Page 28 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

The warmth of his body seeps into mine immediately, cutting through the chill of my skin. I settle on my side, my back to him at first, but it doesn’t last long. A moment later, I turn to face him.

He’s watching me, his face a smudge in the dim light. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Of course.” He’s quiet for a long moment before his voice drops lower.

“I keep wondering why? Why would he do this? If he’s behind all this, which seems the most likely explanation.

Either that or a doppelganger took his place months ago, which I can’t quite believe. ”

I don’t have an answer.

He shakes his head. “My whole life, he was there. I thought he loved me. Protected me. Now I don’t know what to think. He must have been the one to send the ifrit after me. I can’t think of any other explanation. I don’t understand why.”

I hesitate before reaching out, resting my hand over his. “It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? He could have been plotting against us this whole time and I was too blind to see it.”

“When your parents died, you were only a child. You had no reason to not trust him. He was the one adult in your life you thought you could rely on. The fact that he broke that trust is on him alone.”

His hand turns over, fingers lacing with mine. “Your siblings are lucky they have you.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “I worry I will fail them somehow. That I am failing them. How can I be good enough? I’m not a parent.”

“It’s obvious how much you care about them. Your love is a blinding light. Anyone can see it. They can too, and that’s all that matters. Everything else can be sorted.”

I blink. “You make it sound so simple.”

“I don’t mean to trivialize the loss of your parents.”

“No. You’re not. I know what you mean. Whatever happened to them, I might never know. I think that’s worse than knowing something terrible did happen. The not knowing. I wouldn’t be living in this roller coaster of hope and despair and fear and loss and rag e.”

His hand squeezes mine.

We fall into an easy silence.

But despite the comfort of his presence, my thoughts spiral back to the swamp witches, their strange warning. The ones you seek are not gone. What did they mean? Did they know something about my parents? About me?

“What Helen said, about your parents needing a mortal with djinn blood to help,” I wave my free hand, “and mortals with magic, they must be part djinn, does that mean I have djinn blood?”

He considers me. “I suppose it must.”

So we could make babies together. Got it.

Don’t think about having babies while you’re inches from Bennet in a bed.

This still can’t happen.

We still come from different worlds. I absolutely could never leave my siblings, and obviously, he has some things to work through in Aetheria. We’ll figure out what the hell is happening in Aetheria, and then I will go back to my life.

I don’t have the rest of my days with Bennet, but I have today. I have right now.

My heart picks up at the thought.

He clears his throat. “Kevin asked me if I was your boyfriend.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He mentioned you had a boyfriend before, but he said he was really cringe and had zero aura.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” I squeeze his fingers. “I left school, moved back home, when our parents disappeared. He tried to be there for me, but he couldn’t handle it. He made excuses over and over, gradually disappearing until he just wasn’t there. I haven’t even attempted to date anyone since.”

“Truly?” His voice is incredulous.

I scoot closer to him. “Truly.”

“I’ve never courted anyone, ever.” His thumb rubs the back of my hand.

“Even those ladies at the balls?” I tease.

He shifts a little in my direction. “We only danced and had mindless, generic conversation. Hardly dating as you do it in the mortal realm, half naked and broadcasting to the world on a magic mirror.”

I laugh. “Not all dating is like on Love Island. You never lie with any of them like this? In the dark, in the same bed, only inches apart?”

His breath stutters. “No.” The word is low, rough. Honest.

“Did you kiss any of them?” I whisper.

He swallows. “Um. I may have engaged in a little kissing with one or two of them.”

“Really?”

“It meant nothing.”

I move so close our lips almost touch, heat building between us. “No portal opened? That’s fortunate.”

He chuckles, breath fanning over my mouth. “Is it? I quite enjoyed what happened after the portal opened.”

“Me too.” I lean back, wishing his expression was clearer in the dim light. “Whenever I’ve lifted my mental shields—like in the basement, in the swamp—all your emotions are just there. Waiting. Do you... have your mind locked up?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

“No,” he says finally, and the word is barely audible.

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be able to feel me,” he says, voice hoarse. “Always.”

My heart stutters. The air between us crackles, charged and heavy.

“You do?” Why is that such a turn-on?

I trace a finger up his bare arm, trailing along the muscle. Goose bumps rise under my touch. His skin is warm, alive, trembling. He’s holding himself back, restraint hardening the line of his body, in the way his breath hitches with every inch my fingers explore.

“I mean, if you want. If you need anything, since you have your shields engaged, it doesn’t matter if—ah, Cassie—” My name comes out on a groan, like he’s breaking apart.

This might be the worst idea ever. But here in the quiet, with no magic humming under our skin, no glowing lights or visions or supernatural heat, a whispered truth echoes between us, too heavy to contemplate.

I should be scared. But I’m not.

Maybe it won’t be the same without the magic. Maybe it’ll be slower, less intense. But maybe it’ll be better . More real. Like touching something solid after drifting in a dream.

And if we go into Aetheria tomorrow—if anything happens to him, or to me—if this all falls apart, I want this. I want a memory to take with me when he’s long gone.

Because I can’t imagine ever being this close to someone again. Not like this.

I take a breath and then a leap. “I want to be with you, now, without magic compelling us. Is that okay?” The words start strong, but grow weak by the end, rising in pitch with uncertainty.

In one smooth motion, he rolls me beneath him, his body caging me in, and then his mouth is on mine, hot, seeking, and perfect.

Everything disappears.

