping a coffee while the headmaster still stands in the same position, his hands in hispockets. I walk toward him, trying to ignore the pain in my ankle, but sharp bolts shoot up my leg with every step.

“What happened?” he asks, looking pointedly at my bandaged ankle.

“Fell off a treadmill,” I say curtly.

The headmaster gives me an exasperated look before dropping to a knee in front of me. He starts to unwrap the bandage. “Sir, it’s just a torn tendon.”

He ignores me and slices his thumb before drawing an extremely intricate rune on my leg. It glows faintly, and the pain all but disappears. I frown down at the now translucent rune shimmering against my skin.

“Why don’t I know that rune?” I whisper mostly to myself. Watching him with curiosity, I tilt my head. I’ve researched healing runes for countless hours, but even from my vast reading and natural penchant for runes, I can’t place this one. I can’t even really translate it.