by Ariel Hunter
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed. “You’re here in this mansion with the most powerful warlock in the world—who also happens to be sexy as hell and wants you—for your protection, Marnie. Literally to keep you alive. Is it that hard to believe that the threat against is very real and would also be something really difficult for you to take on by yourself? Why don’t you just get out of your own way and make things easier on yourself?”
I pretended to scowl at her and sighed. As always, Anya was right. When it came down to it, I knew I had taken some things for granted, but the situation was still something she couldn’t understand. Not truly. This world and what it meant to be locked into it.
Callan stopped in front of us, bare-chested. I noticed that Anya couldn’t help but whip an appraising glance up and down his finely muscled body and dart curious looks at the delicious tattoos on his sleeve and chest. I laughed and pointed at the short board he was holding.
“What do you think you’re doing with that?”
“All the wards are secure. Everything should be safe here if we surf for an hour or so. I figured I’d join you.”
Anya and I looked at each other, stunned by his smug tone, and chuckled.
“Do you even know how to surf?”
He shrugged, that cocky glint in his hazel eyes irresistible, but this was one thing that wasn’t just going to be easy to champion with charm. “It can’t be that hard.”
Anya shrugged at me, so I shrugged at him. “All right, buddy.”
We stripped down to swimsuit bottoms and rash guards while Callan faced the ocean with his board prone in front of him. As we joined him, ready to head out into the water and start paddling, I said, “why don’t you start on some easy, shallow attempts at just standing up? If we are only going to be out here an hour, I don’t really want to spend the time instructing you.” Anya jabbed me in the ribs as the word vomit just came out. I glanced over to see her raised eyebrows judging me. I pursed my lips and she inclined her head, thrusting her chin toward him. I cleared my throat and looked back at Callan. “I’m sorry. That came out incredibly shitty. I just meant—”
He nodded. “I understand. I tried it a couple times when I was a kid before I switched over to windsurfing. I’m sure I will pick it up. I’ll join you in a bit.”
“Ok,” I said, and I gave him a small smile. I didn’t want him to know that I didn’t think it was something someone could just ‘pick up.’ Surfing was an art. He wasn’t going to be a master as soon as he picked up a brush, or in this case, a board.
Anya and I laughed as we paddled out into the water, diving straight into the waves to let it crest over our bodies and wash over us. These waves would be decent. They rolled fast, but high and heavy.
When we reached the flat settled ocean to sit on our bobbing boards and size up the first set to catch, I looked back toward Callan where he was taking early wave movement. I was surprised to see he was actually standing on the board. Was that a flare of gold I saw? Was he holding himself up with magic? I looked closer, but it was just sunlight gleaming off the shore right behind him.
Still, it was impressive he was standing up. He was a bit unsteady, hands held out to the side, knees wobbly, but he was up.
“Wow, he’s up,” Anya said. “Maybe he is actually good—”
The board shot out from under Callan and he fell into the water, head hitting first, feet up in the air, board brought back to him only by the leash tether as it tried to escape to the shore.
I chuckled under my breath. “Ouch.”
I turned to look at the waves rolling in behind us, vindicated that Callan’s lack of surfing skills were evident, and I only felt a little bit bad about it. I was accustomed to being the one bad at everything that he was so incredibly good at. At least he wasn’t going to steal surfing from me.
“Let’s take these next ones.” I beamed a smile at Anya and stretched my arms up to the sky, relishing the feel of the sun on my skin. The humidity for the summer was making it sticky, but the fresh breeze over the ocean made it hardly noticeable while we were on the water.
We started paddling hard to catch the next wave and I saw Callan wipe out again before I was pulled back into my own rush, racing down the wave and soaking the salty spritz of sea water. The ocean made a prismatic glow of blending blues and greens as the wave crested. At the end of the tunnel, just the barest glimpse of ocean shore urged me onward.
The ocean was answering the need in my soul.
I dragged my fingertips through the water as I bent my knees low to stay tucked in the pipe, feeling the harmony inside me flow through the water all around me. Pink sparkles flashed off my fingertips. I smiled.
Then the ride was over, and I was coasting to a stop, jumping off my board into the knee-deep water and looking up the shore toward Callan where he was wiping out again. A part of me was disappointed that he hadn’t been watching my stellar ride.
I picked up my board and headed in Anya’s direction. She was grinning at me.
“What?”
“It’s just nice to see you so happy.”
“That was an awesome ride.”
“Looked good.”
We paddled back out and took a few more rides in. Callan had moved further up the beach. He was making progress, but he seemed to be in the water more than on his board.
The hour of our allotted surfing time had to be just about over, but I didn’t want it to end. I looked back toward Callan, only to find him missing. His board was on shore. That was weird . . .
My board rocked in the water as he materialized on top of it. His broad chest glistened in the sunlight as he towered over me, having teleported out to us.
“Callan, shit,” I yelped. I clutched the edges of the board, scrambling to re-right us. He flexed his knees and feet to keep us steady, grinning.
“I have a deal for you.”
I shielded my face from the sun’s light in my eyes and peered up at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll race you. Anya will be the judge of who takes the better ride. If you win, you don’t have to train today. We will start tomorrow. You can have all of today to hang out with Anya.”
