38 Birdie #2
Sighing, I look to Jasper. “Anyone else?”
“The Greenwoods. Hazel and her daughter Cora. They’re the last descendants of Charity Ames.”
Of course. Hazel Greenwood was at my dinner with Phoebe. She’s a pretty woman, mid-fifties, with blonde hair and bright green eyes. “I haven’t met anyone on the island named Cora yet.”
“You can meet them all,” he assures me. “In time, you will.”
“Your coven?”
“My coven.”
Something about his tone has me arching a brow. “Are you their leader or something? Is that why Mercy called you today?”
He stands tall holding my gaze. “Yes. I am High Priest of the Burr Island Coven. My ancestors trace their line back to Be-Good Prescott, one of the first five witches to come to this island and settle. Five witches, four families, now with a legacy of magic that spans four hundred years. We are the keepers of Burr Island—her stories, her secrets. We wield the magic gifted to us by our goddess. And we protect the people of Burr Island. That now includes you.”
“Only if I stay,” I hedge.
Pushing off the counter, Jasper takes a step closer. “Birdie, I need you to stay.”
“Why? How can I possibly matter to you?”
“You saved my life.”
I feel so small and insignificant under the suffocating weight of all this new information. He really thinks he’s a witch. No, a high priest. King of witches.
You’re kind of like a king.
I fight a shiver, remembering his face when I said those words.
My mind fills with images of him splayed out on the cobblestones.
A dark stranger looms over him, clad all in black with skeletal hands.
Scenes from the Death card flash like a strobe as I once again feel the chill of that watcher’s eyes on me.
A king is dead. Trampled. Mourned. Claimed by a skeleton clad all in black.
Oh god—he wasn’t just a mugger. Not at all. A whole new chill creeps down my arms, sinking into my gut and making me tremble. Last night, Death came to claim Jasper Prescott.
“I told him to stop,” I whisper. “That’s all I did, I swear. I just told him to stop.”
Jasper approaches slowly. “And he stopped.”
“But I didn’t—Jasper, I don’t have magic. Is that what you’re worried about? Is that what your coven thinks? You think I somehow did it on purpose? Well, I didn’t. I just told him to stop—”
“I know,” he soothes.
Okay, I think I’m done processing. The freak-out has officially started. My witch boss was almost claimed by Death last night and I stopped him. Tears sting my eyes as I reach for Jasper, clinging to something that feels familiar, something real. I feel the slow beat of his pulse at his wrist.
“What did I do?” I whisper, shifting my hands to his chest, my palms seeking the comfort of his beating heart.
Jasper lowers his face, his lips pressing to my forehead in a gentle kiss. One hand tangles in my hair as he pulls me in close, tucking me against the warmth of his body. “You saved me.”
I lean away, searching his face. “And now you need me to stay with you?”
“I need you to stay,” he echoes.
“Because he’s coming back?”
He nods. “I can’t fight him on my own. I need you, Birdie.”
“You need me here to stop him again?”
Heaving a sigh, he lets his hands rest heavy on my shoulders. “Birdie, I’m so sorry. I would spare you this if I could. If there was any other road, I would gladly take it.”
And there it is. My own coaxing touch turns firm. I lock my elbows, palms flat against his chest, and push him away. “Because you don’t want to need me, right? You’re just using me to save your own life. And when I’m no longer useful, I’m gone.”
“Birdie, no—”
“You don’t really want me here.”
“I do.” He pulls me in close. “Godsdamn it, Birdie, I want you. Don’t pretend you don’t feel this too.”
“Feel what?”
He presses a hand palm-flat to my chest, right over my heart. “This.”
My heart flutters wildly beneath the weight of his hand as I try to shift away, but he holds me fast.
“You feel this pull too, this magic between us. You feel me. You felt it from the first moment you turned around and saw me standing there in the shop. You want me, Birdie.”
“I don’t,” I say on a breath.
“You hate liars, so don’t fucking lie to me. Show me. You can’t say it, but you can’t deny it either. Show me how much you want me.”
He’s right. There’s some power in me that I can’t quite understand. I certainly can’t explain it with words. But I feel it. In Jasper’s arms, the feeling grows. I feel confident and powerful. I feel like saying, “more.” I don’t even know what the more is. More love? More passion? More of this pull?
All I know for certain is that Jasper feels it too. He pins me to the wall with his hips, his hands skating down my sides, slipping under my top to palm my bare skin. I gasp, arching up on my toes, my body all but vibrating everywhere he touches me.
“You want me,” he says again.
Eyes shut in bliss, I sink into the feeling of his lips pressing hungry kisses along the line of my jaw. “I don’t,” I say on a panted breath. “Want you.”
He dares to laugh. “Such a beautiful liar.”
Gripping his hair tight in my fist, I pull him to me. “God, just shut up and kiss me.”