Page 17 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

Bennet’s head tilts to one side. “What is this, arthritis?”

“It’s an inflammation of the joints. Getting old is a pain in the ass.”

“When did you start having this pain in your ass?”

I spit out my tea, sputtering into my hands and then getting up to grab a hand towel.

“Are you okay?” Bennet asks.

“Fine, fine.” I wipe at my face.

Mimi chuckles. “The pain isn’t in my ass.

That’s just an expression. It started..

. I don’t know, maybe five or six years ago?

It’s nothing to worry about. The doctors have actually said it’s a miracle it hasn’t gotten worse.

Most people with the same condition do much worse so many years after diagnosis. ”

I move back to the table and mop up my spit tea.

Bennet taps a finger on the handle of his cup. “And when did Jackie first start showing symptoms?”

Mimi’s head kicks to one side, considering him. “Also five years ago. Why?”

I stare at Bennet. “Do you think there’s a connection?”

Bennet’s tone is careful. “Perhaps. If she’s a healer.”

“But Jackie doesn’t have magic.” Mimi’s eyes are wide. “She’s always been so upset about it, being the only one in the family with no abilities.”

Bennet watches us both, steady and unflinching. “She might be using it without realizing it, for people other than Mimi as well.”

“That’s not possible.” But even as the words fall out, pieces click in my mind. “Kevin.”

Mimi’s hand shoots out, covering mine, picking up my train of thought. “He hasn’t been sick at all in years.”

“His baseball injuries always heal quick too, but he’s so young.” I gasp. “She knew. About me and you.” I look at Bennet. “She said we are connected, yesterday, is that how she knew?”

Bennet rubs his chin. “It’s likely. She can sense injuries in people.

Even subconsciously, she may have recognized the curse.

In Aetheria, healers are rare. They need magical replenishment frequently, even if they aren’t actively healing, and time to recover after using their magic.

She needs to be trained to pull the power from external sources, to take from the land, from other living things, and not from herself.

” His gaze drifts around the room, settling on the cold metal, the artificial light.

“Here, it’s different. You have no pieces of the earth inside. ”

The walls close in around me, tighter and tighter. “Jackie doesn’t even hurt bugs. She scoops them up and puts them outside, even when they’re in her bed. She’d never take from anyone else to heal herself.”

Mimi’s voice is thick. “If that’s true, how do we fix it?”

“She needs nature,” Bennet says simply. “Living things. Plants. Trees. The earth itself. Healing is based in water magic because all life is centered on water. She needs something to draw from that won’t hurt her. It is easy once you know what to do, like with the shields over our minds.”

“We don’t have plants,” Mimi says. “Because we have kids. And lives. And can barely keep up as it is.”

“We have one plant.” I wince. “It’s on the porch, dying a slow death.”

“Then you get more.” Bennet’s voice is firm. “Many. She won’t need much from each. Just enough to balance herself. Enough to stop taking from her own body.”

Mimi swallows hard. “Could this work?”

I want it to work. I need it to work. But I’ve had my hopes up so many times—Mimi and I both—and what if it doesn’t?

What if it’s just one more dead end? I don’t know if my heart can take another hit.

But of course my heart isn’t the one in danger here.

I swallow a surge of dread and weariness. “We won’t know until we try.”

Mimi heads up to bed while Bennet and I put the empty mugs in the sink.

“We can go to the front room to try and track Helen together. The couch in there is more comfortable.”

He follows me out of the kitchen and into the front room.

I drop onto the love seat, tucking one leg under me. “How do we start?”

He lowers himself next to me, resting his hand on his knee, palm up. “Your hand.”

I place mine in his, palm to palm. Warmth passes between us like a slow tide, settling low in my stomach.

“Close your eyes. Drop your shields and focus on what we want—to find Helen. I will conjure her in my thoughts and share her likeness with you.”

I lower my mental walls and an image fills my mind.

Helen. In Bennet’s mind, she’s laughing, standing on the edge of a cliff that’s straight out of a Pride and Prejudice remake, all white rock and rolling green hills in the distance.

