Speak (Witches & Warlocks Book 1)

by R. M. Webb

  “Maybe.” Droplets of water bead on my glass and pool on the table. I swipe a napkin around to gather the ring of condensation.

  “What kind of things?” He leans in. The only thing in my field of vision is Noah. His face. His dark hair. His spectacular eyes.

  “Uh-uh. Not sharing.” The tiger stretches languidly, pleased.

  “I have ways of making you talk.” Noah sits back and arches an eyebrow. Somehow I don’t think he’s joking and somehow I kinda think he’s suggesting something intimate, and somehow I might just like where he’s going, even if he is being a little corny getting there.

  I smile again. That’s all I’ve done all night. Smile and blush. Blush and smile. He must think I’m a moron. A yawn sneaks up on me and I cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “Excuse me,” I say when it’s over. “I’m not sure why I’m so sleepy.”

  “Maybe because it’s after two in the morning?”

  “You’re kidding!” I spin and look around me. Empty chairs. Empty pool table. Empty bar. The bartender is leaning back, arms crossed, scowling at us from across the room. I whip my gaze back to Noah. “I had no idea.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m so sorry.” It’s the first thing I can think to say. He must be exhausted and here I am monopolizing his time.

  “Why?” The question is genuine. I see it in his eyes. “Don’t be. I stayed ‘cause I wanted to be here.”

  Well, that feels good. Not gonna lie. Again I smile and duck my head. There was a song once. The lyrics were like ‘played a quick game of chess with the salt and pepper shakers.’ I totally get that. Can’t help but sing it every time I fidget like I’m doing now, lining everything up on the table, giving me an excuse to look everywhere but at Noah. His name echoes, filling my mind. Oh man. I’m totally infatuated with this guy.

  That can’t be good.

  Because I’m going to want to see him again.

  The tiger arches an eyebrow and levels me with her mighty gaze. (Hey. It’s my imaginary tiger living inside me. If I say she can arch an eyebrow, she can arch an eyebrow. Don’t judge.) Anyway, the tiger reminds me that Noah has spent the whole night at my side on purpose. He’s smiled. He’s laughed. He’s touched me over and over and over and I swear it’s just like magic, those little pings of wonderful going off between us. He’s going to want to see me again, too. I think.

  I take a breath and before I know it, I say exactly what’s on my mind. “I’m not ready to leave.”

  Noah smiles a perfect smile. It’s intimate somehow. Like what I said touched him and this moment was made just for us. Me liking the way he makes me feel and him liking the way I make him feel. He leans in. “Me neither.” His look goes all conspiracy theory on me. “But I think the bartender might be ready to kill us.” I giggle. I’m not a giggler. I don’t usually giggle. At least, not on purpose. What the hell is happening to me? “Can I walk you to your car?”

  “Oh. I walked here tonight.”

  The playfulness leaps from Noah’s face. “You walked.” His words are a statement but his voice and face are a question. “Here. In this neighborhood.”

  Oh, hell. He’s upset. The tiger leaps to her feet and starts pacing and I am suddenly very uncomfortable. “Ya. It’s not that long of a walk. And it’s safe enough. I never have any trouble.”

  “Zoe.” He’s this big ball of concern and judgement and I don’t know how to handle it. “This isn’t the safest of neighborhoods.”

  I walk here all the time. I walk everywhere I can really. I’ve never felt nervous. No one looks at me. I might as well be a ghost. I mean, the further away from the college you go, I guess it does get kinda rough and I’ve heard stories of girls running into trouble with some of the frat boys. But I don’t go too far from the college and I’m not the kinda girl frat boys are looking to bother.

  I don’t say any of that out loud. Instead I open and close my mouth a few times, wishing the words would hurtle whatever it is that’s suddenly blocking them. I must look like a dumb old fish gasping for air. My gaze darts from his eyes to the balls of napkin I’ve left on the table.

  Noah sighs and reaches for my hands. “Let me drive you home.”

  I blink away my surprise. I’d love more time with him. But… “I can’t waste any more of your time.” I finish my thought out loud.

