Winter Fire (Witchling Series)

by Ford, Lizzy

  “My daughter Linda and Tony over there are getting married this weekend,” Ben told her, pointing to a young couple a few years older than she was whispering and snuggling with each other by their own small fire in the center of the clearing. “Poor fools.”

  The woman beside him slapped him on the arm with a stern look. Morgan laughed.

  “Are you a witchling?” one of the teen girls asked her curiously. “Like our cousins?”

  “Yes,” Morgan answered. She stretched forward to the fire and reached into it. The others gasped. She loved the shock value of her magick. She retrieved a flame and sat back on her seat. “Fire.”

  “Like Decker!” one of the girls exclaimed.

  Morgan nodded and tossed the flame back.

  “Michael got the magick and the wife with the nice … personality,” Ben said ruefully.

  “Rania’s had two kids. I’ve had six,” his wife snapped.

  Giggling, Morgan quickly looked away as his wife glared at her this time.

  “I’m Lisa, and I’m earth,” one of the girls said. “Linda is air. I’ve never met a fire witchling.”

  “Did Beck teach you to dance?” the second asked.

  “Um, no,” Morgan replied.

  “Come on!” Lisa stood and held out her hands.

  Morgan took them. While she had great hand-eye coordination for fighting, she couldn’t dance to save her life. She moved with Lisa to the end of the line of dancers. The men were facing the women, and Morgan wondered how she’d get out of this one, before they saw how bad of a dancer she was.

  “It’s not hard. You just have to listen to the music and then do this.” Lisa began moving her feet in rhythm with the music.

  One of the boys crossed the clearing to Lisa and paused beside her. Without saying anything, he placed what looked like a fat stick decorated in pictures at her side. He moved across from her to the men’s side of the dance line.

  “No, Tom Hawk!” Lisa said. She picked it up and tossed it.

  He retreated, frowning.

  “What just happened?” Morgan asked, baffled.

  “He’s been trying to ask me out for months,” the young teen said, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s an old custom,” Ben explained. “When a boy wants to ask a girl out, he brings her a special stick and places it at her side. If she accepts him, she keeps the stick. If she doesn’t, she tosses it.”

  “Some of us should’ve tossed ours,” his wife said calmly.

  “Tell your daughters, so I don’t have to pay for any more weddings,” he advised.

  Morgan laughed again. Ben’s wife smiled faintly.

  “Okay, you gotta try it,” Lisa said. “Just, you know, bounce.”

  Morgan slid off her four-inch heels then tugged her dress up, so she didn’t get tangled in the train. She made an attempt to bounce, but the combination of the changing pace of the drums and the coordinated foot movements soon defeated her.

  Tom Hawk returned, though instead of bringing the stick to Lisa, he took it to Morgan. Lisa gasped, offense on her face.

  Morgan looked down at where he’d placed it. He was closer to Lisa’s age of thirteen than he was to eighteen.

  “Toss it. He’s used to rejection,” Ben advised.

  “Oh, god, I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” she replied.

  “No, Tom Hawk!” Lisa yelled. She bent and picked it up, tossing it. “She’s Beck’s!”

  “Technically, I’m not, but thank you for the offer,” Morgan said to the boy.

  He nodded glumly and moved away again.

  Lisa tried again to show her how to dance, but Morgan couldn’t quite get it. The girl giggled and danced around her.

  “Maybe just bounce in place?” she recommended. “That’s what the little kids do.”

  Morgan flushed. Laughter went down the line of dancers and around Ben’s fire. The dance changed. Music grew quicker and the chanting became upbeat. The bride-and-groom joined the dancers, and Morgan stepped back, watching with a smile. Beck danced with Lisa then joined a circle dance while a queue of teens formed across from Morgan.

  She didn’t think twice about them, until the first stepped forward with a stick he placed by her side.

  “Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I’m sorta … well, I’m …”

  The boys in line laughed, and she stopped, flustered.

