by Luna Joya
The water rushed toward her, picking her up and carrying her forward. With a laugh, she popped up on the board and rode along the shore as she’d done so many times before she’d locked her love of the ocean and her powers away. She could hear Sam cheering and clapping.
“That’s awesome.” He paddled close to her and pulled her in for a kiss. His damp hair slid between her fingers. Saltwater and Sam, the most potent combination of flavors.
They waited amongst the others for a wave to break closest to them with Sam paddling further out. She sensed the steady roll coming for them, to curl them into the wave. She couldn’t hang the angle as well as Sam, but she rode until she had to bail. The water rushed to catch her, and she surfaced next to her board.
“Sweetheart!” He pointed to the swell forming behind her, but she had known before her head cleared the water. She scrambled onto the middle of her board and paddled straight into the coming crest. Other surfers on the lineup would be too far away to catch this one. It was all hers.
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him grin before he duck-dove with his board beneath a smaller wave. She waited for the right moment, pushed up into plank, got her feet beneath her in a crouch, and slowly rose to a stand. Leaning into the wave, she let the water carry her toward the shore. Riding the curl proved impossible. The ocean forced her to shallow waters in a smooth, uninterrupted carving of the spray.
Standing, she snatched her board to start paddling out again. The water surged, and the board almost smacked her in the face.
On the third failed attempt, she mumbled to the ocean, “What gives?”
Swallowing the risk, she snuck a tendril of power into the waves around her and almost choked on the sense of completeness rushing over her. She wanted this as much as the sexy buzz she got every time Sam reached for her. But why wouldn’t it let her back out in the waves? Back to Sam?
The roar of a small engine combined with slaps of water came to her above the normal “whoosh” of the waves hitting the shore. Her head snapped up. A jet ski raced along the waves, encroaching on the surfers.
She stopped grabbing at her board and pushed the tangle of wet hair from her face. The rider zoomed dangerously close to Sam. Her breath caught.
The tall, lean man leaning over the handlebars had a cap pulled low over his forehead. She couldn’t see his face, and long sleeves covered his skin, but she could swear she saw twists of familiar blond hair beneath the hat. It couldn’t be. Her imagination zipped to memories of her last night at the beach with Neil.
How could the rider not see Sam where he sat astride his board? Panic swirled through her.
“Sam!” She jumped on her board and pulled fast strokes.
Sam paddled toward the shore, whipping his head around to the jet ski.
Too late. She judged the distance between them, climbing to her knees to wave her arms in desperation. She had to get the rider’s attention. She screamed Sam’s name again.
The jet ski edged so close she could see the plume shooting out the back as it skipped over the water. Sam paddled harder, his jaw set in a tight line.
The motor blared louder. The bastard was accelerating.
She’d never get to Sam in time, and he was no match for an engine. A wave swept over his head. He rolled beneath it. The spray from the jet ski arced over him as the rider banked.
Her hand flew to her face. Relief poured over her. The jet ski revved again and rolled into a sharp U-turn straight for Sam.
Fear shot through her, surging her elemental magic perilously close to spilling over. Thrusting one hand into the water, she shoved hard. Her mouth curved downward. She pulsed a wave between Sam and the jet ski. One to stop the danger.
Power thrummed through her, and another pulse created a second wave pushing Sam toward the shore. She should stop while she still could, but the connection and clawing need rolled through her. The third push brought Sam almost even with her, a fourth wave capsized the jet ski, and a fifth tugged the menace further from his ride. She could scare him as badly as he’d terrified them.
Hurt him. Pull him under, hold him there as he would do to you and yours. The same hunger she’d fought when she’d held Neil’s head below the tide tore through her. A heartbeat later, she could hear echoes of Ama teaching the first rule of magic. Ama’s sweet brown eyes filled with laughter as she sang lullabies and kissed her to sleep with whispers of, “May you harm none. I love you, mija.”
