Hex, A Witch and Angel Tale

by Ramona Wray

  He smiled — smiled! — and I read millions of things in it: want, smugness, pain, joy, desperation, doubt, release, triumph. Hands latched onto my waist and then I was floating backward, the world dissolving around me like dandelion fluff swept away by wind.

  When a surface grew solid under me, his forehead touched mine and his hands slipped under my shirt, fingertips fluttering over my skin like butterfly wings. Like feathers that got every cell in my body to shiver and sing.

  My body sang for him again.

  Smooth lips found mine, spicy and wicked like a sin dipped in mint cream. Fingers dug into my bare skin as his tongue flicked mine over, tasting. Behind my closed eyelids stars went off in colorful flames. Sounds I didn’t know I could make flowed from my chest and melted across his lips. My world tightened and then burst apart in bits and pieces that didn’t fit anything anymore.

  Everything changed.

  And my soul sang for him as well.

  Chapter: Nine

  The world spasms when we touch,” he sighed near my ear, still holding me close.

  Fumbling for a way back into myself was like waking up after a twelve-hour sleep. Stuff came at me in waves. My lips tingled and felt swollen. I was perched on the kitchen island. My arms shook. I tightened my grip around his neck, happy to find that his body wasn’t rock-steady, either. For some reason, knowing it wasn’t only my muscles that had the consistency of Jell-O felt perversely gratifying. His arms, still fastened around me, lay on top of and not under my shirt now. The obvious gaps in my memory made me think of UFO encounters, because in a way I really had been abducted, though not by little gray men. But the kiss stole me away from myself. “Wow!” didn’t come close to covering it.

  With my head resting on his chest, I let out a sigh that echoed the sound Raisin made when she was warm and comfy. Uh-huh, yup … I was purring.

  I giggled. “You made me purr.”

  “What, you didn’t know? Girls always purr for me.”

  I nudged his chest with my head, liking the newfound familiarity, but hoping he was kidding. “If you’re so sure of yourself, then how come you took forever to ask me out?”

  His arms twitched once around me, before falling like rag doll limbs. Without really wanting to, but nervous now, I unclasped my arms from around his neck. He wasted no time in moving away, which only worried me more.

  “Sometimes less really is more,” he said simply. Obviously he was speaking Mandarin, I decided. That or the kiss had messed up my brain to the point where English really did sound like Mandarin. “What do you mean?”

  His expression was so annoyingly guarded, I had the urge to leap from the counter and shake him until that deadpan mask broke. Slowly he backed away, and away, and away, until he was leaning against the cabinets. I wondered how far he would’ve gone if it weren’t for the cabinets. Bangladesh? Bulgaria?

  “Stop it,” he urged me softly, eyes glued to the floor.

  “Er … what?”

  “Stop acting like you can see sense where there isn’t any. Don’t waste our time on questions you know I can’t answer.”

  But wasn’t he the one who wanted me to ask?

  “It would be nice to understand at least some of what’s happening.”

  “Nice?” He gave a vague, disinterested shrug. “Sure, but really necessary? Can’t you simply enjoy this?” He pointed from him to me and back again. “Us?”

  I bit my lip to hold back a groan.

  “Let me ask you something,” he said, with a lazy smile that instantly confused the heck out of my annoyance. “Who are you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you know who you are?”

  He spoke steadily, mindful of each syllable, as if I were a child. I, like the sophisticated young woman I was not, reacted to it with an awkward, babyish chuckle.

  “Of course I do. I’m Lily Cr —”

  “No, no, no!”

  Still parading that shamefully sexy smile, he sauntered back across the floor. No rush. Giving my body time to tense in anticipation. Teasing me with it. Killing me with it.

  In front of me he paused, licking his lips. His eyes fell on my legs, which were still joined together, putting a dam between us. My knees poked his thighs.

  “You believe you’re the I-think-therefore-I-am girl.”

  His lingering gaze on my legs felt like a caress, and when his fingers actually touched my knees, I ran out of breath. I couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying, couldn’t even look up to his face. His hands! My whole world was limited to his hands. Touching me. Graceful fingers cupping my knees.

