Page 8
We only visited a few times, but those memories have stuck with me.
Before long, we arrive at the town hall.
It’s quite an official place for a coven to meet, and though the town only has the one, Mom was right. The Starbrook Coven is more than a couple of elder witches. It’s a big one. There are already witches in nearly every seat when we arrive, and everyone turns.
Looking right at us.
I smile and give a little wiggle of my fingers. Making favorable first impressions is important, but it’s kind of hard when it’s a hundred against us. Small town things, I’d imagine.
Leo shoves his shoulder against mine. “Guess we can’t fly under the radar.”
As if he would want to. True to his astrology sign and name, he preens like a peacock, running a hand through his jet-black hair and striding through the room. I roll my eyes and follow after him. It’s like any confidence I have in other areas dissolves as I join my family sitting in the little corner of the room.
Magic. It’s something I have in common with everyone here, but it feels so out of reach these days. It’s been three years since I managed even a simple spell. Three years since I left my coven. Three years since I gave up on magic.
I don’t belong here.
The witch at the head is on the older side, with red hair—likely dyed—and beautiful wrinkles like the feet of a crow around her smiling eyes. She greets us with a nod.
“We have a new group joining the coven,” she says, even though it should already be abundantly clear. “Let us welcome the Seren witches to Starbrook.”
There’s an echo of a greeting from around the room: “Merry Meeting.”
My brothers and mother say it back, but I forget to open my mouth until a second later. “Merry meeting,” I say too loud and too late, my voice the only one left ringing through the room.
Heat flushes to my cheeks, and I stay that way for the rest of the meeting. Embarrassed. Would rather be anywhere else.
They discuss the upcoming full moon, bring up a few events, a few people ask questions and share information, and then finally…
We get to mingle. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to party and talk to other witches. I need a moment alone.
“I—where’s the bathroom?” I whisper to my mom, my gaze darting around.
Her brows tilt down. “Through that door, if I recall.”
Before she can finish her instructions, I’m out of there, passing through a door that leads to an office. There are too many desks crammed, all empty, except for one.
There’s a tall man hunched over a too-small desk, his face screwed up as he squints at his computer. His dark glasses slide off his handsome, prominent nose.
“I’m coming,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear over the hum from the other room. The plant on his desk, a tiny cactus, seems to wither as he speaks. “Sorry. Finishing up.”
His gaze lifts, meeting mine, and my mouth goes dry.
Bright blue eyes like the afternoon sky. Dark curls. Broad shoulders. Hands—the only hands beside my own that have ever made me come. I was never supposed to see him again. I all but kicked him out of my bed, refused to give him my number, and that was that.
Until now.
Sterling. The man from the bar, all those years ago.
He’s in Starbrook.
And he’s glaring at me like I’m the last witch he wants to see around the cauldron.
Terrific.
Chapter 3
Sterling
