Page 21 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

Chapter

Fifteen

The world tilts. Or maybe it’s me that’s falling.

Bennet’s mouth on mine is a demand filled with desperation. His lips part, tongue stroking against mine. His arms wrap around me. My fingers weave into his hair. Heat floods through my body, insistent and full of the magic surging between us, like a circuit finally being completed.

Beneath us, the ground rumbles.

The darkness descends.

Bennet yanks me toward the tomb, his mouth still fused to mine, and then snap .

The world falls silent.

Our kiss breaks apart. For a moment, I can’t breathe. My ears are ringing.

Not just because we almost died, but because my lips still tingle with the ghost of his lips pressed against mine.

We’re lying on the ground and I’m sprawled on top of him, my thighs bracketing his hips, our faces aligned, breath mingling. My fingers clench on his chest. He’s all hard muscles and barely restrained lust and he’s rigid, oh my , everywhere.

Is the magic is still affecting him? There’s one way to find out.

It’s a terrible idea and yet I’m helpless to stop. I unlock my mental shields and lift the cage around my mind a mere crack and— stars above .

Hunger slices through me, white-hot and brutal. It’s unbearable, primal and pure. A startled cry escapes me.

How can he stand it? How did he feel all this in the cemetery and still retain enough of his faculties to get us through the portal?

But then all thoughts and questions are erased by Bennet himself, stretching up to nip at my lips, and the excruciating longing turns into an exhilarating frenzy.

I shrug out of my backpack and toss it somewhere behind me. I slide my hands down his chest and yank his shirt up, then chuck it to the side.

I lean forward, running my mouth over the exposed flesh. He tastes amazing, like spice and heat, all sinewy strength and smooth skin over solid muscle.

His hands skate under my shirt, rough palms against bare flesh, branding heat across my spine. He drags his mouth from mine to trail open kisses down my throat, teeth grazing just enough to make me arch into him.

“Cassie,” he rasps.

There’s a question buried in the way he says my name. A plea. A warning. Maybe all three.

“I know.” I don’t. Not really. But I don’t want to stop.

We rip my shirt off, the bra flying with it, and then we come back together, and the press of his bare skin against mine is everything .

He flips us with terrifying ease, pressing me into the cool earth beneath us.

His body covers mine, all strength and tension barely leashed.

His hips grind down, the friction between us electric, maddening.

I moan, wrapping my legs around him to bring him closer, chasing the pressure, the high, the storm that’s building between us.

His lips brush my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my mouth like he’s trying to memorize every piece of me.

“This isn’t just magic,” he says hoarsely.

I freeze beneath him, breath stuttering.

But before I can answer, he kisses me again—soft this time. Reverent. Like I’m something fragile he doesn’t want to break.

It undoes me more than all the fire and fury that came before.

He props himself up, rolling to one side, creating enough space to brush the skin of my lower stomach with the tips of his fingers. “Is this okay?”

Does he need to ask? He could offer to pinch me and I would be begging for the touch.

I shift, spreading my legs. “Please.”

His eyes are dark and hot, spearing me in place with their intensity. His hand slips easily under the waistband of my leggings and below my panties. When his fingers encounter the slickness between my legs, gliding over heated flesh with ease, we both groan at the contact.

The world around us ceases to exist. My entire being focuses solely on the pressure of his hand at my core, the murmur of his voice in my ear, and the incessant need pounding in my blood.

His free hand fumbles at his pants, freeing his massive erection, and I reach out, grasping his hard length in my palm.

He moans, his fingers between my legs faltering for a second before resuming their ministrations, his palm pressing against the most sensitive part of me while his fingers slip into my wet heat.

Then he leans over me and draws one tight nipple into the heat of his mouth and I buck and cry out as the orgasm overtakes my body, making me arch and contract, the world tilting once again, except this time we aren’t falling through a portal.

Bennet shudders next to me as his own release finds him.

We lay there until the last tremor fades and we’re lying tangled and spent, hearts pounding in sync.

He shifts just enough to drape an arm across my waist and lets out a slow, contented sigh. “Well,” he mutters, “that’s one way to travel.”

I release a shaky laugh and meet his amused gaze. “Maybe the best way... minus the lightning and terror part.”