  “Toss it! We have a bet going!” one of them called to her.

  She picked it up and tossed it a few feet away with an apologetic smile. The teen moved away, only to be replaced by a second. The adults were laughing, the girls giggling at Morgan’s stammering rejection. She hated the idea of hurting anyone, even the poor boys who wanted to ask her out.

  “Oh, really?” Beck asked, standing to the side to observe. “My own cousins?”

  They laughed again.

  “She said she’s single,” Ben said. “They deserve a chance with her.”

  “So sorry,” Morgan said and tossed another decorated stick.

  “You going to accept any of them?” Beck joked. “Or are they all wasting their time?”

  “Hmmm. I’m not sure yet,” she replied.

  His gaze flew to hers, and he raised his eyebrows. Morgan smiled sweetly.

  “Rejection is so stressful,” she added. “I might break down and say yes to someone.”

  Beck studied her for a second. “Someone give me a damn stick.”

  “Back of the line, Beck!” one of the boys teased.

  He shook his head and strode away. Ben laughed hard. Morgan watched Beck, not expecting him to join in, and afraid of what happened if he did.

  He went to the back of the line, and she realized just how serious he was. Morgan apologized and tossed four more sticks, until Beck approached her. He bent to place it beside her feet then straightened.

  She stared at him, wishing her body didn’t respond the way it did whenever he was around. His gaze was steady but twinkling, as if he already knew what she’d decide. Nervous, uncertain, Morgan swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, and she felt like running. If she let him in, she risked hurting them both.

  “Why?” she forced herself to ask.

  “Because I think we belong together,” he said then shifted. “I don’t know if I can protect you from the problems I have, and that terrifies me. Maybe it makes me weak. I don’t know, but the thought of not being with you scares me more.”

  His heartfelt words struck her hard. He was right. She was scared. Trusting someone else with her thoughts, body and secrets. Since The Incident, she hadn’t done that, and she’d been so alone. Abruptly, she felt angry with her uncle. Even from across the country, he was controlling her, making her too afraid to trust herself or someone else, when she wanted to know what that felt like not to be alone. Even if for only a couple of weeks.

  “You’re not weak,” she said. “You’re perfect.”

  “Perfectly flawed,” he joked.

  “No, Beck. Perfect. I wish I could show you what I see,” she said. “I wish I was like you.”

  The flush that spread across his face was one of self-consciousness, the first such blush she’d seen.

  Morgan bent to retrieve the stick. Beck waited, confident and quiet.

  She straightened, heart pounding harder than it ever had. Meeting his gaze again, she wet her lips, recalling too well how her fire had nearly consumed her when they kissed in the car. She wasn’t certain if she was ready to feel that again or if she was able to trust him not to rush her. What if she disappointed him, or he decided he wanted to be with one of his blondes by the end of the week?

  He had never brought anyone to meet this family, she reminded herself.

  “You gonna throw it?” Beck asked cautiously as the quiet dragged on.

  Morgan hesitated then shook her head.

  “You sure?”

  “Are you?” she countered. Her insides were shaking, and fear made her feel cold. But she wanted this – him – more than anything she could remember.
>
  “Definitely. But if you’re scared …”

  “I’m not scared!” she retorted.

  “Trust me.” A smile crossed his face, and he held her gaze long enough for her to blush.

  “I’m sure,” she answered more calmly. “What do I do with this?” She lifted the stick.

  “Whatever you want. Just don’t throw it.”

  Morgan held it in her hand then summoned her fire. It turned the stick to ash in seconds.

  “Good choice,” Ben said. “For Beck. For you, Morgan, you could’ve done better.”

  “Thanks, Uncle,” Beck said, grinning. “By the way, that was an official wedding ceremony.”

  “What?” Morgan gasped.

  “Back before churches, that’s all it took,” Ben agreed. “Stop scaring the girl, Beck.”

