Page 10 of Unhinged Magic
I internally scolded myself, knowing I needed to get the upper hand here. A smart tongue.
Because he wasn’t the only one who could throw banter. “Don’t flatter yourself.” I gripped the edge of the ladder where his hands had been moments beforehand. “You’re clearly the one with a boner for me.”
A low rumble charged from him, and he tipped back his head in a throaty chuckle. That smirk. I wish I could wipe it off his face.
“What?” I questioned, glaring at him.
A smile creased the sides of his mouth, showing a row of perfect white teeth.
Of course.
He ran his knuckles over his jaw, his irises glowing as if radioactive. Like he could melt my heart with his stare alone, and I feared that, if I let my guard down for a fraction of a second, he would.
Boldly, he moved closer again, until his face was inches from mine. Every limb, every breath in my lungs, froze, as if somefascinating form of coercion existed between us. As if his body demanded my obedience, and it bowed to him like some lovesick puppy.
My fire element scorched my veins as it threaded into the palms of my hands. I hated myself for it, knowing that if I felt it in the tips of my fingers, he could see it swirling in my eyes. It wasn’t often that someone other than myself could bring it to the surface, and I could count on one hand the number of times it had happened before now.
How he’d achieved this not once, buttwicenow, was enough to make my blood boil.
Our eyes clashed, like a hurricane on steroids. Wild and ferocious. “What?” I repeated. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He lowered to me again, hands on the seat at my side. Next to mine. My pulse jumped into a neurotic beat. I dared myself to hold his teasing glare.
He came even closer, his hot breath on my ear. “One, that’s no boner. And two…” He paused, dragging out the moment. “I. Don’t. Believe. You.”
The gentle scrape of his voice sent a flare of goosebumps over my skin.
Standing again, he took a few steps backwards, his thumb sweeping his bottom lip before running through his perfect as shit hair.
Finally, he turned on his heel, sauntering through the store like he owned the damn place.
I followed his retreating form until he disappeared out the shop door, my shoulders collapsing with relief when he was finally out of sight.
What in the giant shit was that?
Something about him pushed every button inside of me, excessively stomping on each one. His essence simmeredbeneath my skin like a ticking time bomb, and I feared the day I wouldn’t have the means to control it.
I hated the effect he had on me. Pure. Unfathomable. Lust.
It was a damsel standing in torrential rain, waiting for its ride. With a confidence about it, like it couldn’t care if oncoming headlights held a psycho or savior. It took risks, bargained with its heart, and I didn’t trust lust for shit. I never had.
I couldn’t shake the way his irises had darkened with irritation at my dismissal, something I bet he wasn’t used to. But there was something else about the way his stare had ruptured, like I had fractured something more than just his ego.
I stood, pulling my coat tighter around me, banishing the feeling. He was just getting under my skin, and I would be damned if I would let him continue.
***
Pulling my knees to my chest, I sank into the weathered outdoor couch I did my best thinking on, my fingers running over the fine threads pulling from the aged armrest. From up here on the second story of the house I rented were views many would pay to see: the wilder side of Cutters Cove. Where Mother Nature announced her presence unguardedly.
Water charged toward the cliffs, every powerful surge revealing a secret held for centuries, retreating only to return with another. This was the part of Cutters Cove I had fallen in love with, its raw nature nothing less than breathtaking.
I looked to the distance where dusk grasped both the sky and ocean in its merciful hand, streaking its arrival through every lull and ripple in the water below. I loved this time of day. The colors, the smell, the taste.
My gaze veered to a humble moon hanging discretely off to one side, as if an invisible string kept it in place, its observationan infinite presence. I could never tire of so much beauty. I took a sip of my hot chocolate, pulling the wool blanket tighter around me.
For over an hour I had sat here, trying to sort my thoughts. I knew Wesley wanted answers. I owed him answers. But trying to talk to him at a party or a shop was not the place.
How do you possibly tell someone you see ghosts?
