The Secret Life of a Witch 2

  “It’s so pretty.” I lied down on the bed and tucked my hands behind my head, gazing up at the twinkling stars. “I could seriously stare at this all day.”

  He lowered his wand and grinned as he laid down beside me. “Am I the bestest friend ever, or what?”

  “Definitely,” I agreed with a nod. Then paused. “No, you’re way better than that.” I turned and looked at him. When our eyes locked, a gooey, glowy warmth filled my chest. And that’s when I knew I was falling in love with my best friend. “Way, way more.”

  I try not to choke on the memory. I had felt so terrified, yet excited by the new emotions. And while I understood Hunter was way out of my league, I knew that feeling love for him was okay. Because he was Hunter. My smart, caring, sarcastic, but sweet Hunter.

  It was all a lie. Every memory. Every smile. Every emotion.

  All lies.

  I open and flex my hands as tears burn my eyes. I breathe in and out, refusing to cry. Then I gradually sit up, clutching my throbbing head.

  “How the hell did I even get here, anyway?”

  “I brought you here,” Hunter says, startling the shit out of me.

  I squint through the darkness, my muscles becoming as stiff as a petrifying spell when I spot him looming in the shadows near my dresser.

  “Okay, first of all, it’s super creepy that you’ve been standing there the entire time.” I scoot toward the edge of my bed with my gaze trained on him. “Second, get the hell away from me.”

  When he makes no move to budge, my fingers creep down to draw out my wand, but then I painfully remember that the demon snapped the thing like a twig.

  Dammit! I really need to get a new one ASAP!

  I nearly laugh at my urgent thought. Yeah, I’ll get right on that, after I escape my psychopath—and very powerful—friend and save my sister.

  Chuckling, Hunter ambles out of the corner of the room, taking casual steps toward my bed.

  Hatred mixed with freaking love nearly gives me whiplash. How I can still feel the latter is beyond me. I really need to find a way to get rid of it.

  He stops at the foot of the bed and rests his hands on the footboard before lowering his head and taking a deep inhale. “Are you okay?” he then asks without looking at me.

  Keeping my lips zipped, I eye him over with suspicion. He’s changed his clothes since the last time I saw him, now sporting a black T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting black jeans, along with studded leather bracelets. The look is way too goth for the Hunter I know. Besides, why would he change at all? It makes no sense.

  Unless he killed someone or something and got blood all over his clothes.

  I shake the thought from my head. Hunter, a killer? Seriously, Eva?

  Then I recall how he was going to hand me over to that demon, and the ache in my chest amplifies.

  “Am I okay?” I retort, my eyes narrow into slits. “After everything that just happened, that’s all you have to say to me?”

  He lifts his head to look at me, his expression annoyingly neutral. “I think it’s what’s the most important right now.”

  “No. What’s most important is you explaining to me how you knew I could be a hybrid, and why the hell you were going to hand me over to a demon.” My fingers shake as I throw the blanket off me and swing my legs over the side of the bed. “No, better yet, no explaining. I just want you to leave and to never have to see you again.” I shift forward to stand up, but then sink back down as the room twirls around me like an overly zealous ballerina. “Whoa.” I press my hand to my head, blinking. “Biggest head rush ever.”

  “Take it easy. You’ve been under a sleep spell for almost twenty-four hours,” Hunter says as he winds around the bed. “You’re going to be a little dopey for the next hour or so.”

  I lift my free hand up in front of me. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”

  He slows down, but doesn’t come to a complete stop. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  My sharp laugh causes him to flinch. “Not going to hurt me?” I shake my head. “Newsflash, dude, you already did.”

  He fights back a smile as he halts a few steps away from me. “Since when did I become dude? I thought you only called people whose names you can’t remember dude?”

  “I wish I could forget your name,” I grumble, and his grin breaks through.

  Curse him and his stupid smile. His stupid, sexy smile. Grr …

  “Look, dude, this isn’t funny. You’re evil, and I want you out of my room. Now.”

