by T. L. Martin
My stomach fluttered. Desmond Stone was formally asking me to dance. Was this really happening?
“Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked smoothly in response to my rattled silence.
“Oh, um, sure,” I stammered back, attempting, and failing, to sound as cool and collected as he did.
My nerves were running wild with apprehension at the thought, mostly because I had never danced with anyone before and doing so for the first time with one of the single most graceful creatures to exist was bound to be a cringe-worthy, embarrassing experience.
A slightly amused smile appeared on his devilishly attractive face. Maneuvering my arm so it was intertwined with his, he turned and lead me inside.
My jaw dropped at the sight before me, soaking in the unbelievable transformation of his living room. The sofas and coffee table had been pushed against a far wall, completely opening up the space and making me realize just how vast the room really was. All the lights had been dimmed, and the most prominent glow of all from the half-crescent moon seeped enchantingly inside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Desmond made his way toward a glossy, wooden record player at the other end of the room and carefully set a large record inside. He was about to start the music when I interrupted.
“Wait,” I called, hesitantly. “I’m not ready.”
He lifted a brow.
“I’m a mess,” I mumbled, gesturing toward the thin white t-shirt, which was still damp, and my unseemly shorts. My hair, though finally free of chocolate, had yet to dry, and I smelled unflatteringly of sea salt and sand. “Look at you...”
By the time he appeared at my side the music had already begun—an entrancing ballad, both sweet and seductive, that made me feel like I was starring in a 1950’s movie. Desmond looked down, locking his eyes with mine intently as he spoke.
“You’re you, Charlie. Barefoot-loving, wind-chasing, soul-gripping, speak-your-mind, selfless you.” Tracing the bottom curve of my face with his fingers, he leaned slightly closer. “And I’m just trying to deserve you.”
My heart skipped a beat as something fluttered in the bottom of my stomach at his words.
He gently took my hands in his, and I had to lift myself to the tips of my toes when he wrapped my arms around his neck. His fingers trailed behind my neck and back as he slowly lowered his own arms to embrace my waist. With his mesmerizing eyes latching resolutely onto mine, I hardly noticed the blurry surroundings spinning all around us as he led me gracefully in small circles around the room.
Tidbits of reality eventually clawed their way into my mind, and I tried hopelessly to shut them off. Just give me one more moment of this fantasy. Freeze this image, no detail forgotten, forever in my mind. But they were relentless. The reality of who he was, who I was. And what it might mean if we dared to explore this further, beyond the safe boundary that was his home. I squeezed him firmly. He immediately responded by tightening his grip on me, and I closed my eyes, trying to hold on to the moment as long as possible.
I was not willing to lose him—not only as the man I was helplessly falling in love with but also as the best friend he had already become. He was my person, and I was his. For as long as he would have me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: INITIATION
I woke in a daze. Touching a hand to the cool, empty space beside me, I wondered how long ago Desmond had left. I slipped a sweater over my head and crept into the hall.
I was surprised to find Anastasie’s flawless figure in the living room, speaking in hushed tones to Desmond. The familiar brooding look in his eyes had returned, and his hand gestures grew frustrated as he quietly argued with her. I knew they must have heard my entrance, but that didn’t stop Anastasie from giving him one final, sharp warning glance before turning her attention to me fully.
“Oh. I apologize, little Charlotte,” she purred condescendingly through her subtle French accent. “Did we wake you?”
I looked from her to Desmond, who shot her a disapproving glare.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked softly.
“I did. Thank you.” The tension in the room was only thickening, and no one seemed to know what to say next. “Um, I was actually about to head to the library. So...”
“I’ll be right there,” Desmond replied. He glanced expectantly at his guest. “Anastasie was just leaving.”
She forced a sugary smile at me. “Indeed, I was.”
Grateful for an excuse to leave the tension behind me, I turned and headed toward the library. It was just as I’d left it the other day, with the same books still strewn about the wooden table. I reached beneath Potions & Cauldrons and withdrew the untitled, red book, flipping through its thick pages until I spotted the one I was searching for.
A soft tap sounded at the door.
“Come in,” I called, hoping he was alone.
Desmond stepped inside, closing the door behind him and taking a seat on the chair directly across from me.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, and I could tell he meant it. “Anastasie can be...complicated.”
“It’s okay,” I replied sincerely. “She’s been through a lot.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.
I scanned the page vaguely, contemplating the best way to approach my next question. “Were you guys ever...?”
“No.” His answer was assertive. “Our relationship isn’t like that. We’re practically family.” He nudged his head toward the small book in my hands. “I see you’ve found Emiliano’s work.”
“Who?” I asked, inspecting the book for an author’s name.
“Emiliano Acosta,” Desmond elaborated. “Catalina’s older brother.”
“That demon from the hospital’s brother?” He nodded, and my brows furrowed. “Wait, is this the same Emiliano who was with Sula? Who was killed for it?”
He was quiet for a moment, and I realized I’d hit a sore spot. “Emiliano was a man of peace,” he finally muttered. “The ambush happened when he was waiting to meet with me.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just listened. But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he pulled the book toward him, flipping carefully through its pages. “Demons make great philosophers, and Emiliano was no exception. He studied various philosophies over the years but was always intrigued by Hoodoo.”
