Page 64 of Alastair

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Ididhide.

I had to.

I breathed in deep, then slowly exhaled. I had spent the day distracting myself from Alastair as best as I could: training with Michael, speaking with Oliver about my unit of warriors and receiving updates on the monster attacks, and overseeing Penemuel’s brainwashing plans—which I still didn’t agree with, but I had been outvoted. Yet, my mind always returned to Alastair.

“Emotions are foolish,” I said. “Why do people bother with them?”

“Hell if I know. After my last girlfriend cheated on me and broke my heart, I swore off relationships. Love is stupid. But then Sirena came into my life, and all bets were off. I fell hard. I’m still falling.” Clara shrugged. “The heart wants what it wants, logic be damned. It’s just how love works.”

“I didn’t say anything about love.”

The witch looked at me, her blonde brow in a perfect arch. “You didn’t need to. It’s written all over your grumpy face.” She moved a finger in the air in front of me, pointing. “Scrunched brow. Snarled lip. But sad eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t sad.” I looked toward the treetops. She was irritatingly observant.

“Sure they are. Alastair looks exactly the same.”

My attention shifted back to her. “He does?”

“I knew it.” She smiled. “Your souls are connected. It was hard to know for sure, but it’s obvious now.”

I should’ve been surprised but wasn’t. Her perception of others was a true gift. “Your witchy intuition?”

Her smile softened. “Yep. Ask Galen and Simon. Right when I met them, I sensed their connection. I think even before they did.” She poked my bicep. “Just like I sensed you weren’t as cold as you pretended to be. I saw the warmth hiding in those icy peepers.”

“Stop touching me, woman.” I moved out of her reach. Truth was, she had grown on me over the months. She’d healed my severe wounds within that time as well, even when I’d been rude.

“Mon trésor?” Sirena said as she stepped out onto the terrace.

“Yeah, babe?” Clara turned to her.

“Raiden mentioned how much he loves your lemon bars, and now the archangel wants them for dessert. He insists, actually.” Sirena’s voice lacked inflection as she spoke. “Shall I stab him instead?”

Clara laughed. “Oh god. Please don’t. We already have one war on our hands. We don’t need another. I’ll be in soon to make a batch.” She patted my arm and leaned in to whisper, “Go talk to Al.”

“He doesn’t wish to speak to me.” What would I say even if he did? He perplexed me, more so now than ever before.

Earlier when we spoke, I had been considering embracing our bond and facing any repercussions from the council for doing so. Yet, he had pulled away from me, uncomfortable by it all, and I realized my selfishness. I wanted him, but he didn’t feel the same. And so, I had told him not to worry about it, that I’d find a way to mend the cracked seal so those feelings wouldn’t be forced on him.

His reaction? Telling me to go fuck myself.

“Christ, you look like a lost puppy,” Clara said. “If this were a book, the reader would be screaming at you right now, saying, ‘Just go talk to him, you idiot.’ So word of advice? Spare yourself the hate of a fictional audience and go talk to your man. Trust me. It will all work out.”

Before I could think of a response, she grabbed Sirena’s hand and walked into the house, leaving me in silence once again.

What did Alastair really want? Only one way to find out.

“Do you have a moment?”I asked him.

“Depends,”came his answer.

“On?”

“The reason you’re asking. You made your stance quite clear last we spoke. So if this doesn’t pertain to the war with Lucifer, we best avoid each other for the time being.”

“Readers are yelling at you right now.”

“What?”Alastair asked.