16 Jasper
JASPER
Life. Breath. A warm, beating heart. Fevered skin that ignites under my fingertips. The taste of ambrosia exploding on my tongue. Her kisses are the sweetest nectar. I pull her close, one arm banded around her shoulders as I sink onto the chair.
Birdie chases each touch, following me down. Straddling my thighs, her shorts inch up, exposing long, toned legs. I drop one hand to the small of her back and press in, pinning her against my hips. She pants for air, twisting her fingers in my hair. “Oh God—this is crazy—”
What’s crazy is that I’m still alive. A fucking wraith was just sucking my soul from my body.
His paralyzing hands held me down as every breath of life he stole flashed before my eyes in a kaleidoscope of precious memories.
Friends, lovers, running through the dark woods.
Gracie. Phoebe. Every reckless leap taken from atop the cliffs at Cinder Pointe, plunging into the sea below.
Feeling the first whisper of my earth magic thrumming in my chest. He stole it all.
But then he gave it back . . .
I don’t know what happened. Birdie said stop, and he stopped. Is that even possible?
“We can’t,” she whispers, even as her hands splay across my back.
She licks the shell of my ear, nipping with her teeth.
When she starts to pull away, I growl low in warning, fisting tighter to her damp hair.
Jerking her head to the side, I sink my mouth onto her neck, sucking her pulse point.
On Burr Island, the rain always falls lightly salted from the sea.
I taste it here on her skin. Brine, and salt, and moonlit waves.
I smell the floral notes of her shampoo.
She sucks in a breath, filling her lungs.
It presses her ribs tighter against mine.
Life. Hers courses rich and strong through every vein, vibrant as a fucking sunset.
Breath. I pull the air from her lips with each kiss, taking back what was stolen from me.
Power. My magic swells deep inside. Gods, I ache with it.
I feel like I could rip the rocks from this island and smash them in the sky, making thunder even the goddess can hear.
Birdie moans, raking her nails across my shoulders, her tongue seeking entrance.
I open for her, letting her take from me.
But only for a moment. Then I’m slipping a hand between us, taking what I need.
I feel for the little barbell piercing her tit.
She whines as I pinch it between my knuckles.
Her whine turns to another gasping moan as I give it a little twist.
She rocks against my hips. “Jasper, please—”
I fucking love the sound of my name chanted from her lips.
Fisting tight to her hair, I jerk her back.
She strains in my grip, chest heaving. Holding her molten gaze, I slip two fingers under the thin strap of her top.
With one sharp tug, the string gives. The silky fabric slips down, exposing her breast and the rosy, pink bud of her pierced nipple.
Groaning with need, I drop my face forward and suck it into my mouth.
Birdie cries out. Fingers weaving into my hair, she holds me right where she wants me. I keep sucking, teasing that piercing with tongue and teeth. My dick twitches as she grinds her pussy harder against my lap, both of us clearly desperate for more.
“Tell me to stop,” I plead against her fevered skin.
Her thighs squeeze tight around me. “Don’t stop.”
I let my free hand slip under her silky top, fingers inching down. “Tell me—”
“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
Pulling myself off her tit, I bury my tongue in her mouth.
If she wants this half as much as I do, I know she’ll be dripping for me.
Need to taste it. Lay her down on the counter and swallow her whole.
Won’t stop until she’s screaming, until I can finally push away this feeling of being drained.
I want to be full up on magic, and life, and the taste of Birdie’s cunt.
Cupping her ass with both hands, I stand.
She gasps in surprise, a soft laugh escaping her as she loops her arms around my neck.
I carry her over to the counter. Dropping her to the edge, I glide my hands up her sides to cup her breasts again.
Only enough to fill each hand. Fucking perfect.
One is bare, wet with my teasing. The other is still covered in the thinnest layer of pink silk.
She leans back, hands braced against the counter, giving me more of what I want.
With a desperate groan, I descend, sucking at her other nipple through the thin fabric.
Balancing on one hand, she grabs the only strap left and tugs, tearing it loose.
The slip of silk flutters around her waist, leaving her torso bare for me.
I rock back, both hands gripping her hips, and watch her pant.
