by Ariel Hunter
He barked a short laugh. “That’s bullshit and you know it. This isn’t about hurting them. The council wants to bind your power because it’s becoming very clear that you surpass all of us. You’re not having more accidents than any other high-level witch or warlock in training, you just have stronger magic than any of them. If we stand together, they’ll have no choice but to—”
“But to what? Back down? Get a grip, Callan. They’re never going to leave us alone as long as I’m a pink witch, and I’m actually starting to think they may be right. I almost drowned everyone.”
“You also saved everyone.”
“They wouldn’t need saving had I not teleported them into the middle of the ocean to begin with.”
My chest heaved with the intensity of yelling. Zilla scurried out of my backpack as I set it down and positioned himself on my shoulder, a not-so-subtle reminder of what all I’d be giving up. My heart ached. Would I lose him too when they bound it?
“The ability you will have to save people and do good is . . . insurmountable. The small dangers you have put people in so far will not compare in the slightest—”
“Even if that’s true, the Collector is still after me and I still can’t protect myself.”
“You’ll learn.”
“Aren’t you listening?” I groaned. “I’ve been learning. I’ve been busting my ass. It doesn’t matter. It’s never good enough for them.”
“Fuck them,” he said, reaching to put his palms on either side of my face. “It’s good enough for me. With time, it will be good enough for them too.”
I wanted to believe him. I so desperately wanted to think that if I just worked a little harder, it would all be over. I’d master the magic. I’d get to live my life. I’d help people . . .
But that was a fantasy, and I lived in reality.
“It’s too difficult,” I said, weakly pulling away. “The pink magic is a pain in my ass. I try and I fail at even the simplest tasks. All my visions show my death or show me harming others and so far, that’s all I’ve done.”
“Visions are fallible. And often are warnings of your own insecurities so you can prepare against your weaknesses, not exact foreshadowing of an event to happen. This is why you need to consult with the Seer coven, instead of taking everything on yourself. You aren’t in this alone—”
“But I am,” I said. “The weight of this burden falls on me. The power of my visions and inability to stop them, that’s on me. The Collector wants me. And they are afraid of me. They’ve been vying to get rid of me since the beginning. Why can’t you understand that this is what’s best for everyone?”
“Because it’s not best for everyone,” he snapped. “It’s not even best for you—”
“I want out. I want my life back.” I turned to go to my room, wanting to close this discussion because I couldn’t think with him so close. I couldn’t hold on to my reasoning when his made sense too.
“You’re not getting your life back; you’re ignoring your life. You’re throwing it away,” he said angrily.
I stopped and glared back at him over my shoulder. He took a step closer.
“Beyond what you have to offer with your truly magnificent power, there is also what we can learn about white magic from yours. Spellcraft that’s been outlawed as too dangerous might not be. You can do the impossible,” He shook his head, “And that’s something I can’t put a price on, but you’ve done it. You’ve put a price on it and that price is your future.”
“No, Callan. The price is our future. You’re just angry that you’ll have no more claim to me if I cage my powers.” I regretted the words the moment they came out.
His eyes grew wide, his lips parted and then folded together in a straight line. He took two powerful steps toward me and grabbed my arm with such force that Zilla jumped from my shoulder, jostled, sailing away to the chair.
“It changes nothing about us. Just because your powers will be caged, just because you’ll no longer need a Mystic, it doesn’t change . . . this.”
“We won’t have an arranged marriage anymore. The Council holds no sway over me if I’m no longer part of the witching world.”
“Is that really it for you? You have no feelings for me beyond that of a Mystic?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. Our breath mingled and goosebumps broke out over my arms.
“I . . . I,” I stammered, not so certain what those feelings were exactly when my anger started to slip. “I don’t know.”
“Liar,” he murmured. Callan reached up and brushed his thumb across my lips. They parted on their own accord. “You think that by caging your powers you will be leaving the witching world behind, but you’re wrong. Not having access to your magic doesn’t change everything you’ve been through and who you’ve become.” His grip on my arm loosened and he wound it around my waist instead. I stiffened at his touch. I put one hand against his chest but didn’t quite push him away. “You think your life will go back to what it was, but you can’t go back. Whether you want to or not, there is no undoing this. I don’t care if you have power or not. It helps me sleep easier knowing you can protect yourself, but it doesn’t change what we have.” He brushed some of my hair back behind my ear.
My body was tense, my heartbeat racing.
“How do you know how I’ll feel when I’m no longer forced to live with you?” I tried to force his hand away, but he held onto my chin.
“Because at the end of the day, no one truly forced you to do anything. You’re a pink witch. If you really wanted to not be here, you wouldn’t be. If you truly despised magic so much, you never would have let your mom convince you. You’ve been on the sidelines your whole life, trying to decide what world you fit into. Taking away an option isn’t choosing, but I’ll be here when you do. I may not have been your boyfriend or your first kiss or your first anything, but that doesn’t matter—power or no powers—I have every intention of being your last.”