The water stilled beneath her fingers, rocking her tenderly. She wouldn’t break the rule. Not again. Not for this.
Yet, her elemental magic rushed through her, more thrilling than any ride on a board. The call devoured every part of her, wanting to reclaim her as its own.
“Sweetheart.” Sam reached for her. “You good?”
His hand brushed her waist, and the magic blazed. His fingers locked on her, and her magic blinked away to a calm, constant hum. She studied him, taking in every inch of him.
“Sam?” Her voice broke, and he gathered her close. She ran her hands over his head and down to his suit, checking for any injuries. Or at least she’d meant to simply assure herself of his safety. But magic had a price. An individual toll for each user to pay.
For Mina, it brought on hunger. For Delia, the power could send her into a blackout. For Cami, her magic had always craved affection, and right now, it wanted Sam.
She crawled from her own board until she’d practically climbed in his lap. He fumbled for a moment but adjusted to hold her against him. She brought his head down to hers and pressed her lips against his. Her kiss marked a claim, licking and teasing until the needs of her power subsided.
The demand for passion finally gave way to the catcalls and encouraging whistles from the other surfers. Cami ducked her head.
Sam snickered and bit his lips, clearly savoring the taste of her there. “Surfer girls are hot.”
She smacked her hand against his slick wetsuit. “I was terrified.”
He winked. “If we can do this again without me getting run over, I’m all for it.”
Her grip tightened on him. “You sure you’re okay?”
He glanced down before meeting her eyes again. “Maybe you can kiss me all better again just in case.”
She brushed her lips against his before pushing out of the water. She heard his footfalls close behind her.
“Wasn’t it insane what happened out there?” He laughed. “What a rush.”
“A rush?” She spun so fast she almost hit him with her board. “Is that what you call nearly dying?”
“What? The crazy on the jet ski?” He planted his board in the sand. “He’s probably a tourist.”
“He could’ve killed you.” She bit out every word, fear fueling her anger.
“But he didn’t.” Sam waved a dismissive hand toward the water. “It’s all good. Karma took care of it.”
“No, Sam.” She couldn’t stop herself from poking her finger into his chest. “I took care of it. Me.”
She stormed toward his truck, fuming with the entire situation. What if she hadn’t been able to connect with the waves? What if her element had refused her?
She could’ve lost him in a split second, and his nonchalance meant he didn’t realize how close he’d come to death. She snapped the key from where it hung around her neck below the inactive charm and jerked open the back of the truck. How many of their “bad luck” dates had been decided by fate?
Sam jogged after her. She yanked down the zipper of her wetsuit and peeled the fabric away to reveal a bikini beneath.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You stopped it?” He braced his hand on the truck over her head.
“Nothing.” She seethed and wrenched her feet out of the suit. She snatched a towel from inside and rubbed at her dripping hair.
He leaned over her. “Come on, Cami. What did you mean?” He didn’t sound mad or even annoyed. The curiosity edged with concern undid her.
“Magic.” She huffed a long sigh. “It
was magic.”
This was not the way she’d imagined the conversation happening. She’d planned to break it to him last night before clothes started coming off. Or maybe sometime earlier in the week. Certainly not hours before they planned to meet Mina at the hotel. She slumped into the gaping hull of the Land Cruiser.
“Sure it was.” He huffed a laugh and dragged a hand through his curls, flinging droplets around them both. “More like dumb luck.” He pointed toward the rider who’d treaded water back to the jet ski and attempted to mount it. “Or terrible operating skills.”
She swallowed. She could retreat, say she’d made it up. Then what? The agitation and still-piercing need from magic expenditure seized her. “He didn’t fall. I pushed him. If you want to get technical, I asked the water to nudge him.”
“Right.” He drew out the word. “The guy fell, sweetheart. I’m sorry he scared you.”
“I did it.” She bit back the aggravation. “Like this.” She flicked her fingers toward the water. A wave popped and knocked the rider back under.
Sam shook his head. “Impossible.”