I raised my eyebrows. Easy.
“And if you win?”
“I get a kiss.”
Anya was clearly amused on the other side of Callan, trying not to laugh.
“What will Anya be judging the ride on? Speed? Style? Time of the ride?”
“Let’s say style. Toss some flair around.”
“Callan, you literally just started surfing, you don’t know any”—I paused mid-sentence to re-evaluate—“actually, I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. We got a deal. Try not to drown.”
Callan held his hand out and I shook it, not expecting him to lean down close. My shortboard rocking at the movement. His hazel eyes blazed with intensity as they stared straight into my soul.
“I’ll have that kiss,” he said huskily, face close to mine.
“Oh yeah?” I leaned in, a sly smirk spreading across my face. “I think that you’ll kiss the water.” Then I jerked my board and flung him into the ocean.
Callan’s splash as his body hit the water drenched me and he lunged back up, laughing as he swam lazily around me like a shark circling its prey. The analogy wasn’t lost on me as I grinned down at him. He held up a hand for truce, before hauling himself into a seated position on my surfboard. Our knees were less than an inch apart. The tiny distance electrifying the air between us as we looked at each other.
He took a deep breath. “Let me get my board,” Callan said. “Be right back.” He flashed out in a teleport and the sulphur smell whipped away quickly on the salt breeze. Then he was back, teetering as he stood on my board again, dripping wet. He dropped into the water beside me and Anya.
“It’s kinda cheating not having to paddle out all the way by yourself,” I grumbled.
Callan grinned. “It’s like I’ve been trying to teach you. Work smarter, not harder.”
>
Anya snorted. “Sure. That’s what you’ve been teaching her.”
I shot her a look and she raised both hands in surrender. Callan didn’t even seem to notice as he said, “If you had magic, wouldn’t you study hard, learn how to control it, then use it effectively to improve your life and the lives of others?”
I groaned. “I see what you’re doing here, but trying to say that you somehow improved your life or the lives of others by not facing the time-honored tradition of the paddle-out is not the way you’re going to win me over to disciplined witch training,” I said. “Also, we’re meant to be surfing. This isn’t training time. Save it for the classroom.”
“Fair enough,” Callan said, easing onto his own board beside me. “I guess I’m not accustomed to needing to paddle out since I’m a windsurfer. So, I found a way that I don’t have to.” Callan grinned. “Anya, can you take the next wave in so that you can be on shore to judge our ride?”
“Are you sure you’re ready to try for one from way out here? We saw your”—she paused, her nose scrunching as she tried to find a diplomatic word and it was my turn to snort as she settled on—“attempts on the shallower stuff.”
Callan grinned again. “I’m ready.”
Anya shrugged at me and started paddling out to take her wave in.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t wipe out too hard.
I looked over at Callan. “Who goes first?”
“Why don’t you? I’d like to watch you grab the wave.”
“Taking a tip from the experts, eh?”
“Every chance I can,” he said with a wink.
I looked behind us at the set coming in and grinned. This one was going to be a monster. “All right, I’m taking this one. See you on the shore.”
I started paddling hard, leaving him watching my ass. Or, at least I hoped he was watching my ass. I certainly did enough watching his as he walked away this morning.
Thinking of this morning had me shaking my head. I was on the ocean. This was my place and I had the whole day on the line here. I needed to focus.
I needed this ride to be epic.
The muscles in my biceps rippled as I tensed and pushed up, flinging myself into the perfect stance on my board at just the right time. My stomach did the sweet little flip as I sailed off the crest, water chasing my heels as it rolled and broke. I raced it over the clear blue, then pressured in, ducking into the pipe, and streaking under its crashing veil.
My heart hammered in my chest as the rush hit me and pink magic flared at my fingers once more. A wide smile broke out across my face as I tucked low, going fast, until I reached the end of the pipe. I kicked the board out high, spraying a fishtail with the back end of my board half out of the water over the wave.
Toss some flair around, he said.
Flair that, asshole.
The day would be mine.
The board came back down, and I carried it forward, the pipe rushing to catch me. I spun up, pressing down, the board jumped into the air, doing a full three-sixty, before landing me back on the face of the wave.
My fingertips trailed through the water, the pipe tense over my body as pink sparks radiating out into the ripples of water all around us, staining the sea water magenta. I cleared the end just as the pipe exhausted and pumped a fist like that guy in the Breakfast Club as I headed to the shore.
Anya’s hooting and cheering as I reached her on the beach told me I had done well. Better than well given Callan likely wouldn’t be able to stay on his board for even half a set.
I popped my board up using my foot and took a deep breath as I came to stand beside her.
“That was one of your best. Let’s see what your man’s got,” she said and nodded to Callan, who was already on his way in, having taken the set right behind me.
“He’s not my man,” I corrected without looking away. He was up and seemed steady. His stance was good. He was riding down a monster wave, and I had to admit it, he looked like he knew what he was doing.
He disappeared into the pipe. A couple of seconds passed. It’s not like it was a long ride, in general. A spike of nervousness went through me. Had he wiped out already? Shit. Was he okay? This was a bad idea. He could get seriously hurt . . .
