by K. A Knight
“Is he laughing? I didn’t realise he knew how?” Ben turns to ask Jason.
I ignore them and decide to answer Lane. “This is Alexander and Ezra. Ben is the one trying to steal bacon, and Jason is cooking.” I gesture as I speak, and they all bob a greeting.
Lane nods to them, then glances back at me, wiggling her eyebrows.
“So, did you need something?” I ask before she starts questioning their intentions or something.
My question seems to spark something, and she’s angry again. Feisty little human. I’m really tempted to shout ‘Feisty one you are.’ Okay, I think I’ve had too much sugar.
“Yes! Will you stop signing me up on dating sites? I do not need to open my emails or texts to any more dick pictures! One messaged me asking if I wanted to be his baby girl, and he’d be my daddy.” I lean back casually as she realises what she admitted. She slaps her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.
“Huh, interesting. I wonder if that would involve dress up? Any good pictures?”
Her embarrassment grows. “Aurora,” she scolds, “just, stop it, okay?” Her voice sounds desperate.
“Sure,” I lie.
She shakes her head, points at me, then at the men. “I want to hear about this later, but for now, I’m late for work.” With one last look that offers a thousand questions, she flounces out of the kitchen, muttering about dirty-minded wenches. I guess that would be me.
“Dick pics?” Ben walks over to me, offering a bit of his stolen bacon. I grab it and inhale it. Mmmm, smoky.
“It’s good to keep her on her toes,” I say around the bite. All three men are extremely close, and I start to heat up from their stares. I jump down, heading towards Jason.
“Need a hand?” I hope he says no.
He keeps flipping the bacon and shakes his head.
“Okay, well... I’m, erm, going to take a shower.” Needing a minute, I leave the kitchen and head upstairs. Holy guacamole.
In my room, I collapse on my bed. Frickity fuck. What is happening? Well done, Aurora. Good job at staying away from them. With a groan and a self-pitying thought, I head to the shower. Maybe a cold one will be good.
13
- AURORA -
After giving myself a little pep talk in the shower, I head back downstairs. They laugh and joke in the kitchen, and I stop for a second, remembering how quiet it was here before. Shaking off those sad memories, I push through the door. Sitting around my little dining table, they all turn and smile as I walk in.
“C’mon, Sunny, we’re starving here,” Ben moans, rubbing his rock-hard stomach.
I sit in the only empty seat between him and Ezra. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
They all ignore me, and Ezra dishes me up a massive, full English breakfast before dishing himself one. I bite my lip at the thoughtfulness and decide what the hell. Taking a bite, I moan at how good the food is. Without caring what I look like, I inhale the whole plate and lean back in happiness. The guys follow suit.
Ezra is the only one finished and pours me some orange juice. He then leans into me. “Hungry, Half-pint?” He points at my plate.
I grab the juice and gulp it down. Half-pint? “Looks like you were, too, Giant.” I share a small smile with him.
He groans and leans back. “Well, there was this girl last night that wouldn’t let me go while she passed out, so I didn’t eat.” A shit-eating grin covers his face, making him appear younger and less like a predator.
I shrug. “Shouldn’t be such a good teddy bear then.” I turn back to check out everyone else, and Alexander watches our banter with a secret grin. I glance away.
“Thanks, Jason, this was really nice,” I say, remembering my manners.
He smiles at me. Huh, he’s really quiet.
After everyone finishes eating, Alexander clears his throat. “Okay, Ben, you’re on clean up. Once you’re done, join us in the living room, we need to talk.” With a pointed look at me, he stands and walks out.
I sigh, wishing they would not ask questions, but it’s unavoidable. Ben stands without complaint and starts clearing away the table as Jason slips from the room.
