Page 17 of Spice
I curl against him, wishing I could chase away his fear with my touch. “I know. Me too.” I don’t know what else to say. I wish I had pretty words to comfort him. But I don’t.
So instead, I take his hand and press it to the glowing rune on my belly. My skin reacts to his touch, tingling with warmth. I lay my hand over his, our magics humming together, a low vibration that fills the room. The rune glows brighter, the gold filtering through our fingers and mingling with the firelight.
“I want to spend every morning waking up with you,” I say, my voice raspy.
A chaos of emotion swirls in Ezra’s eyes. “Will you make me one of your special lattes?”
I grin. “Every day, baby.”
He laughs at that. “I’m a little too old to be called baby.”
“What would you prefer? Sugar pie? Honey bunch? My darling warlock?”
He laughs again, softer this time. “You can call me anything you want, as long as I’m yours.”
“You are, Ezra. No matter what the next few minutes bring, we belong to each other. Fully, irrevocably.” I stroke my hand over his chest. “Will you teach me more about magic? About being an Everwane? I have so much to learn, things I didn’t even realize I was capable of.”
“Yes,” he says on sharp exhale. “I’ll teach you everything, my sweet little witch.” Neither of us articulates the giantifhanging over us. We don’t need to, or want to. If these are the last moments we’ll have together, I’d rather spend them in hope than anxious misery. “And I’ll kiss you awake every morning. I’ll hold you to sleep every night. For as many nights as we have.”
The words aren’t fancy or grand or poetic. But they’re real, and true, and human. And whatever’s going to happen, we’re going to face it together. If the ritual didn’t work, I won’t let Ezra face his fate alone.
My chin trembles and I close my eyes, trying to fight back the tears, but it’s no use. They slip down my cheeks anyway, and Ezra brushes them away with his thumbs, then kisses the salty path they left behind.
A sudden sensation has me looking down, and we lift our hands to see the rune glowing even brighter. Not only that, but it’smoving, swirling in a slow circle low on my belly. Small patterns start to extend from it, vines and flowers.
The clock on the mantel shows us the time: 11:59. One by one, the candles on either side of it ignite, flaring to life in a single-file line. This has to be promising, right? The rune, the candles, the magic in the air—these are all positive signs, right? Or am I just seeing what I want to see because I don’t want to lose Ezra?
A pair of small, glowing runes, black and glittery like a night sky, appear in the air above us, hovering for a moment. They look like three oval loops, connected together in the center to form a flower-like shape.
The witch’s symbol for eternal love.
We both watch silently as the runes float down towards us, settling right over our hearts. I feel the mating bond lock into permanent place the second it touches my skin, and I know that Ezra feels it too. We’re both marked now with tiny, glittering tattoos, mirror images of each other. I have the sudden urge to reach out and touch his, so I do, tracing the tips of my fingers over it. I feel the echo of my touch on Ezra’s skin through my own rune.
We’re connected. Forever.
I just hope that forever lasts longer than the next few minutes.
There’s a sudden surge of magic in the room, and we sit up, huddling together under the blanket. Silver dust starts to swirl in the air, both of our magics rising to tangle and twist with it, weaving a tapestry of glimmering power. Gold dust materializes out of thin air and mingles with the silver, a breeze picking up and making the candles on the mantel flicker and dance. The air feels heavy, weighted with expectation. Anticipation. Something is happening.
Gossamer fine threads stretch from the rune on my chest to the one on Ezra’s, linking us. I can feel him. I know what he’s thinking—not word for word, but in an abstract way. I knowwhat he’s feeling. I can see his entire past, stretching out behind him. With one blink, it’s like I’ve known him for eternity.
The room starts to shake, and Ezra wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly. “No matter what happens,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You’re my salvation. Please know that.”
The clock on the mantel starts to chime.
Midnight.
All traces of magic disappear. The swirling dust, the threads arcing between our chests, even our own magics—everything drops away, like we’re in the eye of the storm. My stomach plummets as dread sits like a weight on my shoulders. I can feel Ezra’s terror at the prospect that we’ve failed. That everything we’ve found is about to be ripped away from us.
The fire in the hearth goes out. So do the candles. The air in the room is eerily still. “I—“ I start to say, but I’m cut off by an enormousboom.
A magical shockwave explodes outward, bright, wild, beautiful. It rushes over us, ruffling our hair, dislodging the blanket. The candles re-ignite, flaring brighter than before as the air crackles with electricity. My belly feels warm, and I look down to see the rune there glowing with white-hot light. My magic pulses out of me, and so does Ezra’s, and I watch as they entwine like twin plumes of smoke.
Ezra gasps and lurches away from me. He screams, his back arching as his body twists in pain, and then he falls to his hands and knees, gasping for air. He’s wrenched upright again, and I watch helplessly as a glittering light runs over Ezra’s entire body, starting at the crown of his head and moving all the way down to his feet. Like a line of fire advancing across his skin. He grits his teeth, held still by magic as the light moves. I hold my breath until my lungs ache, screaming for air. Even then, I don’t dare take a breath. I don’t dare move. Something is happening, andgood or bad, I have to let it happen. I understand that, on a fundamental level. I can’t interfere.
There’s a pop as the pressure in the room suddenly changes and everything goes still again. The light disappears. The magic fades. Ezra drops to his knees and sits back on his heels, sweat beading on his brow as he gasps for air.
“Ezra,” I say, moving towards him, then dropping to the floor in front of him. My hands cup his face, searching for proof of success. Or failure. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
