Psychic Witch by Ariel Hunter (House of Magic #2)
English | 2020 | Romance | ePUB | 3.5 MB
I made a deal with the Council. Again.
Just when I think I’m starting to get the hang of this witching thing, my powers become more unruly than ever. The Council is giving me two options: Learn to control my magic by Beltane, or have it caged.
If that’s not stressful enough, I’m having the strangest dreams. Nightmares, really. I’m starting to wonder if they might be something more. Something . . . psychic.
Callan thinks the answers might lie with an old flame of his. When jealousy sparks, I start to question our relationship—or lack thereof.
All my life, I’ve had one foot in both worlds, but the time is coming to decide.
The Collector is hunting me. The Council wants to control me. But what do I want?
Will I live as a human, or embrace this crazy pink magic and all that it’s brought me?
Whatever I decide, the wrong choice could spell destruction. Not just for me, but for the entire witching world.
Callan was standing there, wearing only boxer briefs, holding a cup of coffee and an old- world text.
“Shit.” I took a sharp step backward and pink magic flared from my fingertips, I was so startled. He raised his eyebrows at me and leaned back against the counter, lifting the cup and closing the tome. He blew out on the coffee softly; the vapor of its freshly made heat floating away from his lips, and I couldn’t stare anywhere else except his mouth.
I flexed my fingers and calmed the pink magic again, taking a deep breath, forcing my gaze from Callan’s lips and back up to his taunting hazel eyes. Somehow, on the way up, my eyes managed to also look down. They must have gotten confused about direction. At least that’s what I told myself until I did it again.
Don’t do it, don’t do it . . . shit, I did it. Don’t look again. Goddamnit, Marnie, stop looking at his dick. He can see your eyes peeking down there like a peeping Tom. You’re not sneaky, for fuck’s sake.
The entire time I argued at myself, I couldn’t look away. He leaned lazily back against his kitchen counter with everything on display. Proud shoulders and rippled abs that should have been illegal led down to his snug boxer briefs that clung tightly halfway down his thighs, accentuating his quad and hamstring muscles. That thin fabric didn’t hide much, and he didn’t disappoint.
Get it together. He’s just another guy. A hot guy, yes. One that wants to marry you for reasons he won’t confess, mhmm. He could probably do wicked things with those lips too . . .
But he’s still just a guy.
I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows, trying to find my voice. I just hoped I wouldn’t squeak. “You know, you might think about actually wearing some clothes now that you live with someone else.”
Callan swallowed his coffee and licked his lips, a little too slowly for it to not be seductive. My heartbeat picked up. He made a motion down his body, then gestured broadly around the house with the hand holding the ancient book. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you live here? You just skulk around, trying your hardest not to see me. Seems to me like I live with a ghost. I’ve met a few supernaturals who communicate with those who have crossed the plane. From what I hear, they’re not that prudish.”
“If I were a ghost, wouldn’t I cause a bit more mischief than I do?” I said. “Take your carefully arranged shirts and set them out of color coordination? Maybe move around your precious books in the middle of the night? Change the ones that are in alphabetical order?” I stepped closer to him and tapped his book as I said the last line.
“Oh, if you did make such mischief, I’d catch you and bind you to me forever. Put you in a little bottle. Keep you in there until I rubbed you just the right way. Bring you out only when I need you.” The innuendo was not lost on me with the fire in his eyes. My mouth felt dry and my skin flushed. I covered it with an uneasy laugh.