Winter Fire (Witchling Series)

by Ford, Lizzy

  Was there a way to do both? To be with the girl he was falling for and keep her safe?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Morgan was muttering irritably under her breath when the valet opened the car door. Adam was nice, but awkward, saying nothing to her after he told her she looked nice.

  The ski lodge was large and made of logs with warm light splashing from the brightly lit interior onto the snow outside the windows. The night was cold enough that she used her fire magick to keep her warm. Valets took Adam’s car and parked it on one side of the dark drive.

  Adam offered her his arm, and she took it. Together, they walked into a bustling foyer filled with women in black or beige dresses and men in tuxedos. A wrought iron chandelier was bright overhead, the stone floor and log walls rendering the massive space warm and inviting. Morgan admired the natural décor of the foyer. The sconces on the walls held real live flames, and the sight of them and the blazing hearths eased her tension at being surrounded by so many strangers.

  She felt a little underdressed. Her prom dress seemed a little cheesy compared to the elegant black gowns of the women around her. She’d worn her hair down in an attempt to keep her shoulders warm, and the riotous curls were tumbling everywhere.

  “Those are Beck’s parents,” Adam said, pointing to one side of an open set of huge doors.

  Morgan rose onto her tiptoes to see where he indicated. A tall, lean man and small woman were on one side of the door with the twins, greeting people as they went into the ballroom, where dinner would be served.

  Her gaze lingered on the twins. Decker appeared irritated, though Summer looked serene and open as she greeted guests alongside the family that had welcomed her as one of their own. Beck’s infamous smile was wide and friendly. He seemed so confident and self-assured. Morgan didn’t feel that way, even when she won sparring matches. What did it feel like not to live in fear?

  Better, what would it feel like, being with someone who really could handle the mess that was her life? She didn’t know if Beck could – or would want to – but he was always so sure of himself. It would be nice to trust someone like him, knowing he wasn’t going to hurt her the way others did.

  He was there alone. No date. Why hadn’t he asked her? Morgan shook her head to clear it of the stupid thoughts. Beck wanted nothing to do with her and already made her cry, even if he didn’t mean to.

  “Those are my parents,” Adam said, pointing somewhere else. “If we avoid them, we can sit in back and escape early.”

  She laughed.

  “Too late,” he said and sighed.

  His parents were waving. They started towards him. Both were tall and slender. His mother wore a navy blue cocktail dress and strands of pearls while his father was in a black tux with a cummerbund that matched his wife’s dress.

  “Is this beautiful young lady Jenna?” his mother asked.

  “Oh, no,” Adam answered quickly. “This is my friend, Morgan. Beck asked me to bring her.”

  Morgan glared at him. “Because apparently, I can’t get a date on my own.”

  “I doubt that, sweetie,” his mother said. “You look gorgeous.”

  Morgan blushed, uncertain why the compliment made her happy. She wanted to interrogate Adam about Beck asking him to bring her but couldn’t in front of his parents.

  “Will you be sitting with us, Adam?” his father asked.

  “Um, no. We’re sitting with some friends from school,” Adam replied. “Is that cool?”

  “Yes, that’s cool.”

  A high-pitch chime sounded.

  “Time to head in,” his mother said, motioning Morgan forward. “Are you new here?”

  “Yes. I’ve been here a little over three weeks,” she answered.

  “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”

  Morgan walked side-by-side with Adam’s mother while Adam and his father followed, talking quietly. Distressed, Morgan realized that the Turners were going to greet everyone, even as the masses were working on filing into the ballroom.

  “Yeah,” she answered, distracted. She was on the side closest to the Turners and wished she could think of an excuse to switch places with Adam’s mother.

  “Witchling magick is strong in our family, though it skipped my generation entirely,” she continued.

  Ever alert to pain, Morgan’s attention shifted to Adam’s mother. Sadness was in her voice.

  “But your son has it,” Morgan said. “I’m certain he can do amazing things.”

