by Shelly Bell
Be there 3am. You’d better be waiting.
Anxiety erupted through me. It was all happening too fast. I couldn’t make this decision. I couldn’t condemn one person to death just to save another. I was weak, just like my father had told me over and over again.
My new cell phone vibrated and I couldn’t take it. I pulled it from my pocket and without looking at it, threw it across the parking lot, watching it shatter. It only made me feel marginally better. Attempting to light the cigarette with shaking hands just led to another surge of profanity.
Gracefully, Hazel sat down next to me and waved her hand and a flame appeared from the lighter. “There,” Hazel said, leaning close to block the breeze. “Am I really that bad of a dancer?”
Grateful, I lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. “Nope, not with me as your partner.”
She looked a little relieved. I immediately felt guilty for not reassuring her before I’d left that it had nothing to do with her. She cleared her throat. “Normally I’d bust your balls for smoking, but I’d like to fare better than your phone.” She nodded toward the phone carcass next to the dumpster.
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying not to look shocked. I hadn’t even heard her come outside. I took a deep drag and was rewarded by a taste that matched my feelings.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.
I took another hit. “Nope.”
She nodded. I offered her the cigarette and she accepted. She inhaled and coughed lightly, shaking her head. “Nope, still disgusting. Just give me three fingers of Scotch any day.”
I raised one eyebrow, impressed. It was rare that a girl could hold good liquor. It didn’t surprise me, however, that she was one of those girls. “Three fingers, huh?” I mused, trying to lighten the mood.
She raised an eyebrow back. “In your dreams, pal.” But her tone and her body language didn’t match. Our fingers brushed as she handed me back the cigarette, her eyes glued to mine. I felt that too-hot fire again when she touched me. She let out a small gasp.
That gasp almost did me in. My mind imagined a thousand different ways I could make her do it again and again. “God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered, then froze. Holy shit, did I just say that out loud?
I snapped my focus back to my shattered phone, pretending it had been a completely planned compliment. I usually had game, just not within ten feet of this firecracker of a woman. She pulled her own phone out of her pocket and threw it next to mine. The screen shattered. “Third one in four months.” She shrugged. “No worries, it’s insured.”
A laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. I was so startled at the sound, the feeling, that I forgot how to talk. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed. Did she really just break her phone on purpose?
“So...” she started after my failed response, “are you giving up convention and communicating exclusively with smoke signals? Or did your phone just accidentally shatter into a dozen pieces?”
“He was tired of living a life of hard work, people were always pushing his buttons.” That was terrible, Lynch. Really, get it together. But she laughed. And my pants got even tighter. I was going to end up with a permanent zipper imprint on my favorite part of my body.
“Ex?” she asked, her voice still swollen with amusement. I glanced at her.
“Well, well, Miss Hazel, are you jealous?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Please, I was just asking. It was the logical choice.”
I took another drag on the cigarette, secretly smiling at her obvious jealousy over a non-existent ex-girlfriend. “Naw.” I didn’t do girlfriends. I used to have girls I called, but they didn’t call me first - as a rule.
“Ah, so family then,” she deduced.
I ran my hand down my face. “Yeah.”
“I know that feeling,” she admitted quietly, nodding at her own phone. I turned to her in time to see such a haunted expression in her eyes that it stabbed me to the core.
Her mother was a piece of work - every preternatural person within a three thousand mile radius knew of Ginger Evanora’s black magic addiction. She had made quite a name for herself in the dark arts before she’d snapped and turned into a cautionary tale. “Crazy bitch” was the phrase most commonly used.
“Well, I’ll let you grieve your phone in peace,” she said, motioning to the rubble and standing up.
My stomach dropped, shock and guilt and empathy warring at the thought of her leaving. “Happy birthday,” I said quietly, realizing I had never actually wished her a happy birthday.
