Unruly Magic

by Chafer, Camilla

  I touched a finger to my lips. We’d kissed. Oh... Yes, we’d definitely kissed.

  I rolled, stretched and... Jeez! I froze. There was someone in bed with me. The body shuffled and a long arm stretched over me, curling around my body.

  “Morning,” came a gruff voice and my eyes widened. I did not remember this. I did not remember going to bed with... I tilted my head to one side. No, I did not remember going to bed with Gage. I shuffled, a small, tentative movement and felt the sheets cool against my skin. I wondered if I could peek under the bedclothes to see what I was wearing. I was fairly certain I was wearing something. I’d better be wearing something.

  “Um... hi,” I said, flustered. “Um...”

  “Um?” Gage mumbled, his hand down my arm to lace his fingers around mine, his thumb rubbing my palm. I untangled our fingers and carefully pushed his hand back over to him before shuffling onto my back. Slowly I turned my head fully. Yep, there he was. Head on my pillow. I raised my head a fraction, just enough to see his clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed.

  “Ah... did we... um...” I trailed off, my head thumping.

  “No, we didn’t ‘um’.” Gage paused a beat. “You would have remembered if we’d ‘ummed’.”

  “I would hope so.”

  “You definitely would.”

  “Bit full of yourself.”

  “Wish you were full of me.”

  “Gage!”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled into the pillow and I only just heard him say, “Meant it though.”

  “Why are you in my bed?” I asked.

  “Home was too far away and we just fell asleep.”

  “You live right across the street... and you’re not wearing anything.”

  “Anything could have happened in the dark. Late night. Lone man...”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. I hoped I wasn’t raising a line of day old mascara too.

  “I live in hope.”

  “You do know Annalise is probably looking outside right now and is seeing your car parked in my driveway and putting two and two together and making thirty five.”

  “She might think I just left it here until morning.”

  I shook my head. “She will have been at your door offering you coffee or something as soon as it was decent.”

  Gage thought about that for a moment then grinned. “Don’t worry I’ll keep our dirty little secret to myself.”

  “You do that.” Oh, wait... “There’s no dirty little secret!” I protested.

  “Seeing as I’m keeping quiet, my sister will never know that.” Gage looked smug now. He should. Annalise would absolutely surmise the worst... or the best, depending on whose point of she was working from.

  “I should probably be cross with you.”

  His face fell a bit as he looked at me from the next pillow. “Are you?”

  With his morning stubble and the slight curl of his hair, he was a very attractive man to wake up to. If I was a red-blooded female, if I was in my right mind, I would have been taking advantage of this situation. As it was... “No, but you should go home.”

  “But I’m warm,” he protested sleepily.

  “You can be warm in your own house. It has a heating system that works. Go use it,” I said, probably a touch to harshly as I tried to peek under the covers to see exactly what I was wearing, or if I would have to tug the covers off to wrap around me when I got up. What if Gage was naked under there? I felt my face redden. I couldn’t look. But I kinda wanted to. There was no ‘if’ about it, I was a red-blooded female judging by the thoughts surging through my brain. I tried to quell them with a mental sledgehammer.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me amused. “If you’re you trying to have a look, I’m not shy.”

  I flushed bright red this time. “I. Am. Not! I’m trying to figure out what I’m wearing.”

  I probably shouldn’t have said that because that wasn’t my hand trailing over my shoulder and running the length of my body under the covers. “Bra,” murmured Gage, as he slipped a finger under one barely there shoulder strap, then his hand moved lower. He raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be taunting me into telling him to stop. Or goading me into not asking at all as his hand rested against the flat plain of my stomach and then drifted, lightly, lower until he was brushing my thigh. I could feel a familiar pit of excitement swirling inside me, spiralling heat from my core, something I hadn’t felt in a long while. “Something very silky...,” he murmured. I felt his foot rub against mine and he flicked an eyebrow again. “Oh, you took off your socks. Good girl.”

  He didn’t move his hand and I didn’t push it away and Gage most certainly took that as a signal as he leaned in to kiss me, his lips softly against mine. The taste of him now slightly bitter, swirled with the memory of the kiss we’d shared last night. I liked him, it was clear. I liked him a lot. Some parts of me liked him a great deal. I could feel a very definite part of him announcing he was very pleased to see me, as he manoeuvred himself on top of me, and I couldn’t help the groan that ebbed from me as I slipped my arms around him and let him press himself against me as I ran my hands down the thick muscular cords of his back. He smelled of grass and pine, earthy, natural things and I inhaled a deep, intoxicating, lungful.

  But it was just too soon.

  I broke away with a firm push against his chest.

  Gage looked down at me, leaning on his elbows so his chest was barely lifted off mine, not with reproach or hurt, but just a calm appraisal. I hoped I didn’t have a bad case of bed head. “I can wait,” he said, his body telling a different story. “I have time.”

