Chapter Five
Five
“T urn right up ahead,” Liberty said. She was still buzzing from her encounter with Merle and wanted something she wasn’t about to ask him for yet. She’d never been a woman that men wanted for long.
But Merle felt different. Delving deeper into it wasn’t happening. Fear. Fear that if she did let him see the real Liberty, with her miscast spells and unsure tarot card readings, he’d run away.
Being strong and sure of herself was fine, but if she let him in too close and he rejected her...well, she wasn’t prepared to deal with that. She needed to be chill.
Except she wasn’t a chill person.
She was bold and stepped into her feminine power every chance she got. No risk, no reward was usually how she operated.
She wanted things to stay even between them. So she was going to have to find some other way of making him feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with her.
If only she could get out of her head and enjoy being with him. But that wasn’t how she was wired.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Scared?”
He pulled the car onto the shoulder, then put it in Park before facing her. There was an intensity in those chocolate-brown eyes of his that she hadn’t noticed before. It sent a chill shooting through her and straight to her pussy, still tingling from her orgasm.
“Stop.”
She started to shrug, but he shook his head.
“Either we’re the way we were, where you tease me and we do nothing about it or we move forward. I like you, Liberty. I think you like me too. But trying to use witchcraft as a wedge between us isn’t going to work. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How do I know that?” she asked.
She could never fucking censor a thought before it left her head. She betrayed her lack of confidence, her belief that Merle could drift out of her life as randomly as he’d drifted in.
He had an idea of who she was. A fantasy that she doubted she’d live up to. She wasn’t as bold and brash as she presented to the world. Her life was a tight rope over a chasm filled with snakes and sharp rocks and she ran across, slipping and sliding and trying to find purchase every day.
Each night she looked at the moon in whatever phase it was in and thanked the goddess for keeping her on the rope. Merle probably saw what everyone else did in her. Someone walking on solid ground, moving through life as she willed it.
So not the case.
Of course there was nothing random about Merle. Lying Cat proved that. Which was why she’d been doing the smart thing and keeping her distance.
Until fucking John Jones had reappeared and shaken her.
Shook her so hard that she’d gone to the one man she...actually somewhat trusted.
And that fucking scared her.
“Liberty... I’m never going to deliberately hurt you,” he said.
But of course he would, because what guy was going to be like yeah, babe, I’m totally going to make you care about me and then, when you least expect it, leave .
“Yeah.”
He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, curling it around his finger and tugging on it before he let it go. “Until you know it, I’ll just keep telling you I’m trustworthy. And you are going to stop trying to drive me away.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it? Or do you just think I’m a huge coward?” he asked.
She hadn’t seen this assertiveness from his side. There was a part of her that shoved and shoved simply because Merle didn’t budge. When she tried to scare him with her witchiness, he just met her with that quiet acceptance, which then made her be more outrageous. To see if she was too much for him as she had been for everyone else.
Because if there was one lesson that life had taught her, it was that there is no safety.
“You are not a coward. I just do it to get a reaction and you never react. Right now I need to see something. To know that you feel something for me,” she said. Her words came out in a harsh, agitated staccato. And she was definitely agitated.
“Okay. I’m told I’m an all-or-nothing guy. I’m not sure all is what you want,” he said.
“It’s better than nothing,” she said.
Then the hand that Merle had been resting on the back of her seat was at the nape of her neck, and he drew her toward him with a light, firm pressure. His mouth came down on hers, hot and hard. He didn’t hesitate or ask permission or wait for her response; his tongue gently explored her mouth and her thoughts were stopped in their tracks.
The taste and feel of him was as intense as the full moon in Taurus, his finger stroking the back of her neck as his tongue seduced her with long, languid strokes. She wanted to respond, but he felt so good. Every nerve in her body seemed to tune itself to him. She reached for him, putting her hands on his chest, and he slowly lifted his head and pulled back.
He looked down at her, his pupils dilated, his skin flushed and his lips wet from their kiss. “I want everything you have to give, Liberty. But I want it on our terms. Not strictly yours.”
Her mouth was tingling, her nipples were hard and there was that aching, pulsing wetness between her thighs. She was trying to listen to what he was saying, but goddess knew it had been a long, long time since she’d wanted a man the way she wanted Merle.
She turned away and opened her car door so that some of the crisp, autumn breeze would join them. There was only that hot, lingering summer heat, as if nature itself was feeling the tension. It made the desire inside of her that much sharper.
She tipped her head back against the seat and Merle stayed still. Like he did. But he wasn’t calm. That kiss had been anything but calm.
How did he do that?
She took a deep breath. “What is it you want?”
“More than a bargain struck because you want a favor. I want to get to know you...”
