I’m surprised the tone in his voice, vulnerable and soft, doesn’t melt my clothes off right then and there. Taking one of my hands away from his, I drag the hair out of my mouth.
“So, you’re saying everyone here will be getting naked for this cleansing thing?”
He nods.
Still tapping my foot, I look around his room. I shake my head and close my eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Can’t you make an exception and do it with my clothes on?”
“It isn’t as effective…”
“That’s okay!” My eyes snap up to his face, pleading. “Please, I have a thing about… About people seeing me naked.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”
I stare at him, equally confused. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I snatch my hand away, sure that he’s messing with me. Then I turn my back to him. “Because I’m fat.” Tears burn my eyes, and I feel like a stupid, insecure teenage girl dressing down in gym class. Damnit!
Mac’s arms grip my shoulders, and he turns me around. “Oh, dear. Don’t cry!” He pulls a tissue from his pocket and dabs under my eyes. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about. You aren’t fat.”
That statement gives me the courage to glare at him. “Yeah, right.”
“You think that, why? Because you’re overbearing mother says so? Because of some mean girls in high school that were probably jealous said so?” He scoffs. “In the craft, we learn that we decide what we are. We decide what the world is, and that knowledge, which is so much more than belief, allows us to bend ourselves and the world to our will.” He smiles. “And as a male with blood pumping through his veins, I can tell you that me performing this ritual with you borders on unethical.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I have an attraction to you.” His eyes slide down my body. “And this ritual isn’t about lust, it’s about cleansing.” He sighs and sits down on his bed. “Maybe I should have one of my coven do this.”
“No!” I say too quickly.
He looks up, one eyebrow lifted toward his hairline. “But I thought you…”
“Are you just messing with me?”
He frowns. “Messing with you?”
Here we go again.
“About being attracted to me?”
Wrinkles spread out across his forehead, and his eyes look at me with something like frustration in them. “I don’t lie.”
I sit next to him. “No, I wasn’t trying to imply that you do. I just…” I think about how to explain leagues to him, and how I’m nowhere near his, but I’ve already displayed enough adolescent behavior for one night. Plus, I didn’t want to be that girl. The kind who thinks certain types of guys are too good for her.
Trixie always tells me to fake confidence, so I decide to try that.
“Look.” I place my hand on his shoulder. I almost jump at the heat coming off him. Like there really is fire burning just under the surface of his skin. “You don’t have to get anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”
He smiles, and my heart patters like infant feet across the floor.
“We can compromise.” He stands up and heads for his bed. Pulling back the comforter, he rips a thin, white sheet off his bed and holds it out to me. “You can cover up with this.”
I cross over to him and take the sheet in one hand. “Will it still work?”
Intensity sparks in his eyes. “I will make it work.”
For some reason, those words ignite a fire in my belly. I wonder if he has this effect on everyone. I bet he does.
“Unfortunately, for me to be most effective, I will have to be naked. Is that okay?”
I try not to laugh. Is he serious?
Glancing at his tight t-shirt, I nod. “Yeah, I think that will be fine.”
Mac actually blushes again. That’s twice in one night. The fact that I’ve been able to get to him like that gives me some kind of confidence I’ve never felt before. It’s exhilarating.
He bows to me then turns around. “Take your time.”
I nod–not that he can see me–and place the sheet down on the bed. Then I reach behind me, unzip my grass-stained dress, and slide it off my shoulders. As soon as it hits the floor, a feeling swells up in me. I’ve never felt it before. The best I can describe it is electric. I feel electric. I feel electric just standing half-naked in a room with this man. Even though he can’t see me, it runs through my veins.
I clear my throat. “Um, take everything off?”
He nods.
Reaching behind me a second time, I unhook my bra. Then after a few moments hesitation, I slip off my black lace thong. I quickly wrap the sheet around me, then ball my clothes up into a pile and hide them under the bed. For some reason, I’m not comfortable with him seeing my undies.
I’m an emotional yoyo tonight. From feeling electric to not wanting Mac to see my panties, even if they’re not on me. Classic Kinsley.
I clear my throat. “Okay.”
Mac turns to me and stares, a calm look on his face. His breathing becomes more rapid, and his face flushes for the third time. He coughs and looks away. Then without saying anything, he takes off his robe and throws it onto the bed.
“Oh! Do you want me to turn around?”
His gaze slides back over to me. He’s careful to keep his eyes on my face. But the way he’s looking at me makes my entire body ache. Suddenly, I crave his touch. His mouth. His everything.
This is crazy. I just met this guy. I have never, nor will I ever, sleep with some guy I just met. No matter how hot he is.
I think.
No, I won’t.
With his eyes still locked on mine, he says, “Do you want to turn around?”
His voice comes out husky, and my nipples get hard. Just like that. Just from the sound of his voice. I cross my arms over my chest.
I might be in trouble.
His eyes never leave my face as he starts unbuttoning his white shirt. When he pulls it off, I don’t grant him the same respect he gave me. My eyes slide down to his chest.
Damn.
It’s like he’s sculpted out of marble. I want to turn around–I should turn around—but the sight of him, chest naked with only a pair of pants and suspenders, nails me in place.
