Page 136 of Castings & Curses

Poor Joshua will never live it down now that Aspen knew. Word among the covens would spread like a wildfire in the drought-stricken forest. The dingleberry drank his weight in tequila and might grovel at her feet later. If he even remembered he’d screwed the highest of the High Priestesses in the region, before he’d fallen asleep on top of her, his mega dick shriveling to a wet noodle inside her. The lame incident forced her to incant air spells to muzzle his snoring and to escape his dead weight.

Solstice festivals typically ended with Sage hammered and in bed with a delectable warlock who wanted Sage to bond him after rejection at the warlock lottery. One last chance for a warlock to snag a witch. Bonding was the only way a warlock could use magic. Without a witch’s bond, the warlock sensed an empty core, an impression of a piece missing inside him. A powerful witch sensed the magic in his aura waiting to be tapped. Joshua had a skosh of magic, but not enough for Sage. Her powerful magic would probably kill him.

“What does it say about my dumbass choices?” she bellyached on her way to her parents’ former bedroom. Sage closed the double doors to the primary suite, drowning her sister’s retreating giggles. She’d taken over the reins from her mother as High Priestess of the Wilde coven and the California region. Today, she’d take over her mother’s position to rule the entire West once the Council counted the votes and invested her in the position. The youngest High Priestess ever to rule an entire region. She had uber big shoes to fill.

Sage had put her own stamp on the bedroom to curb her constant grief, and never tired of gazing out the large windows overlooking the backyard and forest beyond. Her sanctuary. Fairy lights hung on the trees surrounding the entire backyard, installed for the festival, and they still glowed on the trees like diamonds on fire. The sun burned away the coastal fog seeping into the mountains, but a fog bank hung over distant Santa Cruz on the Monterey Bay. Lights popped on in the cabins, greeting the dawn of a long day of gatherings and ceremony on the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year.

The morning crashed into her again. Dread and vulnerability deluged her, and she refused to surrender to their insidious nature. Sage refused to believe someone had the balls to threaten her on her own land. Senses on high alert, she was prepared to take action if another attack came.

No way did she plan to allow the other witch to get one over on her. Magic had lingered in the woods, in the flaming arrow, in the gremlins waving their forks and knives at her. Sage had more than one enemy among the California witches who thought she’d destroy them all because of her youth and because she was a Wilde—and wild—witch. Sage had suffered the pressure since her mother’s death and since her aunt Jessica abdicated her position as next in line. She refused to let her coven down. She’d had a year to get her act together. The year had ended, and she didn’t plan on losing it all.

“It’smybirthright. Line in the sand drawn.” Sage’s skirt shimmied down to her ankles, and she tore her blouse over her head. “They won’t seemecoming. I’ll show them all.”

CHAPTER3

By the timeSage cleaned up, fueled with half a pot of strong coffee and a strawberry and granola yogurt parfait, she was ready. Ten o’clock on the dot. Time to confront her fans in prep for the Council meeting.

“Fans my ass.” She pasted on a smile she didn’t feel and tucked the front of her dropped-shoulder blouse into her casual summer skirt.

Noise escalated from the great room as she descended the wide, circular staircase. Although she’d taken aspirin and another pain potion Aspen had given her, her headache lingered. Not all of it tequila induced. Sound dropped when she entered the great room, and all eyes landed on her.

Potted plants in every corner carried the outdoors into the room. Bouquets and garlands of summer flowers garnished the room in abundance. Fresh evergreen and roses perfumed the air filtering in through the wide-open windows and patio doors. Her paradise and the perfect cure for her lingering hangover.

“Eat, drink, and be merry. Don’t let my presence kill the mood. This is an informal space,” she said. Clinks and clatters of silverware on plates resumed, as did the voices of chitchat and laughter. Formal ceremonies occurred in the witch-house or at other designated sites on the grounds, but never in the house. The joint rooms reminded her of family, love, and all the happy times growing up, and she refused to spoil it with business.

Mirrors and landscape paintings decorated the walls between the many windows. Comfortable couches and chairs took up the lion’s share of space. Sculpted pillars divided the great room from the dining room, every spot at the twelve-seater table occupied by witches and warlocks. Sage luxuriated in the beauty and comfort of the room before real life snatched control.

Ricky jogged to her from the rock-faced fireplace. He’d already scanned the house for threats or he’d never allow her down the stairs. With the festival going full tilt, too many people were on the grounds for comfort.

“Don’t tell anyone what happened this morning,” she murmured.

“Only Aspen and Jessica know,” he replied. “I’ve sent out a few feelers, though.”

“Good.” She shifted toward the French doors flung open to the patio. Long-haired Joshua with his massive dick and abs to die for glowered at her. Anger reddened his cheeks and flushed down his neck.

Who peed in his cup? He has no right to anger. Unless Aspen already circulated smack about him. Oh, hell.Sage cut through the room, closing the distance between them. “Joshua,” she greeted. No smile, no touch.

“Why did you leave?” he blurted out. “We were having a blast.” He hadn’t brushed his long, rocker hair. Threads curled around his well-defined cheekbones and his two-day stubble. Cute, but not for her.

Sage’s eyebrows arched. “I wasn’t aware I needed your approval.”

“But I wasn’t done,” he sputtered. “I mean, I thought—”

“Done?” She kinked her head to the left. “You pleasuredyourselfand fell asleep on top of me without giving two shits about my pleasure. I guessyouwere done.” Snickers rose from the nearby chairs.

He shook his head as if flinging off fleas. “Bull. You spelled me, witch.” His frustrated voice echoed through the patio and dining room, leaving a palpable silence in its wake.

Sage decided to teach him a well-needed lesson. Whoever dragged him to the festival hadn’t versed him on the rules. Or on who was who.

Aspen ran to Sage for backup and stood by her side. “Hey,bigguy.” Her gaze flickered to the crotch of his board shorts. “Suppose you don’t know who you’re talking to here, do ya?” She hugged Sage’s arm to her side and let go.

“Just another witch.” He lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “The one who brought me said she might grant me warlock powers and that I might join a coven. It’s why we’re here, me and my buds.” He swished his toned arm toward two stud muffins on the patio surrounding the table where the Bay Area coven witches sat eating.

“Well, Joshua,” Sage said, loud enough for onlookers to hear. The words she meant to say to embarrass him faltered in her mind. Pausing, she pulled her train of thought in a different direction. What would Mom do or say? The crux of the matter. She needed to grow up and fast, or her world promised to crumble into dust and blow into the Pacific.

Sage stuck her hand out to Joshua. “Hello, Joshua. I’m High Priestess Sage Wilde of the Santa Cruz Wilde Coven.” The blooming spots of pink on his face deepened. Sage tensed to avoid the vein ready to pop in his jaw. He shook her hand, his palm damp and rough. “You’re on my covenstead as my invited guest. I might’ve said or done something last night or early this morning under the guise of alcohol. If so, I apologize. Now, if you’d like to meet some nice witches who’re searching for a warlock to bond, I can introduce you.” She paused, and couldn’t silence herself from saying for his ears only, “One or two witches who’ll teach you the fine arts of pleasing a woman… in bed. You have the tool…”

A sunbeam caught on a mosaic glass candle holder on a patio table and towed her attention beyond Joshua and the steam billowing out of his collar. Sunlight winked off the mosaic and shot across the patio to a pair of young men talking together, one so enticing his appearance stalled her heartbeat for a second. Whatever Joshua said in response and every other sound in the room glided away.

---