Chapter 28 #2
“What happened?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. There’s a cold bite to my tone. Not directed toward her personally, but at the idea of her spilling blood for any reason, even by accident.
It’s subtle, but I don’t miss the way her body tenses at the tone.
“I…” She tilts her head back and forth, thinking it over.
“I had an emotional moment and maybe, possibly, slammed my hands on some broken glass.” She shrugs it off and continues, “Anyway, I accidentally cast the spell, never thinking it would bring you all here. When I went back out to the patio the next day, there weren’t any signs of a lightning strike. Not one single scar on the ground.”
Her eyes move to her red-headed friend, and there’s a small sparkle of light in them. “Rowyn showed up as I was about to have a panic attack.”
“I see you take after your great-aunt,” Sybil murmurs.
I’m the only one who hears. I bump my knee against hers, harder than she did. Mine is a warning not a comfort.
“Has it happened again?” Gale asks. “The visions?”
All four of the witches in her coven are silent, waiting for her answer but anticipate it. She actually looks a bit scared as she bites the inside of her lip.
“Yes, a few times. They’ve also started appearing in my dreams.”
Sybil and the others look at me with questions in their eyes. All I say is, “It’s true,” It must answer most of them from the witches’ shoulders drop in defeat.
“Now I have to ask,” Gale says, “what am I missing?”
With a sarcastic smirk—that is somehow the sexiest look I’ve seen of hers so far—Renata answers in a teasing voice, “Oh, Archer and I go way back.”
Not trying to hide my amused grin, I shrug and explain that to the man, assuming Renata’s coven knows as much as Sybil when it comes to this.
As soon as I’m done, Gale immediately says, “There’s a text in the basement somewhere about that. I’ll fin—”
“Dreams Between Lovers, dated February 1845?” Sybil asks. “Yup, we are completely caught up on that one.”
I watch Renata—the way a blush creeps up her neck to overtake her high cheekbones and the way she slowly scoots down in her chair, trying to hide. If I was easily embarrassed, Esme and Clover’s snickering might make me act the same.
“Sybil Ever Vexley,” Gale scolds, but there’s paternal affection laced in his tone. “I don’t remember giving you a key to that section of the library.”
“Package deal—” she flicks her hand between herself and me “—remember?”
With a low, warm chuckle, he agrees, “Fair enough, my girl.”
There’s no disdain on Rowyn’s face at the nickname, which I appreciate, more so on Sybil’s behalf than mine. The isolation has always been harder on her than it has been for me.
Instead, his granddaughter asks what her friend is too shy to voice. “Can we see that one? And any others that we haven’t had access to?”
“That would require actually coming to the library,” I mutter, now trying to provoke Renata for fun. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t take the bait.
“To be fair, Esme and I have been there plenty of times in the last month,” Clover muses.
Esme nudges her shoulder. “Lover Boy was not talking about either one of us.”
I’ll need to take some notes from the Love Witch because finally, Renata murmurs, “We’ll start going between repairs at the inn.”
“Thankfully,” Sybil teases, “we will have plenty of time to catch each other up on the finer details of this new coven.”
Renata doesn’t say anything. There’s a faint smile and a soft nod in Sybil’s direction as she takes a sip of her wine.
After Gale went inside, ready to lie down for the night, we all stayed to help Rowyn clean up. She tried to dismiss us, but Sybil and I have a lot of practice pushing past that coming from a family of four Hearth Witches.
I was also hoping for a single moment alone with Renata before she leaves.
There aren’t any official plans for when Sybil and I should move our things in.
I have to follow both of their cues on this one.
I have an inkling of doubt I’ll ever get her alone once we’re surrounded by five nosey witches and a temperamental ghost.
As the evening wears on and I’m alone on the patio wiping off the table, hoping that at the very least Sybil is inside making friends.
She pretends she doesn’t need friends, and we have gotten used to being alone, but the desire was always there.
She’s excited, and it’s a beautiful sight, especially coming out of a vision.
Behind me, the back door creaks open, and the shiver that runs down my spine is the only hint I need to guess who is standing behind me—close enough that I could turn around and pull her into my chest without moving a step.
Fighting every instinct I have, I don’t.