He snaps the suspenders then slides them off his broad shoulders. I still haven’t turned around. He doesn’t seem to mind as he unzips his pants and lets them drop to the floor.
I take in his legs, slim yet muscular and covered with a blanket of curly hair.
Damn.
His fingers snap the band of his underwear, and I gasp and turn away.
Behind me, he chuckles. Seconds later he says, “Okay, Kinsley. I’m ready.”
Slowly, I turn around, making sure my eyes stay fixed on his eyes and only his eyes. He heads for the altar and picks up a thick bundle of herbs. He parts his lips and blows. A small burst of flame shoots out of his mouth, and the bundle sets on fire. Then he waves his hand in front of it, and tiny spirals of smoke form.
I laugh. “You breathe fire?”
He winks at me. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Oh, sure.”
With a smile, he saunters over to me. My breath catches in my throat.
“I’m going to smudge you.”
I nod, not bothering to ask what that is. Without another word, he swirls the bundle of herbs around my head. I breathe it in, recognizing it right away as sage. It’s always burning at the Enchanted Moon. After he’s finished with my head, he waves the smoke toward my shoulder, bends down and does the same thing around my hips, then kneels down to douse my legs and feet in smoke.
As he walks around behind me, I shudder.
“How are you holding up?” he asks in a soft voice.
Smoke swirls around my face. I let out a little cough then cover my mouth.
“Fine,” I tell him, sounding like a squeaky mouse.
Goosebumps break out along my arms as the
smoke hits my back, my ass, and the back of my thighs. My eyes close and my mouth falls open. If blowing smoke over my barely-covered body feels this good, I have to wonder about his hands.
His mouth.
I run my tongue across my bottom lip, and my lady parts tingle. Then his lips brush against my ear.
“I need you to lay down.”
My eyelids flutter open, and I turn slightly to look at him. He’s so close, our noses touch.
“What?” I ask in a barely audible voice.
He backs away, though only inches, and gestures toward the tree trunk. “By the altar. So I can complete the ritual.” His voice is thick, and for several moments, we just stand there.
The space between us charges. I feel like I just grabbed hold of a 10,000 watt cable. His hand presses against the small of my back. Without taking his eyes off mine, he guides me toward the altar and lays me down.
I clutch the sheet tighter around my body and close my eyes. Mac’s finger massages something wet in the center of my forehead. My body shivers against my will. As his finger slides down and massages something that smells like lilacs into my clavicle, I know I’m going to lose it. It takes every bit of willpower I have to not grab him and pull him on top of me.
His finger continues to travel down my body. He massages oil into my navel then finally on the soles of my feet. My teeth rake against my bottom lip, and my hands fall to my side. The sheet slips slightly, but I don’t care.
This feels too good to waste time wracked with self-doubt. He grabs my arms and pulls me up. I open my eyes, and he’s seated across from me, still looking me in the eyes, jaw clenched. He clasps his hands together, and a blue light peeks out through his fingers. As he pulls his hands apart, the light turns into a small orb. The farther his hands get from one another, the larger the orb grows. Then he tosses it in the air, and it circles both of us like a warm, alien blanket.
I gasp and stare at it, pressing my fingers against it only to find it’s like pressing against a brick wall.
“You’re inside the circle. Nothing can hurt you here.”
I turn to him and shake my head. “You’re amazing.”
He laughs. “Just doing my job, Kinsley.” He winks and continues the ritual.
He rubs salt against the bare parts of my skin. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation, the sweet tingling all over my body. Next comes the water, then he passes the flames burning from his candles over my body and starts muttering something I don’t understand. Another language. His language. His voice gets louder and louder, and the room begins to shake. Not a quake, just a gentle rattle of the walls. Of the floor. I feel an energy unlike anything else I’ve ever felt enter me. It stretches through me, flowing into my fingers and the top of my head.
I feel high. Higher than I’ve ever felt. And at ease. Like I could go against a rabid donkey and kick his ass.
The energy builds in me until I feel like I’m about to burst. My lips fall open, and a low moan escapes them. He scoots over to me, and I fall into his arms. He whispers something, low and intense in a language I can’t identify, then a bell dings and the build-up of energy starts to descend, like slow moving water leaking out through my skin.
I let out a sigh.
Mac says, “It is done,” against my ear.
I open my eyes, and the circle is gone. Mac is sitting in front of me, leaning forward with eyes that examine me like I’m a species he just discovered in the wild.
“Wow,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. Why would he say wow? He’s the one that just rocked my world with his magic. I’ve never felt anything so powerful. Never been a part of something so wonderful. Instead of asking him what he meant by ‘wow,’ I simply nod my agreement.
“So, the cleansing is done?” I ask in a shaky voice.
He nods.
“Cool.” Again, a lame ass word to use for what just happened. Maybe I should invest in a thesaurus. “So, what now?”
He doesn’t answer. He just stares at me in that way that makes me want to jump in his arms. Then he leans forward, and his hands travel to the back of my neck. Trailing his fingers up, he tangles his fingers in my hair. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his breath against my ear. I shiver on each of his exhales.