Callan kissed me and fire roared through my veins. I leaned into him, letting his tongue pry the seam of my lips apart and then feast on me. Desire pooled in my core and my back arched. His arm around my waist tightened. The other hand reached up to bury in my hair, his fingers lacing through the wet locks and then tugging sharply.
Our lips came apart and his bit down softly on my bottom one before releasing it. My back touched the wall as Callan’s lips trailed up my jaw and then skittered down my throat.
He teased the flesh between where my neck and shoulder met. His lips continued their perusal south as he traced the mounds of my breasts. A shudder ran through me and I moaned softly, so close to giving him whatever he wanted if he’d just feed the fire.
My nipples hardened and he bit them through the thin fabric of my blouse and wet camisole, sucking the tight bud between his teeth.
“Callan,” I groaned.
“Shh,” he whispered, moving to suck on the other. His hand fell from my hair and slid down my back, grabbing my ass. His fingernails bit into me as he lifted me off the ground in a single motion. I wrapped my legs around his waist and tangled my hands into his hair. I ground that heat between my thighs against the bulge in his jeans. Callan growled deep in his chest and released my nipple. He muttered a few quick words under his breath. My wet shirt and bra disappeared at once, as did warlock robes. Skin to skin, when he brought his lips back to those hardened buds, my hips jumped as pleasure shot through me.
“Fuck,” I moaned.
He looked up at me with those alluring hazel fire eyes and sucked harder, the thick rigid length of his cock pressing into the place I needed him most.
“Bedroom,” I said breathlessly. I don’t know when my mind made the decision that I was going to do this, but the way he looked at me as he touched me . . .
Callan released my breast with a pop. He went back to kissing me as the wall disappeared from my back. He popped the door open to his room with his foot. The handle hitting the wall as he stepped inside.
He leaned over and my back touc
hed the bed. He pulled away. The pop of the button on his jeans made me pause. My brain, it seemed, had finally caught up.
“Stop.”
The word was out of my mouth before I could jump to my feet. Callan paused and the guilt inside me doubled. Not because I wasn’t having sex with him . . .but because I couldn’t make up my mind. I was hot and cold. Yes, then no.
I was a Katy Perry song on repeat.
And it wasn’t fair to either of us.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It doesn’t change anything,” I breathed out. He nodded. I didn’t even know what I meant. It didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want the arranged marriage. It didn’t change the fact that we had kissed. It didn’t change the fact I was caging my powers.
I got to my feet and walked around him, retreating to my bedroom before he could change my mind. I leaned against the door as it closed behind me, wiping Callan’s kisses off my mouth. Tears pricked my eyes from how frustrated I was with him for not making this easy and frustrated with myself for being such a hot mess.
I stripped out of my still wet clothing and then threw myself onto the bed. I realized Zilla was already tucked up onto the pillow. He curled into the crook of my arm.
Hot mess or not, I couldn’t shy away from the feeling like I’d made a massive mistake. If caging my powers meant losing Zilla . . . I pulled him closer as I tried and failed to push those thoughts away.
It was too late, I told myself as I closed my eyes. I had made the right decision.
But if that were true, why did I feel guilty?
Chapter 17
It was the day of the Beltane gala and my phone was ringing for the third time. It was Cassandra again. Every time it rang, my nerves spiked even higher, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end and my stomach roiling until it hurt.
I had been avoiding the Seer because I could anticipate what she was going to say, or at least, I thought I could. I knew she would be angry with me for agreeing to cage my powers and I really didn’t want another lecture. What would she really have to say that Callan hadn’t said already?
My mom had even come by yesterday, trying to convince me to take another Mystic rather than choosing to cage my powers. She had dropped Trent Brecker’s name too, even though she had previously said she didn’t think he and I would be a good fit. That meant she was trying anything to get me to stay in the witching world, regardless of what may actually be best for me. That had been a short and very unsweet conversation resulting in me slamming the door in her face.
Even Anya hadn’t really been on board with me caging my powers, though she, in the end, just handed me the whiskey and said she would support me in every way I needed.
I looked toward the window as Zilla skittered up the curtain and perched himself in the fabric, surfing the wind like he seemed to enjoy doing. His little lizard mouth was open, tongue flicking as he tasted whatever scents came in from the ocean breeze.
The knot in my stomach that I thought would go away since I wouldn’t have to do the testing at Beltane had just been replaced by an even more brutal nausea and unease at the idea of losing little Godzilla . . . I was oddly protective of him now. Even though I had yet to see anyway that he was an asset to my life as anything more than an adorable talisman. I didn’t want to lose him, and while I really didn’t know if that were going to happen, it seemed possible—probable, even. If they were going to cage my powers, it would stand to reason that he, anchored to my powers, would go with it.
I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat and patted my shoulder. He turned swiftly to sail through the air to the bed, clambering up my arm and tucking into my neck. His scales were so smooth and cool against my skin.
Now that my fate loomed so close, I had to face that I was also going to be losing the ability to flare pink sparks at will from the tips of my fingertips. I mean, just days before, I had torn apart the ocean like ripping through a piece of paper. How many witches could ever say they had done such a thing?
