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So I let go.

I kissed her hard—none of the careful control I was known for, none of the calculated distance. Just raw, unfiltered need. Teeth and tongue, hungry, claiming. I felt her gasp into my mouth, surprise melting into want as she gripped my shirt, dragging me closer like she needed this too.

Her hand still clutched the journal, but the other slid into my hair, nails grazing my scalp in a way that made my pulse stutter. She met me with equal force, kissing me back with heat and urgency, like we’d been circling this for too long.

There was no finesse in it—just mouths crashing, lips parting, our tongues tangling in a mess of hunger and too much feeling. I barely registered moving her backward until she bumped into the library stack, and still I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. Her hips tilted toward me, her breath catching as I deepened the kiss again, again, chasing that edge of oblivion.

Everything narrowed to the feel of her. The way she tasted—like defiance and magic and something I didn’t deserve. The scrape of her teeth against my lower lip. The way her magic sparked against mine, chaotic and familiar all at once.

I wanted more. I wanted all of her.

And that scared the hell out of me.

We only broke apart when the sound of something shifting nearby snapped the moment. We were both breathing hard, lips swollen, skin flushed. Her eyes searched mine like she could still feel the truth of what I hadn’t said. What I couldn’t say.

Wisp’s unstable form flickered at the edge of my vision—sharp and immediate. The price of losing control. Of wanting.

My hand dropped from her waist, but the heat didn’t leave my skin.

I couldn’t afford this.

But gods, I needed it more than I’d ever admit.

“We should probably actually study some of these patterns,” she said, though her voice carried that same reluctant breathlessness as mine. She smoothed her shirt, but not the flush lingering on her cheeks.

“Probably,” I echoed, gathering her scattered notes—fingers brushing hers longer than I needed to. I told myself it was accidental. It wasn’t. I was selfishly hoarding every moment of quiet magic between us.

“Though I can think of better things to do with you in dark corners of the library.”

Her blush deepened—gorgeous and real—and it lit something sharp and warm in my chest. But as she began explaining another section of the journal, the glow faded. I heard her voice, but my thoughts twisted around the bitter truth: she was pouring her heart into solving mysteries, while I was becoming one.

She deserved someone honest. Someone whole.

And I was lying every time I smiled and let her believe I was fine.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said, hating how easily the words came. “Together.”

She looked up from her bag, her smile soft—trusting. It wrecked me.

Then her eyes narrowed, just slightly. She knew me too well already.

“What is it?”

I hesitated, then reached into my pocket for the small package I’d been carrying for days. Maybe I couldn’t tell her the truth, but I could give her this. “I have something for you. It’s not much, but…”

Her eyes widened as she unwrapped the delicate silver bracelet. A small antique key dangled from it, catching the moonlight. “Keane…”

“I noticed how you collect special things,” I said quickly, suddenly nervous. “And I thought… well, since I collect keys…” I trailed off, watching her trace the intricate pattern on the key’s surface.

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice was soft as she held out her wrist, letting me fasten the bracelet. The key settled perfectly against her pulse point.

“I don’t know what it unlocks,” I admitted. “I’ve had it for years, but could never figure it out. Then I realized… maybe it was waiting for you.”

She pulled me down for another kiss that made my head spin, that made me forget for just a moment about the instability spreading through my magic. When we finally broke apart, her eyes were bright with emotion. “I’ll treasure it.”

I watched her go, touching my lips where I could still feel her warmth. Wisp pressed against my leg, but her form was flickering more erratically now, barely holding together. My magic surged unstably as she disappeared around a shelf, my portals wavering with sickly edges as I gripped the table hard enough to make my knuckles white.

The key glinted on her wrist—a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. Uncle’s therapy sessions were getting more frequent, leaving my magic more unstable each time instead of steadier. Soon there might not be anything left of me that worked right.