Page 1 of These Charms Won't Fade
These Charms Won’t Fade
I’msprinkling cheese on the second pan of soon-to-be-baked ziti—this one vegetarian, the first with hot Italian sausage—when the air brushes against my skin to announce my girlfriend’s arrival.
Relief settles around my shoulders. It’s not like Morgan to be late, especially when we’re hosting the monthly dinner for our friends. Logically, Iknewshe was probably fine, but that didn’t stop the string of worst-case scenarios from marching through my mind. Even knowing her Blood Magic would help her recover quickly from most of those worries couldn’t stop the thundering of my heart.
Outside, her car door slams shut, and I send the air to greet Morgan while I finish prepping the baked ziti for tonight. The element is delighted to answer my call, racing through the house and out the open front windows. The soft hum of magic beneath my skin is warm and wonderful, over-shadowed only by the anticipation of seeingher.
We’ve been together for nearly eight years—livedtogether for five of them—and my heart still soars each time she enters the room.
Laughter dances through the windows as the air tickles against her skin, and then the front door opens. “Sorry, I’m late!” Morgan’s voice drops to a gentle murmur as she greets our cats, Colby and Jack. “Chloe’s dad got a flat tire on his way to pick her up, and her other dad was in the middle of teaching, so he wasn’t checking his phone.” By the time Morgan finishes the explanation, she’s made it through the house to the kitchen. “Fuck, that smells good, Hannah.”
I glance over my shoulder to find her still in her dance uniform: tight black leggings and a tank top that clings to all of her glorious curves, her red hair twisted into a bun. She carries our single-brain-celled orange cat, Colby, nestled in her arms like a baby.
“I’m glad she had you for company until someone could get her.”
Morgan laughs, her nose crinkling. “I doubt she even realized how late her parents were. She choreographed a whole dance for me and made me practice until it was perfect. Chloe hasexactingstandards for an eight-year-old.”
“She can’t help that she has good taste,” I tease.
After setting Colby on the floor, despite his protests, Morgan wraps her arms around my waist and presses a kiss along my jaw. The warmth of her against my back melts the last lingering bits of tension from my body. “How wasyourday?”
I lean into her strength, my head tipped back against her shoulder. “It was fine. The client wants me to take everythinginterestingout of the branding I put together. So, you know, business as usual.” When I picked graphic design for my major in college, I thought it was a smart way to make art into a stable career. The corporate clients my work contracts with are just so painfullyboring,though.
Morgan hums a note of discontent as she nuzzles into my neck. “I’m sorry, babe.” With a final kiss on my cheek, she steps away to load the dishwasher and clean up while I get the two pans of ziti in the oven. “Do you have any fun private clients lined up— Hey! Off the counter, Jack.” She nudges our tuxedo cat, Jack, off the counter where he was batting at the empty bag of cheese. He headbutts Morgan’s ankle before chasing Colby into the other room.
I close the oven, set a timer, and lean against the counter to watch Morgan work. “One of my authors got back to me this afternoon with final notes on the series rebrand I’m doing for her. I should be able to finalize the covers this weekend. Maybe even get started on a new character commission for another client.”
This work, at least, is creatively fulfilling. I love helping authors translate the worlds in their heads—and in their books—into visuals that delight their readers. Book covers. Character art. Stickers. Even bookmarks. All of it is so much morefunthan the corporate branding I do at work. In a perfect world, I’d do the freelance stuff full-time. But, alas, health insurance.
Dating a Blood Witch minimizes the need to visit a doctor, but it’s not a full replacement.
“You’re still coming to the summer solstice ceremony with the coven tomorrow, right?”
Morgan reaches for the pans and submerges them in soapy water. “Yeah, I got Jasper to cover my shift at the bookstore. I’d love to get some writing in before we go, too.” She glances over her shoulder at me and grins. “I think I finally figured out the villain’s motivation.”
“For the vampire book or the mermaid one?”
“Vampire. The art you slipped into my lunch today inspired me.”
Heat flushes my cheeks. “Always happy to be your muse.”
Finished with dishes, Morgan drains the sink and dries her hands on a rainbow-patterned hand towel. “You know, Icoulduse a little extra inspiration.” She crosses the kitchen and leans in for a proper kiss, the first since I left for work this morning. The air, delighted, swirls around us, tugging at our hair. Our clothes.
Morgan’s fingers skim across the sensitive skin of my neck as she threads one hand into my hair. The other settles against my lower back, tugging me close. She deepens the kiss, her tongue a perfect glide against mine, pulling a moan from the back of my throat.
“How long until Cal and Gemma get here?” she asks, pressing a series of kisses along my jaw. “I need to shower, and I’dlovesome company.”
My mind is already hazy with desire, my body prickling with the promise of her attention—fingers and lips and the intoxicating play of her Blood Magic. Add in the thrum of water from the shower, interwoven with my own Elemental Magic…
“Long enough,” I say after the briefest glance at the clock. I turn down the oven to avoid burning dinner and then her hand is in mine as I lead us down the hall to the master bathroom.
Coby and Jack protest when we close the door behind us.
* * *
“You two better be decent!”
Gemma’s familiar voice carries through the house as she lets herself in. The cats race toward her, their little meows jolting with hurried steps.