  He busts up laughing, the noise so abrupt and unexpected that I nearly jolt out of my skin.

  “I’m being serious.” Frustrated, I lean forward to test my equilibrium, but get no reward as my room’s four walls blur into one.

  My ass plants back down on the mattress, and I curse under my breath. My reaction only seems to encourage Hunter’s laughter, which only adds more fuel to the fire wanting to burn inside of me.

  Sucking in a determined breath, I push to my feet and finally stand up. “Okay, I’m out of here, since you can’t take a hint and leave.” I step toward the door. At least, I think I do. It’s really hard to tell while my bedroom is acting like a Tilt-a-Whirl.

  His laughter simmers down a notch as he sidesteps in front of me. “I’m sorry for laughing. Just please sit down before you fall down.”

  Raising my chin in defiance, I take another step forward. When he doesn’t move out of my way, my chest whacks into his.

  “I’m not going to fall, so please move.” As I teeter to the side, I hurry and span my arms out.

  A condescending look appears in Hunter’s eyes as I struggle to keep my balance. “You’re not going to fall, huh?”

  “Yep.” As soon as I say it, I stumble backward into the wall. “Dammit, why do I have to be so clumsy? All I need to do is get to the door, and I can’t even do that right.”

  He strides toward me, instantly reducing the space between us. “You’re not clumsy. You’re just doped up a little bit.”

  “Because you put a sleep spell on me.” Saying the words aloud hurts so badly I can hardly breathe. My voice softens with the ache of it. “Why would you do that? I thought we were friends?”

  “We are. Things are just … complicated.” He reaches out to cup my cheek, but I turn my head away. He sighs. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I promise I can explain everything.”

  I put my hands on my hips and give him a firm look. “Then start explaining.”

  With a remorseful look, he reaches for his wand in his back pocket.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not going to be put to sleep again.” I skitter around him and for the door, but my legs give out, and I crumble to the floor. “Crap.” I hurry to stand up when his arms loop around my waist.

  He picks me up, slips his arms under my knees, and carries me over to the bed like a freaking groom carrying his bride over the threshold. Which would be a dream come true if I didn’t just find out he was a big, old liar, liar, magic wand on fire.

  “Put me down,” I gripe, pushing against his chest.

  He obeys, dropping me onto the bed.

  I bounce as I hit the mattress and quickly start to sit up. But he climbs over me, straddles my waist, and places a hand on either side of my head.

  “You know, this whole straddling thing is starting to get old,” I quip, bucking my body upward to try to fling him off while pushing on his chest.

  Grinding his teeth, he captures my hands and traps my wrists together. “And I thought I told you that writhing your hips to get a guy off you is never going to work.” He pins my arms above my head then lowers his face toward mine, his eyes darkening. “In fact, it’s going to make them want to stay on you for a very long time.”

  I slowly catch on to his underlying meaning and snort a laugh. “Dude, no guy is going to get turned on by me grinding up on them.”

  A tired exhale puffs from his lips. “You really are clueless sometimes when it comes to guys.”

>   “Perhaps,” I agree. “At least I’m not clueless enough to let you shoot me twice in twenty-four hours’ time with a sleep spell.”

  “I wasn’t going to shoot you with a sleep spell,” he insists. “I was going to put a trust charm on you.”

  “Why?” I bite out. “I’m not the liar.”

  “I know that.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “I was going to have you put the spell on me so you’d know you can trust me.”

  I shake my head. “If you want me to trust you, then stop reaching for your wand.”

  “Fine,” he answers without missing a beat. “But we still need to find a way to get you to trust me so I can get through this without you freaking out.”

  “Through what?”

  His relentless gaze never wavers from mine. “Telling you what’s going on.”

  I want to tell him I’ll believe him—I really do—but after everything that happened …

  “You could always get me a new wand? Or let me go get one?”