She shrugged. “Or this.” She glanced toward the beach and created three consecutive crests for the surfers to ride. Sam wouldn’t have seen waves like those outside of Hawaii or Central America.
“Or that.” She nodded toward a couple of teenagers making out near the water’s edge. Spray caught them both, startling a shriek from the girl.
Sam’s posture stiffened, his features shifting, eyebrows shooting up, lashes blinking like he couldn’t quite believe what he saw. “It’s not possible.”
“You keep saying those words like it’ll make it true.” She rubbed her temples. “But it won’t. This is what I do. It’s part of me.”
He gripped the truck so hard his knuckles whitened. “What are you playing at?”
Her shoulders sagged, and she ducked her face behind her curls. She shouldn’t have listened to Mina. She’d broken another witchcraft rule. For what? For him to stare at her like a freak? A fake? She shimmied out of the wet bottoms and into dry shorts. “Can we pretend I didn’t tell you?”
He stepped back. His hard gaze flicked from her fingers on the top button of her shorts to her face. “Is this some kind of trick?”
Her eyes burned and not from the salt water.
Sam’s expression turned guarded, his eyes wary. “I thought we were having a good time.”
“We were until some psycho aimed for you.” She scrubbed her upper body with the towel, trying to wipe away her sadness along with the water. Ama would have a spell to erase his memory. She could pick one up after meeting Mina at the hotel. A few well-crafted drops in his food tonight would make this all a bad joke by the time he woke in the morning. “Surfing was fun. Like you said, the guy must have fallen.”
“No.” He gestured between them. “I mean we were working out.”
She flinched at his casual use of a “good time” when he’d been talking about their relationship. She stared at him, watching the tension in his hands, the tightness around his mouth. “What are you trying to say, Sam?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you…is this you pushing me away? Coming up with a reason to take off?”
The pieces clicked into place. He’d been left his whole life by anyone who mattered until all he had was a business he slaved to make successful. And her.
“No, Sam.” She touched his chest, trailing her fingers there. “I didn’t tell you to hurt you.” She paled at the memory of childhood lessons of how witches must maintain secrecy, the need to protect the family, the threat of persecution from humans who’d always feared and tormented those who they deemed different.
Sam turned away, changing out of the wetsuit and into dry clothes in silence. He inclined his head toward the bluffs. “Get in the truck. I’ll take you home.”
She asked about their plans for the morning, but he only said he’d be spending it at the restaurant. Five minutes later, she climbed out of the truck onto the curb outside her apartment building. His focus stayed trained out the windshield.
She pressed her lips together. What could she say?
“I’ll pick you up around two.” His hands slid around the steering wheel. “I need to think.”
She shut the door without slamming it and trudged inside, doubting she’d ever see him again. At half past two, she waited with her stomach in knots watching from upstairs for Sam, who’d never been late. Until today.
No matter. Mina called to say she would meet her at the hotel in an hour. When asked about Sam, Cami evaded, saying only he’d had to work. No need to disclose their possible breakup and the reason for it over the phone.
She searched her tiny apartment for missing earrings and clothes she could’ve sworn she’d put away, packed a bag, and plunged into gridlock traffic on the freeway. She realized too late she should’ve taken Sunset Boulevard instead. Add another slip-up in an entire day of regretful decisions she wished she could wash away. Her phone lit up with missed calls from an unknown number. Ignoring it, she cued up a podcast on Sunny Sol’s prolific film history.
“You and me, Sunny. Crazy work life and the worst record with men.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sam’s gaze bounced between the hotel’s welcome desk where he’d checked in, the massive spiral staircase at the back of the lobby, and the large crowd around the bar, but none of those things held his attention. What if he’d fucked things up permanently with Cami?
He’d called his sister, because something Cami had said ate at him. It’s part of me. Lottie had said those words before, explaining her gift for always knowing the perfect look for people she’d barely met. Those talents kept his sister booked months in advance as a wardrobe stylist, but she called it her magic touch. His mother and grandmothers used the same phrase describing their own individual abilities. He’d never given the casual expression a second thought until this morning.
