I don’t notice that I’m leaning toward him, hanging off his every word until he stops speaking. I blink and ask, “Street craft?”
He nods. “A brand of magic for the uninitiated, and in most cases, the non-magical.”
“Cool.” There’s that word again.
Charming smiles. “One of the most important things Anais did was create places like this. Areas hidden in plain sight where anyone can come and request a spell. The place is then activated by a witch and carried out, given that the spell is not one for love or death.”
I nod. “I’ve read that you can’t make someone love you.”
He laughs. “Sure you can. It just never works out well.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
He frowns. “Ever seen Fatal Attraction?”
I cringe. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, it’s never real love. Not that people desperate enough to request such magic care. True love…” He looks away. “It’s one of those things in nature that just can’t be tampered with. It’s either there…” His jaw clenches. “Or it isn’t.”
Something in his tone sets my heart aflutter. “That’s true,” I say in a breathless voice.
He saunters toward the wall nearest him and presses his palm into it. “Most of the requests are from mothers.”
Taking in a deep breath, I walk over and stand next to him. “What kind of spells do they want cast?” My voice is so low, he has to lean closer to me.
“What’s that?” he asks in a voice so soft, I want to slip it on as a second skin.
I draw in a shaky breath. “Um, I asked…uh…what kind of spells…you know…do mothers ask for?”
He smiles and doesn’t lean away. I hope he stays that way. I almost feel like I might fall over if he does. Instead, he traces his fingers along a line of symbols I can’t read.
“Most of them ask for spells for their children.” His eyes narrow. “For instance, this young mother, Shelia, wants a spell protecting her daughter from her boyfriend.” His eyes darken. “Apparently he likes to put his hands on her and not in a good way.”
Bile rises in my throat. “Oh.”
Charming’s hand balls into a fist, and he pounds the wall. “God, if there’s one thing I can’t stand…” He shakes his head.
I understand exactly how he feels. In high school, Trixie had this boyfriend who didn’t take too kindly to her coming out to him. He put his hands on her, and I put my tire iron on his face.
I scoff. “You should hex the bastard.”
He turns to me. Our noses are only inches from each other. It becomes almost impossible to breathe.
“If I do something other than what is requested, it taints the magic,” he whispers. “Plus, a protection spell is much more effective.”
My chest rises and falls in rapid bursts. “Doesn’t seem…as just.”
“Oh, but it is.” His eyes light up and become more than eyes. They are vast pools I could swim in. “A protection spell allows Shelia’s daughter to reclaim her life. Places her in a shell until she can figure out her boyfriend is a douche bag and she deserves better. Hexes are…messy. The residual magic conjured up during them can leak out, touch the person that requested it, warp everyone involved in some small way. But protection…” He holds his hand out to me.
With a glance down, I place my hand in his. Every inch of my flesh becomes alive and begs to be touched.
“Protection is nice and neat.” He squeezes my hand. “You want to help me with this one?”
My mouth falls open. “H-help?” I shake my head. “I’m not a-a…”
He smiles and draws me closer. “I know.” His eyes narrow like he’s concentrating deeply. “But you helped me drive that ghost out of Trixie. I’m sure this will be a piece of cake.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah...wha—what was that about?”
Charming pulls my hand forward, places it against his chest, and looks at me intently.
“I’m not sure, but I’m trying to find out.” He tilts his head. “So, will you help me?”
I can’t do anything but nod. I will give him whatever he wants. I will do whatever he wants. Anything so that he’ll keep looking at me like this.
“Good.” He pulls his hand from mine slightly then pats the back of it. “All I need you to do is keep your hand right here and close your eyes.”
I nod again, and my lips part a bit. He places his other hand on the wall and leans so close to me that I grow lightheaded. His lips twitch slightly, then he says, “Okay, close your eyes now.”
I take in a breath and do as he says. Almost instantly, the space around me goes warm. So warm that little sweat beads break out along my skin. The warmth sinks into my flesh, and Charming starts to mutter something under his breath. Most of it I can’t understand, but I do make out something about protection and fire. Steadily, his voice gets louder, and as it does, my skin begins to almost vibrate. I feel his energy bouncing off me in waves.
At first I’m scared, but the clearer Charming’s voice gets, the safer I feel. Then something more than a safe feeling manifests inside me. I feel strong. Vibrant. Like I can conquer all my ghosts. Almost as if I can’t stop myself, I inch closer to him, pressing my hand harder against his heart. It thumps against my flesh. Even though I can’t see, I can picture the room around me pulsating with light.
The energy from the spell spins circles around me. I can feel Charming’s breath against my forehead. It makes me dizzy. I’ve never felt anything like this… This high, this kind of self-empowerment.
The buzz of Charming’s speech slowly dies down. When he stops speaking altogether, there is a ripple of energy so strong it almost blows me back. His arms tighten around me.
The warmth in the room pours out of my skin, and I’m left with a cool, tingling sensation. The room fills with the kind of quiet that can’t help but bring clarity with it.
