Page 53 of Hexed, Vexed, & Undersexed
This is my last thought as my world starts to darken. I know that I'm going to pass out and I’m thankful that at least I won't feel the pain of burning to death.
The last thing I hear before my world goes black is an inhuman roar.
When my eyes flutter open, they collide with the deep blue orbs of Bellamy, and I scream. Bellamy slaps a hand over mouth and gives me a sour look.
“Be quiet!” he snaps. “Do you want the whole network to hear?”
“Those bitches are deaf!” I rasp in a huff, still butt hurt no one came earlier to save me. “And don’t act like I’m the first chick to scream waking up to your face.”
Bellamy promptly drops my head that—up until this point—he had been cradling gently. It bounces off the floor of the dressing room and I level a glare at him that should kill him dead. It doesn’t—proof my magic is a traitor.
“How did you hear me?”
“I didn’t. Prestonaskedme to come check on you. Apparently, he got a call from someone—a Kai, was it—who told him that you were in trouble and that only magic could save you. The question is—why does Preston Carwright know that I have magic?” He glares.
I look away from the accusation in his eyes—surely the same accusation that Ann looked at my great-times-thirteen grandma, Alicia, with. It is then that I notice the dressing room. It’s perfectly fine—not a single singe mark mars the wall. I blink in wonder.
“What happened to the fire?” I ask in bafflement.
Bellamy just smirks.
“My magic is more powerful than you can even imagine.”
My stomach drops at his words.
Fuck. There's no way I can possibly win this last trial!
But given that I didn't think I was going to survive my last encounter with another witch, I guess anything is possible.
“So, you told a non-witch about our existence,” Bellamy continues. “It must be pretty serious between you and Carwright.”
I raise an eyebrow at the clear jealousy lacing his words.
“Well, you won't get any apologies for me,” I tell him with a snort, “because, clearly, him knowing saved my ass!”
“Which brings me to my next point.” Bellamy frowns. “Only someone with string prophetic abilities could have possibly foreseen what was happening in this room.”
I wince.
Strong prophetic abilities—or a magical mating bond.
I shrug nonchalantly at Bellamy.
“Puh-leeze—we're Mother Shipton’s descendants. Prophecy is in our blood.”
“Indeed,” Bellamy murmurs, “but legend has it that the Porters have no magic to speak of. So, who is it that helped you? Who is this ‘Kai’? No Porter, that’s for sure.”
“Jesus,” I growl. “Why didn’t you just let me die if you're that pissed about this?”
Bellamy scowls.
“I never said that I wanted you dead. I said I wanted to know who helped you. Tell me who Kai is,” he commands in silky menace.
Panicking worse than when Bodie was with me, I kick out at Bellamy and try to scramble away, but the jerkoff is faster. He scoops me up and plants me in his lap. I squirm to get away, but allthatproves is howunflimsy his broomstick is. I try my damndest not to move as my brain races to figure out what the fuck is going on. I finally turn to look at Bellamy and find his face etched with resolve.
For what, I’m scared to find out.
“We need to figure out what Bodie wants with the grimoire and that spell,” I say nervously, fidgeting in his lap, reminding me that I have hiscompleteattention.