Each breath lifts her beautifully painted chest. Beneath her breasts is a colorfully inked Isis with wings spread.
I brush my fingertips over the sweep of her wing, following the curve along her lower rib.
Reaching out, Birdie cups my cheek. “Jasper . . .”
I pull my gaze from her chest, looking instead at her pale green eyes.
A thousand emotions race across her face—fear, hunger, passion. She settles on the one that scares me the most, the one that sees right through me. She may not believe in tarot, but her intuition is razor sharp. “You almost died tonight.”
“Yeah.”
She tips my chin up. “Don’t do it again.”
Her worry slashes through my hastily rebuilt defenses, striking me square in the chest. What the hell am I doing? A wraith was here. A wraith just attacked me!
No, wraiths don’t just attack. Wraiths are sent. They’re commissioned, like immortal fucking assassins. A wraith has my name, and I’m just standing here, groping my new shop girl? I should be summoning my coven. I should be raising all manner of fucking hell. Burr Island is under attack.
It just doesn’t make any sense . . .
For the last four hundred years, this island has been protected by a powerful warding spell, sealed with the blood of the Sacred Five.
No magical being may step foot on the island without an invitation from a member of the coven.
Humans are immune as long as they harbor no ill intent against the island or its inhabitants.
It really is a clever bit of magic. And it means crime on the island is virtually nonexistent.
They’ve actually written about us in textbooks.
No, the humans are harmless. The warding is meant to shield against magical intrusion.
Most magical beings are effectively kept out—witches, vampires, shifters, fae.
Some beings have the power to pass through, spirits and the like.
But no ghostly apparition has the power to control a wraith or bend it to its will.
But a wraith was definitely just here.
No, a wraith was sent. This has to be the work of a witch, right? What other creature could effectively control a wraith? A demon, maybe? It only took four hundred years, but someone finally found a way around our wards.
And this timing is too damn conspicuous. It has to do with Homewood, with my argument with Howe today. I threatened him, so he crawled back to whoever is pulling his strings, and they sent literal Death to put me in my place. If they can send him once, they’ll send him again.
Fuck, this is serious. Do they all know something I don’t? What the hell is buried up in those damn woods?
Birdie drops her hand away from my face, worry still stitched across her brow. “Jasper?”
I sigh, letting myself look at her. Such a lovely innocent.
If I were anyone else, I’d take her in my arms and comfort her.
I’d fuck her and keep her, my pretty little treasure.
Maybe it would be a summer fling. Maybe more.
We’ll never know. Because I’m Jasper Prescott. I don’t get to choose my fate.
And Birdie is human. She doesn’t get to know my secrets. Humans can’t be coven. Not even outside witches can be coven. They can’t set foot on our island without invitation. Is it any wonder our size has dwindled to only ten members?
Mom did this to us. She withered us, made us weak. Too wary of outsiders. Too driven by bloodline and purity. If you’re not of the First Five, you’re not coven. She even wrote off our poor Phoebe. There’s no place in a coven for a magical dud.
Now Birdie is here, and I’ve put her in danger.
She doesn’t know what attacked me. She saw the wraith with her own eyes, and she doesn’t believe.
She thinks it was a mugger in a hoodie looking for a wallet.
And skeleton biker gloves? I could almost laugh.
That’s where her human mind went. She’ll make it almost too easy to lie to her.
So long as I’m lying, whatever this is between us can’t happen.
Groaning, I drag a hand through my hair and step back. “We can’t do this.”
She stays perched on the edge of the counter, her ruined top draped around her hips, breasts exposed to the room. “Okay.” Her tone is gentle, not a hint of embarrassment or disappointment.
Fuck, why does she have to see me so easily? I swear, it feels like she knows me, and we’ve only just met. “You have to go.”
“Okay.” She slips off the edge of the counter and gracefully lifts the ruined scrap of silk to cover her breasts, holding it in place with her arm.
“But you should really call the police. Talk to them in the morning if you need more time to process what happened, but the other shops deserve to know there’s a creep prowling around.
I can’t be the only one living above these shops, Jasper. Innocent lives are at stake.”