I belong with him this night, in this storage unit.
I don’t know why or how I know this, but I do, sure as I know my first name.
Taking in a breath, I ask, “Is it done?” even though I already know the answer.
“Yes,” he says, his breath rushing against my cheek.
My eyelids flutter open. Air catches in my throat in response to the way he’s looking at me. I’ve never been looked at by anyone like this. The intensity in his burning blue eyes sucks me in. The power of silence in this charged moment baffles me, makes me want to fill the limited space between us with words. At first, I can’t think of anything to say. Finally, I shake the stupid from my brain.
“D—did I help?”
His lips turn up into an easy smile. I can’t tear my eyes away from those lips. “You did.”
My heart pounds so hard, I can hear blood rushing through my ears like water through a high pressure hose. “How?” I ask in a shaky voice.
His tongue whips across his bottom lip. I almost fall out.
“Well, almost anyone can help a witch with a spell…” He starts in a rough voice. “But that isn’t the explanation for what happened just now.”
I blink, trying to focus on his words rather than the beautiful mouth forming them. “Th—then what is?”
His head tilts to the side. “Have you ever heard of touch magic?”
I shake my head.
He lifts his hand and twirls one of my curls between his fingers. “It’s when a non-magical person forms an…unusual bond with a witch.” His finger trails across my cheekbone, making it damn near impossible for me to concentrate on what he’s saying. “It’s actually quite rare. But when it happens, the non-magical person can serve as a magical boost to the witch whenever they touch. Hence the term touch magic.”
My quivering lips part. “What do you mean ‘unusual bond?’”
His lips pucker as if he’s thinking hard about whatever he’s about to say next. “It’s unusual because it’s created by an emotional connection so strong, it defies the laws of nature. It can be love, hate, or a co
mbination of both. It’s rare for it to exist outside of the bond between a mother and a child because that kind of emotional connection, the kind that defies nature, is very uncommon between strangers.”
My eyes widen. “Wow,” I whisper.
I lick my dry lips. “So you’re saying…I can do magic?”
He smiles. “In a sense, yes. As long as you’re touching me.”
“Wow.” His head tilts to the other side. “Of course, I can’t be sure.”
Something floods out of me. It leaves me feeling cold and empty. A shiver races across my skin.
“No?”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can be sure…until I kiss you.”
My heart feels like it stops in my chest then sets to thundering painfully hard. His face inches closer to mine. I close my eyes in anticipation. Instead of feeling his lips against my own, his breath blows heat against my ear.
“Unless you have a problem with that.”
I can’t speak. A soft moan escapes my lips.
He presses his face against the side of mine. His stubble tickles my skin, and I shake again. Not from the cold, but from the need to be touched by him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that.”
I let out another groan. His lips twist up into a smile against my cheek.
“Oh, Kinsley. You can do better than that.”
Is he serious? My breath comes out in puffs. “Than.” Huff. “What?”
“Than that,” he says as if it’s helpful. “Now, tell me. Tell me you want me to kiss you…and do whatever it is I’m going to do after I kiss you.”
I moan again and press up on my tiptoes. He cups my face and keeps me still.
His eyes are half-closed as he says, “Tell me.”
I nod. “Kiss me,” I beg in a barely audible voice.
“And?” He brings his lips within inches of my own.
“And…whatever else you…”
He presses his lips against mine. Hungrily. Almost roughly. I let out a gasp and tangle my fingers in his hair. He lifts me up slightly in his arms and slams me against the wall.
I barely feel it.
All I can feel are his lips massaging into my own. The feel of them making me high, higher than I’ve ever felt. No high has ever made me feel near what I’m feeling in this moment. I can’t pin a label to it. It’s almost like every problem I’ve ever had or ever will have no longer matters.
All that matters is being in this space with him. Like this.
He parts my lips with his own and gently presses his tongue against mine. He’s Goldilocks, baby. Not too much tongue. Not too little, but just right. A grunt exits his lips and sends a tingle between my legs.
Then his lips are everywhere. My eyelids. Along the side of my neck. Down the center of my cleavage. An excitement I didn’t know I was capable of bubbles up inside me.
His lips on my earlobe, on the bridge of my nose…
His hands cupping my ass, breathing heavy against me…
I want this. Him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Maybe even drugs.
When he pulls away, we’re both breathing heavy. Neither one of us says anything for a long while. We just stare into each other’s eyes, panting.
“Well?” I finally ask, tracing my finger along his jaw.
“Well, what?” he asks in a husky voice.
“Was it touch magic?”
“Yes.” He flicks his hand to the side, and the room goes dark. Then a bed with silk sheets boxed in by flickering flames appears. At first I think they’re candles, but they’re not attached to anything. Just flames dancing in mid-air.
I turn and dig my nails into his shirt. “Subtle.”
He winks at me. “Never been my strong suit.” He presses his lips to mine again. This time it’s a slow, patient kiss. It’s like he knows he has me, and there’s no need to rush.
He’s right.