Slowly, I sit up, rubbing my now chilled arms. The ground is damp beneath me. The air is thick with the scents of moss and earth. Overhead, the moon hangs low and swollen, casting silver light over the inky water and glinting off surrounding trees.

Did we move forward in time as well? In the cemetery it was still dusk. Here, the sky is pitch-black, dotted with stars visible through the leaves and branches overhead.

Torches glowing with eerie blue flames float in the air, trailing into the distance, lighting a path through the thick trees around us. The sounds of croaking frogs and rustling leaves float on the breeze.

Bennet pushes himself up next to me. “I suppose we found where the witches live.”

So we’re not going to talk about the romp on the swamp floor. Got it. Straight back to business. It shouldn’t bother me. I’m the one who insisted it was just the magic. But didn’t he say it was more than that?

I swipe my hair out of my face, like I can swipe the memories of the past fifteen minutes away with it. “Maybe we’ll find Helen here too.”

He swings to his feet, buttoning up his pants and reaching for our clothes, handing me my shirt and bra. “Maybe.”

Thank the gods I brought wet wipes. I offer him one before cleaning myself up and tugging my clothes back on.

He shrugs his own shirt over his head, covering up the masculine perfection that I’m pretending not to look at.

He offers me a hand and I take it, clambering to my feet.

“I suppose that’s the way we go.” I point out the lighted path.

We pick up our bags and get moving. The blue lanterns bob in the thick night air, leading us forward like ghost lights over the bayou. Each one drifts just far enough ahead to keep us going in the right direction, vanishing the moment we draw close.

Bennet walks beside me, footsteps soundless.

The path narrows, trees pressing in around us, their gnarled roots rising from the dark water like skeletal hands. Spanish moss drapes from their limbs, shifting in the breeze.

He glances behind us. “The portal, when we crossed over, it felt familiar to me. It was like passing through Aetheria. It may be a fold.”

I purse my lips. “What is that?”

“A place where the space between worlds folds in on itself, where the veil is thin. When you step through a portal like that, you’re passing through Aetheria and then ending up in the same plane, just farther away.”

That makes a weird kind of sense, even if it makes my brain throb. “So, what, these places are all around us? Random portals in the universe?”

“Not random. Certain places are naturally thin. Old places. Powerful places. Places that have seen both great and tragic events.” His eyes flick to the glowing lanterns. “And I suspect the witches know exactly how to use them.”

A bird cries somewhere in the distance, long and haunting. The usual hum of the swamp—frogs croaking, cicadas buzzing—dulls as we walk, like the world itself is holding its breath.

I step around a log jutting into the path. “Those ifrit—they were ifrit, right? There was more than one. They seemed more powerful than the last time.”

“Yes. They consolidated their powers to enable the manipulation of the elements. I have heard of such a thing but never seen it.”

A chill creeps over my skin. “Creepy.”

“Very.”

The attacks are escalating.

My family.

I should call and check on them. The wards should keep them safe, but if they leave for any reason...

Sliding my phone out of the pocket of my jacket, I lift it to my face. The screen is black. I push the button to try and turn it on. It was fully charged when we left, it shouldn’t be dead already. Nothing happens. Maybe the portal zapped it. Perfect.

“Great.” I shove it back into my pocket.

Bennet raises a brow.

“My phone doesn’t work.” I glance back the way we came. “I can’t check on my family.”

“I am sure they will be okay. The ifrit have no reason to attack them.”

“You aren’t even sure why they’re attacking us.”

Before he can respond, the last of the lanterns floats ahead, circling a massive cypress tree at the heart of the swamp.

The trunk is as wide as a house, its roots arching like ribs into the murky water.

At the base, beneath a tangle of moss and creeping vines, a hollow gapes open.

The lantern illuminates a dark, yawning mouth leading down before it circles back around the tree and flickers out of existence.

This is all totally normal. Sure. Not scary at all.

I stop. “Please tell me we’re not going in there.”

Bennet glances at me. “Would you prefer to wait out here alone in the dark?”

I glare. “Fine. But if this turns into some horror movie crap, I’m leaving you to be mauled by the zombies.”

“I’ve seen this zombie on the magic mirror. I am sure I could take them on. They move slowly and have little skill.”

I chuckle. “Okay, Daryl Dixon.”

His brow creases in confusion.

“Never mind. You first.” I gesture to the giant hole at the bottom of the tree.

He ducks, stepping into the hollow.