  “It’s not a problem or I wouldn’t have offered.” I’m distracted by the way the ping of golden contact has settled into a warm hum flowing from my hands, up my arms, and towards my heart. There’s almost a breeze, tickling my skin, rushing past my cheeks, and ever so softly whispering in my hair. What in the world is that?

  “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Well. Put it this way. I’d be more put out if you turned me down.”

  Well, no. I don’t want that at all. My face is transparent and I know he can see the rush of fear that takes over me at the thought of upsetting him further. I smile quickly and drop my chin.

  “Well, ok, then. It’s really not that far.”

  Noah releases my hand and it’s like I can breathe again. Like his hand on mine was somehow shortening my breath. He circles the table and offers me his elbow. I’m surprised by the gesture and love it all at the same time. I drape my arm through his, loving the way it feels, expecting the ping of contact and am shocked when this warm melty glowy feeling emanates from him into me. If that sounds strange, then it does the feeling justice. Stepping into his personal space like that, being connected to him and oh, so close softens me somehow. Comforts me. Quiets me. Empowers me. It’s the best, strangest feeling I’ve ever had.

  He leads me to his car and opens the door for me. I can’t help but meet his eyes as I lower myself into the seat. “Thank you.” I nearly whisper the words, thankful they even came at all. Who is this girl? I don’t pick up guys at bars and let them drive me home. And considering the guy is someone like Noah? Well. It’s like I don’t know myself at all.

  I navigate him to my apartment and he pulls into the space Becca’s Jeep would normally occupy. Which kinda makes me want to giggle because a.) Becca is really territorial about her space and b.) I know it’s pretty much time to say goodbye and I’m not sure if Noah’s gonna kiss me or not.

  I’d love it if he tried to kiss me. I want nothing more than to feel his lips against mine, to breathe in his scent, to feel the prickle of his stubble scrape against my chin. I want his hands in my hair. Or maybe I want them wrapped around me. Or maybe I want one in my hair and the other pulling me close. Oh, they all sound good.

  I can’t bring myself to look at him as he turns the key in the ignition and kills the engine. The tiger is thumping her tail on the floor, impatient with my drama. I’m nervous, but it’s not because I haven’t kissed a guy before. I’m shy, but I’m twenty-three. I’ve had a few great kisses in my time. It’s just that I just live in a constant state of nervous. Any bit of stimulation ups the amount of nervous in my system.

  “So, which one is yours?” Noah is peering out the front window, eyeing the row of identical doors in identical buildings spread out ahead of us.

  I point to my door, directly in front of Becca’s parking spot. “That’d be me.” Is he gonna walk me to my door? Should I get out? I wish he’d give me some clue as to what he wants me to do so I can just do it already and stop wondering what the appropriate action should be.

  “I had a good time with you tonight, Zoe.” Oh man. My name sounds so good in his voice.

  “I had a good time, too.”

  Noah’s facing me. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. I give him a minute to reach for me, to say something, to do anything to let me know that he wants to kiss me as much as I’d like to kiss him. He doesn’t move. And now I’m just sitting awkwardly long in his car. Go figure. Me. Awkward. Who’d a thunk it? I reach for the handle, my stomach falling into my feet. He’s gonna just let me get out without kissing me. Without asking for my phone number. I mean, he knows where I live, but who really ever jus
t shows up uninvited at someone’s house anymore?

  “Zoe?”

  Oh, thank God.

  I pause with the handle pulled back and the car door half open. “Ya?” When I turn around to meet his eyes the car door swings shut a fraction of an inch.

  “We’re gonna do this at your pace.”

  Wait. What?

  Noah must have seen the question on my face because he smiles and continues. “You set the speed.”

  No. I don’t want to set the speed. I don’t like being in control. I want him to set the pace. I’m not good at this kind of stuff. I’m stunned. I think I’m just staring at him with my mouth hanging open. How could he be so perfect in so many ways and then do something like this to me? Can’t he see that I’m about as aggressive as a water lily?

  Well, a tiger dressed up as a water lily, I guess.

  Whatever.