  He shakes his head. “You can’t leave this room yet.”

  My brows pull together. “What? Why?”

  “Because,” is all he says.

  Annoyance pulsates through me. So now I’m a prisoner?

  “Then how about you go get me one,” I grit out.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here alone. Not only is that way too dangerous right now, but you’ll try to run.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says the person who’s known you for almost half of your life.”

  The reminder of our past drowns me in a mixture of anger, pain, and hurt. He must sense how I’m feeling, because his expression softens.

  “I …” He wets his lips with his tongue, a habit he only does when he has a troubling thought. “I need to find a way for you to trust me,” he mutters more to himself. Then his concern vanishes as a smile rises on his face. “You know what? I think I have the perfect idea. And one that doesn’t require magic.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I question with doubt. “And what’s that?”

  His grin intensifies before his lips come down on mine.

  Chapter Nine

  Holy bleeping mother of all dancing rainbow unicorns, Hunter is kissing me.

  Hunter’s lips are on mine.

  Hunter, the guy I’ve been in love with forever.

  Hunter. Hunter. Hunter.

  Desire pulsates through me, potent and intoxicating, and the sensation only strengthens when he parts my lips with his tongue.

  “Oh, my God,” I groan, my hips rising toward his.

  A moan escapes Hunter’s lips, too, as he tangles his fingers through my hair and draws me closer, deepening the kiss.

  My heart nearly stops. Dies. Explodes. But in the back of my mind, doubt claws through the lust.

  He lied to me. This isn’t the Hunter I know.

  It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to break my lips from his.

  Panting, I stare up at him, dazed and confused. His eyes are shut, his nostrils flaring as he takes uneven breaths. Then his lips part, and half of me wonders if he’s about to say something wonderful, like how amazing the kiss was. I hold my breath in anticipation.

  “Mihi crede …” he utters the start of the trust spell.

  Frowning, I line my palm to his chest and shove him off me. He easily rolls over, continuing with the spell.

  “I said no magic.” I reach over to cover his mouth with my hand, trying to stop him, but he circles his fingers around my wrist, stopping me, and then hurriedly finishes the spell.

  “I didn’t use my magic,” he says, still holding my wrist. “I used our magic, so it’s not so bad.”

  “Our magic?” I raise my brows. “Since when do we have magic together?”

  “Since we shared magic. It won’t last forever, but we’ll be able to channel each other’s magic through touching.”

  “And that required kissing?” Puzzlement hazes through my mind, and not just because I’m all doped up on a sleep spell and kissing Hunter.

  He gives a nonchalant shrug. “It was the best way to connect our magic. Or, well, the best way that both of us were willing to do.”

  “What do you mean? What other ways are there?” Witches, oh witches, I wish I knew more about sharing magic so I didn’t have to ask these questions.

  He presses his lips together to restrain a grin. “By getting more intimate.”

  My lips form an o, my cheeks flushing as images of us rolling around in bed, touching each other all over, stream through my mind in slow, slow motion.

  An amused smile sprawls across his face. “That blush has got me really curious about what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours.”

  Gah! Curse my stupid blushing.

  Taking a measured breath, I collect myself from lusty lust land and wipe the blush off my face. “That wasn’t a blush,” I lie. “My face is red with anger.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to pull off my lie.

  “Over what?” he questions with skepticism.

  “Over the fact that I’ve been kissed twice this week, and neither of them were actual, real kisses.”

  Sadness hints his eyes. “I think you’re—”

  I put my finger to his lips, shushing him. “No getting sidetracked. I want to know how you know I might be a hybrid, and why you’re apparently friends with a demon.”

  “I’m not friends with him.” His gaze grazes along the inside of my wrist, and I flinch from the light ache. “I’m sorry I gripped your wrists so roughly when we were with him. I just …” He yanks his free hand through his hair, making the strands go askew. “I just panicked, and sometimes I forget my own strength when I’m in that mode.”

