Chapter 9
9
AVA
W hen I walk into Bram’s office the next morning, he’s smiling at me. I stop at the threshold and search the room for a trap. “Is a bucket of pig’s blood going to fall on my head? Or have you set up a mystical hex that’s going to rip off my clothes or something?” Why did I just say that? Why is that where my brain went? Inside, I’m shriveling up into a ball and locking myself away forever.
Bram’s chair squeaks as he slowly leans back. He crosses his arms, the grin never falling from his face. It’s so wide his one dimple is visible. The dimple that should be illegal. No, Bram Blackthorn should be illegal. No one has the right to look this good. It’s unfair to the rest of us normal, slightly awkward people.
He must have gotten in early today because his suit jacket is already on the back of his chair and his sleeves are rolled up. His shirt is tight across his biceps and his dark hair is tousled as though he’s run his fingers through it a few times.
Even though he’s a gorgeous man, there’s a shadow that clings to him. His aura is laced with darkness. When I see him, his aura is a dirty gray color. He’s unhappy and burdened. Though it always shifts colors when we spend time together. Usually to a green, which indicates healing and peace. Sometimes, like yesterday in the kitchen, it flashes red. Which can mean anger, but it also means lust. The strangest part is the black that taints Bram’s aura. I’ve never quite seen anything like it before. It should be enough to send me running. Of course, I’m damaged goods, so when I see a wounded man, I want to fix him. The reasonable, modern part of my brain knows that I’m not fixing anything. My own life is in the shitter. I’m not going to magically heal whatever is wrong with Bram.
I mean, I am a witch, but I highly doubt there are any spells I can cast that would fix whatever psychological damage Bram suffers from. Most of us with a curse are messed up in some way. I don’t know any of my friends who have escaped the trauma of being burdened with their family curse. But there is just something so odd about Bram’s aura. The way the shadows dance through the colors, it’s like dark dye drifting through water.
It’s mesmerizing and beautiful in its own way. It’s also dangerous, because I don’t know why he’s like this. We haven’t quite reached the point in our relationship–friendship?–that I can come right out and ask him.
Although what do I have to lose? If I embarrass myself that much, I could just disappear for two weeks and he won’t remember who the hell I am the next time I see him.
Right now, his aura is a mischievous yellow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bram look so playful and yet devious at the same time.
“Good morning?” I cringe when the words come out as a question. As if I don’t know that it’s actually morning.
“Vandenberg.” Bram’s voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. My body’s screaming at me to either run out of the room or launch myself into his lap. I imagine the look on his face if I went with option number two and cringe. That wouldn’t be pretty. He’d probably dump me on the floor and ask me what the hell I was doing.
I drop my bag on the table that’s become my makeshift desk, shrug off my coat, and toss it on the arm of the couch. When I look over at Bram, his eyes are scanning my body. I smooth out my skirt and fix my sweater. I wouldn’t say I’ve gone full temptress, but since I don’t have to see my boss today, I actually reached into the back of my closet and found a somewhat fashionable and cute-for-me outfit. I haven’t worn anything this nice in over a year. It hides all the right spots, but also flatters my figure.
“Do you have somewhere else to be today?” Bram asks, his eyes narrowing on my legs.
“No. Why?” I run a hand over my hair, but it only makes it staticky. Strands cling to my fingers and then float in the air.
Bram stares at my outfit and my cheeks grow hot. “You just look nice.”
I stare at him like he’s grown an extra head. Was that a compliment? I’m so thrown off that I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “It’s because I don’t have to see my boss today. He’s a little pervy.”
“Excuse me?” Bram rises from his seat, his hands braced on his desk and murder in his eyes. Is he mad?
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” I chuckle nervously. I definitely can’t handle it, hence why I dress like I’m participating in a game show where contestants have to find the ugliest sweaters at a thrift shop. Winner gets a yellow Fiat.
I can’t hold Bram’s intense gaze, and my eyes fall on the walkie-talkie on his desk. Oh shit. My pulse hammers in my ears. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been caught or because of the way that Bram is looking at me.
“Do you and Roman use walkie-talkies like two little kids? You know his office is just next door, right?” Great cover-up. He’ll never know it was you who hid it in his plant and had your brother make animal noises randomly throughout the day.
For a second, I think Bram is going to force me to talk about my boss, but then he picks up the black box and flips it in his hand. “It’s the strangest thing. I thought I was losing my mind for a second there, because I kept hearing things.”
“Voices? Are you sure they aren’t just in your head?” I add helpfully, plopping onto the couch and extracting my laptop from my bag.
“Oh no, I know exactly what those voices sound like.” Bram’s chuckle is low and throaty. It’s so delicious it takes my brain an entire beat to catch up to his words. Before I conjure up a response, my phone vibrates with a message. I snatch it out of my bag, desperate for something else to concentrate on. It’s a text from an unknown number.
I swipe to open the message and nearly drop my phone. It’s a close-up photograph of a man’s hairy nipple.
“What the hell?” I murmur and click out of the message to stare at the number, as if it’s going to morph into a familiar name spontaneously.
Bram crosses the room to sit beside me, and I quickly toss my phone back on the table.
“Troubles?”
“Nope? No. Wrong number. Should we get started on today’s tasks?”
Bram sits so close his arm brushes against mine. There’s a whole ass couch here, why is he so close? And how do I regulate my breathing? Fuck, he smells good. I keep my face focused forward, because if I look at him, I will definitely melt into a puddle. Bram from faraway is drop-dead gorgeous. Up close, he’s even better. No Monet’s here.
“I need to wrap up by early afternoon. This weekend is the Winter Carnival. I have a few things I need to finalize before all the craziness descends on the resort.”
The Winter Carnival is an event that’s been held for the last ten years or so. I’ve never been to it because, before a few months ago, the Lumen and Tenebris covens were mortal enemies and we weren’t allowed to cross over onto each other’s territory. Which really sucks because it's a fundraiser for the local public schools.
“Do you have a lot to do with the event’s organization? I thought it was teachers and parents that put it on?” Stellan’s school has benefited from the money raised at this event, but he’s never been able to attend.
“It is, for the most part. Teachers and the parents’ association do all of the planning. The resort provides the location for the carnival, the food, and we make sure all the areas that will be used for games and activities are all ready to go.” Bram’s aura flickers brighter as he talks, the swirling ink lightening.
“That sounds kind of amazing.”
“You should come.” He says it in an off-handed way, the way people are like, oh there’s this free community event and everyone in town is invited. The way my stupid heart hears it is that he’s personally inviting me. My brain uncurls from its fetal position long enough to slap me upside the head. Metaphorically speaking.
“Yeah, sure. Maybe.”
“I know Roman’s bringing Josephine, so you won’t be alone.”
“Right. Makes sense.” Okay, definitely a more the merrier situation and not a personal invite.
Bram frowns at me. “You’re not under any obligation to come.”
I sigh. I need to get out of my own head. “I’ll be there. I’ve always wanted to go, but other side of the river, you know.”
Bram nods slowly, a sly smile creeping up his face when my phone chimes again. I swipe it open just for an excuse to stop looking into his unwavering gaze.
It’s another nip pic. What fresh hell is this?