I hate her, I do, for what she did, for how she made me feel, but the words that spewed from Lucian's mouth allowed worry to float around in my stomach. I don't want it to. I shouldn't feel like that, yet a sliver of me still cares about her, worries about her. That affection, attraction is still there, taped to my skin. Like ripping off a bandage, it hurts to just let that go and forget.
When I told her I was done, with this, with everything, I didn't think she would go out and do it on her own, actually find another Druid to make her that damn potion. Well, that says a lot about her, doesn't it? She really just needed the potion, and that's it.
“Has she already left?" I ask, crossing my arms. “Did she use the potion?"
“I said 'went'. Did you fall asleep during grammar lessons? 'Wen
