Page 28 of Witch's Rite
I hadn't seen him since that night I left his place. While the black roses he sent me never wilted, his aura around them began to fade.
Not that my time with Sal and Raum wasn't enjoyable. They each rocked my world in such special and different ways. But nothing could replace how my aloof, icy Ash melted like a popsicle when we touched. More memories of my past lives returned to me every night, but a large chunk of myself was still missing without him.
"It's a lot to take in, dear." Laurel's gentle voice cut into my thoughts, assuming my lack of talking was due to being overwhelmed with this new revelation.
"Um, yeah." I cleared my throat. "I don't really know what to say."
"You would greatly benefit from a supportive community, with mentors teaching you various aspects of magic that they specialize in," John said. "Your grandmother has clearly taught you well, but she is just one person. As your powers grow, you will need balance between them. And the best way to achieve that is to learn from multiple sources."
"But of course it's your decision," Laurel chimed in, shooting a sharp glance at John like a stern teacher. I began to realize that was her signature look. It seemed like she was the one truly in charge. "We absolutely don't want to pressure you, Deja. Lots of witches are solo practitioners because they can't find a coven that fits them, and that's fine too."
John mumbled something under his breath, indicating he disagreed with that last statement but didn't elaborate.
"I would like some time to think about it," I said cautiously.
"Of course, dear," Laurel said with a genuine smile. "We're having a gathering at our house on the next full moon. It's casual, so feel free to drop in or not. You'll be able to meet more coven members there. Bring your grandmother if you'd like."
"That sounds fun. I'll ask her," I said, feeling my defenses slowly back down. These people seemed good and honest. And my lonely heart did yearn for a community where I felt included. More than anything, I yearned for arealfamily.
"I'll be there, too," Juno piped up. "You can meet my boyfriend and other witches around our age." She rolled her eyes teasingly at Laurel and John, who both gasped in mock disbelief.
"Goodness, are you calling us old?" Laurel demanded, her hand flying to her throat. "If I wore pearls, I'd be clutching them right now."
We all laughed as a comforting warmth settled over me like a blanket. John went up to the bar to get us a round of drinks while Laurel asked me questions about my magic casting. I answered eagerly, the words spilling from my mouth like a waterfall.
And I thought maybe, just maybe, these could be my people.
15
DEJA
Iopened my eyes to stare at a ceiling that seemed to stretch up for miles. The dark, oddly textured red walls converged but never seemed to meet. They just kept going up into infinite darkness.
Disoriented, I sat up abruptly and looked at my surroundings.
I realized I was not in my own futon at home but a massive, luxurious bed that also seemed to spread out around me endlessly.
The pillows and sheets were covered with a plush, silky red fabric, trimmed with an intricate gold pattern.
And a beautiful naked man laid across them next to me.
Ash's hair was longer, like the time I saw him as an angel before falling. His beard was gone and light stubble peppered his cheeks and chin. But his body was what took my breath away.
He looked like the statue of David come to life. Not a single flaw or imperfection could be found on him. His muscles were defined as if sculpted by the hand of an artist and in perfect proportion.
The beauty of him just made me want to cry. Sal and Raum were hot and muscular as well but still looked like relatively normal human men. One look at Ash and you just knew he wasn't created on Earth.
"Oh my God, Ash!" I gasped.
He laid on his back but I could see one of his wings peeking out from underneath him. What few white feathers remained were stained red with blood. The rest were charred or missing. And the angle of his wing seemed wrong, like the broken wing of a bird.
Only then did I notice the dark, tender bruises and welts on his side, wrapping around to his back. He looked as if he'd been burned, whipped, and pelted with rocks all at the same time.
But his eyes cracked open and he smiled at me like it was a typical, lazy Sunday morning.
"Hello, my love." His voice was gravelly with sleep as he reached for me.
"Ash, you're hurt!" I shrieked, too panicked to register his term of endearment.
