Page 12 of Bewitched By the Voodoo King (The Bewitching Hour #7)

The music in the bar was loud—too loud—but at least the air-conditioning was blasting. The last few places Adelle had dragged me into felt like walking into someone’s armpit. Crowded, sticky, and filled with the kind of body heat that made you question every life decision that led you there.

This place, though? It was different. A little darker, a little more upscale. Deep plum walls, low golden lighting, and a bar that shimmered like liquid obsidian. It was still packed, sure, but there was a rhythm to it—like the pulse of the city had slowed just enough to let us breathe.

Adelle pulled me toward a pair of stools at the far end of the bar and flagged down the bartender like she owned the place. “Two frozen hurricanes,” she shouted over the beat and then grinned at me. “You’ll thank me later.”

I perched awkwardly on the stool, trying not to tug at the short hem of the skirt she’d forced me into. “I don’t know how you’re so comfortable in all this noise.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t you grow up in a packed coven that all live rather close?”

I didn’t even know where to begin. “Just because I grew up there didn't mean that I was involved or invited…” My lips curved into a soft smile to ease some of the tension in my words.

“Oh,” her face fell. “I didn’t know.”

How much could I tell her before I gave away too much? Were outcasts normal in covens? I didn’t even know.

Adelle's expression softened, and for once, she didn’t have a clever quip ready. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt like an invitation. But I didn’t know how to answer it.

“I mean…” I swirled the straw in my drink, watching the slush spin like it held answers.

“They were kind. No one ever hurt me or anything. It just… didn’t matter that I was there.

” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “I was always on the outside looking in. Like being tolerated was the best I could hope for.”

Adelle frowned. “That’s not how a coven should be.”

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But it’s how mine was. Or maybe it was just how I was.”

She leaned an elbow on the bar as she watched me carefully. “They didn’t include you because they didn’t understand your magic?”

My throat tightened, and I had to work to keep my face neutral. “Something like that.”

Something exactly like that.

She didn’t press further, which I was grateful for. Instead, she reached for her drink, took a long sip, and gave me a look that was all warmth. “Well, you’re here now. And whatever your magic is or isn’t—Rune’s got you in his house, and that makes you one of us.”

I nearly choked on my hurricane. “One of you ? I’ve only been here a week. Half your coven probably thinks I’m a spy or some mail-order bride.”

Adelle grinned. “Both would actually make for excellent gossip.”

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled too. It was strange—this connection I was starting to feel with her. If I wasn’t careful, I would start to believe that I actually belonged here.

“Thanks,” I said after a moment, my voice quieter than before.

She nudged my arm with hers. “You don’t have to thank me. But you do have to dance before the night’s over.”

My eyes went wide. “Dance?”

“Oh yeah. That’s non-negotiable,” she said with a devilish grin, just as the beat of the music picked up and the lights over the bar dipped low.

A person pressed in a little too close, and I tried to shrug out of the way. Adelle shot me a look of you go girl and I frowned—confused. Until the person spoke loudly over the music.

“I see you already have a drink, but do you mind if I have a dance?”

He was tall, maybe a little over six feet, with a smile that could charm the socks off a statue.

His skin was deep bronze, and his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners, making him seem more sincere than most of the guys who had tried to corner us earlier.

His hair was cropped close to his scalp on the sides with long curling tendrils on the top of his head, and he wore a shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a glimpse of a necklace that shimmered with something. .. magical.

“I, uh—” I glanced at Adelle, whose eyebrows were nearly touching her hairline with delight.

“Go,” she mouthed, practically vibrating with excitement.

I turned back to the guy, heart thudding in my chest. “I might step on your toes.”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” his grin stretched wider, and my stomach did a little flip-flop.

I slid off the barstool I smoothed my skirt while trying not to overthink every movement. He held out his hand, and I took it, letting him lead me into the swell of bodies on the dance floor. The music pulsed in my chest, deep and hypnotic, and the lights shimmered in waves of violet and gold.

He kept a respectful distance at first, moving in rhythm with a kind of effortless ease that made me feel like I was doing better than I probably was. I relaxed just a little, swaying to the beat, a soft laugh escaping when he spun me and caught me again.

“Didn’t catch your name,” he said, leaning close enough for me to hear without shouting.

“Maple,” I replied, watching his reaction carefully.

His smile didn’t falter. “Maple. Sweet . I’m Elias.”

“Is this your usual spot?” he asked, not missing a beat as we danced.

“First time,” I said honestly, and then, realizing how that sounded, added quickly, “I just moved here.”

He tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “Welcome to New Orleans, then.”

“Thanks,” I said, suddenly aware of how warm the room felt, how close his hand was to the small of my back—and how my head was starting to feel a little buzzed. I’d never been allowed alcohol back home, and whatever was in that hurricane? It was sweet, sneaky, and hitting hard.

My heel caught on the edge of something—probably my other foot—and I stumbled slightly. Elias caught me with ease, his arms steady and sure, like he’d done this a dozen times before.

But instead of stepping back, he held me there.

His hands slipped down my sides, settling at my hips.

We weren’t dancing anymore.

The music thudded on, the lights pulsed, but my world narrowed to the weight of his touch and the sudden pounding of my heart. His face lowered down to mine, and I rose up on my toes to meet him halfway. I giggled as his lips brushed mine, fully feeling the hurricane now.

His lips pressed fully against mine, and a strong current of butterflies erupted in my stomach.

It had been so long since I’d been kissed and wanted.

This was nice. It made me feel like maybe New Orleans wasn’t such a bad thing for me, after all.

His hands wandered lower, and I wondered, hazily, if it was a good thing to give in and allow him to touch me—possibly take me home.

I knew I was supposed to be marrying Rune soon, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun, right? It wasn’t like we were in love. It wasn’t like he’d actually proposed or that we were even married.

No vows had been exchanged. No rings. Just a contract neither of us had signed by choice.

So why did guilt twist in my gut like I’d done something wrong?

I pulled back slightly, still dazed. Elias’s eyes searched mine, and I could tell he was about to ask if something was wrong when the temperature around us shifted.

A rush of cool air swept through the bar like the front edge of a storm, sending goosebumps prickling up my arms.

And then—like the ancestors wanted to answer that twisting guilt for me—I knew it was Rune before I saw him.

I felt the weight of his gaze crash into me like a wave.

I turned slowly, the world narrowing to a single point across the bar.

He stood at the threshold, his expression unreadable—but his presence ? Thunderous.

The music didn’t stop. The lights didn’t flicker.

But everything inside of me did.

“Shit,” Elias muttered. “Is that your friend?”

“Uh,” I managed a half nod. “Kind of.”

“Shit,” he repeated. “The Voodoo King.”