I don’t allow myself to look at her while I continue my mundane task and ask, “What excuse did Rowyn use to get you alone with me this time?”
Her swallow is faintly audible and when she speaks, it isn’t much louder. “Maybe I wanted to come talk to you.”
With that, I bite down my smile and turn to look at her. “Seems to me you’re only interested in talking when there are no living witnesses.”
That makes her snort and visibly relax as she takes a small step forward. I lean on the table, creating space between us that nearly kills me.
“Seems to me,” she mimics, “I’ll have to get over that sooner rather than later.”
“Is that so?” My tone drops to a husky voice that’s better suited for a dark bedroom. The moon-lit night feels right for us somehow.
She takes another step forward. Quietly, she admits, “Sybil wants to move in tomorrow.”
I can’t help but snort. “She’s always been impatient. How do you feel about that?”
She shrugs coyly. “I’m not sure—as long as you both are positive, I have no complaints. The coven is open to anyone looking for a home and a family.”
“Mm,” I hum. “I like that.”
This time her gulp is silent, given away by the small bob of her throat.
“None of that, Archer,” she scolds, but there’s no fight in her words for once.
“None of what, Renata?” I ask, pushing off the table. “You don’t want to hear every thought I have? The things I like and dream about?”
She shakes her head. “I already have a good idea what you dream about.”
“Yeah, you.” I reach up and run my fingers along her cheek. It’s intoxicating now that I have felt the softness of her porcelain skin. “Always you, my great undoing.”
She lets out a dry laugh, but doesn’t pull away. Fuck, that is the biggest win so far.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”
The tone of sincerity sparks a new wave of questions. Starting with, what the fuck does that mean? But this is a rare, beautiful vulnerability she’s offering me, and I’d take this moment over a thousand answers.
What does that say about me? Probably that Esme’s nickname is correct.
“What if I want you to know everything?” My hand slides down her cheek and rests gently along the nape of her neck.
My fingers tangle in her long, silky hair and I use it to my advantage, tilting her head back so she’s looking me in the eyes.
“What if I even begged for it? If I got down on my hands and knees right now for you? Hm?”
“Archer,” she pleads. I’m about to drop my hand, thinking she maybe really doesn’t want this. Before that heartbreaking rejection has settled, she slides her hands under my open leather jacket, settling there as she lightly rubs them against the thick cotton of my sweater.
Her eyes are heady and her full, pink lips are partially open, waiting.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
That word doesn’t begin to encompass what exactly she does to me—how my blood runs hot at the sight of her, or the heart palpitations that begin from a second of her attention.
Lover boy, indeed.
“Don’t fight it—don’t fight me.” I assess her, watching her resolve crumble before my eyes, but the uncertainty is still there. I would do anything to scrub it from her features forever. “We’ve waited a decade for this, and it wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Oh, the fates that bind us,” she murmurs. It’s an old saying and not one my family uses—at least not my parents and siblings. I recognize it from Everly’s text, though.
“I only care about the ones that brought me to you, Little Wisp.”
The subtle way she leans forward is all I need to gain the last ounce of encouragement to make my move.
With my hand still tangled in her hair, I tilt her head to the perfect position for me to fit my lips against hers.
It’s the most exhilarating moment of my life—until the door behind her bursts open and Renata practically jumps out of her skin.
Letting out a deep, pained sigh, I make eye contact with Sybil over her shoulder. She looks shocked and guilty to find us out here. I shake my head, telling her it’s okay.
It’s not—not a single part of my body or soul feels fine after losing my chance to taste her. I can’t stay mad at my sister, especially over an accident.
“Uh,” she starts, looking unsure. “I just thought we should get going soon. I want to pack tonight. We don’t have much, but that way we’re ready after our shift.” Her eyes move to the back of Renata’s head, who is as red as a rose petal and hasn’t looked at my sister yet. “If that’s still okay?”
With a deep breath, Renata blinks and mentally gathers herself before turning around. In a solemn but sure tone, she says, “That’s perfect.”
She doesn’t say anything else as she offers my sister a small smile and walks around her to the door. The only reason I don’t follow her inside, begging her to finish the moment we lost, is because I have more hope about us than I’ve had since the day I saw her at the apothecary.