  Beck laughed and offered his hand. Speechless, Morgan took it. She was starting to panic again, and for good reason. There was serious and there was serious. Beck was serious about her, and he knew nothing of her secrets.

  His magick worked through her body, easing her nerves, though not enough for her mind to stop whirling. Beck walked with her across the meadow, greeting others as he went.

  Morgan’s eyes fell to the largest bonfire, whose flames nearly reached the level of the tops of pine trees surrounding the meadow. Fire soothed her, and she was starting to panic.

  She tugged at Beck’s hand.

  He followed her gaze. “Fire calling you?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You want to go with me?”

  He looked back at her.

  “I’ll either burn you alive, or you’ll be fine,” she said, unable to help the streak of mischief at his hesitation.

  “If you don’t burn me alive, I get a kiss.”

  “You’d risk death for a kiss?”

  “From you? Hell yes,” he replied. “Besides, I trust you.”

  Morgan didn’t know what to say. She pulled him towards the fire and summoned her magick. She expected Beck to resist, but he didn’t. When she stepped into the flames, he followed her into the blaze.

  Fire moved through her, hot but not uncomfortable. The magick parted a path for her to the center of the fire, where she stopped and let it envelop her. Morgan leaned her head back and closed her eyes, comforted by the magick and energy flowing through her. She breathed in the scent of burning wood deeply. Beck’s earth magick had grown, the only sign of his unease. The earth’s warmth swam through her, mixing with the fire magick.

  “This is amazing,” Beck said.

  Morgan turned to face him, certain to keep a hold of his hand. The fire would consume him otherwise. She glanced around. The flames were rich and textured, their hues changing as quickly as their dance.

  “It’s almost like they’re alive.”

  “They are alive,” she replied. “Each flame has its own spirit, like your trees.”

  “Like the earth. Every rock, plant, animal. They’re all connected,” he murmured.

  “I saw that you asked the tree if it wanted to be a Christmas tree in the earth’s memory,” she said, awed. “Beck, that was incredible.”

  “Which part? That I talked to a tree or that it wanted to be strung up with lights?”

  “That you cared enough about its spirit to ask,” she replied. Seeing the memory had made her look at Beck with a great deal more appreciation. She admired the depth of compassion it took to talk to a tree spirit. She’d never met anyone who respected his world the way he did. “I wish the fire had memories.”

  “It’s emotion, right?”

  She nodded.

  He tilted her chin up. Morgan’s breath caught. She was really doing this. She was taking a chance on someone.

  “Someone owes me a kiss,” he reminded her, lowering his face to hers.

  “You want to wait until we’re out of the fire?”

  He answered by kissing her. Light, gentle, slow, as he had been the other night. His lips were warm and soft, his experience clear in how he worked her mouth. Morgan responded timidly. Her whole body was ready to run or maybe to throw herself into his arms. She didn’t know which would win.

  When she tasted him again, the fire ignited in her blood. She withdrew, afraid of what that meant or what might happen.

  “Trust me,” he whispered again.

  She couldn’t tell him she was scared. It would sound childish or stupid, and it might scare him off to know she was afraid of a tiny kiss!

  When she didn’t respond, Beck kissed her once more. This time, when his tongue flickered between her lips, she didn’t back down. Morgan felt the fire and hunger rise again and squeezed Beck’s hand hard. His earth magick calmed her while he deepened the kiss.

  His arms wrapped around her, and she leaned into him, overwhelmed by the sensations of his strong, warm body, the way he tasted and the feel of his arms around her. When she realized he wasn’t going to let her fire sweep her away, she released her hold on her magick, trusting him to guide it.

  His kiss was nothing like she expected. It made the flames around them dance far above the treetops and her blood burn. She wanted more of him, to feel the smooth skin and taut muscles of his chest beneath her palms and to know what it was like to have his large, strong hands travel over her bare skin. Desire was carried across her magick to him, and his kiss grew hungry.

  Beck withdrew, breathing hard.

