Page 62 of The Cursed Fae

My eyes popped open. “What? Why?”

He made a faux-serious face. “Do you want to learn or not? Let's go.”

“I feel like you're just messing with me,” I huffed as I jumped and swung my arms.

“Good. Okay. Now, breathe in for one... two...”

He had me repeat this process of calisthenics and pseudo-meditation until my thighs burned and sweat slicked my back. Then Archer switched to push-ups between breathing sessions. Two rounds in, my arms ached and my stomach muscles trembled.

“I didn't know I was so out of shape,” I wheezed.

“On your feet. And breathe for one...”

I had no sense of how long the torture lasted. There was some running in place, arm circles, squats, and an unfortunate attempt at a burpee, which resulted in me smacking myself in the forehead with my knee.

“Nope. No more. I'm done,” I declared, shoving Archer's hand aside when he tried to help me up. “I'm exhausted and sweating like a pig.”

“Pigs don't sweat.”

I glared up at him. “You don't know that.”

“Actually, I do. And sweating is good. It releases toxins. The fewer toxins you have, the more pure and effective your magic will be.” He grinned and held out his hand again. “This leaves your mind free to concentrate.”

This time, I accepted his outstretched fingers. “I don't feel free. I feel like I'm in a prison—a prison of pain.”

Archer laughed softly. “This is only day one. Give it time. Now, close your eyes.” He tapped his foot until I complied. “Good. Inhale. Concentrate on the feeling here.” His hand pressed over my navel. “Can you feel it?”

Oh, I felt it. Warm tingles spread across my stomach. Heat focused in the center directly beneath his palm.

He tapped my forehead. “Exhale. Clear your mind.” His voice was soothing and sort of sexual, but maybe that was just me. “Inhale. Think of a place. Somewhere close by. Somewhere you know well.”

An image of Nana's kitchen popped into my head.

“Exhale. Use the power to draw in the details of the place in your head,” Archer coached, his breath cool as it fanned across my face. “What scents are in the air? What do you feel when you're there?”

The scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls filled the air. My heart felt lighter, less burdened.

He took my hands in his, pressing our palms together. “Call the magic, Winter,” he whispered.

The seed of energy inside me expanded. Power coursed through my blood, crackling and popping around our joined hands. The air warmed, and I heard two faint, familiar voices. My eyes shot open, and I stared directly into Archer's swirling irises.

His gaze flicked to the space between our palms, where I'd opened windows into Nana Essie's house. I could see the kettle on the stove and the cookies cooling on a rack beside the oven. Two plates and a cup were in the sink, waiting for someone to come back and wash them. I couldn't see my great-grandmother or my mother, but I heard their voices.

“Holy hell, I did it!” I exclaimed. “I really freaking did it!”

“Shhh.” Archer placed a finger on my lips. “If we can hear them, they can hear us.”

That jolted me back to reality, and both portals snapped shut. I'd done it. I'd opened two windows in the fabric of space and looked inside my great-grandmother's house without leaving the university.

Drunk on power and excitement, I threw my arms around Archer's neck and let out a triumphant squeal. The move surprised him, and he stiffened. I pulled out of the embrace, heat burning my cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” I stammered.

Archer closed the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands and bringing his lips to mine with crushing force. I didn't hesitate. The kiss felt too right. I didn't think about consequences or morally gray areas. Only the way his silky hair felt between my fingers. I arched my back and pressed my hips against his, wanting to wrap more of myself in his electric embrace.

His hands gripped my waist, slowly sliding beneath my shirt to rest just above the waistline of my jeans. His touch felt cold against my hot skin, and I wanted more. So did Archer. His fingers climbed up my spine and under the strap of my bra. His mouth moved to trail kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

My head fell back, lips slightly parted in a contented sigh. I opened my eyes as Archer brought his mouth back to mine, hungry desire lighting up his gaze. This was the moment in a movie where the camera would've panned around the main couple as they stared lustfully into each other's eyes. Except, the only person watching the two of us make out was a disgusted spirit.

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