Page 8 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

As she planned her escape by portal, his gaze gradually unfocused. Her shoulders fell from around her ears and she loosed a breath. Thank the Goddess. It was work—

His eyes rolled back in his head. He toppled, hitting the floor with a thud hard enough to make her flinch.

“Very funny,” she scoffed after a few seconds, hoping he didn’t hear the thread of nerves circling the words.

He didn’t move.

She hopped off the bench and stalked to him, nudging his leg with her foot. “Pearlmatter.”

When he still didn’t react, her stomach flip-flopped. She kicked him again, harder this time. “Pearlmatter.”

She wasn’t even sure he breathed. His lashes made dark crescent shadows on his face, and his skin seemed extra white against the crispness of his tuxedo. The room was silent as the grave.

All the blood in her head drained. “Henry?”

A roaring sounded in her ears and she collapsed to her knees, barely feeling the sting.

She took hold of his shoulders. “Henry. Damn it. Don’t die.

Fuck you if you think you’re having the last word.

” She shook him, fighting for air as her lungs squeezed.

“This isn’t how it’s meant to go. Please.

Open those stupid eyes.” Was he even breathing?

As she went to lay her head on his chest, he shot up with a loud, ragged breath. His forehead clipped her chin painfully, but she didn’t even care as Henry stared at her, dazed.

“Thank fuck,” she breathed. Adrenaline rushed her, dizzying with the relief that he was alive, that she hadn’t killed him, and she didn’t think. She just went to throw her arms around him.

Except he apparently thought she had a different motive. For the second time, as her head came down, his lifted.

Their lips collided.

Her breath stuttered.

It should have been a second, a shocked blip before she pulled away to yell at him. Except his mouth was warm and soft, a memory she’d never been able to sweat out of her system no matter what she tried.

His hand came up to cradle her nape, his lips brushing hers. Tentative. Strange for Henry, this gentle coaxing, but her body was amped up and he felt so solid and strong and right …

Her fingers curled deeper into his tuxedo jacket as she kissed him back. Again. And again. And—

“Tia.”

Tia’s eyes flashed open on the heels of her mom’s gasp. She broke the connection but didn’t go far, chest rising unsteadily as she stared at Henry. He was just as unsteady, his eyes burning with thousands of questions, none of which she could answer.

The moment stretched between them, his breath whispering over her skin, until he finally released her neck. Reality slapped her in the face and she reared back, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Any explanation she might’ve made died on her lips as she jerked around to face her mom.

No. Not her mom. At least, not just her mom.

Gloria.

Richard.

And Lord Siddeley.

FUCK .

“Um,” she said inelegantly. “I can explain.”

She was saved from having to try by a boom of laughter. All heads turned to the English lord, who wagged a finger at Tia and Henry playfully.

“I knew it,” he crowed, beaming. He patted his lean stomach. “The gut always knows.”

She stared, as uncomprehending as a human without a translation spell.

“I knew there was something between you and Lord Pearlmatter,” he continued, one finger rubbing his bottom lip. “Like the air before a thunderstorm hits.” He gave her a broad wink. “Don’t worry. I was young, too, once upon a time. I remember sneaking away for a passionate interlude.”

Aghast, Tia barely held back a passionate denial. He thought they…that she and Henry had…that they’d snuck away to…?

Half-baked alternatives washed away like sand on a beach.

And the truth wasn’t much better. No way could she say, “Actually, we were competing for who could pitch to you by each brewing a potion and mine knocked him out.” That wouldn’t exactly win the investor’s confidence.

Besides, for all she knew, Henry had been faking. Probably had been. Jackass.

She slid him a look that should’ve left only a black charred mark behind. He blinked back, usual smirk wiped clean.

She knew why. That kiss…

Goose bumps brushed the surface of her skin and she inwardly cursed.

When she dared a glance at her mom, the withering one she got in return had her wincing.

A true Hightower, Gloria betrayed nothing as she said, “I do apologize, Lord Siddeley, for their inappropriate timing.”

“Seems to me like we had the inappropriate timing,” he joked, and Tia fought the urge to close her eyes. “No need to apologize. I suppose youth gets the better of us all.”

Behind Siddeley, Richard didn’t bother hiding a seething expression, staring at his silent son as if willing him to come up with a better explanation. But Henry wouldn’t even look at him.

A hint of worry fluttered into her chest as she noticed for the first time how pale he still was. She gauged the distance between his height and the floor, remembering that fleshy thud he’d made, and more worry reluctantly unspooled. He needed to be checked out.

With the three in the doorway still watching, she lurched to her feet, balancing easily on her spiked heels. She hesitated before holding out a hand to Henry. He swayed as he boosted himself up and she flung herself forward to keep him from tottering.

Siddeley beamed as Henry’s arm settled around her waist. “Young love in the next generation of the company. No wonder you merged! I imagine you’ll only be stronger for it.”

Tia tried to concentrate but Henry was breathing hard against her ear, his frame wilting like it was a challenge to stay upright. And the bastard was heavy. She pinched his waist and he straightened, shooting her a bewildered look.

It was starting to freak her out. No, scratch that. It freaked her the hell out and she wasn’t sure how to handle the wings brushing anxiety into her system with each beat.

“Maybe we should let them get presentable.” Richard’s voice was toneless. “They can join us on the tour in a few minutes.” The order came through loud and clear, and she had no doubt they’d both be raked over the coals for this later.

Siddeley, amenable to the end, agreed and they left the room, Gloria shooting one last dark look at her daughter before the door shut.

Immediately, Tia let go and whirled on Henry. It backfired as he swayed and she had to lunge to catch him. His hands landed on her shoulders and his weight dragged her a few steps before they steadied.

“Shit,” she said, breathless. “What the hell was that? Did you knock your head?”

He stared down at her.

“What?” Embarrassment coated the edges of her voice. “If this is about the kiss, don’t even start. It was…relief that I hadn’t killed you. Don’t make a thing of it.” When he still didn’t speak, she poked a knuckle into his side. “You lost your voice or something?”

He glanced around as if he was checking out the room. “Or something.”

She stared at him, unnerved. “This isn’t funny. If you don’t knock it off, I swear I’m going to hex bag the shit out of you. Remember the last time, when we were seventeen? You squawked like a crow for three days.”

He frowned, like it was news to him. “We know each other?”

A chill flashed from the top of her spine downward. She tightened her grip as a stupid possibility swirled into her mind. “Henry…you know who you are, right?”

He rolled his eyes, a hint of arrogance in it. “Well, yeah. I’m not an idiot.” She didn’t have time for relief before he caught her with a look that was eight parts confusion and two parts interest. “Why did you kiss me?”

“ You kissed me ,” she shot back, habit setting in.

A lazy smile kicked up his lips and he leaned in. “You could kiss me now,” he suggested, deep and smoky.

Dread dropkicked any relief from her system. She searched his face, scanning for anything familiar. All she saw was openness, a tremor of amusement and that interest. No tension, no shadows, no flashes of passion. Nothing.

Bile churned up her throat. “What’s my name?” she whispered. She wanted to scream it but forced her tone even. “Henry, tell me you know who I am.”

His forehead crimped and he drew back. Hesitation flickered before he blinked. The answer was written across his blank expression.

Panic ballooned in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Her heart raced, faster and faster, as she shifted. Her foot knocked something, the echo of glass rolling over the floor drawing her eye.

The small bottle came to stop against the legs of the workbench, a drop of liquid easing onto the floor. Realization torpedoed through her remaining calm as she watched the potion droplet fall.

Oh, fuck .