His chest press against my back when he puts it over my head so it can cross to my neck. My face heats up and I smile at my very own childishness. My eyes is down, staring conspicuously at my own feet.
He takes a longer time to get the necklace in place and hooks it, which is enticing due to the fact that my mind roams with naughty thoughts all the while.
When he's done, his fingers trail the line of the necklace along the back of my neck, and my breath hitch.
"Whose is it?" My voice is almost not my own. Strange, and unused before.
"My mother's."
His mother? I recall her death, which Rosalyn told me about. She was a witch too, and was killed by Andrew's brother. There's no way he won't be the most angry one in the universe with all that's happened to him.
"I'm so sorry. Rosalyn to
