Page 103 of Wicked Ends

“I’m prepared,” I assure him, though the stack of notes on my desk suggests otherwise.

Ash raises an eyebrow. “Really? So you’ve read through the proposals for the new protective ward system? And the revised curriculum for elemental magic practitioners? And Thorne’s seventeen-page manifesto on food service reforms?”

“Seventeen pages? About the food?”

“Apparently, the lack of carb-free options constitutes a human rights violation.” His lips twitch. “Her words, not mine.”

I groan, resting my forehead against his chest. “Why did I let myself get elected to this thing?”

“Because you’re the only witch powerful enough to stand up to Victoria when she tries to take over, again.” His hand slides up my back, warm and reassuring. “And because you actually give a damn about making this place better.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I pull away reluctantly. “I should probably at least skim Thorne’s manifesto before the meeting.”

“Probably.” Ash doesn’t let me go, instead tilting my chin up for a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns heated.

“Mmm, this isn’t helping me prepare,” I murmur against his lips.

“No?” His hand slides lower, cupping my ass. “I find it very motivating.”

A throat clears from the doorway, and we break apart to find Lucien watching us, one eyebrow raised.

“The council meeting begins in fifty-seven minutes,” he says. “And Rose has yet to review the agenda.”

“I was just telling her that,” Ash says, not looking remotely guilty.

“Yes, I can see how helpful your approach was.” Lucien steps into the room.

Lucien is always worrying about me. Some things never change. Like the way my heart still skips when he looks at me with those intense eyes, or how he always, always takes care when I'm not taking care of myself.

“I’m going,” I say, extracting myself from Ash’s arms. “Both of you can stop with the disappointed dad routine.”

“If either of us reminded you of your father, we would have serious concerns about your psychological well-being,” Lucien says dryly.

“Well, I never knew my father, so analyze that.” I grab my notes from the desk, pausing to kiss Lucien on my way past. He catches my wrist, holding me in place for a moment longer than necessary.

“Thorne is planning to ambush you about the proposed curfew changes,” he warns. “She has a graph.”

“Graphs? Yikes.” I tilt my neck back to look at the ceiling for a moment. “Thanks for the heads up.”

He nods, releases me, and I head down the corridor.

My office door is ajar when I reach it, and I’m not surprised to find Soren lounging in my chair, feet propped on my desk, thumbing through my notes.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, pushing his feet off.

“Always do.” He grins up at me. “Your margin notes are hilarious, by the way. Especially your thoughts on Victoria’s proposal to reinstate mandatory etiquette classes.”

“I was being succinct.”

“Fuck nois certainly succinct.” He stands, stretching. “Very eloquent.”

“Did you need something, Soren?”

Soren pouts. “Can’t a professor visit his favorite girl without an agenda?”

“You always have an agenda.”

“True.” He moves closer, his hand brushing mine. “But sometimes my agenda simply involves seeing you.”