There’s no danger, no fear, no looming dawn. There’s only this, the heat of his mouth, the weight of his body, the way his hands slide through my hair like he’s anchoring himself to me.

I arch into him, desperate to be closer. His kiss deepens, turning hungrier, messier, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me with his mouth.

I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him tighter. He groans into my mouth, one hand fisting in the sheets as the other traces down my ribs, my waist, my hip, setting my nerves on fire.

His control is unraveling and it’s amazing.

The kiss goes on and on until all that exists is his mouth, our breath mingling, his tongue brushing against mine, until we’re nipping at each other with barely leashed hunger.

I gasp, and he drinks the sound in like he needs it to survive.

No magic, and still I’m unraveled.

My fingers skate over his shoulders, down his back, and he shudders.

His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing.

Every nerve in my body sparks. I arch into him, desperate for more, and he gives it—grinding against me slowly, deliberately, until I’m gasping into his mouth.

Even with clothes between us, I’m about to lose it.

I need more.

“I want to feel you,” I whisper. “All of you.”

We shift, moving to our knees, clothes vanish in pieces, tossed aside in the dark, and when there’s nothing left between us, his eyes strike me again, taking me in. Not just my body, but me. Like every fear, every scar, every wall I’ve ever built is on display and he accepts it all. Wants it all.

His chest is magnificent and I take the time to graze my fingertips over the moonlit flesh before following with my tongue, moving farther and farther south, gripping the length of him in my palm.

Air hisses between his teeth.

The muscles in his stomach twitch and leap under my hands, his breath coming out in gasps.

Drifting lower, unable to stop myself, I suck the tip of him into my mouth.

He growls. “I want to be in you when I release.” He yanks me up and then we’re kissing again, drinking each other in.

His hands roam over me, not urgent, but exploring, reverent. His fingertips trace the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, the inside of my thighs. Everywhere but where I want them.

His mouth moves down my throat, teeth grazing my skin in a way that makes my toes curl.

“I’ve never—tell me what you like. I want to—I want to make it good for you.”

The words hit me harder than any touch.

I guide his hand between my thighs. “Start here.”

He follows my direction, tentative at first, then bolder as I arch into him, showing him exactly how to touch me. His mouth finds my breast, tongue flicking over a nipple, and I gasp, threading my fingers into his hair. I fall back onto the soft sheets, tugging him with me.

His forehead rests against mine.

I reach between us, guiding him to me.

“Wait,” he pants, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “What about—do we need something?”

“I’m clean. And I’m on the pill.”

“Pill?”

“It prevents pregnancy.”

“Ah. Lovely mortal world inventions.” He kisses my neck. “I have never been with another.” The words are a puff of air against my neck, making me shiver.

“Good.” Possessiveness burns through me. Mine.

He chuckles, as if I spoke aloud.

A smile tugs at my lips and then falls when he sinks into me, inch by aching inch. I cling to him, breathless and burning.

When he’s fully inside, buried to the hilt, we both go still.

His breath is ragged. “You feel like—” He breaks off. “Like mine.”

Wait. Did he hear ? —?

And then all thoughts flee as he moves.

Slow at first, deliberate. Like he wants to memorize every second. I match his rhythm, our hips finding each other in perfect synchronicity. Each thrust sends pleasure coiling tighter inside me, dragging small, broken sounds from both of us.

It builds gradually, unbearably, our bodies slick with heat and sweat, fingers digging in like we’re trying to fuse together. His mouth is everywhere, my neck, my collarbone, my lips.

I look up at him, and his face is my undoing. It’s shining. Not with lust, but devotion . Awe.

I whisper his name as my climax hits, fierce and consuming. My whole body tightens around him, and I fall apart with a cry that echoes through the dark. He follows with a raw, desperate groan, thrusting deep and shuddering as he loses himself inside me.

He doesn’t let go. Not after. He buries his face in my neck, arms wrapped around me like he never wants to let go.

We don’t move for a long time.

His weight is half on me, his breath warm against my throat, our legs tangled beneath the blankets. I trail my fingers over the back of his neck, letting them dip into the soft hair at his nape. His pulse flutters under my touch.

Finally, he lifts his head. “Are you all right?”

I nod. “More than all right.”

The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “You’re all flushed.”

“Which is your fault.”

He chuckles, and it rumbles through both of us. His hand comes up, gentle fingers brushing hair back from my cheek. His touch is reverent, careful again. Like he’s not sure what the rules are now.

I’m not sure either.

I want to ask what this means. I want to ask if it changes anything. If we’ll pretend tomorrow that it was just the magic again. That it didn’t matter. But I can’t make myself break the moment. Not yet.

So I say nothing.

Instead, I shift closer, press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“I’m glad it was with you,” he whispers. “My first.”

We lie there in silence for a while, skin cooling, hearts slowing.

Eventually, he shifts so we’re on our sides, facing each other. One of his hands finds mine under the blanket, fingers curling together. He brings them to his lips and kisses the back of mine, then holds it there, against his chest.

“You’re thinking,” he says, voice low.

“I always think.”

“Loudly.”

I huff a laugh, then fall quiet again. “What if something bad happens tomorrow?”

His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “Then we’ll face it. Together.”

My throat tightens. I don’t say what if we don’t come back . I don’t say what if we do come back and then I never see you again. I nod and press my forehead to his.

We fall asleep like that—tangled together, warm and quiet in the dark.

Tomorrow, we’ll step into danger and I’ll deal with the fact that we did what we did with no magical excuses.