Anya Bast - Witch Fury

Yeah, so did Sarafina.

She’d been in many relationships in her life. Since she’d been sixteen she’d gone only short times in between steady boyfriends. She was not inexperienced when it came to the opposite sex. Yet Theo stymied her. By the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, she knew, knew he had feelings for her.

And she had feelings for him like she’d never had in her life. What she felt for Theo blew all her other relationships out of the water.

So this was love.

All the country-western singers wrote songs about how much it hurt.

Boy, they were right.

THEO STOOD A SMALL DISTANCE AWAY FROM WHERE Sarafina sat in the Conservatory, concealed by trees and bushes. He understood she needed to be away from him, but he couldn’t let her out of his sight. . for more reasons than one.

She had her eyes closed, her head resting on the trunk of the tree growing behind the bench she sat on. Her hands were sunk deep into Grosset’s fur, and her facial muscles appeared tight. He allowed his gaze to trace the lines of her chin and travel down the slope of her neck.

He loved her so much.

His hands fisted at his sides. Never in his life had he wanted a woman like he wanted her. The problem was that he wasn’t built for love. His life had twisted him in a way that made it impossible for him to hold on to anything beautiful or precious.

In a way, he was like the Atrika , built for battle, for conflict, for revenge and killing. He was a monster, not fit to hold an angel like Sarafina in his hands. She was too precious to this world. He would only crush her.

Why couldn’t she see that?

Once he’d dreamed of finding a woman like her, of settling down and having children, giving those children the kind of life he’d never had — full of love and stability. Now that he’d met Sarafina he realized how impossible something like that would be for a man like him.

Theo had always worried his father’s brutal heart beat within his chest. It did to some extent, although it was the warlocks who suffered his wrath, not a wife. One thing Theo knew was that he would never raise a hand to anyone he loved. That was one part of his father he’d been lucky enough not to inherit.

Yet Theo had never managed to successfully maintain a relationship in his life. His mother had fled, and Colleen and Ingrid had been killed. Theo knew he wasn’t responsible for any of that — not really — but it still made for a hell of a bad track record.

Sarafina was too precious to gamble with. Theo couldn’t bear the thought of investing all of his heart in her and then losing her.

Gods, it would kill him.

And of course he would lose her. He simply wasn’t equipped to do anything but fumble a relationship with a woman like her.

She deserved someone like Darren or even Eric. Someone who had lived a normal life, who hadn’t had the love and compassion tortured and beaten out of him. His scars went deeper than his flesh and they weren’t easily healed. Sarafina had to realize that.

He was just trying to keep her from being hurt.

He might love her and she might love him — there was little question of that — but sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

Theo indulged himself a moment longer, gazing at her silhouette through the foliage, then melted back into the shadows to keep watch over her until she decided to return to the apartment.

When she finally stepped though the door, he was moments behind her.

She rounded on him in the living room as Grosset trotted into the kitchen to look for food. “Did you follow me?” Theo shut the door behind him. “Of course I did.” “Why? Why do you even care, Theo?”

“Sarafina.” He walked to stand directly in front of her. “Of course I care.” “I thought I was just sex to you.”

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath. “We’re not right together, you and I. I’m not the best man for you. You need someone who can make you laugh, who can—” She made a hand gesture to cut off his words. “Stop right there. I can’t listen to these lies you’re telling yourself a moment longer. I’m going to bed.” Theo watched her stalk to her room.

She turned in the doorway. “I need you, Theo. I want. . need the intensity of your love and your protectiveness. It’s true we’re different enough that most people wouldn’t think we’d fit together, but sometimes jagged edges fit just right, puzzle pieces falling into place. That’s how I feel about us.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand, Sarafina.” “I understand more than you think I do. In fact, I understand even more than you do.” She paused, looking sad. “And you need me, too, Theo. More than you realize.”

SARAFINA WASN’T GOING TO THINK ABOUT THEO. She’d decided that right after their conversation the previous night. He didn’t want her, so she shouldn’t want him.

If only it were that easy.

Instead, after uneasily falling into a fitful sleep, she’d awoken to find Theo in the armchair in the corner of her bedroom, slumped over in an uncomfortable drowse. He’d watched over her all night long. Grosset was snoring in his lap, the traitor.

Her gut reaction had been to go to Theo and help him into bed, so he could get at least a couple hours of worthwhile rest, but she’d stopped herself. The stubborn man. She wasn’t going to show him how much she cared for him.

Not when he was being such a slave to his fears.

Anyway, she’d opened her heart to him once and he’d made it bleed. She certainly wasn’t going for a twofer.

Now it was midmorning and she wasn’t going to worry about him and how tired he looked, standing up against one of the library walls, away from the group as usual, while Thomas conducted a meeting.

She wasn’t going to think about Theo at all, let alone care about him.

Yeah, right.

It seemed that Theo wasn’t the only one good at lying to himself.

Sarafina pulled herself back from the quagmire of her own mind and emotions and tried to concentrate on what Thomas and the others were saying.

“We’re organizing another raid, this time on Duskoff International.” Whoa, now Thomas had her full attention.

“We’ll leave in the morning. Darren is already there, preparing. Once the workday is done, the warlocks remain. That’s when we’ll enter.” “What about the wards on the thirteenth floor?” asked Sarafina. They were of daaeman make, according to Mira. They couldn’t break them.

“That’s still a problem.”

“Are you sure all the non-magickals will be out of the building?” asked Mira.

Thomas hesitated, then shrugged. “No.” “What are we going—”

“ Je suis arrive! ” The voice came from beyond the open door of the library, from roughly the area of the Coven’s foyer.

Sarafina froze in her chair. It was one of the voices that haunted her dreams and stole all the sweetness away. She knew that voice well.

“What the—” Adam bounded to his feet across from Sarafina.

“Maybe we don’t have to raid Duskoff International, after all,” said Theo. He’d taken about three steps toward her from his place across the room. “Maybe the raid has come to us.” Thomas bolted from behind his desk toward the door. “How did he get through the wards? The daaeman would be able to get through, but Stefan should be barred.” “The Atrika probably just broke the wards so he could get in,” answered Claire. “That would be nothing but child’s play to them.” Sarafina stood, a cold, hard knot of tension in the middle of her stomach. If Stefan was here, that meant Atrika were here. If Atrika were here, that meant Bai was probably here, too.