  “Some are amazing. Some are downright awful. When he threw temper tantrums as a child, he would make it rain in the house.”

  Morgan laughed at the image that formed in her mind.

  “Mom!” Adam hissed, face red.

  “He flooded the ground floor once. You remember that, Adam?” his mom continued.

  “I was like five,” he mumbled. “She acts like it was last year.”

  “The year before he came here, he got his heart broken at Homecoming. He swears he can’t cause a tornado, but it was the wrong season for us to have one. Took out every last float that year.”

  Morgan covered her mouth with her hands, trying hard to stifle her laugh. Adam was beyond embarrassed, and she pitied him. His mother was clearly proud of his magick.

  “Alma, always a pleasure.”

  Too entertained to know how far they’d progressed, Morgan looked up into dark eyes with a familiar shape to them. Beck’s father was hugging Alma, Adam’s mother.

  “Who’s this young lady?” he asked, pulling away.

  “Morgan. Apparently, she wasn’t able to find a date, so your sweet Beck set her up with Adam for the evening,” Alma replied. “She’s too pretty for this to be true.”

  It was Morgan’s turn to flush. She looked hastily down the line at Beck. His features seemed a little pinker, but he continued talking to the couple in front of him.

  “Michael Turner,” Beck’s dad said, holding out his hand to her.

  “Morgan McCloud,” she mumbled.

  “So you’re the fire witchling.” The woman beside him was beautiful, with dark eyes and skin, long hair, and thick shadows clinging to her every move. She wore a velvet dress.

  “I … I guess,” Morgan stammered, uncomfortable under their intent gazes.

  “I’m Rania.” The woman’s touch made her shiver. It was cool then warm then cool, her magick piercing rather than subtle, like her husband’s. “Welcome to the school.”

  “Mom, you’re holding up the line,” Beck teased.

  “It’s my dinner, son,” she snapped.

  “It’ll be cold by the time you’re done talking.”

  “Just get this over with,” Decker muttered.

  “Thank god they’re almost out of the house, right, Rania?” Alma asked. The two women kissed each other on the cheeks.

  “Hi, Morgan!” Summer grinned. She flung her arms around her.

  “Hi, Summer,” Morgan answered.

  “I’m glad you’re here. The boys are driving me crazy,” Summer whispered. She released Morgan. “You should hang out with us some time.”

  “Wait about eight months,” Decker replied. He rested one hand on Summer’s hip and offered the other to Morgan.

  Summer blushed, and Morgan looked between them, not understanding the statement. She shook his hand and moved on.

  Beck offered his hand, smiling broadly. He winked at her, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that made her pulse soar.

  “Stop being an ass, and I’ll consider shaking your hand one day,” Morgan said and crossed her arms.

  Decker laughed, and Summer giggled.

  “Fire witchling,” Michael Turner murmured, amused.

  “Ah, young love,” Beck said with an exaggerated sigh. He clutched his heart as if wounded. “The boy pines, and the girl burns his heart to the ground. Get it? Pines? Like the tree? I’m earth magic and -”

  Morgan shook her head and walked by him into the dining room. She smiled only when she was certain none
of them could see.

  “I am so sorry about my mom,” Adam said, joining her. “She just says the lamest things.”

  “She’s cool,” Morgan replied. “No worse than Beck.”

  “He’s a character,” Adam agreed, chuckling.

  Morgan glanced back over her shoulder. Beck was watching her, the smile on his face once again warm. She rolled her eyes at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  Young love.

  The words made her whole body tingle and fluttery. It wasn’t possible that he was serious. Nothing he did seemed very serious.

  Adam managed to find them seats with a few other kids from the school, towards the back of the ballroom. Morgan sat down, content to watch. The Turners and Summer sat at a table near the front of the ballroom, near a dais, where speakers began talking about the importance of preserving the environment, just as dinner was served.

