Page 14 of Holy Water
A familiar head tilt.Sharp cheekbones.Eyes like storm clouds.
Looking for him.
But Julian Reed was nowhere to be seen.
The ritual carried on around me like a dream—smoke curling into the twilight, crystals glowing in the flickering firelight, soft chants rising like a tide of devotion and bliss.It was beautiful.Soothing.
And I couldn’t focus on a damn thing.
I tried.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.I placed my palms together and bowed when Windwalker led us in a moment of collective intention.But inside, my thoughts were tangled up in steel-toed boots and leather jackets, in skeptical stares and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
Julian Reed hadn’t come.
Which honestly, was probably for the best.
He didn’t belong here—not in this circle of trust, this little cosmos of soft hearts and softer boundaries.He would’ve rolled his eyes at the communal chanting, scoffed at Windwalker’s tunic, and audibly gagged at the disgusting mead.
Still… the absence of him left a weight in my chest, like I’d spent all day preparing a seat at the table and now had to accept that it would remain empty.
“Jude,” someone murmured beside me.I turned to find Indigo—long silver hair braided with feathers, her hands cupping a small wooden bowl filled with rose petals and salt.
“Would you…?”she asked gently, offering me the bowl.
It was a request, not a command.And I nodded, pasting a smile across my face like war paint.
“Of course,” I breathed.“Let’s raise the vibration.”
I stepped forward into the center, the firelight dancing on my skin, and lifted the bowl over my head.
“This offering,” I began, “is a call to clarity.To compassion.To release what we no longer need—fear, grief, bitterness—”
The crowd had fallen silent, the usual serene reverence descending like mist.
I was about to speak the blessing when—
Crunch.
A footstep.
A shift in the air.
Every hair on the back of my neck rose like a tide, and I turned toward the treeline just in time to see him.
Julian.
He stepped into the clearing like some reluctant oracle, half in shadow, half bathed in the last glow of the sun as it dipped behind the trees.He looked out of place and sinfully gorgeous—black boots, dark jeans, a flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing muscular forearms and a watch glinting in the firelight.His hair was tousled, probably from the wind, and his face… his face was unreadable.
Curious.Guarded.A little amused.
But he was here.
And suddenly I couldn’t remember what I’d just said.Or where I was in the ritual.Or whether I’d added too much mushroom to the cacao mix.
My breath hitched.My cheeks warmed.
A grin broke across my face before I could stop it.
