Page 37 of Torn Ivy
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Bram murmurs, coming up behind me and meeting my eyes in the mirror. His hands slide possessively over my hips.
I lean back against him, a small smile playing on my lips. “You guys certainly know how to make a girl feel wanted.”
Torin snorts as he towels off. “Wanted? Try fucking irresistible.”
We dry off and head back to my bedroom. I pull on an oversized t-shirt, not bothering with anything else. The guys get comfortable as Tate retrieves the book from my desk.
“Let’s see what Vex dug up,” I say, settling on the bed between Bram and Torin.
Tate opens the book, flipping through pages of ancient text. “There is a lot of my family history in here,” he starts carefully. “Apparently, my bloodline, the Well and Black bloodline, is an anchor for chaos magick. It’s why you feel more stable around me.”
“What?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
He nods, almost shyly. Torin is staring at him with something wary, and a little bit annoyed.
“Is that why we are fated?” I murmur, shifting my gaze back to Tate.
“We are more than that,” he says. “We are two pieces of the same whole.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Torin snaps. “You don’t get to swoop in here and take her away from us with this crap.”
Tate growls. “Who’s taking her away, you arsehole? I’m stating facts.” He jabs the book harshly.
“Never mind that,” I snap, eager to learn more about this magick that is threatening to tear me in half. “What does it say about the magick?”
“That’s where it becomes a bit blurry,” he says with a huff at Torin and refocusing.
“Well, I think it’s Ancient Fae magick,” Bram blurts out. “Somehow, you, being not Fae, are able to wield it. It chose you, obviously, but the basis of it is from my heritage.”
“Oh?” I ask interestedly. “How do you figure?”
“Like recognises like,” he says and holds his hand up. Dark shadows filter out of his palm and wrap themselves around me, drawing out my pink energy and combining with it.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Okay, Fae, it is.”
“I think you’re a witch,” Torin adds, almost triumphantly, with a glare at Tate.
“What?” I ask, scrunching up my nose. “How so?”
He rolls his eyes. “Something my mother said. She doesn’t just say things. Every word is measured. She called you a chaos witch. I thought at first it was a slur, like bitch, but it’s not. It’s fact.”
“And how does she know this?”
He shrugs, and then glowers at me. “You’re going to get me to ask her, aren’t you?”
“Only if you want to. I get family drama, and I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to. But it might help.”
“She won’t tell us anything she doesn’t want us to know.”
I sigh, running a hand through my damp hair. “So, if we cut her out of the equation, what we know is that I’m some sort of chaos witch with Ancient Fae magick, anchored by Tate’s bloodline.”
Bram nods solemnly. “That about sums it up.”
“Great,” I mutter. “The witch thing is interesting. I’ve never had active magick before now. I wonder where the witch side has come in and why it’s never manifested before.”
Torin’s hand slides up my thigh, his touch is both possessive and comforting. “We’ll figure it out without my mother’s hindrance.”
I snicker. “Yeah, if we can’t trust her, we don’t need her.”
