Page 25 of My Blind Date is a Warlock

“Honeymoon? Are you asking me to marry you?” I forced the words out, fighting back a wave of panic. I loved him, that was not in question, but marriage was something else altogether. The horror expressed on my face woke him up. He also sat up, almost banging his forehead against mine.

“I meant vacation, an extended vacation,” he corrected himself, stumbling over his words. “That is not to say I won’t ask you to marry me one day, but I just had a case of brain freeze. I seriously meant an extended vacation.”

CHAPTER 22

Jacob stayed over at my place all weekend, except when we went to his hotel room to sign him out and pick up his stuff. We also made a stop at his new place, which was already fully furnished and just waiting for him to move in at his leisure. He gave me the grand tour and we went back to my place where he tried to teach me how to use my magic.

“It’s all about control, babe. Picture what you want your magic to do—the shape, color, and even taste you want it to have. Feel it run through your veins and the magic that’s already out in the air and command it to your will,” he whispered behind me. We were seated on the floor of my workshop, a fat candle in front of me that he wanted me to set alight. We’d been at it for almost two hours, and all it had gotten me was a sore butt, sweaty armpits, and possibly my face permanently stuck in a constipated expression.

“It’s not working! Let’s just give up. Maybe you guys are wrong and I’m just suffering from the effects of a curse after all.” I kicked the candle away in frustration and buried my face in my hands.

Jacob sighed and got up from the floor. I could tell that I was getting on his nerves with my defeatist attitude. Instead of going off on me though, he poured me a glass of water and handed it to me. “Let’s take a break so that you can center yourself. There’s no need to rush. Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?”

“Spare me,” I said without much heat, reaching for the candle and placing it back in its position. “I’m not frustrated because it’s taking me ages to complete an exercise meant for young witchlings.” I sighed, stood up, and shook out the pins and needles from my legs and stretched my hands over my head.

“I’m frustrated because I feel nothing, no stirring of magic. Not a single spark. Zilch. Nada.” I touched the tip of my index finger to the tip of my thumb, making a zero sign. “I was there when Mom and Gran taught Piper this exercise. She blazed that candle up in less than a second.” Granted, she’d also set the carpet ablaze, completely demolishing the candle, but she still managed it on her first try.

“Maybe this is not the exercise we should be trying. This is meant to teach control,” I suggested, pushing my hair from my eyes.

Normal, healthy witches and warlocks could use magic anywhere from a few months to a year after birth—or so the experts claimed. Parents had to keep a constant eye on them with “magical leashes,” a spell that allowed parents to control their children’s magical abilities. At least until they were old enough to learn and understand control on their own. This candle lighting exercise was meant to teach control, to modulate magic output and direct it.

Jacob scratched his beard, his eyes wandering to the ceiling in a thoughtful countenance. “You’re right. We need something that will teach you how to draw out your power, or at least draw out the magic surrounding you, before we teach you control. But for the life of me, I can’t think of anything.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a teacher?”

“All my classes are high school level juniors, seniors, and a couple college-level classes. And for your information, I mainly teach offensive and defensive magic. History too. I’ve never had to work with anyone who was starting from scratch. Maybe we should bring in Beverley and Catherine,” he suggested.

I grimaced at that. I’d been avoiding my family all weekend, putting off having to talk about my supposed abilities. I still had no idea what caused them to make an appearance after two decades of nothing, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse too closely in the mouth.

“Maybe, but not today, and I think I'm done for now. I’ll make us some lunch, and then I need to get to work in here.” I waved a hand around the workshop.

“Can I help you? Might as well keep myself busy somehow.” He followed me out of the workshop, stealing a kiss along the way.

* * *

Tuesday found me filling in at The Book Coven again, drowning out another one of Lucy’s rants. Apparently, she and Bruce had yet to make up. He had apparently moved on from “stick-legs Savannah” to “melon-boobs Melanie.” At least her epithets were hilarious, but there was only so much teen drama I could take. Listening to her, I wanted to shake the little wolf and tell her to stop obsessing over this boy. And maybe I wanted to shake my grandmother too. The only reason Lucy was dead set on Bruce and Bruce alone was because they were supposed to be mates.

“…should have seen them, going at each other like animals. In the middle of a parking lot for everyone to watch! Who does that?” Lucy huffed, stocking a new order of stationery that had come in. “If Melanie’s boyfriend hadn’t caught them, Bruce would have totally bonked right there on the hood of his car.” She gave disgusted—and exaggerated—shudder. “I’ll never be able to sit there again. You know what, mate or not, I am so done with Bruce. Like what the heck, Soph?”

“What the heck, indeed?” I mumbled, flipping through an online magazine behind the counter. It was a good thing the store was empty right now because her voice was gradually turning into a wolf’s growl as she ranted. She was facing away from me, but I knew her eyes had gone wolf, a luminous amber that you wouldn’t see anywhere else.

“Just three days ago, he was in my room three sheets to the wind. Do you know how much alcohol a wolf has to knock back to actually get drunk? And he was telling me all these things. Nice, wonderful things that made me think that maybe we had a chance. He said he had never felt this way about anyone else before. And then the next time I see him he has his hands down that skank’s panties!”

The bell above the store’s door rang as a customer came inside. I almost whooped for joy, thinking that I’d get a break from listening to Lucy repeat the same story over and over and over again.

“Oh crap. The two of you are not having this out here. Luce, take five.” I snapped my fingers to get her attention when Bruce walked into the store, tail tucked between his legs and looking like someone had killed his puppy. I could picture his wolf form, sad eyes with his ears pressed down close to his head.

“What are you doing here?” Lucy barked.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, in private?” His eyes flicked to me and then back to Lucy. This was a guy who knew he’d screwed up big time.

“I have nothing to say to you. In fact, you can take whatever little speech you’ve prepared and shove it up your—”

“Hey! What did I just say? Take five and sort this mess out. I’ve had just about enough of your antics. Either make up or shut up. Chop, chop.” I clapped my hands and shooed them out. Lucy tried arguing with me but snapped her mouth shut when I glared at her.

I had about five minutes of blessed silence before my next headache walked in. I did not know who he was at first, but something about him felt familiar. The hairs on my arms stood on end, a trickle of fear putting me on high alert.

Dirty blonde hair, forest green eyes, and a tall, lanky build. The coloring and body build were different, but the features were similar, including a row of three beauty spots under one eye. This had to be the man Jacob had been avoiding all this time.

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