“Have you read it?” I asked, gesturing toward the book.
“I’ve flipped through it occasionally. I never was able to bring myself to read it in its entirety, though. It sounds a bit too much like him, I suppose.” His voice faded, and I knew they must have been very close.
He seemed to want a distraction, and, luckily, I already had one. I leaned forward, indicating with my hand the short paragraph I’d discovered.
“Look at this,” I began. “Singing Fire, Eye of the Moon—it will rise again. And when it does, remember this: it takes two to connect. While it gives, it also takes. Though no two bonds are ever the same, be prepared to share your heart, your soul, your body. A bond too strong to break; once bound, means forever bound.”
Desmond reread the lines to himself once more with a furrowed brow.
“I wasn’t aware he ever studied the Opal,” he said. He looked as perplexed as he sounded. “Have you tested it out?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Though it gives, it also takes,” he repeated thoughtfully. “You’ve already synced with Pixie, right?”
“Right...”
“And she’s a healer.” He looked at me patiently as I pieced it together.
“Of course,” I realized aloud, scooting back from the table.
“Where are you going?” Desmond asked, rising with me.
He followed me into the kitchen, watching curiously as I opened a top drawer. Before I could even grab the small knife, he appeared at my side and snapped the door shut.
“Out of the question, Charlie.” He blocked the drawer completely from access, keeping guard over it.
“I need to see if I can heal, rig
ht?”
“Yes, but—”
“Desmond,” I argued gently. “I don’t have any other options. It won’t work on you; you’ll only heal yourself.”
He didn’t respond right away, and I could see him considering my words.
“It’ll just be a tiny cut,” I added. “Nothing a little Band-Aid can’t fix. I promise.”
Reluctantly, he backed away from the drawer and pulled it open. I withdrew the knife, hovering it just above the palm of my hand before glancing back up at him. I was the one hesitant now, as the obvious factor suddenly crossed my mind.
“I’ve been around your blood before,” he said, reading my thoughts and reminding me of that first attack by Face Rock. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know,” I mumbled almost apologetically. If there was anyone I had faith in, it was him. “Okay.”
Pressing the sharp blade against my skin, I winced as the cut drew more blood than I’d intended and quickly set the knife down. Desmond’s posture stiffened, but there was nothing else to give away the terrible thirst he must have been feeling.
“Are you all right?” he quickly asked.
“I’m fine. You?”
The corner of his lips turned up in that half-smile he pulled off so well. “I’m fine.”
I dampened a paper towel in the sink and placed it over the cut, watching as the blood soaked through.
“So, what now?” I asked, unsure of where to begin.
Desmond took my hand in his, peeking carefully at the unhealed wound.
“Magic isn’t exactly my forte,” he reminded me. “What does Pixie do when she heals?”
I thought back to my training session with her, how she’d told me to let go of everything, to stop thinking so much. Closing my eyes, I tried to relax. I could feel the smooth touch of his skin around my hand, and a slight sting from my cut. I listened to the waves caressing each other, the gentle breeze seeping inside through the screen door and brushing my hair back. It wasn’t long before the minor sting began to dissipate, and I cautiously opened my eyes to peer down at my hand. The healing process was in its final stages, closing the wound with such perfection you’d never guess it had been damaged.
I had done it. And I could hardly believe how easy it was. Bringing my gaze up to Desmond’s, I found his impossibly handsome face staring at me in utter awe. My stomach flipped.
“It was just a little cut,” I mumbled self-consciously.
He shook his head, and, keeping his eyes on me, he gently ushered me to an oval mirror that hung on the wall. Using his fingers to carefully lift my head, I faced my reflection. It was still me, but there was a glow around my skin. No, it was more than that. Transparent light exuded from within me, like the finest rays of sun peeking out from behind heavy clouds. I’d glimpsed it on that training day with Pixie, but not like this. I reached a hand to my face, hardly able to believe what I was seeing.
Desmond was still watching me closely when I looked back at him, his piercing eyes lingering along my skin in a way that made it impossible for my nerves to settle.
The screen door slammed open. We snapped away from each other a second too late, my heart still struggling to calm itself as Pixie bounced inside. I felt my glow quickly dissipate.
“Hey, girl,” she greeted me with a bright smile and leaned in for a hug before pulling back in pause. Her eyes darted from me to Desmond and back again. “Wait a minute,” she instructed suspiciously. “What’s going on?”
The playful spark in her eye gave me the impression she had already figured it out.
“Nothing,” I lied, glancing guiltily at my feet. “What’s up?” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Right,” she muttered with a suggestive grin. “I’m here to kidnap you for the initiation. Matt’s outside in his truck if you wanna grab your stuff and hop in.”
“My stuff?” I repeated.
“Yeah.” She pulled a piece of gum from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. “We’re going to have to practice the relocation spell afterwards, so you’ll probably wanna spend the night at your place tonight.”