  I’m no tiger. I’m meek as a mouse and boring as dry, white toast.

  I blink a few times, trying desperately to hide the flood of fear igniting little fireworks of anxiety throughout my body. My voice is gone, stuck behind that awful lump in my throat, so I just nod. I’m not even trying to make myself talk. I don’t know what I’d say. Disappointment settles heavily onto my shoulders. I don’t know what I was thinking, hoping someone like him would work for someone like me.

  I push on the door and toss him a quick smile before straightening out of the car. All that’s left now is to walk up to my door and chalk tonight up to another misadventure of my tedious life – a tiger held captive by a silent tongue. It’s all I can do not to run up to my apartment door.

  The passenger door clicks shut behind me and I lean down and give Noah a little wave of my fingers, still too wrapped up in myself to even mouth the word goodbye. His gorgeous mouth is pulled into a tight little frown, worry creasing his brow. Not even a minute ago I was daydreaming about tasting those lips.

  Tears burn my eyes as I turn away. I suck. I really, really suck. All I had to do was ask him to kiss me. But what if he didn’t want to? What if he was putting it on me in order to get out of this easier? If that’s the case, then why did he stay out all night with me? Why did he bother to drive me home? Why did he bother to suggest going at my speed?

  There’s another thump of a car door closing and I look back to find Noah bounding up the sidewalk towards me. “Just because we’re going at your speed doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentlemen and walk you to your door.”

  I’m a total disaster. I swear I’m aware of each moment as they happen. I hear my breath in my lungs. My blood rushing in my ears. My shoes hitting the sidewalk. I feel his hand on my lower back, that ping of warm contact that’s so unusual and wonderful all wrapped up into one strange feeling. I count the steps up to my door and there’s too many and not enough. I feel so good at his side. I don’t want to leave it.

  We run out of sidewalk and out of nowhere, the tiger stands and roars. “Noah?” I hear myself asking. “Will you kiss me?”

  There’s a moment of out of breath and heart pounding and absolute silence, just my wide, blue eyes seeking out his warm, blue eyes. And then he smiles and his eyes go from warm to hungry and his hands are on my face and his lips are on mine and it’s like being wrapped in wonderful. I breathe in deeply through my nose, catching his scent, filling my lungs and his hands snake up into my hair. It’s every bit as wonderful as I hoped it’d be. His kiss is this perfect juxtaposition of rough and sweet. Of soft and hard. His lips are supple, but his stubble scratches against my skin. And he’s so warm, but when I press my body against his, the muscles in his arms and chest are hard and full of resistance. My body melts around his, my curves conforming to his edges. And throughout it all, that feeling of safety and strength and warm, golden energy surrounds me and fills me and time and space might as well have come to an end.

  My body responds to his, eager for his hands to travel from where they tangle in my hair down to my neck and shoulders, to guide his arms as they pull me closer, to travel down my back and cup my ass. But seeing as how he’d dropped the ball in my court and I’m not the kind of girl who’ll be able to ask him to do the things I want him to do to me, I pull my lips from his. His hands stay threaded in my hair so our faces are still so very close.

  “Mmmm …” Noah half growls, half sighs and I’ll be honest, I know exactly what that sound means. It means that was good. It means I want more. It means yummy. He presses a kiss to my forehead and I can’t help but meet his eyes with a smile, my lips still feeling swollen from his kiss, tingling from the scratch of his stubble against the soft skin of my mouth.

  And then he steps away, unthreading his hands from my hair and I suddenly feel cold and alone and weak and I want to be right back in his arms. “I think I’m going to like you,” he says as he steps away, giving me room to fish through my purse for my keys. “You know where to find me.” Noah smiles. “We’re going at your pace, remember?” And with that he turns and walks back to his car, leaving me to watch him hungrily from my front porch. He waits until I slide my key into the lock and close the door between us — pausing to wave one last goodbye before I do — before I hear his car roar to life and watch the wide arc of his headlights travel across my darkened living room.

  That night I dream of two tigers wrapped around each other, lounging on a golden island floating on a golden cloud with snakes and dragons hissing and charring the land below them.