Then I saw him, tightly in control, coming out of the end. He ducked down low and sped up to an impossible speed as he burst from the barrel, aiming straight up the crashing wave. Fully in the air, droplets of water glistening as they dripped from his rock-hard body. Time seemed to slow for a second as the realization that I’d been hustled hit me.
He did a backflip off the wave, completely inverted, and landed safely on the fading pipeline—and then had the gall to flash me a cocky grin.
That motherfucker.
“Holy fuck,” Anya said. She looked as speechless as I felt. Well, aside from calling him a motherfucker.
Callan gradually stood back up as he coasted into the shore.
Anya looked from him to me, her mouth wide open. I knew she hadn’t meant to cheer when he had landed safely. Shit, I had been moved too. Instead, I clenched my fists.
There was just no way, no way, he pulled that off. Either he used magic, or he had lied all day and was actually a much better surfer than he told us.
That motherfucker cheated.
I tried to look for any gold glow in the air of his magic, but there was such natural gold glow from the sunlight nuzzling the ocean waves, that I just couldn’t tell. Which meant I couldn’t prove it.
Callan tossed his board onto the sand as he walked up to us, grinning smugly.
“So?” he asked. “Who won?”
Anya bit her lip and looked with wide eyes at us. I glared at her.
“Anya, don’t you dare.”
“I’m sorry, Marnie, you saw that. I mean, your three-sixty was killer, but that flip . . . holy fuck. Stylistically, I would have to say . . .”
Callan clapped his hands together triumphantly. I groaned.
“Callan wins.”
Callan hooted and pointed at me. “Training this afternoon. Report in two hours to the library.”
“And?”
He looked back up at me as he picked up his board. “And what?”
“Don’t you want to collect your . . . other winnings?” I grumbled, swallowing the arguments I wanted to make. Callan was still breathing a bit heavily, and it was hard not to focus on the rise and fall of his stupidly perfect chest.
“I plan to.” He grinned and rubbed his jaw. “Just not right now.”
“So, I’m just supposed to give you a kiss whenever you want it?” I demanded. “That’s not what we agreed to—”
“We never set a timeframe, so yes, actually, we did. And believe me—when I ask you for it, you’re going to be wanting it too.”
Anya snickered between us as Callan stepped away, his eyes not leaving mine until he had taken five steps backward. Then he turned, and I found myself watching his ass walk away.
“Marnie, you cannot tell me you don’t feel something for that man,” Anya said as soon as Callan was out of earshot. “I mean, look at him.” She waved her hand.
I unflexed my fists. They hurt. I had been holding them clenched so hard. I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Also, I swear Callan cheated somehow.”
“What? With magic?”
“Of course with magic. I just can’t fathom how he was able to do that trick otherwise, can you?”
“It was unbelievable,” she said. “Maybe the man would just do anything to get a kiss from you.”
I picked up my board and clothes, ignoring the feeling of sand clinging to my wet body as I marched up the back-porch steps. I couldn’t believe I had lost. Was he just supremely good at everything he touched? Did he just shoot rainbows out of his ass? How could one person be good at everything? The simple answer was, they couldn’t.
But a bet was a bet. And now I had to train more this afternoon with Mr. Perfect. Fuck me.
Chapter 3
&nb
sp; “Who owns this place?” I looked around at the broken-down innards of what had once been a nice restaurant.
Tables were stacked up on top of each other against the walls, chairs with spindly backs and legs twisted into each other in the corners. Tattered curtains hung askew. Wires were ripped from the walls and hanging from the ceiling in spiderwebbed bundles. Beautiful stained glass lampshades still hovered on their brass chains, a few of them with fractured panels. There was even a fountain and a pool in the center of the room, mermaid figures diving in and out of the carved marble. It had likely held fish and been a beautiful little water feature during the restaurant’s prime. A redwood bar curved out from one wall with giant mirrors, now shattered, scaling up behind it. The only light in the place was through a few high windows that didn’t have boards on them.
“One of my father’s friend’s. Technically, the guy’s nephew. The friend died ten years back. My dad looks after the property. The nephew lives in Asherville and has no interest in having a restaurant in Eastbrooke, so he just closed it down once he inherited it.” Our steps left footprints in the dust on the hardwood floor.
“I vaguely remember it being open when I was a kid, but it was way out of our price range for a dinner out.”
Callan looked around and then spun a chair up from the pile, as if he were pulling it out for me to sit at one of the dust-covered tables. “I knew I had to take you to a nice place for our first dinner date.”
I flicked at the switch on the wall. No electricity. “Not a date. Training,” I murmured, flipping the switch a few more times. I sighed and dropped my hand away.
“Dating. Training. They’re basically the same with you.”
I opened my mouth to object when he disappeared behind swinging wooden doors and came back out holding a small animal cage. Inside were six little white mice. He set the cage down on the bar. Then dug around underneath the bar and came up with a little bowl that had likely been used for holding olives or cherries in its prime. He turned on the faucet, and to my surprise, water spurted, spluttered, ran brown for a moment, but then went nice and clear. He filled up the cup and set it in the cage. The mice took little sips.