At the time I had been more concerned with saving the lives I had placed in peril, but there had been a real rush to it. The power flowing through me and obeying my command . . . I didn’t want to give that up anymore than I did Zilla. It was like the greatest wave of my life, but the damage it could also cause was just too much.
The phone rang again. I groaned when I saw it was Cassandra. Zilla looked at me with wise eyes and I sighed.
“Hello?” I said as I picked it up.
“You should not be avoiding me, Marnie. Not at a time like this. My next call was going to be in person by way of teleport.” The way she snapped at me was well-warranted, if I were being honest. It’s half the reason I’d avoided her to begin with.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . what is there to say?”
“Why are you doing this? It’s not like this is your only option.”
“Isn’t it? I can’t control my magic. I am a danger to those around me.” I shook my head sharply as I remembered the dozens of bobbing heads of all my classmates and the Mystics directly after I had teleported them all to the middle of the ocean. The thrill might be incredible, but so was the destructive side of it. That’s what I had to remind myself of, every time I really started to think there might be a way out. That I might want a way out.
“That is ridiculous. You are making a very large, and almost irreversible decision, far too impetuously. You have hardly given the Seer coven a chance to work with you.” Her words had a sharp bite to them, disappointment resounding with each sentence.
“To be honest, Cassandra, maybe I did make the decision too soon, but I really don’t want to work with another Mystic when that’s the only other option. In the beginning, they were all for Callan. They’ve now decided he’s too nice to me because he doesn’t just throw me into the shark tank. It would only be a matter of time before they’d be lobbying for my powers to be caged again, or worse. They’ve backed off the death threats after Callan threatened them, but my next Mystic isn’t likely to stand by me like that. And I’ve already told the Council I will do it. There just isn’t another way. I’m sorry.”
“There is always another way.” Her voice softened. “The Seers will help you. We don’t stand by the same rules as the rest of the witching world. You should have come to me first. We can find a way to hide you and train you, then bring you back into the fold when you’re ready to put those arrogant bastards in their place. We want to help you, Marnie, but we can only do that if you let us.”
“I can’t run away. I thought of trying that once before, and that just led me deeper into the witching world. Besides, if I don’t show up at Beltane, they will act against Callan. I can’t let that happen. I know he’s stronger than them, but still . . .”
It took a moment for her to reply. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”
I thought about kissing Callan after the teleportation. Did I care about him? Man, that was such a loaded question. “I feel . . . like I would be responsible, and after all he’s done for me—he doesn’t deserve that. This was my choice. I agreed, but he didn’t.”
Cassandra sighed heavily. “Well, if you won’t let the Seers help, what is your plan, then? If you think you have made a mistake and spoken too soon. Is there a way out of it? Or at least a way to buy more time to think? Maybe your mother . . .”
Zilla twisted on my shoulder and I sighed. There might be one option, but I wouldn’t talk to my mom. Not this time. “I’ll go to the festival and speak to my Uncle Wyatt. He’s on the Council. Maybe he’ll convince them to at least give me more time. If I have to work with someone else as a Mystic . . . I don’t like it, but perhaps there’s a way to find a middle ground other than death or caging. I am worried, Cassandra. I don’t want to lose Zilla . . .” I stroked his little lizard backbone as I spoke. His tail flicked up, and he gurgled almost a purr in response.
“I understand the fear. He is a part of you now. I can’t imagine being without Maely . . .” Sh
e sounded very sad as she spoke.
“Does that happen when Seers have their powers caged?”
“I really don’t know. I just know that the caging of powers is a very painful thing for witches that aren’t as powerful as you are. I can only imagine how intensely it will feel for someone with magic that is as unrestrained and raw as yours.” She paused and seemed to hesitate. “I have a bad feeling about this, Marnie. I haven’t Seen anything, but I just . . . something doesn’t feel right. I can’t control you or make this decision for you, but please keep in touch. If you ever need anything, let me know. I am here for you.”
Cassandra clicked off.
I pulled Zilla off my shoulder and held him to my chest as I laid back on the bed. I hugged him close to me. He squirmed underneath my tight embrace, but then lay still, his little claws kneading into my chest.
Maybe talking to Uncle Wyatt would work. I knew he would be on my side, just as he had always been. I would just have to pitch a good case, which might involve being contrite . . . it was not my strongest suit. I really didn’t want to work with Trent. He was even cockier than Callan. And not in the same charming way I had come to appreciate, even if I didn’t show it. Perhaps I could go abroad to where another gold was. Find a different way. Or I could try to be placed with someone on the Seer council. Cassandra would be a great Mystic and she was already supposed to be my guide to Seeing. Maybe the potential of having a Seer they could keep tabs on would be enough to convince them to give me another shot.
And if it didn’t work and my powers were caged, then I would go back to my life without any of my witching concerns. I could go back to just surfing, hanging out with Anya, and bartending at Boundless. The Collector wouldn’t care about me, neither would Seers, or the Council. I wouldn’t have to worry about Dimlight.
I could find my purpose in the human world again.
And I wouldn’t have to worry about Callan . . .