Page 145 of Castings & Curses

“Do you always talk to yourself? Or are you talking to the trees?” The questions came from her left, and her head swung up. Excitement kick-started her heart into overdrive. Footsteps chased the voice, crunching on the gravel, untilhestood in front of her.

CHAPTER7

The most stunningsight of Rafael’s crap-ass day, hell, his entire life, took his breath away. As full dark eclipsed the dregs of twilight, the shimmering lanterns lent Sage an ethereal glow he wanted surrounding them in a bubble together.

“Rafael,” she breathed out his name. “You returned.”

He cleared the frogs from his throat. He wasn’t the type that got tongue-tied around a woman, but she brought out the worst—or the best—in him. “I never left.”

Her slender fingers grasped her neck. “I thought you gave up on us.”

“I hung on the fringes. Listened to the music, ate, drank. Watched.”

She smiled. “So you’re stalking witches now?”

“Just one.” Head hanging, he shuffled his sneakers in the pea gravel on the pathway, pushing scattered rocks back onto the path. “You shouldn’t be alone. Where’s your warlock?”

“Gave him the slip. Besides, I’mnotalone.” She stepped toward him, and her scent washed over him, enticing and warm. “You’re here.”

“I’m not a warlock. Can’t help you there,” he said. Her wary gaze probed for signs and answers. “Why’d you dump your drink? Thought you’re the badass party girl.”

“You don’t miss a trick, do ya?” Sage closed the distance between them. “I drink to slog through all the witchworld business. Because circumstances plunged me into a position of power way too soon. I drink to erase reality for a few hours.” Her heat scorched him, but he wanted it touching him, needed it like air. “Tonight, I don’t need alcohol. I want to feel everything… especially now.”

She eased forward until a few inches separated them and pressed her palm on the center of his chest. His gut ignited, and he gasped, but didn’t break contact. Her palm blazed through his chest, deep into his core and pulled that seething unnamed thing to the surface. Sparks shimmered off her hand, and he wasn’t sure if she created the magic or if he did.

“What… what just happened?” he stammered.

“Youarea warlock. I knew it!” Her hand slid up his chest, and her fingers trailed over his neck, leaving fire in their wake. She cupped his cheek. “You contain more power than I’ve ever seen in an unbonded warlock. Unique and all you.”

He basked in her touch, shifted his head to the side and kissed her palm, his lips lingering against her soft, fiery skin.

“It’s why I never left. I need to understand who I am.” Anguish deepened his tone. “Zelda said she’d help me discover myself. It’s why Sammy brought me to her.” And just like that, he ruined the moment. Sage removed her hand, and a frigid wind blew off her and cooled the fire she’d left behind. Sparks dripped from her hand, and the wind scattered them like fireflies. “I suspect mentioning her name’s not so cool.”

“No. The Helwigs and Wildes have topped each other’s shit lists for a century. Helwigs want to rule the entire witchworld. They ruled the West at one time, but succumbed to shenanigans that threatened everyone. The Wildes took charge and have remained in the power seat since.”

Unsure how to respond, he soaked up the sight of her and her tropical scent, wishing they lay side by side on a deserted island, away from the madness.

“Look, Rafael. If you promised yourself to the Helwigs, I won’t prevent you—”

“Whoa.” He held up an open hand. “Back up the bus. I’ve made no promises.Shemade a claim on me, whatever that means. I need to understand why you all think I’m a warlock. But she wants me to quit my job, work and live at her covenstead. She made it sound like I’ll be a kept man, no say in my life.”

Tangible fury whisked around them as Sage released gusts of wind. Bands of white air glowed off her, floating from her spread palms. Her magic confused him. He’d heard she was a fire witch, not an air witch. Motion over her shoulder drew his attention to a fearless owl, watching them from a gnarled tree.

“If she claimed you, she’ll fight newts and toads for you in the warlock lottery,” Sage spat out the words like shards of glass.

He closed and opened his eyes. The bird still eyeballed him from its perch on a low tree branch. Sage folded her arms around herself, as if wrestling with the desire to touch him. God, he wanted it so damn much.

“Why’s it called a lottery?” he asked, engaging in a safer topic.

Sage smiled her smile that sucked him in, one that belonged to him alone. “It’s a loose term. A lottery requires consideration, prize, and a chance. Consideration is the goods and magic a witch will grant you if she chooses you. The warlock is the prize. A witch and the warlock both take a chance.” She dropped her arms to her sides, her tension falling with them. “It is what it is.”

“Got it.” He revisited more pressing matters. Answers he needed first before he lost himself in Sage and lost his ability to think. “Who will Zelda fight against? Don’t I get a choice? I mean, I can walk, right?” He crouched down, then sat on the gravel path, legs bent and chin resting on his right knee. “Your witchworld needs a Wiki.” Sage towered over him and he didn’t mind it, but he wanted her sitting next to him. He lifted up and tugged them both to the cement bench. “Do you mind? Can you stay a while?” The sparkle of her smile pierced him like an arrow straight to his heart.

She left her hand gloved in his. “I can stay as long as you want me to stay. I have a boatload to explain. Foremost, you absolutely have a choice. Somehow your friend Sammy suspected that you’re a warlock. You won’t possess actual powers until a witch bonds you, then you’ll possess whatever magical element she wields.” Sage toyed with the hem of her slick leather jacket that left little to the imagination. “Even if Zeldaclaimedyou, you can choose any available witch on the prowl. Or walk. But understand this, you belong to the witchworld. That’s the huge missing link from your life.”

Absorbing her words, he squeezed her hand tighter, met her gaze, the lantern light catching on silver flecks in her emerald orbs.

“I need a warlock. I’m required to have three,” she continued in a rush as though she needed to unload. “Ricky’s ready to propose to his girlfriend, another witch. I’ll need to break his bond. The Wilde Council may assign any random warlock to me. So I’m desperate.” She flushed, and her heat hit him like a bonfire erupting in his stomach. “I mean, if I wasn’t desperate, I’d still want you…”

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