He hesitated, and she thought he might be afraid too.
“What do you want?”
“To date. To have a chance to really get to know each other,” he said.
“You’ll still help with John Jones even if I say no?”
She had to ask.
He looked offended. “Of course. I’m not an asshole.”
“I know you’re not.” Everything would be so much easier if he were.
Inside, Merle was the same emotionally over-the-top man he’d always been. But he had conditioned himself not to show it. Growing up, he believed it was better—and maybe safer—for him to be quiet and fall into being the bookish gamer his mom thought he was. It would have been okay if he threw down his bat after getting struck out at home plate, but directly expressing his emotions at home wasn’t acceptable.
So he’d adapted to keeping everything inside.
Of course, deciding to let Liberty know he was in his feelings with her and actually doing it...well, those were very different things.
She’d directed him to a small cutout near the side of the birch forest that surrounded the large lake to the northwest of town. Here the leaves had started to change from green into the hues of autumn. Oranges, yellows and browns with dappled sunlight coming through them. The scent was rich, earthy like the woman next to him.
She got out of the car, lifting her face to the sun before saying something soft under her breath. The breeze stirred around them; it was warm in the sunlight and felt more like July than September. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He should incorporate a character based on the wind into his latest campaign.
“Let’s go this way,” she said, taking off toward the left. He double-checked he’d locked the car, then followed her.
“What are we doing out here?”
“You asked me to help you get ready for Samhain, and I am. You need to bring the elements in to celebrate. In a way, you see that with pumpkins and willow brooms laced with cinnamon, but that’s just fake.”
As they walked through the forest next to each other, it was clear that the scent he always associated with Liberty was from the woods here. “What is that smell?”
She tipped her head to the side and winked at him. “Witches.”
He laughed. “It seems more like rosemary and birch, but I always confuse rosemary and thyme.”
“It is rosemary. It grows wild here, like a weed. Mom uses it in a lot of the spells she does for her customers, so if I have a slow day in the shop or a day off I come out and gather it for her.”
She was more relaxed in the woods than in the car. There was something very elemental about Liberty. In fact, he could easily see her conjuring up a familiar. In his head, a new D&D campaign was already forming—but this one was just him and Liberty.
“Will we need rosemary for my place?” he asked.
“What’s your place like? I didn’t get to see it,” she said.
“Uh... Well sort of empty in most rooms except my bedroom, office area and my dungeon.”
She lifted both eyebrows at him. “I knew you had one. Please tell me you have something hanging from the walls.”
“I do, but it’s not handcuffs. I do have a circular wooden shield. I hired some guys to make the walls exposed brick, and then I put down a herringbone-patterned wood floor last summer. There’s a large round table in the center and a chandelier that I bought off eBay that’s allegedly from a castle in Ireland.”
She grinned at him, making him realize he might be going on too much about his dungeon. It might seem silly, but it was the first place that felt like his own. “Yeah, so that’s it. Whatever you pick out will look good.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “I can’t wait to see your dungeon. Do you have a fireplace?”
“I do, but it’s gas. The dungeon is a converted dining room,” he said.
“Okay. Well I’d like to get some fallen branches and leaves to decorate the mantel and your windowsills. Then we can work on a broom for your door,” she said. “I’ll bring some stuff with me when we play D&D. That’s tomorrow night, right?”
“Thanks. Yeah, it is. Mostly it’ll be just you and me at my place.”
She stopped and made an excited sound as she stooped and started to push some leaves to the side. Underneath was a small bloom, and she touched it carefully. Again, she closed her eyes and said something under her breath.
He was pretty sure she was doing her witch thing, and he wanted to know more about it. These practices she did were natural, the same way he could code a new algorithm without thinking about the details.
This was magic. Sensual and earthy magic that he’d never encountered before. He wanted to understand it—and not for skills he could bring to D&D or whatever nonsense he’d been telling himself before.
But because it was Liberty. Because when she did it, it made him want to be on his knees next to her, his hands in the dirt, his body brushing hers. He wanted to understand the things she did because, unlike the many sports his father had introduced him to, this actually interested him.
Aside from her innate sensuality, which was enchanting. Magic. It was strange that he was letting himself fall into this world so far from the practicality of his.
She turned and caught him staring. He started to shrink away, but remembered her Nan calling him on it. So he stood there as their eyes met. He licked his lips and she gave him a half smile.
“Come and help me gather some of these leaves. They’ll be nice around your place.”
He knelt down beside her and felt his shoulder linger against hers. It wasn’t what he’d anticipated, but other than sex, it was rare that he touched anyone else. He worked remotely and he wasn’t a hugger. So this touch felt more intimate than it otherwise might have.