  “Okay,” I replied slowly, because I didn’t want him to think I was asking anything of him or giving him the great never, ever rebuttal. Truthfully, I was fighting arousal, fighting what my body was calling for, struggling against the voice of reason.

  He smiled then slid off me and out of bed, leaving a cold pocket of air between me and the sheets. I was trying to ease into a sitting up position, pulling the covers with me but they wouldn’t give until he got up, releasing them so I got them all in a swoosh that nearly knocked me on my back.

  With his back turned I could see he was wearing black shorts, very form fitting which made me bite my lip, and after a brief moment of disappointment – I was human, after all, well, sort of – came relief. He pulled on his jeans and I saw his hands work at the buttons on his shirt. I forced myself to be glad. If he’d turned around, if he’d pressed the point, I might have changed my mind and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that.

  “I’ll let myself out,” he said, padding out of my room. I heard his footsteps grow further away then the front door opened and closed gently. A minute or two later and his car engine started up and I guessed he was reversing across the street to his own drive.

  I sat, staring at the wall, feeling dizzy. After looking at the clock and seeing how early it was – I just couldn’t get out of the habit of waking early – I hunkered down for another hour and slept peacefully alone. It wasn’t until later, when I was looking thoughtfully at the indentation Gage’s head had left in the pillow next to mine, that I realised that I’d had another nightmare free night.

  I ate a very late breakfast in the kitchen – cereal with a big, healthy glass of milk – and the radio turned on to a local station. The annoyingly cheerful host made my head pound. When I heard a shuffling and scraping noise outside, I got up, pulled my cardigan around me, belted it and went to explore. I already knew it was unlikely to be animals rooting through the trash.

  “What are you doing?” I asked when I stepped outside the front door, my eyes blinking from the cold glare of the sun high in the cloudless sky. Gage was stood on my porch in jeans, stained with old paint, and a tee, a big swatch of sandpaper in one hand. There was a pile of things on the porch; big tins of paint, brushes and roller trays. He’d laid drop cloths across the porch already to catch any spills.

  Gage held up the paintbrush. “Painting your house,” he sa
id, like I hadn’t guessed.

  “Why?” I asked, trying not to be awkward because he clearly wasn’t, even though we’d spent the night together. I gulped. Not doing anything, I reminded myself.

  “You kept your side of the bet.”

  “But you won!” I protested. “The loser is supposed to... lose.”

  “I know.”

  “You need to get a grasp of the rules, you know.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I know that too.”

  “So ... why are you?”

  “Because we’re neighbours and that’s what neighbours do.” Gage turned back to the house and crouched on his heels, turning his attention back to the boards under the window where the paint was flaking the worst.

  “Ah.”

  He swivelled on his heels and looked up at me, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Are you going to watch me all day or are you going to make coffee?”

  “Make coffee, I guess.”

  “How many mugs you got?”

  “Um, four, but I’ll make a flask if you’re that thirsty.”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for them.” Gage thumbed a hand over his shoulder and I looked up just as a truck turned into my driveway. Four big men jumped out and I recognised them all from the poker night, even if I could only remember two by name. One was Annalise’s Beau, the other a small swarthy man named Joe. I waved at them as Gage added, “They’re going to get thirsty too.”

  “I can’t believe you’d all do this for me.”

  “If it makes you feel better, Beau is helping out because he thinks it will help him get into Annalise’s pants faster.” Gage said that low so Beau, who was pulling paint tins out of the truck bed couldn’t hear him.

  “Will it?” I whispered back conspiratorially.

  He grinned. “Absolutely. She’s loved him since junior high, not that she’s going to tell him that and I’ve never seen her happier than when he came back to Wilding.”

  I mimed zipping my mouth. Then I unzipped it to say. “Just let me know what I owe you.”

  “You can always cook for me in return.”

  I looked at the tins and the brushes Gage’s friends were piling on the porch.

  “I’d be cooking all month. You might as well move in.”

  “If you insist.” He winked at me so that I knew he was joking. At least I thought he was but he turned away before I could give him a retort. “Coffee when you’re ready,” he said to the wall.

  “Coming up, but one of you will have to share a mug.” I stomped inside the house, wondering when Annalise was about to show up. When I caught sight of the coverlet, I wondered who else was going to be my guest soon too.

  I made coffee for them all and took out the mugs with bowls of sugar and creamers and a big pack of cookies, leaving them all on a tray on the porch. Inside I was plotting an exciting afternoon of finishing my laundry – which now included stripping my bed – and brainstorming job options or whether to take a correspondence course. So far I had drawn a blank on who would employ someone with limited qualifications, a lot of experience and without leaving a big paper trail. I was careful with money but it wasn’t going to last forever and eventually I’d have to tap into my funds and that would probably draw attention to me just as if I had a red flashing beacon right over my head. But I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. It just wasn’t in my nature, not that I was entirely sure what my nature was any more.