“I told you I don’t celebrate my birthday. But thanks.” She turned to leave again and I reacted without thinking. I threw away the cigarette, stood up, and pulled her against my chest. My lips hovered a breath away from hers.
“Hazel Evanora, may I kiss you for your birthday?” Her eyes searched mine and she nodded. I ignored the voice berating me inside my head and let myself drown in the prelude to the kiss.
Then my lips pressed against hers.
She tasted like cherry Chapstick and cinnamon gum. Fire balled in my chest and exploded through my body. She let out a small moan and this time I couldn’t contain my growl. I pulled her tighter against me, my fingers wrapped in her ponytail.
I had kissed a lot of women, but none like this. Never like this. I knew in that instant that she would destroy me. There was no coming back.
She whimpered as I angled my mouth over hers. I nibbled on her bottom lip and her knees went weak.
Fantastic.
I gripped her tighter, keeping her upright, her mouth opening to accept me. I tasted her. The spice of cinnamon gum and the hint of smoke made her irresistible. I had to have her. Nothing else but that moment mattered.
My hand trailed up her rib cage, her hands roamed over my shoulders and my chest. “I need you,” I whispered against her lips before she overtook me again. It could have been a minute, an hour, even a day before she pushed me away, gasping for air. “That was...”
“No kidding.” She closed her eyes and pulled down her ponytail. The way her hair fell around her shoulders immediately launched visions of that hair covering my pillow and I scrubbed my hands over my face. Mercifully, she pulled it back up into her normal tight, neat style.
I was still holding on to her waist, unable to let her go. She cleared her throat. “Look, I’m going to be frank with you -”
“Do I get to be Dean or Sammy?” I smiled. She blinked at me. “Come on, the Rat Pack?”
“Yeah, I know. Just, it wasn’t called The Rat Pack after Bogart died.”
“Touché.” God, I was a goner. Might as well carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to her. “You were saying?”
“This,” she motioned between us. “Can’t happen.” Her words didn’t match her tone. I could see the passion swirling behind her purple eyes.
I brought my lips to her ear. “This never has to be anything more. Please just let me give you something for your birthday.” Seriously karma, if you’re listening, I swear I did not give my mouth permission to say that. It just came out.
But I didn’t care as her eyes searched mine. “Just tonight.” It took everything I had not to jump up and down. I kissed her again. I couldn’t stop, she was like a drug.
The back door opened and we leapt apart. Mitch stuck his head out and raised his eyebrow. She frowned and him and turned back to me. “So, hey, come in about four tomorrow. We’ll have Tiff show you a few tricks to help get you on your feet,” Hazel said, trying to look casual. Like it wasn’t obvious by her swollen lips what we had been doing.
Mitch glared at me and huffed a response, going back inside. “Thanks,” I breathed in relief. She smiled briefly and walked back inside like nothing had happened. I wish I had my phone to throw all over again.
Chapter 8
Grayson
“Need me to stay, sweetie?” Raine leaned over the bar toward Hazel, exhaustion evident in her every movement. “And why do you smell like roses?”
“I’m fine, stop worrying. And go home girl, get some sleep. Good luck on your test tomorrow.” Hazel kissed her cheek and gave her a one armed squeeze. Raine turned to wave at me before poking her head into the kitchen.
“Mitchy, I’m out! Walk me?”
“Not if you keep calling me Mitchy!” he returned.
She winked at Hazel. “Wanna bet?”
A disgruntled Mitch shuffled around Raine and behind the bar. He set a carry-out box down and pointed at Hazel. “Eat. All of it.” She saluted. He turned to me. “Lynch, will you make sure Zee gets home safely?” Hazel stuck her tongue out at Mitch.
“You got it, man,” I promised.
“I don’t need a babysitter!” she called after him.
Mitch shot her a look. “Why are you still not eating?” he asked before he stepped out behind Raine and locked the door.
