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“Oh, fuck off,” I say, lifting my arms to dislodge Fielder’s hands from me. But he doesn’t let go. “Why are you telling me lies? I want the truth.”
He gives me a little shake. “It is the truth, I swear.”
“Youswear? You swear that somethingimpossibleis true?” He nods once and I look around the others in the room to see if they think I’ll really buy this load of crap. And they are all looking at me like, yes, they do think I’ll swallow this complete load.
I laugh again. I can’t help it. “You’re witches,” I nod, gasping out the words between chuckles. “Sure, why not? How dumb do you think I am? It’s one thing to try to convince me you guys are witches, butme.Did you really think I would not know if I had some kind of magic power?” I double over, clutching my stomach, as I laugh harder.
“Whether you knew it or not, it’s the truth, love,” Hardin says, grinning at me from the bed, apparently enjoying my reaction.
“It’s the only way you would have been able to get into the tunnel,” Ezra agrees, sounding completely serious.
I swipe at my cheeks and the tears that linger on them. “Jesus, you guys are soweird.” I fold my arms over my stomach and try to come up with an explanation that fits both what they are telling me and what I know to be true. “So you’re a part of a secret club that calls themselves witches? And you seem to think I belong to another secret club, too?”
“It’s not a club, love.” Hardin’s still grinning at me.
I snap my fingers. “Oh, right, sorry. It’s acovenwhen it’s witches, right?” My laughter fades. “I can’t believe that you’restillfucking with me.” I glare at them, shoving away all the hurt in favor of anger. Yes, anger is a much safer emotion to feel right now. “Don’t you get it? You won. I left. You don’t have to keep torturing me. I’m not going back.”
I turn away from them, moving to where Hardin draped his clothes over a chair, drying, intending to throw them at him and kick them all out. The sooner I can distance myself from them, the better.
I’ve just curled my fingers around his leather jacket when the lights in the room go out. So does the TV. The freaking ‘exit’ sign above the door that’s supposed to stay lit up in case of an emergency goes out. Fear grips me for a half second, but then a moment later, light flares to life near the bed.
I blink against the sudden glare. Then blink again, when Hardin comes into focus. Is he? Is that fire in his hand?
“Oh, shit!” I start forward, intent on putting it out and I can’t for the life of me figure out why his friends aren’t rushing to help him too.
“Let me go,” I protest loudly when arms catch me, pull me against a broad chest. Fielder holds me back with gentle hands.
“Watch, Ro. Just watch.” He’s so calm, and Hardin isn’t screaming in pain, so I do, even though every instinct is shouting to douse the fire. The flame on Hardin’s right hand spreads, creeping up his arm, traveling along his skin and the bathrobe. But it doesn’t burn. It doesn’t even smoke.
“What the hell?”
Hardin holds out his left hand to me. “Come here, love,”
I hesitate, but Fielder urges me forward with a hand on my back, while Ezra encourages. “It’ll be okay, Ro.” So I take a few steps until I’m next to the bed and Hardin holds out his flaming fucking fingers and ever so gently touches the back of my hand. I wince, expecting it to hurt, but it doesn’t. It’s just warm and soft and sweet, a flicker of touch over my skin.
I look down at where the flames are covering our now entwined fingers. My brain is trying to make sense of it. It’s a trick with lights or some shit, because I can’t just have my entire hand engulfed in flames without it hurting, burning.
But it’s happening. It’s real. “Ho. Lee. Shit.”
“See?” Hardin says with a smirk. “Feels nice, doesn’t it, love?” I swallow hard and nod. “Now that you know, I can use this all over your body. Imagine that warmth on your-”
“Shut the fuck up, Yorke,” Gideon snarls.
Too late. I’m already imagining it, and fuck if I don’t go all hot and melty between my legs. I shift slightly, pressing my thighs together in what I hope isn’t an obvious move. But Hardin definitely notices, and his smirk grows.
Fielder moves up behind me, his chest pressing into my back. “Believe us now?” His breath brushes over the skin of my exposed neck, fanning the flame between my legs even higher.
“Yes,” I nod, trying to pretend like I’m not a total quivering mess of hormones. I have bigger things to worry about, like the fact that they are fucking witches. That witches are real.
“Good.” The lights flicker back on, and the fire disappears, but Hardin doesn’t let go of my hand and Fielder doesn’t step away from me. Instead, he brushes a kiss on the curve of my neck, so soft I almost feel like I imagined it.
“When you’re both done manhandling, Ro, maybe we can try to figure out how she’s a witch?” Ezra grumbles from the couch, pouting.
“Can’t anyone be a witch?” I ask, trying to get my body under control, while also leaning back into Fielder. I definitely shouldn’t do this, because I still don’t have the answers I need.
Gideon shakes his head. “Magic flows through bloodlines. The only way to get magic is to be born with it. What’s your mother’s maiden name?”
“Sweeney,” Fielder answers for me. “And her dad’s last name was Stewart.”