I take a breath and follow close behind.

The ground slopes beneath us, like a steep ramp, shifting from dirt to cool, smooth stone before leveling out.

A few steps in and the moonlight behind us fades. It’s pitch-black. The darkness presses against me. It’s like being in a tomb.

Where is Bennet? I grope forward, my fingers hitting his back, and relief floods through me.

He slows. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy.”

“Here.” His hand fumbles for mine and I grip it, thankful for the contact.

The air thickens, colder, heavier, charged with energy that crawls along my skin.

Ahead, a blue glow flickers in the darkness.

The tunnel widens into a huge cavern, damp and echoing. Twin lanterns float overhead, casting long, flickering shadows over the figures dominating the center of the space.

Three figures, to be exact, hooded and shrouded in darkness, sitting on carved stone seats facing us. Their features are hidden in the depths of their deep black cloaks, the bottoms brushing against the ground in a rumpled heap.

“You seek something.”

The voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. The pitch is somehow high and low all at once. Not masculine or feminine but both and nothing all together. It’s not one voice but many, layered one over the other, thick with age and time and wisdom, so ancient it makes my teeth ache.

Bennet steps forward. “I’m looking for my sister, Helen. We traced her magic here. Can you help us find her?”

Silence stretches. Then the one in the center lifts a hand, pale and thin, and points at Bennet. “All knowledge has a cost.”

Of course.

Bennet tenses. “What’s the price?”

The witches don’t answer immediately. Instead, the one on the right tilts its head, then the voices speak again. “You walk between worlds, tethered to another.”

A chill rolls down my spine.

The one on the left turns, the blackness under the hood of the cloak facing us. “Yes. An unusual bond. One that weakens and strengthens in equal measure.”

Enough with the cryptic bullshit already. “What do you want?”

The figures still. Then, in unison, “An offering. Something cherished.”

My stomach dips. “What does that mean?”

“A piece of your past. A tether to what once was. Freely given, never returned.”

Bennet’s hand lifts to the chain around his neck.

“No,” I whisper, realizing a beat after he does.

“You want this?” He pulls the chain over his head, revealing the delicate gold ring that hangs from it. Simple, worn smooth with time.

The center figure inclines its head. “It belonged to your mother. It carries memory. Love. Loss. That is the price.”

I glance at Bennet, hoping he’ll refuse. But he’s already holding the ring in his palm, the chain dangling through his fingers. He hesitates. Just for a second. Then he steps forward and extends the ring toward them. “Take it.”

The tallest figure reaches out, long fingers brushing his as it accepts the ring. For a moment, Bennet’s eyes flutter shut.

The figures sit back. “The debt is paid.”

The center one lifts both hands wide in the air.

A large, glowing map forms above the witches, lines of streets and wisps of buildings and the blue glow of water. It’s New Orleans, taking a shimmering form. Then a single dot pulses in gold near the Garden District.

“There.” Bennet steps forward, studying it.

You’ve got to be kidding me. “That’s literally right by where we just were.”

The figure closes its hands. The map vanishes.

“Why is she there?”

“That was not your question. Would you like to pay more for it?”

Bennet exhales. “No. We’ll find her ourselves and ask.”

The figures lower their heads. “Then go. But the veil has closed. You must stay the night.”

I glance around at the cold, damp cave and the unsettling blue firelight. “Here?” I’d rather pluck my eyelashes out while walking on Legos than have a sleepover in a damp cave with the three creepiest witches to ever exist.

The one on the left tilts its head. “Follow the golden lanterns.”

The blue flames blink out, plunging the cavern into total blackness.

I suck in a sharp breath, grasping for Bennet’s arm. He’s already reaching for me, our hands colliding, fingers linking effortlessly.

We shuffle back the way we came, moving slowly in the darkness.

Then, from behind us, the voice whispers, the sound echoing in my ears like the words are being delivered straight into my head.

“The ones you lost have crossed the veil, but not to Hades. Not to death. To the plane of light and magic.”

My breath catches. The ones you lost ? Helen and Delores? They haven’t crossed a veil, they’re in the Garden District. What are they talking about?

A single golden lantern flickers to life ahead, illuminating the way out. I glance behind us, but the cavern is empty.

They’re gone.

Bennet nudges me forward. “Come on.”

We follow the golden glow back to the surface.