  “When in fact you’re the I-can-change-the-world-by-wriggling-my-nose, therefore-I-am girl. The instinctual, one-of-a-kind, always-tuned-in girl.”

  Delicately, slowly, his hands slid between my shaky knees and moved upward, thumbs tracing the inside of my thighs. Even through the jeans it felt like fire.

  “You’re not about reason, Lily, you’re all instinct. Why not let it guide you for a change?”

  One light tug and my legs were parted, his body slipping between them like quick silver in a thermometer. My hips fit his to sweet, sweet perfection. Close, so close, I could feel his belt buckle pressing against my belly button. My hands rose to rest on his chest and I was torn between wanting to grab a handful of his T-shirt and pull him to me or push him away. Being so close to him burned me alive. I remembered nothing. Knew nothing. I cared about nothing except him. His leather-and-pine scent. His hands. The heat between us.

  One hand moved under the small of my back, another cupped my face. There was laughter in his eyes, a touch of amusement and wonder, but I couldn’t stop to think what it meant. Not when his breath burned against my lips. Not while the world spun in multicolored circles again.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, low and soft. “Look inside yourself and don’t think for a second, just … tell me, how did you feel when I kissed you?”

  My eyes did close, not so much because he’d asked, but because I was getting dizzy. The hand on my back gave a gentle push and a soft sound rushed past my lips. My face heated up to a million degrees. His thumb feathered across my lower lip, lightly tracing its line.

  “Here, let me remind you,” he whispered.

  Teeth sank into my lip, soon replaced by soft lips that sucked it gently. So slowly, he was kissing me so slowly … delicately. He was inside and around me, everywhere, moving closer still, wiping out any trace of reality. I lost track of all.

  Teeth nipped, lips soothed.

  I became ash.

  “There,” he whispered in my ear. “How did you feel?”

  As far as I could tell, my brain, entirely out of commission now, had absolutely nothing to do with the word that rolled off my raw lips.

  “Unbroken.”

  I winced, realizing just how weird that must’ve sounded. But it was true. His touch mended something inside me. A dent in my soul. A crack in my heart. It made me wonderfully unashamed of being a magic-bound spaz for once. It made me glad to be me because, imperfect as I was, I fit him, perfectly.

  When my eyes opened, I didn’t need a mirror to know how I looked. Confused. Alarmed. Happy. Drunk with “us.”There was no point in trying to pretend otherwise; I let it all show.

  “Unbroken … such a beautiful way to put it. So true,” he whispered. “Lily, you may ask a million questions, a million questions I can’t answer for you. But even if I could, my words, all my words, would come up short. Words can’t mend what’s broken inside you. They can’t make you whole.”

  Since I was completely mute, breathless, and could only stare at him with my mouth frozen in a silent O, he went on pleading softly.

  “I’ve waited a long time to be with you … and we’re good together, Lily. Why waste time on figuring out why that is?”

  My stomach was in knots about speaking. The very same answers I was dying for also scared the living daylights out of me. Because, in the end, I could kiss him! He thought the world spasmed when w
e touched! And he … he knew my heart. He cared.

  The last thing I wanted was to mess with whatever was happening between us.

  So I dropped it. “I guess you’re right.”

  But curiosity, the insatiable animal, nudged me forward again. “When you say you waited a long time, exactly how long is long, in this case?”

  He groaned. “See? You just can’t leave well enough alone.”

  The way he backed away reminded me of turtles and shells. There was something very sad and vulnerable about it.

  “Ever heard of the observer effect, Lily? It’s what they call reactivity in psychology: people altering their behavior when they know they’re being observed. Ever heard of it?”

  “Sort of. Simply observing a phenomenon changes it, or something like that.”

  He nodded. “Let me put it this way. I love being with you, but I get more out of keeping my distance. I get more out of watching you when you don’t know I’m doing it.”

  “I don’t understand.” Understatement of the century.

  “That’s just it. You’re really big on understanding. Big on questioning and forcing your way to the truth. It will eat at you now, not knowing why things are the way they are between us.”