He inhaled deeply, the scent of the woods filled his nose and lungs and then he noticed something else, something subtle.
Liberty. Part of the woods, total earth mother and moon goddess.
Liberty left Merle when they got back to his place because she wanted to take the leaves and branches home and put a blessing on them before she put them in his house. She felt raw and settled for a wave good-bye when it was time to leave.
Instead of returning to her apartment, she drove to the small row house where she’d grown up. Her mom was meant to be back sometime tonight and Liberty missed her.
She let herself in and started the kettle for some tea before moving to the sunroom at the back of the house where the garden was. She wanted to put herbs and a spell together to give Merle strength and speed when it came to finding her father. But she also wanted protection for him in case her magic got out of control.
These were big asks, and she needed both the grimoire that she’d started making when she turned thirteen and her mother’s as well. She wanted all of the Wakefield women with her as she cast this spell.
Merle was doing so much for her even if he didn’t know it. Today, he’d been her talisman. He’d asked her to open up so he could get to know her better, but that was already proving harder than she’d expected it to be. Her mind was saying, It’s Merle—trust him . Kind of. It was more like, Surely it’s okay to trust him?
But the truth was that she couldn’t yet.
Not with this part of herself.
The tarot readings and the crystals she charged were the public part of what she did. That acceptable magic that everyone thought was quirky and cool. But flipping through the grimoire and picking the right candle to light before she started her spell? This was the part that could freak someone out.
For her, this was home. This was the place she felt most herself. Standing in front of the open book, she felt the generations of women who’d come before her. It was as if Mom and Nan were with her, their hands on her shoulder as she found the right elements for the blessing.
Though as much as she had thought it was cool that Merle knew about spirits from other realms crossing into this one, that knowledge was lore that he used in his game. There had been nothing to indicate that he’d accept it in real life.
She lost track of the time as she investigated everything. She wanted to include the branches and leaves into a piece to go on his mantel—a makeshift altar. One of her oldest spell books would have the answer. She flipped through the pages, using her instincts and her gut to find the right spell.
In the middle of her search, she opened a window and was surprised that night had fallen. The wind had been absent all evening, and she was longing for its playful presence to give her some kind of peace of mind. But it was silent.
The sky was cloudy and the earth felt heavy. She closed her eyes as she browsed through the pages of her book. Suddenly, the spine, which had been broken by her folding the cover back over the years, flopped open.
The spell it opened to about spirit-guided writing...was a little too spot-on for her right now. She was floundering and her feelings had been added to that mix. What she needed was something for Merle. Sexy, nerdy Merle who only knew store-bought Halloween.
The branch she’d picked up was birch and had fallen from a tree that had been struck by lightning over the summer. She ran her hands over the length of it without touching it. Feeling the ghost of electricity in it, but no malicious intent. She said a quick protection chant and then turned to her oils. The ones she liked during Samhain were nutmeg, myrrh and, for Merle, sandalwood. She mixed them in a vial with a carrier oil and then used a dropper to distribute it down the length of the branch.
Next, she pulled herbs from the jars on the wall behind her worktable. She could have done this easily at the WiCKed Sisters shop, but she wanted to talk to her mom, and she was afraid of missing her again.
She already had the rosemary. Next she added sage, valerian and wormwood. She crushed the herbs together in her mortar and then pushed a piece of hemp rope into it. She continued working it with the pestle until the herbs and the oils were infused into the hemp. Then she pulled dried apples, pomegranates and some summer squash and used them to decorate the hemp rope, which she tied, braided and then wrapped around the branch.
Something was missing.
She went out into the garden and found a few small pumpkins to bring inside. The branch had a natural curve to it, and she tried a couple of different pumpkins until she found one that fit naturally into the curve. Then she tucked everything into a wooden crate so she could bring it to Merle later.
Liberty went back into the kitchen and made herself another cup of tea, then sat down at the kitchen table. She ran her fingers over the tiles that decorated the table, which were painted with different symbols for the four seasons. She touched the symbols representing the fall equinox and wondered where her mother was. This was the season of death and rebirth, the beginning of the darkness as they moved toward the shortest day of the year.
It was a time when she wanted to let go of the past—the only way to move forward.
But she wasn’t ready to. She had four more weeks until October thirty-first, when she wanted John Jones out of her head. But she couldn’t lie to her mom for four weeks. Also, she didn’t want to start something with Merle while trying to keep that kind of secret from the one person who was most important to her.
She fell asleep at the table waiting for her mom and ended up dreaming of that Cape Cod cottage. Except instead of just Mom, Nan, Grandpa and her, Merle was there along with Poppy and Sera. All of her family, together.