Page 91 of Unhinged Magic
“You loved this room the most. You would stare out at the garden while you sat in your favorite armchair, choosing your fabrics.” He turned to me, memories imploding from his irises as they captured mine.
I scrambled for words. “I’m sorry I don’t follow.”
He cautiously moved closer. “I understand this must be confusing for you.” He nudged closer another few steps until every cell in me braced. Holding out a hand as if to touch my temple, his voice lowered, deep breaths collecting in his chest. “Allow me to show you?”
Should I trust this… soul? He had yet to give me any reason to question his intentions, which so far had only been respectfully pleasant. If he held answers I needed, I had to trust he would not cause me harm.
“You canshow me?” I had heard of witches able to force visions on others but had never experienced being on the receiving end before.
“Yes. If you would like me to?” His emerald gaze held no hint of ill intentions, but still.
“I don’t know if I should trust you.”
He smiled, his head dipping to the floor before returning to look at me again. “I would never hurt you, my love.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I rolled my ring around my thumb, nerves getting the better of me.
“Choose to trust me, and I will answer your question.”
I remained still, contemplating his words.Trust him.It seemed ridiculous to trust this stranger, but something deep within my not-quite-dead self wanted to.
I drew in a deep breath, lowering my arms to my sides. “Ok, show me. But you know what I can do. You so much as crossanyline here, and Iwillincinerate you.”
Could I though? Did my magic even work here? I pushed away the fact that I could barely feel it swimming in my veins.
A smile curved the corners of Edward’s mouth into a shockingly beautiful thing. “Deal.”
“May I?” He gestured toward me again, stepping into my space.
I resisted the urge to close my eyes as his hand curled around the side of my neck, eventually resting on my temple. He visibly bristled, like touching me harmed him in some way, but didn’t remove his hand.
Was this a thing? Ghosts could touch each other, yet we couldn’t touch the damn floor?
My last thought dissipated as my vision spun wildly. I swear I would need to lie down for a month to recover. When I collected my thoughts again, I gasped at the completely different man in front of me, still touching my temple.
“It’s ok, it’s me, Edward.” His voice calmed me instantly, like his tone was some medicinal antidote. He stood before me, looking exactly like the man in the photo, staring down at me, his thumb still on my temple. A white dress shirt was neatly tucked into his brown slacks, a cautiously lopsided smile brightening his chocolate orbs.
What the actual…
“I don’t understand,” I stammered, sure my tongue was in knots as I found myself lost for words. This man stared at me like he knew me, like helovedme. “You need to tell me what’s going on here. Please.”
I just needed him to speak. Make me understand.
“Am I correct in saying your name is Skye?”
I nodded, finding myself careening into his touch.
“In a previous life, your name was Iris.” His thumb grazed my temple once more, a gentle caress. “And you were my wife.”
My brows arched skyward, a wash of emotions surging into me at once. It seemed he poured his emotions into me then, a wave of the purest form of lovedrenchingme. Visions of the woman in the photo, us, swarmed my mind, him showing me exactly as he said he would, this manor as it was many years ago. Our manor.
Floor-to-ceiling drapes suddenly billowed from the windows, mahogany trims lining the room now covered in patterned carpet. I instantly wanted to take my boots off, but that made little sense. This wasn’t real. An intricate mantle surrounded an open fireplace, an oversized antique rug planted on the floor in front. I looked around the room to the window that now had perfectly varnished timber framing each of the many squares in it, overlooking a lush vegetable garden.
Beautiful.
I couldn’t grasp any of this, why I suddenly saw this manor as if it were brand new. And him.
He showed me visions of us laughing as we sat before the dying flames of the open fire, drinking red wine. Of us making hot cakes for breakfast, and me choosing my fabrics, just like he mentioned.