  “You can’t blame me for it. I mean —”

  “I have this theory,” he interrupted. “In everyone’s life there’s one major event, right? And it shapes who they are. One event that basically decides everything about their lives. The rest, whatever happens before and after, is only ripples moving to and from that one moment in time. By-products. And no matter what anyone does, no matter how hard they try, the best they can do is affect one or more of the ripples. But never the main event. Does that make any sense to you?”

  I nodded unsurely. “Sort of.”

  “I waited a year before asking you out,” he added, and my face fell, “because I loved watching those ripples in your life while they were pure, uninfluenced by me. Because without me in your life, you’re a different person. Your own person. Happier. And I needed to see that. Watch you laughing, and crying, and being brave, and becoming this amazing girl that you are, I had to see and remember it all: Lily Crane, 2010, Rosemound, Michigan. But for the most part, I waited this long for your own good, Lily. Because I can’t be with you without going back and trying to change that main event. Even knowing that it can’t be done, I’m still compelled to try, as you will be, too, with me. But we’ll fail. Worst of all, once you’ve left me, my heart will need much longer than a century to come back from it. Except, time is never on our side. What I’m trying to say is you shouldn’t be sorry I waited. Trust me, the closer we are, the more painful it gets. For you and me both.”

  Only one thing I was still sure of, and it had to do with my mouth refusing to close. And, yes, staring at him with my mouth hanging open basically painted “dork” on my forehead, but at least I got that. I could process that. The rest was a blur, just wild, murky waters sweeping me away. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry, put my arms around him or run.

  “Okay,” I uttered, once I could make words again. “First off, if you think you’ll live to see one hundred and seventeen years, you’ve got another think coming. Unless you move to Japan. I read about this fisherman’s village where people live very long life spans. You’re thinking about moving to Japan?”

  He only looked at me like I had sprouted horns. Like my irrelevant blabbering wasn’t all his fault. His little speech had fried most of my neurons to a crisp.

  Anyway, I took his lack of answer for a no.

  “I didn’t think so. So, that’s one. Two, I am not planning on going anywhere. Why would you even think that? Why would I want to break up?”

  “You don’t understand —”

  “Three,” I interrupted, yapping away manically, “I don’t know what happened in your past, but nothing is written in stone. If you just tell me how I can hel —”

  “I can’t tell you!” he argued, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “That’s just it: I can never tell you!”

  Hmm! A riddle. This was all a very complex riddle, I concluded, everything that came out of his mouth, every last word. So it was just a question of solving it. Decoding Ryder; reserved, secretive, and, let’s face it, kind of weird Ryder Kingscott. Sure, decoding him would be a snap. Who was I kidding?

  “Any chance you could rephrase any of that?” I drew slow circles in the air.

  “Any chance you could stop pestering me about it?”

  Oh, great! He thought this was funny.

  “Not fair.”

  “Ditto.”

  We stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

  “So, let me get this straight. You waited a year to ask me out. And you came to Rosemound about a year ago. So, that means, what? You moved here for me?”

  A wicked grin that sent my heart flying right into my stomach was the whole of his answer. I had been grasping at straws, not really believing that his coming to Rosemound had anything to do with me. Was I wrong? Nah! That would just be crazy, I tried reassuring myself. Except …

  “How could you be watching me the whole year?” I asked, sensing my eyes bulging, but unable to control it. “I think I would’ve noticed.”

  His smile widened. “What, you mean, since you were always checking me out?”

  I poked at his chest, my face already in flames.

  “In your dreams!”

  “There, too.”

  How could anyone do that? One second we’re bantering jauntily, the next his smile becomes something else completely. A piece of this soft, depthless tenderness that turned my bones into free-flowing liquid.

  “Every night, in fact.”

  It should’ve been cheesy, his saying that, if not for all that naked honesty in his eyes. And paired with the rest of his adoring expression, it, very effectively, took my breath away. As if intent on stopping my heart altogether, he then proceeded to stroke my cheek, too, which cranked up the heat in my face by another, say, thousand degrees.