Ezra heaves his body up and reaches down to grab my hand. “Come on, Half-pint, you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
I nod and stand, relishing the feel of his large, warm hand in mine. It’s strange to be so comfortable around someone I’ve just met. He leads me to my living room and pulls me down next to him on the sofa. Jason walks in with a laptop bag and sets up a slim silver computer on my coffee table. In front of my fireplace, Alexander stands with his arms crossed. I glance down at my hand which is still clasped in Ezra’s, like he’s my security blanket. He plays with my fingers as he watches Jason.
Eventually, the kitchen door opens, and Ben flings himself down next to me on the sofa, squishing me between Ezra and him. I grunt and try to get comfy while he leans his head on my shoulder.
“I’m tired, Sunny, sing me to sleep,” he whines.
As I shake my head, Alexander gives him a tight-eyed look. Ben squishes closer to me. I hide my smile as both of my sides are touching them from shoulder to knee. Alexander sighs but waits, and I glance around, not willing to be the first to break the silence. My knee bounces in agitation until Ben grips it.
Jason leans back and nods to him.
Alexander stands up straighter. “Okay, so now that we’re all introduced”—with a pointed look at both of the men’s hands on me, he carries on—“let’s start.”
My chest tightens, and I swallow in apprehension. Ben grips my knee harder, and Ezra squeezes my hand.
“I’m guessing you know what we are?” At my hesitant nod, he adds, “We know you’re the same, a witch.”
I don’t correct him; after all, he’s partially right.
“What we don’t know is why you’re here or why you’re alone?” He keeps eye contact as he asks me.
“Why are you here?” I ask defensively. They all share a look. My annoyance with their questions makes my head pound, so I release Ezra’s hand and move my knee to avoid touching Ben to give me some space.
“Aurora, where’s your family? Your coven?” Alexander tries again with a gentle voice.
My anger amps up as I force back the memories. I jump up to extend the distance with the others. “I’m grateful for the save last night—”
“Yes, let’s talk about that,” Alexander interrupts with a growl.
“I wasn’t finished.” I hold my hand up. “I’m grateful for the save, and the cookies. But that doesn’t mean you get to come in here demanding answers. I barely know you, and you’ve pushed your way into my life. I get you think you have a right to know, but you don’t. Especially when you won’t tell me why you’re here. Huh, four strong witches away from a coven is unheard of. So why don’t you tell me?” After my defensive declaration the room quiets.
“Aurora, you’re right. We have no right to ask. Your life is your own,” Alexander replies.
Jason starts to say something, and Alexander gives him a pointed look.
“We will leave you to it, we have things we need to do today. I input our numbers into your phone while you showered. Ring us if you need anything.” He gestures for the guys to go.
Ben protests, and Ezra catches Alexander’s gaze. They do the whole silent communication thing with Alexander’s eyes darting to me. Without complaint, they get up to leave, which I’ll admit, hurts a little.
Ben stops at the door and runs back. With a small sad smile, his kisses my cheek and leaves. Ezra squeezes my hand on the way past, and Jason gives me a sad puppy dog look.
As Alexander goes to leave, he stops in front of me. “I mean it, Aurora, anything. I hope you will trust us enough to ask us for help. I will keep my promise, then we can talk about why we are here.”
I remember my plea last night, and it almost cracks my shell. I nod, then they are gone. The house becomes eerily quiet without them, and a loneliness I didn’t experience before them
sets in.
14
- AURORA -
Feeling sorry for myself, I collapse on the sofa and stare at the ceiling, debating my options. Telling them everything would force me to leave when they turned me over. I could keep them at arm’s length; snorting to myself, I shake my head. Yes, because that’s worked well so far. Groaning, I go to roll over and accidently push myself off the sofa. Lying on the floor, I laugh hysterically at myself. Nev comes trotting in and stares at me upside down; his muzzle lowers as he licks my cheek until I’m laughing harder.
“Okay, boy.” Sitting up, I nudge his muzzle away. Standing to go tidy up, I notice a book on my coffee table. Huh. I glance around like someone might just pop out. When it remains quiet, my eyes drift back to the book. It’s not mine, but who other than the awesome foursome could have put it here? With a frown, I tread carefully over to it like it might bite me. Which hey, it might; anything is possible. I mean, have you watched Harry Potter? I’m having visions of jumping on the sofa as the book comes to life. I wonder if stroking its spine would help. I snort to myself and lean over it.