  Chapter 5

  “You did what?!”

  It’s morning and I’m on the phone with Becca and I can’t tell if she’s shocked because I went to Flannigan’s alone or because I kissed Noah or both. I smile to myself and play with the edge of my pajama top.

  “Zoe. We’re on the phone. You have to use your words. I can’t see you, remember?” Her voice, while playful, has a bit of an edge to it. Things must be really bad with her mom and dad. Poor Becca.

  “I kissed Noah last night.” I repeat the last thing I said to her. That has to be the bit of information with the most shock value to it. I’m smiling and I can hear it in my voice and it feels good. It also makes me think of actually kissing Noah and that feels even better. I close my eyes and inhale, hoping to find his scent still lingering on me somewhere.

  “I told you I didn’t like him.” My eyes blink open and my smile is obliterated by a frown. Since when does it matter if she likes the guy I’m kissing?

  “He’s really sweet…”

  “Zoe. Love.” She’s tense. All regret and sadness and something else, something darker and heavier. I can’t quite tell what it is since, as she just pointed out, we’re on the phone and I can’t read her body language. “This guy is trouble. You’re just gonna get hurt.”

  “I know he’s like way hotter than I deserve, and totally charming, but we spent the whole night talking. And even when I got quiet, things were ok then, too. They didn’t feel awkward and I didn’t feel embarrassed and I didn’t feel desperate to make myself speak. We talked and when I ran out of words, he just kind of waited for more to come.” That all sounds weird. It’s hard to explain how comfortable I felt with him, how easy it was to be with him. Becca doesn’t understand how hard it is to be me.

  “I know this kind of guy. Sure you felt at ease with him last night. That was his whole goal. He’s just playing with you.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Oh, ya? When are you seeing him again?”

  Shit. She’s got me there. “We didn’t make any plans…”

  “Oh. So he’s gonna call you?”

  Double shit. “He didn’t get my number.”

  There’s a long pause followed by a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “See?” Becca’s voice is too soft and filled with sympathy I don’t need. “Zo … This guy’s bad news.”

  My head’s spinning. I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything at all. I hear Becca rustling around; she’s started doing something on her end of the line. I can’t wrap my experience with Noah around her reaction t
o him. For the first time in like, ever, I was comfortable with someone. Well, maybe not comfortable, but as comfortable as I could ever hope to be. And he seemed, I don’t know, good. Like he was a genuinely nice guy. And now Becca’s telling me he’s not a nice guy. Am I that socially stunted that I simply can’t tell?

  Whatever had Becca distracted stops distracting her and she clears her throat. “Look, sweetie,” she says, her voice all full of irritating comfort and a dash of condescension that’s not mixing with my confusion all that well right now. “Guys like him enjoy finding broken birds like you. They enjoy the conquest…”

  My tiger hates being called a broken little bird but I can’t really deny that’s what I am, now can I? Indignation flares all hot and bright across my chest and I squash it with a cold dose of honest self-assessment. Like it or not, I really am broken. Becca huffs into the phone. She’s waiting for my response. So I take a deep breath and let it out, preparing myself to agree with her.

  “I guess you’re right.” I’m not sure I believe her, but I’m also not sure I don’t believe her. Social interactions just trip me up big time. Did I stumble across a predator and not know it? Is Noah really the kind of guy who just gets his kicks out of messing with girls? It didn’t feel like that at all. I’m so confused and so disappointed and my heart hurts a little. “When are you coming home?”

  “Miss me?”

  “Mhmmm.”

  “I’ve missed you, too. It’s just sad and strange around here. Mom’s all broken up and her apartment is tiny. Dad’s walking around like a pompous ass…” She trails off and I can hear how hard the trip has been for her.

  “So, when are you coming home?” Apparently, I can’t be trusted to operate on my own, without my seeing-eye dog. I need Becca to help me navigate the dangerous waters of social interaction because I’m useless. An idea blossoms. “Hey, this’ll sound weird, but, will you help me learn to talk to people? To understand them?”

  “Huh?” Becca’s distracted again.