  “What mode? And panicked over what?”

  “Over Carter being there …” He lets his hand fall to his lap as he releases an uneven exhale. “I’ve been avoiding him.”

  I’m entirely aware of how he purposefully skipped over my question about his mode. Not to mention, the trust spell courses through my veins with a powerful warning.

  “You didn’t answer my first question, and I know you did it on purpose, because the trust spell is going haywire right now.”

  He bobs his head back as he blows out a loud breath. “Can that wait until the end? I need to tell you everything else first, before we get to the really bad part.”

  I slowly blink, nearly expecting the scene in front of me to vanish. Perhaps all of this is just a dream, like that weird one where I saw Ryleigh. Sadly, though, the ceiling doesn’t melt away like the sky did. My walls, my dresser, the photos placed sparsely around the room, and my four-post bed all stay the same, along with the guilty expression Hunter is sporting.

  “Fine, tell me the other stuff first,” I surrender, wiggling my arm as a signal for him to release me.

  He only holds on more securely.

  “I don’t want to let you go until we’ve gone over everything.”

  “Why? You think I’m going to run?”

  He nods. “That’s exactly what I think.”

  Smart guy.

  I don’t say anything further, waiting impatiently to get to this bad stuff he needs to tell me.

  He drags out the silence for a maddening amount of time, then finally gives in with a disheartened sigh. “Have you ever heard of the Mystic Willow Bay Society?”

  “Vaguely,” I answer warily, wondering where he’s going with this. “But, from what I always understood, it’s an urban legend.”

  “Well, it’s not,” he explains with grave reluctance. “It has existed for as long as Mystic Willow Bay has been around, and still exists.”

  “Okay …?” I hug my legs to my chest and rest my chin on my knees. “So what if it does? What does some town secret club have anything to do with me?”

  He situates himself on the bed in front of me, crisscrossing his legs. “It’s not just a club, Eva. It’s a group of town members who are sworn to protect the town from any impending dangers. The members are chose
n by their strength, power, and from various bloodlines. It was done this way in order to create a lethal group that could, if necessary, eliminate any powerful force trying to bring harm to our community.”

  “You sound like you’re reciting from some superheroes’ handbook or something,” I mumble, hugging my knees tighter to my chest.

  He shakes his head. “Some of what I just said is from the intro to the Mystic Willow Bay Society handbook.”

  I want to laugh at the absurdity, but his dead serious expression kills my humor.

  “You act like you’re in this society.”

  Reluctance crosses his expression. “That’s because I am. My father is, too.” He stares down at his hands as if they’re the most fascinating things in the world. “So are Ryleigh and her father and mother.”

  Time literally stops. Dies. Freezes.

  Okay, that’s not true. However, part of me wishes it would so that I don’t have to move forward and ask the next question.

  My throat dries, and I force down a swallow. “You said her father. As in, just Ryleigh’s father, and not mine … Does she …?” Another forced swallow. “Is Ryleigh not my sister? Was she just pretending to be because she was working undercover—or whatever the hell it is you’re doing when you pretend to be my friend?”

  “I’ve never pretended to be your friend. Was it part of my job? Yes. But you were too easy to be friends with, so there was never any pretending.” His gaze elevates to mine. “You made me really love my job.”

  I will not let his words send my stomach into a fit of flutters. I won’t!

  Of course, my stomach has its own ideas and goes mad wild, butterfly crazy.

  Stupid traitor stomach. What the heck is wrong with me! This isn’t a good thing!

  Shoving the flutters down, I glare at him. “So, you’ve been in this society thingy since you were, like, twelve? That seems a little young to be doing that sort of stuff, doesn’t it?”

  Remorse flickers across his expression. “I was actually fourteen.”

  “But you weren’t fourteen when I met you …” I trail off as he gives me another apologetic look. “You even lied about your age!”

  “I had to,” he insists, reaching for me. “It was the best way for me to get close.”