Page 98 of A Bolt of Magic

“Mmm-hmm.” I pull her closer, loving the way she fits against me.

“Next time, I’ll leave you to get pawed. How about that?”

“McColl.”

“Yes?”

I lean in, whispering into her ear. “I like that you were jealous.”

“Stop it.” She tries to pull away. “I wasn’t jealous. Stop saying that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I was jealous, too…watching you dance with what’s-his-name?”

“Blaise?” She laughs. “He’s Meredith’s younger brother. You saw Meredith earlier. The lady with the baby. We were very good friends for years. Blaise was the annoying younger brother. He’ll always be that to me. The fact that Meredith and I both had annoying younger brothers is probably part of why we got along so well.” She gets this look.

“You’re worried about them.”

“Yes, but they’re fine. It’s all going to be fine. It has to be, Kian. You know what? Let’s enjoy this dance. It doesn’t help for me to agonize over something I have no control over.”

We move together to the music.

This is right – her in my arms, the rest of the world fading into background noise. Her hand rests on my chest, right over my heart, and I wonder if she can feel how fast it’s beating.

She looks up at me, her lips slightly parted, and I find myself leaning down toward her. Her eyes flutter closed, and I can feel her breath against my lips—

A loud groan interrupts the moment, followed by rhythmic grunting and feminine cries…of pleasure.

We both turn toward the sound and freeze. Against the nearest oak tree, a man has a woman pressed against the bark, her dress hiked up around her waist, her legs wrapped around him as he moves inside her with powerful thrusts. Her head is thrown back in ecstasy, and she’s crying out with abandon as other celebration-goers simply continue their conversations nearby as if nothing unusual is happening.

I stare in shock. I hadn’t truly believed McColl when she’d warned me about this aspect of witch celebrations, but here it is, raw and uninhibited, right in front of everyone.

McColl and I look at each other for a moment, and then we both start laughing. The absurdity of it. The shock.

Although McColl is laughing, her cheeks are stained blood red. She might be a witch, but she is indeed different.

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

We run from the celebration like children escaping their lessons, both of us still laughing. But underneath the amusement, I’m acutely aware of how tight my pants are. I’m turned on and not by what we just saw, but by her. By McColl. By the way she felt in my arms, by how close we’d come to kissing, by the warmth of her hand in mine. Her scent. Her.

By the time we reach the carriage, the laughter has faded, replaced by that familiar tension that seems to follow useverywhere. I help her into the carriage, trying not to notice how her dress rides up slightly.

I look away.

The ride back to our temporary home is silent, both of us lost in our thoughts. When we arrive, I help her down from the carriage, our hands touching for just a moment longer than necessary.

We go up the long stairs until we reach her bedroom. Mine is just down the hallway. Just a few steps away. We look at each other for a few charged moments. Her chest heaves. I work to keep my eyes on hers.

“Good night, McColl,” I say quietly.

“Good night, Kian,” she replies, her voice low and husky. Then she turns and goes inside, the door clicking shut.

Like an idiot, I stand in the hallway for a long moment, staring at that closed door, my hand on the cold wood.

I want to knock.

I want to…

---