  A smile bloomed again in his eyes. “I love that you let me bring out the softness in you. You’ve always been such a tough little trooper, but under that snappy, tough act you put on, you’re butter-soft. Sweet as honey. And I can get there! Make that softness come up. I’m so … honored by it.”

  He stopped, abruptly, and then he was frowning.

  “It really does make me regret not asking you out earlier.”

  “What changed your mind?” I asked in a small voice.

  There was only the slightest hesitation. “Why, Lily, you’re just that irresistible, baby.”

  My head swam in whopping disbelief, and his answer was that final drop of nitroglycerin that made everything go boom. He’d said it playfully, with a short-lived twinkle that never touched his eyes. But he was lying, we both knew he was, and I just couldn’t take that, too.

  “Ryder, who are you?” I exploded, growling again. “I mean, are you different, like me? And us … Why do I feel like we’ve already met? How do you know so much about me? Why do you care? And don’t give me any more cryptic talk, Ryder. I need answers! Real answers. And I need them just because things are so good between us.

  “Do you have any idea what it feels like, spending my whole life avoiding human touch? I’m a freaking bogeyman in Rosemound! Little children are taught: Don’t let that Lily Crane touch you, she might steal your soul! If I go to the grocery store, everyone avoids the aisle I’m in. On the street they’re moving away to make sure no one bumps into me by mistake.”

  The first tears spilled out, scorching in their honesty. My hands, clasped in my lap, shook. Dammit, I was so losing it in front of him! But I couldn’t stop.

  “And … I can touch you! And when you touch me back the whole world disintegrates. But if I don’t understand why that is, if I don’t ask the questions you don’t want me to ask, then how can I make sure I don’t lose it? How can I make sure I won’t go back to …? And … I’m totally freaking you out no
w, aren’t I?”

  Strong arms fastened around me, warm and real, very much like my tears. He held me with care, as if I were precious to him.

  “Shh,” he soothed. “Sweet Lily … brave, sad … sad Lily … my girl with hair of fire and eyes filled with spring … beautiful Lily … my girl ...”

  His voice, soft like a baby’s coo, whispered many things in my ear. He never let go, no matter how hard I bawled, no matter how I quivered. And pretty, it was not. Since I was always so tightly sniffle-proof, when I did break down all the floodgates opened. Still, he didn’t let go. He only cradled me closer, muttering, “I’m sorry” over and over.

  “Please! Promise me you won’t disappear,” I begged.

  Desperate? No doubt, but at this point I figured it didn’t matter. It’d been one heck of a first date anyway, and if he hadn’t run thus far, chances were he just wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Where would I…? Baby, you own me, all of me! I’m yours, for better or worse.”

  Final, unambiguous confirmation. Just like that, with two little sentences, he wiped away the hurt. A few words and the world stopped spinning nauseatingly, my pulse slowed down, my muscles grew solid. A few words from him and it was all good again. Or, at least, as good as it could be.

  I didn’t mind the bittersweetness too much; I’d learned long ago to take the good with the bad. What was happening between us was more sweet than bitter anyway. Questions? Sure, there were still tons of them, but no, I didn’t ask. What was the point? Ryder didn’t care that I was freak girl. He had feelings for me. Touching him didn’t knock me out. And yes, there was weirdness, but I’d dealt with that all my life. I could handle it. As long as I got to keep him, I could learn to live with the rest.

  He brought a blanket and we lazed on the beach, where he fed me orange slices while I lay back with my eyes closed, at peace with most things and ignoring the others. Awesome as he was, he added a perfect little game. It involved both our iPods, set between us, and a liberal amount of doing nothing but sharing favorite tunes with each other. He kept one earbud, I got the other, and he played a song for me; then we switched to my iPod, and so on. I took his advice and tried to disregard everything but the sky above. Seeing only the cloudless blue while listening to Ryder’s favorite music was just the thing. It was a double-treat: relax and turn up more info on my ever-so-tantalizing yumof-a-boyfriend. Seriously, I would’ve never taken him for a Tchaikovsky kind of guy. We kept some space between us, with only our fingertips touching, just barely. Electricity blossomed and crackled. So innocent. So completely world-rocking.