She’s petite, dark haired, dark eyed. She doesn’t look anything like Bennet, who is all sharp cheekbones, green eyes, and dirty-blond hair.

I shut my eyes. At first, there’s only silence. Stillness. My own thoughts, too loud.

Then a pulse, like a tugging, from somewhere deep in my chest. His hand tightens around mine, and it builds—warmth, pressure, and need. Not mine. His. Or is it mine? I can’t tell.

My breath catches.

“Bennet—”

“I know.” His voice is tight with strain. “It’s not—just focus. Don’t feed it.”

But that’s the thing. The harder I try to pull away from it, the more the bond winds around me like velvet and fire.

The tug intensifies, just for a moment—like something stretching out to meet us—and then snaps.

I gasp, eyes flying open. “Did it work?”

He looks just as startled as I am, his jaw clenched, chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. “No,” he says finally. “I mean, yes. I could access my magic, but she’s not... there .”

“What does that mean?”

“I couldn’t feel her. Which means she’s either shielding herself, or someone else is doing it for her. Or... I don’t know.” He scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Either way, we can’t find her. Not like this.”

My hand’s still in his, and neither of us moves to let go.

“Well,” I murmur. “That was weird.”

He huffs a breath, not quite a laugh. “We may need more practice.”

“Or better boundaries.”

His eyes meet mine. Heat simmers there.

I slam my mental walls down and shoot to my feet. “Uhhh, do you think maybe we can try our magic on the water heater?”

The basement is cold and dark and creepy. I flick the light on before we head down ragged wooden steps. A single bulb at the bottom illuminates the concrete floors, piles of sagging boxes, and shelves of canned goods.

And the ancient water heater in the corner.

We stand in front of it.

I hold up my hand. “Once more with feeling?”

He wraps my fingers in his and takes a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

I nod. “Drop my shields, focus on the glory of hot water.”

A corner of his mouth tilts up. “That should do it.”

We turn back to the rusty old water heater and then I shut my eyes.

The pressure is back, coming quicker and easier than before, tugging and pulling, and then heat rushes through my core, spreading through my limbs like liquid fire.

What in the actual hell?

Arousal slams into me. Sudden and thick and drugging, spreading like molten honey down into my bones until all I know is need . I’m so full of erotic pleasure, it borders on the edge of pain. I suck in air, gasping for breath.

Holy shit. What is happening?

I need an orgasm like I need my next breath. It’s primal. Desperate.

All my attention zeroes in on Bennet. Is he unaffected? I’m wound so tight, I might actually explode.

Dear goddess, I ache for him.

“Can you feel that?” He asks. “There’s damage where there once was fire. Use your gift to locate where the damage is. I can help you.”

Stop being horny and focus!

I draw on our power, letting it stretch between us and flow into the water heater. The shape of the pilot assembly forms in my mind—metal parts, too cold, too still. And a hairline crack in a bracket. The gas is flowing, but the flame flickers out almost immediately.

“It can’t stay lit,” I whisper. “There’s a break in the piece that holds the flame. It won’t anchor. How do we fix it?”

“I’ll bond it with fire,” he says. “You hold the fracture in your mind. Show me how it should be so I may shape it, still it. Give me something to channel.”

I close my eyes. My magic wraps around the broken edge like invisible hands, holding it steady.

Then fire from Bennet seeps into the crack, melting the edges and welding them back together with molten precision.

We’re almost done?—

Another wave of arousal washes over me, black spots crowd my vision, and if it wasn’t for my death grip on his hand, I would collapse in a puddle on the floor.

It has to be the magic. Do I stop him? Tackle him? Dry-hump a pipe?

He pulls the flame back, the work done.

“Bennet,” I force his name through clenched teeth.

His entire body jerks. Shoulders heave. And then he turns.

Yeah, that’s right, feel the heat, buddy.

“Cassie?” His voice is low and frayed.

We collide like magnets snapping together.