I grip his shoulders unable to keep my hands to myself. I want to rub against him like a cat in heat. His lips hover inches from mine. His eyes are golden and full of everything I’m trying to believe is a lie.
“Tell me what you want, Louella.”
I bite the corner of my lip as I hold his gaze. “Kiss me.”
He cradles my cheekbones and holds me in place while he kisses me. My knees weaken. He holds me tighter, taking my weight as my lids lower. My lips part under his onslaught and I moan as his tongue slips inside and his flavor floods my mouth. I tilt my head, seeking more of him, and he delivers. I moan when my body comes to life. I’ve been asleep without him. Now the fire is burning brightly in my belly, my panties are soaked, and my heart is full enough to burst. I don’t want to stop. I need this more than I need oxygen. Moving my arms to wrap around his neck, I raise up on my tiptoes.
The possessive growl that rumbles through him thrills me. I’m making this magnificent being lose his rigid control. I’m playing with fire. It doesn’t matter when you love the burn. Desperation for oxygen parts us. I cling to him, wishing I could freeze this moment in time, and forget about everything that complicates the pure love we found and turned a sure thing into a questionable one. I soak him in as our foreheads rest together. In few more seconds, we’ll both retreat to our corners. He kisses my forehead and releases me, holding onto my hips until my legs decide to work on their own once more.
Taking a deep breath, I smooth my hands down my dress. “I should finish packing.”
“I’ll be in the living room.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold my silence. I can’t fall victim to passion. It led me down the wrong path before. This time my decisions must be made from the head and the gut. Magical enchantment is a bitch. I breathe through my nose and continue to pack. The world won’t stop because I’m having trouble not jumping my ex’s bones. I’m due in the shop tomorrow morning, and afterward Fel, Sacha, and I will get to work on Witch for Hire. The brainchild from the family meeting. My bones ache just thinking about the hours I’ll be putting in tomorrow. Finished with packing, I jot down a note and follow Cristobal, who insists on carrying everything, out of the house.
One good thing about being exhausted is the inability to focus. I’m falling into the welcome nothingness of sleep before he pulls the car out onto the main road. Barefoot, I walk over the grass outside the house, obeying the intriguing pull I felt when I first returned. I find myself walking toward the tone beacon in the distance. It must be early because the sky is a purplish hue and the blades tickling my toes are wet with dew. I step through the entryway, and I’m immediately drawn to the pond in the center of the large bricked-in area.
The circular body of water is surrounded by natural stones, crowded in by lemon balm, water mint, red bergamot, thyme, and watercress sprinkled in with creeping lavender. It’s a witch’s garden. The more I look, the more I see. In the middle of the water, candle spheres cast light, illuminating nature’s beautiful display. Farther out, large moon flowers weave their way around a white arch. An ornate cream-colored wrought iron bench rests beneath it.
Their tropical scent melds with the musky notes of White Jasmine. The white petals of the tuber roses, white lace, Madonna Lily, and Evening Primrose reflect the moonlight, creating an ethereal vibe. A thick slab of natural wood rests on top of a pile of natural stones creating an altar. He’s consulted with a witch to get everything just so. It’s a dream plucked out of my head and created. The peace that flows through me is a refreshing drink of water for the soul.
My white gown trails over the grass as I explore every nook and cranny. I straighten, placing a hand on my belly as my stomach sours. Cold sinks into my bones. I shiver. The dew becomes sticky. I glance down and gasp. My shift is red with blood. The warm, thick liquid coats the ground. Splat. Splat. The metallic smell tells me, but I have to see it. Wipe a drop off my face, and it comes away with blood. Everywhere I look, the flowers are turning red. I can taste the copper flavor in my mouth.
My heart slams against my sternum. A thick darkness rushes toward me. A scream wells up in my chest. I open my mouth to scream words of protection and swallow the scarlet fluid. It doesn’t choke me or taste bitter. It’s sweet and rich, like a well-aged wine. I feel my power increase two-fold. I plant my feet firmly and prepare to cast. The red moon hangs in the air.
“Louella.”
I startle awake, wrapped in Cristobal’s arms.
“You had a bad dream. Are you okay?”
I pry my lids open. “I-I don’t think it was just a dream. Think it was a prophecy. I need a pen and paper.” I wiggle from his arms across silken sheets. Silken sheets? “Where am I?”
“In my room. I did not want you to wake alone and disoriented. Your room is prepared and beside my own.”
I peer down at the dress I’m still wearing. The show of respect makes me smile. “Thank you.”
He leaves with a rush of air and returns with a pen and paper. “Tell me about this dream.”
I relay everything in detail as I jot it down. I’m too tired to view it with fresh eyes now, but tomorrow I’ll reexamine it.
“The last thing I saw was the blood moon. We’re all in danger, and the fact that it’s linked to the moon makes me think there’s a timeframe involved. I need to see the dream through to the end.”
“You’ve never had an inclination toward clairvoyance.”
“Never been bonded or thought blood would taste like a full-bodied wine either.”
Cocking his head to the side, he places his hand on mine, his touch only slightly cool. “Do you want to try—”
“No,” I say offhandedly as I sketch a few more details to compare to the actual garden I’ve yet to visit. Spent, I rest everything on the nightstand. “I should go to my rooms.” My words are slurred as my sudden burst of energy dispels, turning me into a zombie in need of one of two things: sleep or an astronomical amount of caffeine.
“I need something other than this to wear.”
He places something soft in my hand. I pry my eyes open, and my jaw drops at the sight of the black and orange striped pants and matching orange T-shirt with a pumpkin face.
“You kept this?”
“It was never a matter of if you’d come back, only when for me.”