When he pulls away again, I whimper. A satisfied smile touches his lips.
“I want you, Kinsley,” he whispers. “Can I have you?”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone utter a sexier question. I stare at him and nod.
“Good.” He drops his arms from around me and backs up toward the bed. Then he sits down and says, “Now, take your clothes off.”
12
HIS WORDS CATCH me off guard. I look down and twist my fingers. Even though I can’t see his face, I can feel his gaze on me. And either I’m going crazy, or I swear I can feel what his gaze is saying. He’s expectant. Excited and growing impatient.
“Kinsley?” he prompts with an animalistic edge in his tone. “Did you hear me?”
I laugh, another nervous tick I’ve developed over the years. “Yes.”
“And?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “And no way.” I force myself to raise my eyes. If I’m going to tell him no way this is going to happen, then I should at least give him the eye contact to go with it.
The way he’s staring at me almost forces me to drop my gaze. Almost. It also almost makes me want to change my I-only-do-it-in-the-dark policy.
He frowns when I don’t say anything. “I thought you said I could have you?” There’s an air of lightness in his voice that doesn’t match the expression on his face. It’s as if he’s half-teasing, half-serious.
I don’t even know how to respond.
His expression falters, then he rolls his eyes. “Ah, fuck. I’m sorry.”
I frown. “For what?”
“This is too fast.” He stands up. “I thought we were…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Blood left my brain.”
My eyes widen when I realize what he’s apologizing for. I shake my head.
“No, no!” I saunter to him and place my hands against his chest. “It’s not that. Trust me.” I giggle and shake my head. “It’s just that…I’m really only comfortable…you know…if it’s dark.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
I frown. Is he messing with me, or is he trying to be nice? I back away a few inches, trying to get a better look at his face. It’s hard to stare at him and concentrate at the same time. There’s nothing even close to a laugh line on his face.
He’s being serious.
“Oh,” I say.
He frowns.
I look at my feet and sigh. “Well, look at me.” My voice is small, and suddenly I feel so very high school and pathetic. All my insecurities bubble to the surface and are laid bare for him to look at and judge as he sees fit.
But instead of judging, he just chuckles. “That’s the idea, Kinsley.”
I peer up at him. The desire in his eyes sets me on fire and starts to melt away my insecurities. Then decades of self-loathing digs at me. My mother’s voice in my head.
Kinsley, you have such a pretty face. If only you’d drop that weight. I shake my head, trying to get her out of the wrinkles in my brain. Such a lady boner killer.
“What? What is it?” he asks.
“I’m fat.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
His eyes widen, and his mouth becomes a small hole.
Great. Nothing sexier than a grown ass woman with body issues.
“Are you for real?” he finally asks.
I bite my bottom lip.
Charming chuckles again and shakes his head, then he starts to walk circles around me.
“You know why witches are smarter than most men?”
Confusion joins the plethora of emotions I’m feeling. “Um…”
“Because we understand the power of the female form.” He stops briefly in front of me then starts circling again. “It’s brought men to their knees. It’s started and ended wars.”
As he circles me, I can feel his eyes on every inch of my body. I feel like some small thing he’s hunting, and the feeling sends a very real thrill through me.
“It’s powerful in all forms, Kinsley. The only thing that makes one form more superior
to the other is the one coveting it.” He stops and leans in to whisper against my ear. “You shouldn’t disrespect it. I know I sure as hell don’t.” He steps to the side so that he’s facing me again. “Are you a woman of your word, Kinsley?’
My mouth falls open. It takes me a few moments to get myself together. Finally, I’m able to nod and mutter a feeble, “Yes.”
“Good, because you said I could have you.”
My thoughts start racing. I sway on my feet.
He leans in toward me so quickly that I jump. Pressing his lips to my ear, he whispers, “Now take. . . your clothes. . . off.” With that, he pulls away and sits back down on the bed.
My insecurities are still there, but something more powerful piles on top of them. I would call it desire, but it’s more than that. It’s something rawer than even need. Whatever it is, it has me pulling my sweatshirt off and tossing it to the floor.
Charming tilts his head with satisfaction. “Good. Keep going.”
With shaking hands, I reach for the button on my jeans and undo them. A low rumble comes from Charming’s throat. I unzip my jeans, and his hands ball up, clutching the sheets on the bed.
“Slow,” he says, biting the corner of his lip. “Go slow.”
I let my eyes slide shut as I shimmy my jeans down past my hips. My heart pounds in my ears, and my hands start to tremble. I pause and take in a deep breath, then I play music in my head. Hard rock, like I’m on camera. A slight smile touches my lips as I start up again, peeling my jeans down my thighs, my calves, and then all the way down to my ankles.
I step out of them. Charming is breathing heavy in front of me. My smile widens. I go to work on my tank top, pulling it over my head and shaking out my hair.
“Gods, help me,” Charming’s voice says against my ear.
I jump, and he wraps his arm around my stomach, pulling me back against him. I feel how much he wants me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 178