Legacy and history of the great witch covens.
This book definitely isn’t mine, and I glance around again. When I find myself alone, my confusion grows. Hesitantly, I grab the book, and when it doesn’t explode, I perch on the end of the sofa with it.
Flipping the cover, I shudder at what the binding is made out of. Us witches and our rituals. I flip through the pages, name after name flicks by until I read the name Hekate, and something nags at me. I nibble on my lip, trying to remember why it seems familiar. I flick through my memories. I think it might have been the house that was massacred, but I can’t be sure. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I skim some of the text.
One of the oldest and most powerful witch covens, Hekate was named after the goddess they are thought to be descendants of. One member of the coven always held one of the ten council seats. Their bloodline entrusted with our deepest and darkest secrets; they’re known as the protectors of the Μαγεία. It is said they can speak to the dead among other unique traits. For that reason, they were considered one of the strongest and purest bloodlines. The last known remaining coven member died in 1985 in childbirth, which also killed her child. The coven’s legacy, secrets, and relics have never been found. The seat of Hekate to this day remains empty.
Still frowning, I rub my eyes. Huh, I never realised there were ten seats, although it’s not like my knowledge is extensive. After all, I taught myself nearly everything. I lean back up to read some more when Nev jumps up from where he’s curled around my feet, growling and barking uncontrollably. Trusting his instincts, I spring into action. Grabbing the knife I hid under the table, I brace my back against the wall. When I don’t hear anything, I look at Nev again. He snarls, his fur standing up.
He paces from me to the living room door and back again. Swallowing my instant panic that they’ve found me, I drop shields on my power a little and spread my senses out like a spider’s web, feeling for any disturbance. I crinkle my eyes when darkness at the edge of my property brushes up against my net. Trying to pinpoint what it is, I concentrate harder. My consciousness rushes through the trees until it come to a clearing shrouded in darkness, shielding whoever or whatever I sensed. Hesitantly, I press forward, expanding my search area deeper into the woods. My mind brushes the darkness to my left, and the cold chasm of death passes through me. The unforgiving and unfeeling pull has me gasping as I pull back and slam my shields down. Returning to my body, Nev sits in front of me, guarding my physical body, but I’m not sure it will be enough. The disturbance moves farther away until I can’t sense it anymore, and I slump.
“Whatever it is, it’s miles away now.” Grasping his fur, I stroke it down again, and he stops growling.
My arm with the knife drops. Shivers wrack my body as I force myself to remember the exact feeling. I remember the darkness, the emptiness, of death, where no light blossoms, and no begging or pleading will stop it. It’s a feeling—no, an unavoidable truth. Nothing will break it, and it will never waver. The good, the bad, none of it matters at the end. Whether you live the highlife or the slums, death still comes for you. I grip Nev’s fur tighter. Yes, I remember it all too well. After all, I’ve experienced it before, the night my mother died.
When I go to bed, I lay fresh wards around my bedroom just in case. Wards are tricky business. The books told me most witches need a coven to lay them, and they remain the strongest in their nest. Yes, they call their home or place of power a nest. Weirdos. Me? I decided to try it because hey, what do I have to lose? Turns out I didn’t need a coven, yay me. Just another thing that marks me as different. Raising my hand, the power happily curls to my will, eager like a puppy. I tell it what I need from it, and it rushes to do my bidding. I always found it works better just asking. The spells and inactions never really worked, and after my tenth failed attempt at reading the stupid Latin words, I was willing to try anything.
After what happened, I don’t think I’ll sleep, so I’m surprised when I open my eyes to four stone walls again and my dream hunk.
“You know, a splash of colour or even a nice rug might brighten this place up,” I say causally. Whenever I get really nervous, my sarcastic side comes out.
