Page 25 of A Match Made in Coven (Paranormal Romance #2)
Chapter Twenty-five
Starstruck Dumb
LORCAN
Lorcan blinked, and she was gone, only a faint shimmer of iridescent wings lingering in the night air.
He may not have been blessed with wings like the Callidoras—a trait unique to their coven and also, he suspected, why his ancestors had sought an alliance all those centuries before—but he had a trusty broom.
Without a second thought, Lorcan leaped onto the broom propped on his porch.
The smooth, well-worn wood thrummed under his fingertips, radiating a familiar, latent power.
He kicked off hard, shooting into the star-flecked sky like a cork from a champagne bottle after a few good shakes.
The crisp wind whipped through his hair as he soared after Sarah Michelle.
Lorcan caught up to her in no time. She had paused to admire the view, and he could tell the moment she spotted him by the flutter in her wings.
Instead of darting away as he would’ve expected, she hovered, waiting for him.
Moonbeams danced across her skin, illuminating her in an ethereal glow that made his breath catch. Bewitching.
When he reached her, he flew slightly lower, positioning his broom under her, right between those long, distracting legs. Tugging the hilt up gently, he guided her onto the handle until she straddled it in front of him, her wings fluttering to a stop as she let her weight drop on the broom.
Sarah Michelle looked at him, her expression uncertain. “Forgot something?”
Lorcan smiled at her usual sass. “ You forgot to kiss me goodnight.”
A beat of silence, then two. Their breath mingled in the night air, creating small clouds of warmth between them.
The stars twinkled above them, silent witnesses to their moonlit rendezvous.
Lorcan hitched to touch her. But they were still seated on a broom.
He couldn’t risk letting go, not when they were balanced so precariously high above the ground.
His hands tightened on the broom handle, the smooth wood anchoring him.
Sarah Michelle had no such constraints. Her wings would catch her if she fell.
She cupped his face, her palms cool against his flushed skin.
Breathing became something he had to think about as she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was softer than before, but somehow infinitely more meaningful.
The stars above them exploded with the force of that simple kiss, and Lorcan felt as if he was plummeting from the broom, his stomach churning with the dizzying sensation of a free fall.
When they parted, Lorcan rested his forehead against hers, savoring the closeness. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard with our covens interfering—dead and alive members—but I don’t care if I have to fight every ghost, goblin, or troll in town to be with you.”
Sarah Michelle looked at him, not responding for the longest time.
Finally, she nodded, saying, “Nothing can happen while we’re still working on the case.”
“And afterward?”
A pause, then, “We’ll see.”
Okay. It wasn’t an eternal pledge of undying love, but it also wasn’t a hard no. Lorcan would take it. He’d hold to any glimmer of a chance to explore this connection between them, to see if it could grow into something real and lasting.
Sarah Michelle sighed, her breath warm against his cheek. “I have to go to the station tomorrow. I’ve been given a new assignment.”
Lorcan lifted a brow, curious. “Oh?”
She shrugged, a wry twist to her lips. “I’ll be on noise complaints and lost familiars reports.”
“Really? Noise complaints and lost familiars?”
Sarah Michelle shrugged. “Only until I can redeem myself. But I’ll stop by your house when my shift’s over.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Sarah Michelle leaned in, pressing her lips to his in one last chaste kiss. Then, with a flutter of her wings, she lifted, becoming a beacon of light against the velvety darkness. Lorcan watched, transfixed, as her silhouette gradually merged with the night sky, becoming one with the stars.
As he continued to gaze upward at her disappearing form, an unfamiliar sensation settled in behind his rib cage. He stood, struck dumb like the fool he was. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn’t experienced before—could it be love?
“Get a grip, Lorcan,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to dislodge the thought. But even as he dismissed the idea, it clung to him stubbornly, wrapping its tendrils around his heart and refusing to let go.
He pondered this new revelation, the possibility that he might be in love with Sarah Michelle, the detective who had once almost arrested him, the witch who belonged to a rival coven, the woman whose kiss had unlocked a deep, insatiable thirst within him. The notion was absurd, but inevitable.
“Love,” Lorcan mused, tasting the word on his lips as he lowered the broomstick toward the ground. “What a peculiar spell to be under.”