Lottie had launched into a detailed inquisition the moment he asked. He’d shared as much as he could without sounding insane. But she’d interrupted, “Wait. Your Cami? You said her last name is Donovan? You’re dating a Donovan sister? She’s not a Nahualli-Donovan, right? Shit, no one knows about them. I’m not supposed to know. She didn’t wipe your memory?”
When he’d finally gotten a chance to agree to at least the first question—because seriously what was the big deal?—Lottie had torn into a tirade so loud he’d had to hold the phone away from his ear.
“Thanks for being the second judgmental asshole big brother in the family. Upgrade to the hotel’s best suite. Something with nature if they’ve got it. Get her a damn gift and grovel.” She’d stopped the rapid-fire rant long enough to ask. “Haven’t you ever wanted answers about our own family?”
He hadn’t even had time ask her about Mitch Abrams or any sibling their mother might have before she had ended the call. That afternoon, Lottie had shown up in his office with bags in hand. “Clothes and overnight supplies for your witch and her sister.”
“Don’t call her that.” He shoved away from his desk which had done nothing but remind him of Cami’s moans and sighs all day.
Lottie had rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you’re so dense.” She’d snagged a water from his mini-fridge. “What time are you picking her up?”
He had answered with one eye on the restaurant’s staffing schedule.
“You’re late.” Lottie had thrust the bags at him. “She’ll be gone before you can get there. You better go straight to the hotel. Stay on the side streets. The freeways will be a mess.” Lottie had thrown keys at him. “I’m stealing Bogart tonight. Now go. Don’t screw this up. I can’t wait to meet her. I’ve only heard hushed hints about the sisters from their grandmothers.”
An hour later, gripping the single camellia blossom his sister had brought, he waited without knowing what he could say to fix this. He’d been so sure this morning Cami had been making it all up, trying to shove him out of her life a
s everyone else had. He’d run to the only refuge he’d known—work.
During the drive, he considered Lottie’s words. What if Cami had been telling the truth? And what if asking more questions about the family who hadn’t wanted him would’ve somehow prepared him for the craziness at the beach this morning? Cami had saved him, shared a deeply personal secret, and put herself out there. Then he’d shut her down out of his own fears.
He rubbed a hand over his face. Sunlight streamed through the lobby door but couldn’t cut through the darkness hanging over him. He didn’t have a clue what to say when he saw her. He turned the stem over in his hands and tried to stop his leg from jumping with nerves.
A crowd of young professionals in suits and dresses gathered at the bar. He glanced toward the mixer when a tall fair-haired prep brayed like a drunken donkey. The ass wrapped his arm around an equally towering woman whose stick-straight hair must’ve come straight from the salon. The gesture had Sam wishing for a pint-sized curly-haired goddess with golden eyes to arrive. What if she didn’t come? What if he should’ve gone to her place instead?
Cami stepped through the door clutching an oversized tote bag like a shield. She craned her head to take in the towering lobby. The same immediate attraction he’d experienced the first morning he’d seen her coming through the restaurant flooded him all over again. She was perfect for him. How the hell could he go back to living without her now he knew how smart and funny and fucking magical she was? He wouldn’t. He’d make this work.
He jumped to cross the room to her. His heart sank a little when she hiked the bag higher on her shoulder. She looked like a startled animal who might bolt at any second. Her irises shone darkly, more whiskey than gold.
“Wait.” He held up his hand and approached slowly. “Let me explain. I got tied up at the restaurant. I ran late. There’s no excuse.” He rushed on before she could respond. “I shouldn’t have shut you out this morning. I mean, what you said was huge and hard to take in, but I freaked and took my own issues out on you. Lottie told me she has two judgmental assholes for older brothers. I was instructed to grovel. I brought you a camellia.”