Page 61 of A Lady’s Guide to Witchcraft

Chapter Nineteen

It was tradition, during the Midsummer Festival, to step into the sea at midnight for good luck.

As Briar could use all of the luck she could beg, borrow, or outright steal, she would also dunk her whole head underwater if it would help.

She avoided the main beach with its bonfires and stalls of spiced ale and tart lemonade and Pegasus rides. The villagers and visitors would splash into the sea and bob about like so many jewels. There would be stolen kisses, shrieks of laughter, songs sung.

Tonight, Briar preferred the secret cove, bathed in moonlight, with wild roses growing over the short cliff rocks above. She did not remember seeing them growing there before. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her dress, the breeze ruffling her thin chemise. She had placed a flower wreath on her hair, even though there was no one to see it. It was braided with St. John’s wort, lavender, and daisies.

The sea was ruffled like a black velvet dress trimmed with white lace ribbons. The sound of the waves was soft and constant, overlaid with the occasional snippet of violins and flutes from other celebrations. The stars were bright, eating up the darkness.

And then Ethan was there, leaning silently against the rocks.

She had not seen him arrive, but she was not surprised. He had appointed himself her bodyguard. Or more accurately, the bodyguard of his best chance at getting to the moon charm before anyone else. He needed her. And she needed him to keep the others off her trail.

But what would happen if they found it? When they found it? Would he try to steal it from her? Would he let her wake her sister and see if that was enough to lift the shields? What if it was not? What then?

As Briar had no answers and no method of getting them, she settled for the push and pull of the waves, the shifting sand under her toes. And Ethan at her back, her very own bloodthirsty shadow. Honest but untrustworthy. Protective but dangerous. Treacherous as the ocean, as unyielding as fire. A dragon to his core.

Briar turned back to the sea, her neck prickling with the knowledge that he watched her. He made it feel like he was right there next to her. As if he was touching her. Her body reacted, a slow, hot throb of awareness between her thighs.

She counted the waves as they crashed and foamed around her knees. The seventh was the one that brought good luck. Her swan settled on the water, bobbing happily. Her sister was as safe as she could be. Briar had a moment to catch her breath. She would need a clear head to see them through the rest. She had part of the moon charm, but that meant there were more pieces littered about. And too many others hunting for them. They did not know it was in pieces, though. That was to her advantage.

She caught a glimpse of kelpie teeth just as Ethan whistled sharply, stalking into the water behind her. The moonlight caught his many daggers, the silver ring on his thumb. The kelpies raced closer, with that haunting, piercing cry that fueled the nightmares of everyone on Lyonesse. They had the heads and front legs of horses, tapering to fish tails with the strength of a hundred steel-tipped whips. Frequently the water around them roiled with blood.

Ethan, grim faced, used his magic to push the waves against them, their muscular bodies churning the water in defiance. Fennel and burning salt mingled with the roses above them.

The kelpies snapped their teeth, and it was too easy to imagine them dripping blood and seaweed, to hear the crunch of her own bones. They did not, as a rule, stay close to Haven. They were too cruel and hungry, pulling the unwary under to drown them and eat them, and not necessarily in that order. The locking of the shields must have trapped them closer to the beach than was comfortable for anyone.

“Mine,” Ethan growled when one of them tried to circle around to nip at Briar’s swan.

Snapdragon slapped the water with a fierce wing. Ethan had claimed her before, in front of Twyla. Briar knew it was just a figure of speech, a warning that had more to do with rivalries over magic and stolen moon eggs.

So she tried not to like it.

And failed, decided that what made her tingle in the privacy of her own mind was nobody’s business. It was Midsummer, after all. The rules were different. Some leeway was given.

Ethan sliced an iron dagger across the water as his dragon unfurled giant, scaled wings above her. He breathed fire that was not fire but effective all the same. One of the kelpies shrieked. “Go,” Ethan ordered them.

They moved as a herd, turning toward Haven’s crowded beach. The bonfires flickered like beacons. “Not there,” he added sharply. “You can try your luck in Holdfast.”

They keened again, and Briar’s ears rang. It was the sound of breaking glass, metal screeching against metal, bones shattering. The kelpies knew they had no chance with the Iron Witches of Holdfast and swam away to sulk in the shadows.

“Thank you,” Briar said, her chemise tangling around her knees.

He glanced down at her, eyes dark and fathomless, mouth absurdly sultry against the rugged clench of his jaw. He was in his element, standing in the shadows of the sea at midnight. Briar, on the other hand, wobbled, trying to find purchase in the slippery sand when a particularly rough wave jostled her. Ethan reached out and steadied her, splaying his hand across her lower back. The water pushed her closer to him and she did not fight it, could not.

Did not want to.

He had pushed his dagger against her throat.

But in all fairness, she had stabbed him with a fork first.

Some alliances weren’t meant to be simple, even if they felt deceptively easy. Natural.

They stood there for a long moment, gazes snarled on each other.

And then it wasn’t the tide that brought them together, nor gravity, nor chance. It was need. Desire so keen it scorched through the hesitation, through perfectly reasonable arguments and warnings. Wisdom. Everything.