With a rough laugh he lifts his head. “I’ll try to remember that.”
The left half of his face swells from being hit with something, and died blood crusts his nose and lips. Before I can stop myself, I rush forward and grasp his face, turning it from side to side to inspect the damage. When I realise the worst is already healed, I sit back on my heels.
“You know, you looked awfully concerned then.” He drops his head back down to his chest, like talking took the last of his energy.
I stop when I comprehend what he said. “You...” I whisper.
His head snaps up with shock. “I can see you,” he whispers back in awe.
Self-conscious, I move farther back. He eyes rove over my face and return to mine.
“Well shit.” My hackles rise, the hell does that mean?
“Hello to you too,” I snarl defensively
He tries to laugh but ends up coughing.
“I just mean, I thought you weren’t real, and your voice was just so perfect. What any man would imagine, love velvety...” He swallows as his full intensity is directed at me. “Like sex on a stick.”
I laugh before I can help myself. “And what, the packaging doesn’t match?” I tilt my head in curiosity watching him.
His eyes blaze brighter, and making me squirm, he takes his time answering. “The very opposite. You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. You remind me of a goddess, too beautiful to look at.”
The honesty in his voice makes my shields around my heart drop a fraction, and for the first time in my life, I blush. It’s my turn to cough, my eyes flickering around his cell as an excuse.
“So, ready to tell me where you are yet?” I ask sharply.
“No,” he grunts.
Urgh! I throw my hands in the air. I could help him or find someone to, and he’s not even trying to free himself. My anger rises, and I lash out.
“You said you wanted me to tell your family!” When he doesn’t answer, I stand abruptly and turn away. “Fine, guess I’ll just leave then.”
“No, wait!”
“If you don’t want me to save you, or tell someone, then what?”
“Stay, please. Keep me company.” It’s his turn to be shy. The openness and vulnerability in his eyes are my undoing, and I find myself sitting in front of his chair so he doesn’t have to crane his neck.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He smiles. “Okay.”
My days off are lonely with Lane busy, and I don’t hear a peep from the guys. Trying not to dwell on it, I keep myself busy reading through the mysterious book, learning as much as I can about the ten seats and the gods or goddesses they descend from. Every night, I find myself on cold stone, talking with m
y mysterious dream man. He tries to hide his pain and exhaustion. Unwilling to break this peace, as last time he closed up faster than a book, I play along with his charade.
“I don’t even know your name.” I lean farther back, my head titling so I’m staring at the ceiling.
“Mikael. Yours?” His voice fills with pain, and I try to ignore it.
“Aurora.”
“Beautiful like you. What’s your favourite colour?”
I answer without hesitation. I don’t have to hide anything here with him. “Blue, the pale blue of the sky in the morning.”
He quirks his eyebrow in question. This time I do hesitate.
“Why?” His soft voice is all the reassurance I need.
“Because it means I survived another day, it means I get to watch the sun rise in the sky and feel the warmth on my face.” My whisper seems loud in the dark room, and I brace myself, for what I don’t know.
“Purple.” His voice is the softest I’ve ever heard it, yet I sense no pity or judgement. Forcing my eyes to him, he sees the confusion. Either he chooses not to answer my unspoken question or misinterprets it, he answers, “Purple, that’s my favourite colour. Your turn.”
I wrack my brain trying to come up with questions for this stranger, but my mind goes blank. With a sigh and a small smile, he readjusts in his chair. The rattling chains bring me back to reality. I must frown because he leans down to catch my eye again, and with a wink, he carries on the game.
“Favourite holiday?” I glance around for inspiration not willing to admit my ignorance on the subject. Taking my silence as refusal to answer, he carries on, “Mines Christmas. I love it, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say honestly, this time meeting his eyes.
It’s his turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
“I never celebrated it, not that I can remember anyway.” The confession slips out of me; there’s something about him that makes me want to spill all my secrets. Snapping my mouth shut, I refuse to show any ounce of shame.