“Oh.” I glanced briefly at Desmond before responding. I thought we had another day and, by the looks of it, so did he. “I’ll just grab my bag.”
I collected my toothbrush, hairbrush, and a few clothes I’d left out and stuffed them back into my suitcase. When I returned to the living room, Pixie was standing in front of Desmond and looking like she had no idea what to say.
“So. Thanks for, you know...letting her stay here,” she finally said, twirling the bottom of a loose curl.
He smiled politely and caught my eye. “It was my pleasure.”
I tried unsuccessfully to refrain from blushing and quickly maneuvered Pixie out of the door before she could take notice. I could feel her nudging my arm as we trotted down the steps, but I ignored her efforts to get my attention. I knew I could trust Pixie, but Sula and Emiliano served as a constant, painful reminder of the potential repercussions should the wrong person discover us. To say that hiding something like this from my friends was going to be a challenge would be an understatement, and I doubted I could keep it up for long.
We reached the large GMC pickup and I greeted Matt, then paused. Desmond, who’d appeared beside me, followed my gaze to the truck’s limited three seats as Pixie hopped inside.
“I prefer to walk,” he said, reading my mind once again. “Like someone else I know,” he added under his breath with a discreet, crooked smile.
I smiled back faintly and climbed into the truck. The cool touch of his hand in mine took me by surprise as he tactfully helped me inside, and I was relieved to see that neither Pixie nor Matt seemed to take notice.
The engine revved as Matt started the truck and backed onto the road. Desmond stayed in my line of sight for a moment, watching me fade into the distance. When he disappeared, I looked up at the seagulls soaring high above the waves, though my mind lingered on him. I traced a finger along my bottom lip, recalling the feel of his kiss and the way his eyes burned into every part of me.
We hadn’t made it a quarter of a mile before Pixie shot me another suggestive look.
“Is there something going on between you and Desmond?” she asked.
“Are you kidding?” Matt replied with a snicker. “She can barely stand the guy.” He glanced sideways at me when I didn’t respond. “Right?”
“Right,” I mumbled, avoiding eye contact with either of them.
Pixie, seeing right through me, grinned broadly. “I knew it! Charlie’s got the hots for a vamp.” I rolled my eyes, and she added quietly, “Not that I wouldn’t do the same thing, if he ever gave me the time of day.”
“So,” I began, changing the subject, “what exactly do you need me to do for this initiation?”
Matt glanced at me hesitantly. “We, uh, need your blood,” he answered.
“My blood,” I repeated, surprised.
“We tried to do it without it,” Pixie clarified. “At first Matt thought we would only need his blood since he’s the Alpha. But something’s not working, and Priscilla says we’ll need yours too in order to seal the pact and get things rolling.”
“They didn’t have to mess with all this stuff when the Opal was a stone, so...we’re kinda just playing it by ear,” Matt joked breezily with a wink.
My stomach knotted, and I was suddenly beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. He may have been joking, but there was too much truth in his words for comfort. Little of what we knew about the Opal seemed certain at all. If we couldn’t even manage to carry out an initiation—one originally thought to be straightforward and simple—how could we expect to execute the more complicated parts of the plan? As grateful as I was to have the best witches on my side for this, the glaring fact none of us seemed to be facing was that, when it came down to it, we had no idea what we were doing.
Cracking the window, I breathed in the fresh air for relief.
“You okay?” Matt asked, and I realized
I hadn’t responded to either of them.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m fine. That sounds fine,” I answered faintly.
I let Matt and Pixie’s voices drown into the background as they chatted amongst each other, and I mentally reviewed all the information I had learned thus far.
Without the journal to guide me, my newest revelation of being able to use the gifts of those I synced with was going to be the key. In fact, it was my only hope for effectively dealing with Tempest on my own. Pixie’s magic—limited as it may have been—opened the door to possibilities I had previously never imagined. My biggest asset, however, was easily going to be syncing with Priscilla.
The line “no two bonds are ever the same” from Emiliano’s book suddenly resurfaced, and I had to wonder what that would mean—especially given that Priscilla was a Primary. If I could harness her power completely, as I had with Pixie, I could be a near match against Tempest. Of course, I couldn’t ignore the possibility of the other extreme taking place, either. Just as I could gain full access to Priscilla’s abilities, there was also the chance of gaining very little—if any at all.
The thought of confronting Tempest on my own was still as frightening as ever. Her knowledge of the crafts and experience with magic far exceeded mine. But I had the element of surprise and the inherent strength of the Opal to my advantage. Though I still didn’t even get what that meant exactly, it had to count for something, right?
“You sure are quiet tonight,” Matt observed aloud, breaking my concentration as we pulled up near the lighthouse.
“Sorry,” I muttered, unbuckling my seat belt. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Of course you do,” Pixie intervened before bolting a reproving glance at Matt. “But...try not to worry so much, Charlie. We’re all in this together.”
She was only trying to help, but her reminder made it that much harder. We exited the truck and headed for the lighthouse. I wasn’t surprised to find Desmond already there when we approached, and my lips curved up slightly. His guarded smile in response made my heart skip a beat, and it took everything I had to walk right past him toward Priscilla.