  “You’re shaking,” he whispered, his lips pressed against her temple.

  Morgan clung to him. Her body had melted under the unexpected heat of their desire. Beck’s arms tightened around her, and she buried her face into his shoulder, breathing his scent deeply. Her mom used to hug her when she was little, and she hadn’t let anyone touch her since The Incident, outside the sparring ring.

  This was different, primal. Natural. She belonged in Beck’s arms. He made her feel whole once more, like she did before her world shattered on her fourteenth birthday.

  For the first time in four years, she wasn’t afraid.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, nuzzling her cheek.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  He slid a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face enough for him to kiss her cheeks. His warm lips were gentle. She listened to the sounds of their breathing, lost in her senses.

  “Glad you didn’t toss the stick,” he said with a smile. His eyes danced.

  “Me, too,” she admitted.

  He traced the tips of his fingers around her face, taking her in with warmth that made her body burn hotter. His other arm remained securely around her. His hand dropped, and he hugged her again.

  “Not to complain, but I’m burning up,” he said. “No pun intended.”

  She laughed. She was accustomed to the fire magick’s heat, but could imagine its intensity would probably scare people. Beck released her, and she found her balance once more. He led them out of the bonfire. Cold night air made her shiver, her ultra-sensitive skin sending tiny sensations of pleasure through her as it pricked.

  “You look like you’re still on fire,” Beck said, glancing at her.

  Morgan flushed. Her insides sizzled with desire she didn’t know what to do with.

  “That happens sometimes,” she managed, not about to tell him she was going to glow every time she thought of him from here on out.

  The intensity of his gaze made her look away. She held his hand tightly as they returned to the bonfire where Ben and his family were seated. Ben gave them a knowing look, and Morgan’s face grew warmer.

  Beck sat down, tugging her down beside him. He automatically wrapped an arm around her to keep her against him. She hesitated then rested her cheek on his shoulder, reveling in his scent and warmth.

  Accepting the stick seemed to have given him blanket permission to touch her. She only tensed once, when he rested a hand on her thigh. His quick glance was warm, his smile reassuring. Morgan relaxed, though every time he touched her, she was completely disoriented by the sensations in her mind.

  Energized by d
esire and excitement, she didn’t notice the night pass. Beck didn’t leave her side, and some part of him was in contact with her the whole night. Though they shared no more intimate moments, their magicks restored the feelings from the bonfire, each time they touched.

  Morgan wasn’t certain when she fell asleep or how she was so comfortable with him to do so. She awoke to the sound of a vehicle starting and roused herself. Her eyes opened. The fire had died down, and it was the lightened sky that provided light for the clearing.

  She was wrapped in Beck’s arms on the ground beside the fire. Her body was molded against his, their spooning bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. Sensing she was awake, Beck squeezed her then kissed her temple.

  I like this. She didn’t voice it though. How did she tell him she liked waking up in his arms without telling him why she wasn’t ready to sleep with anyone yet?

  “It’s gonna be a long day,” Beck murmured. He nuzzled her neck, and she laughed at the tickling sensations. “Class starts in like, half an hour.”

  Morgan groaned.

  “I’d rather spend it with you,” he added.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, uncertain how to respond.

  “You’re welcome.” Beck laughed. “You okay with all this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Seriously?” He pushed her onto her back, and she met his gaze.

  He was even more handsome with a day’s growth of hair shading his jaw and his hair mussed. Morgan wondered how she ever deserved to end up in the arms of the hottest guy she’d ever meet. He smiled and touched her face again.

  “Yeah,” she replied, recalling he’d asked her a question.

  “Good.”

  “Beck,” she said then hesitated. “Can we … can we take it slow?” She held her breath, afraid of his response.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “As slow as you want.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated.

  “As much as I hate to say this, we gotta get going,” he said grudgingly. “I got a text from my dad, saying I need to check in before I go to school.”

  Morgan pushed herself up. Beck moved with her, his touch never leaving her body.