Page 19 of The Witch's Cottage
By the time we get close to my secret spot, the sun is starting its descent toward the western horizon. The yellow-orange light blazes through the pines and the pale aspens, illuminating the plumes of steam rising from the earth and into the air.
Aurora gasps. “Is that . . . ?”
For the first time since leaving the cottage, Aurora drops my hand. My skin feels colder without hers against it.
Still paint splattered and barefoot, Aurora slips through the trees and toward the pool. She pauses at its edge, and she’s still staring down at it in wonder as I step up beside her.
“It’s a hot spring,” she whispers. Glancing up, she gives me one of those crinkle-eyed smiles. “This is magical.”
“I found it a decade ago,” I tell her, letting my gaze drift around the familiar landscape. “I’m not sure anyone else in Faunwood knows about it. At least, I’ve never seen anyone here or heard any talk of it.”
“It’s your own secret spot.” She reaches out to take my hand, squeezing it softly. Her touch makes me feel warm again. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
I just nod, too distracted by her thumb rubbing circles onto the back of my hand to come up with words.
“Can we get in?” she asks.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with images of Aurora’s pale freckled skin, wet hair sticking to her shoulders, the steam rising up around her. Iknewwhat I might be getting myself into by bringing her here, but now that I’m faced with the actual possibility of beingunclothedthis close to her...
My trousers feel a bit tighter than they did a moment ago.
And I think Aurora knows it.
Her gaze flicks down, then back to mine, and her cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink, like the early-morning sunrise or the petals of a new spring flower.
“If you want.” My voice sounds rougher than normal, like the words don’t quite know how to come out.
Instead of answering, Aurora releases my hand and takes a step back. “Turn around. And don’t look, okay?”
“Okay.”
I quickly turn my back on her. But I can’t stop myself from picturing her bare skin as the rustle of soft fabric reaches my ears. There’s a whisper of clothing falling to the earth, and then a little hiss. I almost turn to make sure Aurora’s okay, but the tiny splash of water that follows tells me she was just surprised by the heat.
Still facing away, trying not to let my mind get carried away with me, I wait until Aurora says, “Okay, you can turn around.”
When I do, it’s hesitantly, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because it’s been years since I last saw a naked woman—even one whose body is hidden beneath the steamy spring water.
“Your turn,” she says. “I won’t look, I promise.”
She turns around before I can say anything. I quickly pull my boots off, tug my trousers down, and yank my tunic over my head. The spring air—though warm for this time of year—still causes my skin to pebble, and I hurriedly step down off the rocky bank and into the deep hot water. It used to take me a while to sink in, but now I relish the heat as itstings my skin and seeps into my bones. The steam curls up around my eyes, and I sink chest-deep into the pool. As small as Aurora is, she’s standing up straight, with only her head and shoulders visible above the water.
“Are you in?” she asks. There’s an innocence to her voice I’ve never heard before, a quiet shyness that makes me want to lean close and press my mouth along the slope of her neck.
But I resist.
“Yeah.”
She turns to face me, skin already pink from the heat. It takes all my focus not to let my gaze drift down, to where her chest is just barely visible through the water. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I ease away from her, until I can press my back against the side of the pool and drape my arms up over the ledge. Letting my head fall back to rest on the earth, I cast my gaze up to the sky. It’s still a pale blue, but soon colors will start streaking through the clouds, turning the world a vivid shade of tangerine.
“This has always been my favorite time of day,” I say.
Maybe it’s the heat getting to my head, or maybe it’s just this place, but I feel safe here, like I can speak more freely than I can anywhere else in the world.
Aurora makes a little sound, and the water sloshes around her as she moves, but I keep my gaze directed up to the sky.
“I prefer the early morning, when the world is just starting to wake up. To me, the evening can feel... lonely.”
Now I can’t help but to glance at her. She’s looking up at the sky as well, head tipped back. Her long green hair floats on the surface of the water, twirling and twining around asthe water shifts about us. One strand drifts close enough for me to touch. I have the urge to reach out and wrap it around my finger, to touch something so intimately connected to her, but I resist.