He starts fidgeting with something in my hair. For a second, I wonder what he’s doing before I decide I don’t care. As long as he keeps touching me. A rattle followed by a thud rip my attention from his touch. My eyes pop open.
“What is this?” Mac asks. He picks up an orange pill bottle and rattles them in my face.
Oh.
Fuck.
“Um.” I stare at them, trying to think of a spectacular lie while jiggling my leg up and down. I reach for them, and he pulls them up over his head and out of my reach. I scowl. “It’s just medicine.”
He glances down at the bottle. “Without a label?” He frowns at me.
I reach for them again, and he shoots to his feet, grabs his robe off his bed, and pulls it on.
“Yes, I just put them in that bottle… because it has more room.” I stand up too, although not as gracefully as he did.
All the amazingness of the evening vanishes. I reach for them again, and once again, he snatches them out of my grasp.
“Give them back!” I snap, tying the sheet around me toga-style so that I can use my arms more effectively.
“What are they?”
“None of your business.”
“You smuggled them into my house. I’d say that makes it my business.”
I almost snarl at him. “I didn’t smuggle them in.”
“Then why were they in your hair?”
I sigh, cross my arms over my chest, and fall silent. I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret. My lips curl up into my most innocent smile.
“They’re pain killers. I got into a car accident. Busted up my knee.”
He stares at me, and his head tilts to the side. I can tell he’s considering my explanation. Then he inches toward me, a look of sympathy—or something like it—blazing in his eyes. He places his hand over my heart, and his eyes slide closed.
I gaze at my pills and start to make a grab for them when he clears his throat.
“Oh, Kinsley,” he says in a voice that suggests he knows something. “You don’t need these. I can help you with this.”
“Help me with what?” I snap. “Just give me the fucking pills!”
He shakes his head. “I think you know with what. I can help you. There wouldn’t even be any withdrawal.” He holds the pills up in front of me. “You don’t need these anymore. We both know you don’t.”
I grab the pills and back away from him. Then I reach under his bed and retrieve my clothes.
“You don’t know anything.” I stand with my clothes folded against me. “I’d like to get dressed now.”
“You don’t have to live with that guilt you’re carrying around. Please, let me help you.”
I glare at him, and for the first time tonight, I don’t like him. I want to get away from him. Far, far away.
“Actually, I do.” I say it so low I might as well not be talking to him.
“What?”
My eyes narrow. “I do need the guilt. And I need the pills. And I need you to get out so I can get dressed.”
He steps toward me, and I back away. He hesitates then nods. As he walks to the door, he calls, “I’ll be waiting downstairs,” over his shoulder.
When the door closes, I collapse on the bed and start sobbing. Great, now he knows. Mr. Perfect knows. Is he going to tell somebody? My mother? That’s the last thing I need.
I unscrew my pill bottle and pop two, biting into them, letting the bitter taste tame the voices racing in my head. I sit there for fifteen minutes, allowing them to have a chance to kick in, then I slowly get dressed.
I reach into my purse for my cellphone before I remember Mac has it.
Damn him.
Standing up, I eye the clock by his b
edside.
It’s 8:12.
6
I TRUDGE DOWN the stairs, feeling a little better now that my pills are floating around in my head, working their stuff. Ha, Mac! You’re not the only one with a few magic tricks up their sleeve. I stumble a little and have to catch myself on the banister. Looking down at my feet, I carefully step on the landing leading down to the first floor.
My gaze sweeps across the crowd in the living room. Mac is nowhere in sight. As I stand there looking for him, I notice a few girls a little younger than me with the same copper hair growing out of Mac’s scalp handing out masks. They are beautiful, ornate things made of gold and decorated with tiny jade jewels at the top. One of the girls, a shy-looking thing, walks up the stairs and hands one to me.
“Kinsley, right?”
I smile and nod, taking the mask from her. “This is beautiful…”
“Annalise. Anna for short.” She showcases teeth wired with braces when she smiles. I wonder why she didn’t use magic to fix her crooked teeth.
“It’s nice to meet you, Anna.”
She places her hands behind her back and tugs at her long ponytail. “Now is the time of the night where we commune with nature and ask the spirits to leave us in peace. The mask protects you while you’re outside.”
I nod. “Cool.” It seems to be the only word I can come up with tonight.
She grins. “See you out there.”
She turns and bounds down the steps then, placing her mask on, follows the crowd outside. I stand there as everyone files out. Once I’m alone, I slide the mask on.
It’s a lot more comfortable than I would have imagined. I glance at the window at my right and smile. The smile doesn’t show up in my reflection because, well, I have a mask on. But I look cool. Mysterious. I feel like I’m going to a masquerade ball. I wish I had my phone to snap a quick selfie. If only my prince hadn’t turned into one of those douches from Intervention.
I sigh, about to descend the steps, when a blur of movement catches my attention. I look back toward the window. A pair of legs is dangling in mid-air. I close my eyes and shake my head. Maybe the shit Creeper gave me was stronger than I thought. When I open them again, there is a hooded figure staring back at me.
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 170