  I pulled out my map and the crystal, half-heartedly hanging it in the centre and set it in motion with a flick of my hand. It wheeled once, twice, then with a sharp tug it lurched down. I gazed at it for a moment then put my thumb on the spot it had landed. Tulsa. Huh? I stared at the spot marking Oklahoma’s second biggest city for a long minute before I picked up the crystal again and flicked it into motion. This time it spun and spun before hanging limply by its ribbon in the centre of the map. No lurch, nothing. I tried again and again.

  After a frustrating hour where the crystal didn’t give me any indication that its first try had been anything but a fluke, I pulled on my running clothes and went outside. Gage and his friends had sanded a good portion of the flaking paint off and there was some discussion about treatments and paint and the weather that sailed right over my head. He broke off when he saw me and walked over, leaving the debate to continue without him.

  “I’m going for a run,” I announced in case he couldn’t guess. My head had started to clear but I hoped the exercise would give me a boost.

  “You run often?”

  “Now and again.”

  “Stick to the road,” Gage said, his firmness surprising me.

  “I will. Cross country isn’t my thing.”

  Gage just nodded at me and went back to whatever he was doing. I jogged off the porch and didn’t look back to see if he was checking out my butt. I could feel his eyes on me.

  I ran as far as I could, until my lungs heaved and I felt my legs going weak. I was in poor shape all right and it was all I could do to stand there in the road, swinging my arms in circles as I paused to catch my breath. I could feel my leg muscles tighten. I hadn’t stretched properly before setting off and I was risking doing myself an injury, but I needed to be out here in the open where I could stare into the far reaches of the mid-morning sky. I needed to force my body to work, to feel connected to my senses. I could feel magic ripple through me like it was waking up. I’d dulled it for so long, fought to hold it at bay but now it felt like pure joy to let it surge through me. When I held my hands up I found them bathed in a soft glow like they had their own back light but with a quick shake it was gone.

  Turning back I pulled a face. I’d run too far, almost to where the tree line ended and broke into fields. Hearing a twig break somewhere off to my left, I froze and looked about me then hearing nothing I started the slow walk back. After a few minutes I stopped and crouched by the side of the road, my fingers reaching for the small indents I could see, puzzling at the clear imprint of a large paw in the mud. I stayed in my crouch, looking past the shrubs. The print looked fresh, definitely made within the last day or two, but if there was a wild animal out here, it seemed to be long gone. I got up and walked on, moving into the centre of the road.

  By the time my house was in sight, I started up a slow jog, not wanting to embarrass myself by being a heaving, panting, sweaty mess. Hey, maybe that would put Gage off. I smirked to myself.

  Gage was stood on the driveway, almost like he was waiting for me, and fell into step beside me as I slowed to a walk.

  “Enjoy your run?”

  “I might die,” I admitted.

  “You run every day?”

  “I try to.”

  “Same time?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. Just when I feel like it.”

  “It’s not safe at dark, so don’t run at night.”

  I stopped. “Why?”

  “Animals. We’re isolated out here, so... what if you twisted your foot, or something?”

  I thought about the strange print I’d found. “Oh, right. I guess. Well, thanks. And thanks again for this.” I waved a hand at the house. I opened my mouth to ask him about the print but he was already walking away.

  “No problem,” I heard him say.

  I stumbled into my house, my heart still pounding from the run, but at least my head was clear again. I was pushing myself too much for someone so under exercised. I’d have to take it easier in future, or risk pulling a muscle. I froze a few steps into my living room. Just as I had time to think something wasn’t right in my house, I felt the familiar feel of magic drift towards me. Out of the air, Chyler materialised. I would have to do something about the wards, I thought as she took on form, it wouldn’t do to just have witches pop up out of nowhere in my house.

  “Hi, Stella,” she said brightly.

  “Chyler, hi. Is everything okay?”

  “I wanted to know if you’d found anything out. From the council, or fro
m... are there any other witches around here?” She studied me for a moment. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday but her hair was pulled into a low ponytail and didn’t look like it had been brushed properly.

  “No, there aren’t any other witches around here. That I know of anyway.”

  “Oh. Too bad.” Chyler’s tone wasn’t exactly sincere.

  I gestured at her to follow me into the kitchen where I poured myself a big glass of water and glugged it down before offering her a drink. She shook her head, so I knocked back another glass and then leant against the counter, tugging at the zip of my sweat jacket.

  “So no one’s come looking for me?” Chyler swept a finger across my counters and then checked it, like she was checking to see if cleanliness was a top priority in my house. I hoped she was satisfied at my super clean kitchen, elbow grease powered by boredom.

  “No one, yet,” I said, adding a little caveat.

  “Oh. Good.”

  “I guess. Why don’t you sit down and tell me more about what’s happening?”