Page 4 of De-Witched

Confusion melded with the accent now. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” A small laugh as her skin grew clammy. Nervous, she was actually nervous. “I guess...it’s like this moment doesn’t exist. We don’t know each other and we don’t have to. We can let go of ourselves for a bit. Rest.”

Another beat. “Okay.”

He didn’t get it. She swallowed, turning to the gardens, embracing the press of the night air and the faint sounds that came in from the bayous beyond. She didn’t care if the warlock thought she was an idiot, she told herself, gripping the railings. She wasn’t trying to impress him.

Then she felt him at her back and knew her words were a lie. She didn’t dare move, every nerve turning electric. He didn’t touch her, but she felt him everywhere.

“Why do I feel you are never alone? Never someone else.” His words brushed by her, along with a hint of scent, nothing she could name. Sexy, like his cultured voice. “Even with a stranger?”

She stared hard at the darkened gardens, trying not to hyperventilate. “I like people. But I can feel alone.”

“When?”

The dark pressed around them, cocooning. Intimate. She found herself saying to it, “Sometimes I feel on the outside of things.”

“How could anyone keep a witch like you out?”

Because she wasn’t a witch. But this was her chance to act like one.

She released the railings and turned, her chest brushing his body. Inhaling at the contact, she looked up. A plain navy mask slicked over his features, hiding what she wanted to see. Except for his eyes. They were an intense green, inhumanly so. As he scanned what her mask didn’t cover, they almost gleamed blue.

Her knees turned to Jell-O. “Hi.”

Those eyes flickered, puzzled. “Hello.”

She pressed her lips together. When his gaze went to them, a rush of tingles swept across her skin. “It’s like a secret,” she said, surprised her voice came out normal.

“What?”

“Being with a stranger. You can tell them anything. Do anything. And then it’s forgotten as you go back to your lives.”

He watched her in silence.

She watched him back. Words trembled at her lips and she couldn’t keep them in. Didn’t want to. “What would you do if you knew there’d be no consequences?”

The wind tousled his hair, but he stood perfectly still. “There are always consequences.”

“So, let’s pretend.”

“I don’t play.”

“That’s a shame.” She inched closer.

“I take it you do?”

“Life’s there to be lived.”

“We’re very different.”

“Apparently.”

“Yet... I find I’m curious.”

Her breath lodged in her throat. It took several tries before she could wheeze, “About?”

The wind teased her updo of curls, slid down her skin, had her shivering as she silently begged him to say the words. Complete the fantasy.

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