A soft scratching rouses me awake.

A yawn forces me awake. The scratching comes again, this time against my window. A small ball of light passes through the window and bounces in front of me.

"Come down." Archer's voice says.

I put on a pair of sneakers and head outside. Archer is leisurely leaning on the railing of the porch, smirking. I wander over to the railing and look out onto the placid street.

Eric proposed getting a porch swing and I found it too homey. I regret it. It would be nice to sit outside and enjoy the night with Archer.

The neighbors are all sleep now. Only the sounds of cicadas and cars in the distance exist within my little slice of life. It is comforting. It almost drowns out all the chaos in my head. It feels like the calm before the inevitable storm.

Archer leans too heavily on his newly bandaged hand. I reach over and grab his hand in mine. He tries to stifle a hiss as I ask what happened. I am surprised when he squeezes my hand.

"I cut myself. It was an accident."

"Cut yourself? You sure it was an accident? Not a ritual?"

Archer stares at me questioningly. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing."

"It's something. What kind of ritual do you think I've been doing?" He asks.

I open his hand again and say a small incantation. He removes the bandage to reveal the cut is no longer there. He stares at me, bewildered by my spell.

"I picked up some advanced magic."

"You know how to heal. It takes a lot of power and you did it without flinching." He says. "What are you?"

"What?"

"You can cast spells as easily as some of us breathe. You're not just any witch. I can feel it."

"I'm just a normal guy."

Archer sighs as he turns to the railing. His gaze is on the street. He mutters that I don't trust him.

He's right.

Archer stares over his shoulder at me. "You're a confusing man. Maybe I haven't been the clearest with my intentions and how I feel about you. We have this fun little back-and-forth thing going on and it's fun, but I can't tell if you're serious anymore."

"Oh. This conversation. Right. We're at this point."

I reach out and grab his hand again. I pull him away from the railing so that he is standing opposite me. His hand cradles my chin.

"I like you. A lot. Sometimes I wonder if I'm insane. We don't really know each other well enough for me to like you as much as I do. Especially since you are so secretive about your coven and your life in general."

"There are things—"

"You have your reasons. That's not what it's about." I say. "The thing is, before I moved here, I ended a toxic relationship. It was a doozy. It made me into someone I could never go back to being. If I'm distant it's because I don't know if I can trust you."

"Why?"

"A perfect, single guy takes interest in me? Sounds familiar."

"You're distant with me because of your last relationship?" He asks.

"I'm distant with you because I really like you. I normally have bad taste in men and you don't fit the mold. Even after knowing you this long, you seem like a good guy. Which confuses me." I say. "I have a lot of emotions left over from that relationship. A lot of regret and questions about me. I don't want to be put in that position again. I can't exist in that space."

"Wow, he really did a number on you."

"He did. And the worst part is that my friends and family are a constant reminder of it, even if they can't remember."

"That's why they don't remember. Something really bad happened?"

"Very. They keep saying how they trust me and don't hold a lot of things against me. But they don't know the whole story. All the gory details."

"Maybe that's not how they would feel. Maybe that's you projecting your feelings about yourself." He squeezes my hand. "Look, I've got a lot of baggage, too. My parents were demanding and did a lot of bad stuff. It trickled down to me and my brothers. I've done questionable things. We all have. What I'm trying to say is that I like you, too. A lot."

"You're making it really hard to not like you."

"Good."

Something is different in us. His hand on mine causes a reaction. Golden sparks flicker off my skin where his hand meets mine. Red sparks do the same for his skin. Our magic is interacting again.

Archer laughs at the reaction as he uses his grip to pull me into him. I warp my arms around his warm body. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. We pull away after a short time and he presses his lips against mine.

With my fears laid bare to him, I feel relief. I did not feel as if I could progress with him unless I told him how damaged I am. I did not count on him admitting his life is just as messy as mine.

It's a turn-on, if not a red flag.

The kiss persists, sending me to a different stratosphere. His hands wander my body as I remove my lips from his. He protests but I ask him to follow me. He follows me upstairs and into my bedroom.

Collins rushes past us. It is odd that Collins retreats from my room. Collins has an odd habit of hissing at my closet doors before parking herself in front of it for the night. It is a nightly occurrence.

Her preoccupation with my closet is out of the ordinary but I have bigger fish to fry.

As I lock the door behind me, Archer wanders over to my wall, where there is a collage of pictures from my past. He looks at me as I clear my throat.

"You seemed happy."

"My pre-him days." I say. "I don't want to talk about it. You're standing in my bedroom. I can think of other things we can do rather than strolling down memory lane."

"I wouldn't want to ruin the mood."

Archer smirks as he walks towards me. He reaches out and pulls me close. His lips are beside my ears. "I've wanted this since the coffee shop." He whispers.

My body almost erupts into flames as his lips brush against my earlobe. The heat starts in the center of my being and soon my veins feel as if they are on fire. The heat he is radiating is secondary to the inferno engulfing my body.

I push him backwards, onto my bed as the heat overtakes me. I find myself stalking him like a wolf stalking an innocent doe.

His wolfish grin reminds me it could easily be the other way around. He opens his legs and I walk between them, climbing into his lap as slowly as I can.

The moment our lips touch again, the fire from the kiss sends fire into my bloodstream. My skin is on fire. My insides burn as I attempt to devour him through his lips. I lose track of his hands. It feels as if he has more than two hands as the sensation of his touch registers all over my body.

I can tell it's only the beginning.