  Morgan listened, her eyes on Beck as much as they were on the speakers. He was a natural dealing with people and his family, a sentiment she wished she shared. His striking profile – the chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw and full lips – made her heart quicken every time she sneaked a look at him. Having his hands on her body when they wrestled was insanely distracting. She almost missed a few blocks because of it, and the thought of him kissing her …

  Halfway through dessert, she began overheating. Her fire magick was antsy anyway at being confined with so many people. It yearned for the calming warmth of earth magick, and her thoughts about Beck did nothing to quiet it.

  “You’re glowing,” Adam whispered to her.

  Morgan glanced at him then down at her arms. Fire outlined her body. She was grateful there were no other fire witchlings around; this happened when she was turned on. It was humiliating. Connor knew when she was watching a movie with her favorite movie stars. The magick responded to her emotions more than it did to her commands.

  “It’s a little warm in here,” she said, hoping he didn’t know better. “Think I’ll get some air.”

  “Want me to go?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  He nodded. Morgan stood and quietly exited the ballroom. When she was in the foyer, she realized just how stuffy it had been in there. One of the massive front doors leading into the lobby was open, and she walked through it and into the night.

  A small gazebo off to one side overlooked the lake nearby. She shivered in the cold air and watched her breath drift upwards towards a cloudless sky. Crossing to the gazebo, she leaned against the railing. A couple of lights reflected off the lake’s surface; it was otherwise dark.

  Sighing, Morgan propped up her chin with one hand. Her magick was settling, no longer confined in the ballroom.

  “I meant to tell you,” Beck’s quiet voice jarred her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “What do you want?” she asked without turning.

  “You always glow brighter when I’m around,” he observed, amused. “Either you want to torch me or …”

  “Right now? Torch.”

  He joined her at the railing. “Can I ask why?”

  She really was glowing. Morgan cursed her magick, then the night. During daylight, it was too faint to see.

  “Why did you set me up with Adam tonight?” she returned.

  “Get you out of the dorms.”

  Morgan faced him, leaning her hip against the side.

  Beck mimicked her position.

  “Okay,” he relented. “Maybe it was my way of trying to protect you. If you’re here with me, then you’re not in danger from Dawn’s lackeys.”

  “I’m not here with you.”

  “Look, Morgan –“

  This was it. The moment when he rejected her. Thanks but no thanks. You’re sweet, but … Why did it make her want to cry?

  Morgan started away, not wanting to hear what his lame excuse would be.

  “Woah, wait,” Beck said and caught her arm. “Can we talk without you getting pissed?”

  She flung her head back and sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Alright, that’s it,” he said, a note of anger in his tone. “You wanna stop being so bitchy towards me? I’m doing what I think is right.”

  “Bitchy?” she asked archly, facing him. “One minute you’re kissing me and the next, you’re eyeballing some blonde.”

  “We both agreed to walk away.”

  “I know. You’re making it hard,” she said.

  “Morgan, I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Beck, I don’t want or need you to protect me. You know what I want?”

  Beck studied her quietly for a moment. Suddenly, he laughed.

  “Yeah,” he said. “For the first time in my life, I get it.”

  “Get what?” She planted a hand on her hip.

  “You want me to make up my mind.”

  “Hmmmmm.”

  “But you’re afraid of what I decide, either way,” he continued. “So you being bitchy to me sometimes and sweet to me at others is just as much about you being scared as it is me trying to walk away.”

  Morgan’s mouth dropped open.

  “Slam dunked that round,” he said, grinning. “Come on.”

  He walked out of the gazebo.

  Morgan stared after him, unable to digest what just happened. Or why he was happy and leaving, when he hadn’t done or said anything she wanted him to.

  He stopped a few feet away and beckoned to her again.

  “I thought you wanted to talk,” she said, perplexed. She went to him and stopped a few feet away.

  “I want to show you something.”

