Page 67 of Uncharmed

Then, all at once, the fire caught.

The fragile calm of the moment was gone the moment their lips touched. Hal swept her up, gathering her as close as he possibly could, cutting the infuriating distance between them in one swift move and holding her in arms that felt as though they enveloped her body completely and weren’t willing to let go. As though he’d decided to hold on to her for good, before she disappeared in front of his eyes again. It was lucky that his forearm was wrapped around her waist so tightly – Annie felt her knees buckle and her back arch as her whole body surged towards his. Her magic flared at the contact that she had been silently wishing on stars for since the first time he’d shown her his unwavering kindness.

‘I missed you,’ she managed to breathe out.

Their powers, alive and charged, coiled around them like invisible vines. Like climbing foxgloves and blooming dahlias, tendrils of static and sparks encased them as Annie’s whole body hummed in response to his strong, charmed touch. She hoped that he could feel it, too, but the way his fingers tightened around a handful of her dress confirmed as much. Hal’s hands pushed through her soaked hair, moving it away from her face so that his lips could cover every part of it, as though he were trying to kiss away each drop of rain. His lips travelled along her jaw, down her neck with ragged breath, back up to her mouth in a way that felt fitting against an October thunderstorm. The air around them shimmered like a heatwave, a mirage of magic flaring from witch to warlock and catching reflections, turning raindrops to fireflies.

Life was so beautiful when she let chaos take hold, even just for a fleeting moment.

Finally, Annie tore herself away to catch her breath, although she was fairly certain that she’d sacrifice something as unimportant as air to keep existing in that one moment.

‘Are you even real?’ Hal asked hoarsely, a haze across his eyes.

Annie laughed and nodded shyly. ‘I think so. Are you?’

‘Not sure,’ he said. ‘I’ve dreamed about this too much to know.’

She laughed again, suddenly self-conscious in a deliciously sweet way, both of them breathless with bright, wild eyes. He pulled her back to him with a kiss that was a fraction more gentle this time, less frantic but no less consuming. She could feel the care and concern behind it, just as passionate as the want and the need of the first.

Without breaking the kiss and while keeping an arm locked firmly around her waist, Hal spun them around and guided them over the threshold of the cottage with a stumble. He kicked the front door behind him, before crashing back against it and bringing her with him.

‘Are you cold? You must be cold,’ he murmured against her lips, voice thick with want. They stepped together, Annie lifting Hal’s shirt away from his waistband to slide over his hipbones, making him hiss with her icy hands.

‘Not any more.’

In the flurry of thoughts of Hal and home and heart, Annie wondered how she’d ever move on from that feeling. Maybe she never would. It would hold her for ever. Intoxicating in its equal parts of comfort and passion combined. How lucky they were to have found one another, to care so deeply and safely and to feel it returned in a way that set magic alight.

Chapter Twenty-Six

THE WEIRDEST THING

‘I must look awful,’ Annie laughed. She hurried to wipe the dark mascara trails from her cheeks, then immediately regretted it as she saw the sooty marks all over the sleeve of Hal’s shirt that she had thrown on.

Hal gave a gruff ‘hmm’ and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. He squinted down at her with one eye open. ‘You were beautiful the minute I first saw you and you’re beautiful now. If it’s possible, you’re even more beautiful now.’ He brushed his thumb over her shoulder where the shirt had slipped.

She shook her head. ‘I was immaculate a few weeks ago, now look at me.’

‘Oh, I am very much looking at you, trust me. Maybe I’m biased to this moment because you’re not threatening to kill me with a wooden spoon, I don’t know.’

‘The threat remains,’ Annie said. ‘At all times.’

She was lying with her head on his chest as though one had been made to fit the other, the same way that she had woken up that morning they had shared the bed. But this time she didn’t have to run away. One of the blankets that she’d conjured all the way back on her first evening at Arden Place was draped over her. Now that her senses were slowly coming back, Annie noted that many of the touches that she had removed before she left had subtly returned. Perhaps her spell had unknitted . . . There were considerably more muddy boots by the door, several half-read open books lying around, horse paraphernalia discarded in inexplicable locations, but they were alongside her soft additions, the prettier parts. There was even a photograph that Maeve had taken of the three of them with Mage and Karma, in a small wooden frame on the mantlepiece. It all seemed to fit together, a lived-in, loved home. The feeling was made ten times bigger with the soundtrack of the crackling fire that Hal had conjured into the hearth. Annie had been unable to resist casting her own magic to add the scent of molten marshmallows to the room alongside the smoky wood. It smelled just like Hal.

She spoke quietly. ‘I’m sorry. There’s so much I need to tell you.’

‘No “sorry”s. I want you to want to share your problems with me, Annie, rather than think of me as your last resort. Like I said before, we make a good team.’

‘I do want to, I swear. This is all just very new, as a concept. I’m used to taking care of things myself,’ she replied.

‘Try me,’ Hal said sincerely, raising himself up a little. ‘Where do we start?’

‘With . . . a spell,’ Annie chanced, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him. ‘My spell.’

Hal’s eyes pinched as he regarded her for a strange, quiet moment, then he let out a sigh of relief. He pushed his tumbling hair away and a twitch of a smile crept over his lips as he leaned back again. ‘About time we finally talked about that.’

Annie blinked. ‘Talked about what?’

‘Your spell? The bathtub thing.’