Rolling her eyes she turned to me. “Do you just want to get out of here?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Eat, let’s have a drink to celebrate.” She tried to argue, but I placed my hand on the small over her back and pulled a stool from its position upside down on the bar. While I lowered a second one for me, she started eating.
“Want some?” she asked through a mouthful of chicken.
I shook my head. “I’m good.” I was comforted that she wasn’t eating with the same desperation that she had at lunch. I went to the cash register and rang up our drinks, then pulled two tumblers from the bar and filled them with three fingers of Aberfeldy 12.
By the time I set the glass in front of Hazel, she’d finished half of her chicken. She wiped her hands and looked at me. “So you knew my mother?” I nodded. “What are you?”
I ran my finger over my lip, trying to make my voice as steady as possible. “I’m retired. I used to deal with witchcraft.”
She was silent for a beat, most likely debating how much she wanted to know. She picked at a piece of cornbread. “So I’m assuming if you knew my mother, then you know about my mother’s reputation.”
I nodded again. I’d have to be dead to not know. “She was a piece of work. What happened?”
“Black magic comes at a price. After my dad took off, it was one she couldn’t pay. She owes a lot of people a lot of money.” Her eyes were hallow, visiting a memory I couldn’t see. I gripped the edge of the bar to keep from reaching out to comfort her. “They killed my twin sister as warning.”
“Twin sister?” The news was like a fist punch through my chest, leaving me winded. I knew she’d had a sister, but I wasn’t aware it was a twin. Twins were joined souls, closer than any sibling. No wonder she didn’t celebrate her birthday. “That sucks, Hazel. Real bad.”
“I know.” Her face was stone. “I moved sixteen times in two years trying to escape Mom’s debt, but they found me every time. Killed my sister, killed my dog, almost killed a guy I went on two dates with.” She laughed without humor, “you can imagine he didn’t call me back after that.”
“Fool,” I smiled. “I would’ve called you back.”
“That’s because you’re crazy.” This time she laughed for real. “When I got to Hayvenwood, Mitch was the first other person I’d met since leaving home. Literally ran into him when I came in and applied for a job.” She smiled at the memory. “I wanted to stay.”
“So you started making payments toward your mother’s debt,” I surmised. She nodded. “And what happens if you stop making them?”
She picked up her glass and sipped her whiskey. “This is my favorite,” she smiled. My heart thumped. She sighed, “They’ll kill more people I care about.” The silence was heavy with her words. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, circling her glass in the air. “I’m not sure why we’re talking about all of this.”
“Because you need to talk to someone, and I’m willing to listen,” I reassured her, feeling guiltier with every word. “It’s okay to need other people once in a while,” I coaxed, reaching out and taking her slender hand in mine.
What are you doing, man? My inner hunter bellowed at me. I pointedly ignored it. This was the perfect setup. If I could just get her to willingly give me her powers, it would solve all of our problems.
I took a deep breath, going in for the kill. “I know it’s a difficult thing to think about, but have you thought about selling your power? I know people who would pay you so much money, you’d never have to work another day of your life.”
One of the only benefits of being a Lynch orphan was the ridiculous amount of money my brothers and I had inherited. Centuries worth of pinching treasure and solid investments had left me incredible wealthy, both in money and artifacts. I could very quickly and anonymously pay her for her power and we could both win.
She shook her head vehemently. “No. No, no, no. Not more than I’ve already sold.” She pulled her hand free and dug her fingernail into the takeout container.
“No?” I prompted, hoping for some kind of simple solution to her rejection.
“I can’t,” her voice broke. “I’ve already sold what I can live without and then some. And I know selling all of it would solve all of my problems, except the most important one.” She bit her lower lip and looked away from me.
She let out a long breath. “When an innocent and pure witch dies from black magic, especially from a powerful family,” she gestured to herself, “they don’t always completely die. My twin, Romi? She’s still alive. Kind of.”
“What?” Blood rushed in my ears and I had to blink several times. She smiled wearily at my expression and my heart did that annoying skipped-beat thing again. “Wow.”