  Morgan looked around. The lake, the lodge, the gazebo. There wasn’t much else to see. Beck leaned forward and took one of her hands, pulling her closer. Unconvinced, she went.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructed her. Fog pooled at his feet.

  She hesitated, but did as he asked. A mist swept over her, making her shiver. Suddenly, the quietness of the lake turned into the sounds of a drum and singing. Morgan’s eyes flew open, and she stared. The cloud cleared.

  A short distance away, through the trees, she saw several large bonfires surrounded by groups of people. Some wore authentic Native American clothing while others were in jeans while still others combined the traditional and modern styles of dress: flowing buckskin skirts with sweatshirts or vests over sweaters.

  Half a dozen men and women were dancing while others huddled in small groups, talking and laughing. She smelled some sort of meat cooking and spotted a long table at one end of the clearing. The heated buffet trays on top of it were connected to a generator.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “My cousin’s wedding. They’re having a church ceremony this weekend. Tonight is the traditional ceremony,” Beck explained. “My father is full-blooded, so we were raised with the religion and traditions of his tribe.”

  “Wow,” she murmured. “What made you want to bring me here?”

  Beck faced her, and she gazed up at him, too aware of his size and nearness once more. He didn’t try to touch her or move closer.

  “Easy,” he said. “I’ve never brought anyone to meet my extended family or to see the other half of my life.”

  Morgan’s breath caught. The warmth and intensity were back. He was sharing something with her that he’d never shared with any of his blonde girls.

  “I don’t want to walk away from you. You want me to make up my mind. I just did,” he continued. “Now, it’s your turn.”

  He winked and spun, leaving her with her jaw on the ground and her mind roaring. He had just thrown down the gauntlet. Suddenly, she wanted to beg him to take it back, to let them return to their strange tug-of-war.

  Because he was right; she was terrified. He liked her enough to bring her here. It was what she feared more than falling for him, that he might fall for her. That somehow, when she ran away, she’d leave behind a mess.

  The earth memories showed her just how
good of a person he was. He didn’t deserve someone like her.

  At the same time, she ached to know what it would be like to have all his warmth, gentle humor and goodness to herself. To know someone like him was not only interested, but wanted to be with someone as flawed as she was.

  Morgan’s gaze followed him as he entered the small clearing. He was greeted cheerfully and immediately went to the circle with elderly women to hug them all. Smiling and happy, Beck made his rounds.

  Morgan approached and lingered at the edge of the clearing. Her mother’s Italian family had some strong customs they weren’t shy about ensuring newcomers knew about. She didn’t want to make a wrong move or say something she shouldn’t.

  “Tree me!” one of the kids shouted at Beck.

  Another echoed, and they surrounded him. Beck picked up a little girl then turned to the others. The earth sank beneath them, swallowing them to mid-calf. The children squealed in delight and spread out their arms, swaying in place to mimic trees.

  Morgan smiled. The idea of sinking into the earth – of being confined at all – scared her, but the kids loved it.

  “The fun part is watching them dig themselves out,” a male voice said near her.

  She glanced over to see a middle-aged man with long, dark hair clasped at his neck and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. His eyes were warm, his features familiar.

  “I’m Beck’s uncle Ben,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Morgan,” she replied and shook. “I’m his … ah … friend.”

  He smiled. “You guys came from the fundraiser?”

  She nodded.

  “Every year, Michael tries to talk me into going. Every year, I tell him no.”

  “You’re not missing much,” she agreed.

  “Come sit down with us.”

  She followed him to one of the fires, where he sat with a couple of women his age and a few kids.

  “Everyone, this is Morgan, Beck’s girl,” Ben said.

  Morgan almost gasped. The people around the fire looked at her curiously but moved to make room for her to sit on one of the logs.

  Beck had stripped off his jacket and tie and was dancing with the little girl in his arms. Morgan watched him for a moment. His disarming charm worked on people of all ages. They sensed how good of a person he was.