“What?” she asked, ears turning red.
“You have an absolutely beautiful smile,” I admitted. She wasn’t pulling any punches so neither was I. A blush spread across her cheeks and all the blood rushing through my ears headed straight south.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
We stared at each other for a few more seconds, minutes, hours, days, I couldn’t tell. Finally remembering myself, I blink aware and cleared my throat. “So, you were telling me about Romi.”
She nodded. “When my father disappeared, the money disappeared. Mom’s habit spiraled out of control and they wanted payment. They released Romi’s soul from her body. But because we’re identical twins, we share a soul...”
She slumped in her chair and drained her Scotch glass before rolling it along the table. “Twin witches usually die together. But when they don’t, one is tethered to the other. I can still see Romi, still talk to her, still almost hug her.” A wistful expression crossed her face. “But she’s almost entirely reliant on the energy of my powers to manifest. If I were to give up my powers, her soul’s energy would disperse.”
My mouth went dry. It took me two tries to get words out. “Is she here right now?”
Hazel shook her head. “No, she only comes for short visits. It drains me. As much as I want her around, she’s like a vacuum. Only a few hours a week.” She shrugged. “So I can’t sell my powers. What would I do with that much money anyway? I’d still work here. I love this place.” She looked around the bar and nodded as if to reassure herself.
I stood to collect our glasses and she resealed her food. She remained seated, staring off into space. I cleaned our dishes, wishing the hot, soapy water would wash away the mounting dread in my stomach.
If I took Hazel’s powers, I would not only destroy her by taking away the person she loved the most, I would literally destroy the person she loved the most. To save the person I loved the most. I whispered a string of expletives, leaning against the sink.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I jumped at the contact, the glass in my hand tumbling in the sink. “I’m sorry,” Hazel said softly. “That was really intense.” She reached around me and shut off the sink, then picked the glass up and set it in the drying rack.
I wiped my hands on a towel and tossed it back on the bar. I turned to face her. I was so close, I could feel the heat radiating from her body. My blood surged. Witho
ut a rational thought in my head, my mouth captured hers.
An inferno erupted in my chest at her small moan and I pulled her tighter against me. Our teeth mashed, tongues warred, lips sucked. Need. Mine.
She gripped my hair with both of her hands. I pulled her legs around my waist and set her down on the bar top. She let her head fall back, exposing her neck.
She tasted of stars and sunshine and wonder. And I knew as my lips claimed every inch of her neck that I was a goner. And I had no idea what I was going to do about it.
Chapter 9
Hazel
My skin was on fire. He tasted like warm whiskey and smoked spices, his weary five o’clock shadow sending a delicious flare straight to my abdomen. I wasn’t even embarrassed by my groan as his arms locked around my waist, pulling me against his hard body. His very hard body.
His lips moved to my neck and I couldn’t remember my name. “God, you taste as good as I imagined,” he said against my sensitive skin, shivers racing down my spine.
If anyone else had said that to me, I would’ve laughed hysterically. But my hands gripped into his thick hair, holding him against my skin. “Don’t. Stop.” With a small chuckle that sent puffs of hot hair against my skin, his lips followed my collarbone to my deep V-neck. He nipped and licked my exposed skin, making my head spin.
I needed more of him, and I didn’t care where or how. It wasn’t just a want. I didn’t just want his body. I needed his body joined with mine.
It was a primal emotion, shoving all common sense out the door and locking it. Each brush of his lips fueled a fire I hadn’t known existed until this very moment.
“I don’t sleep over,” I gasped as his hands stroked my thighs. I felt like I was melting. Maybe this is how the Wicked Witch of the West had really melted. He brought his lips back to mine, savoring and nibbling.
“I don’t do commitment,” I forced out, not wanting to break contact, but needing to get my rules out. “And -” he bit my bottom lip hard. My eyes rolled back. “And, I will never call you back.”
