Page 17 of Claimed By Her Monsters

Chapter Seventeen

You Have A Graveyard?

Alister snaps into action. “Caspian, grab a bowl of water and all the candles you can find. Mick, we need salt from the pantry, feathers from the old pillows upstairs and rocks. Get those from the graveyard.”

“You have a graveyard?” I manage, my mind spinning.

He smiles, indulgent. “Do you even have to ask?”

There’s a flurry of activity, drawers sliding, feet pounding, doors opening to the storm, while everyone but me runs around.

I sit and stare into the fire as the logs settle with a soft hiss, like the house waits with me.

“I am out with lanterns, looking for myself,” Emily Dickinson once wrote.

I hold on to that quote in my few minutes of solitude, wondering what future, what past I’m about to find.

I drift to where Caspian sat while we played Monopoly.

The drawing he was working on lies face down.

I flip it over and find my own face staring back.

He’s drawn me mid-laugh, cheeks lifted, eyes sparkling.

I trace the curve of my smile with a fingertip because I recognize her, this version of me.

She’s the girl who laughed too loud at the dinner table.

The one who kissed her parents’ cheeks before bed.

It should be impossible, to be happy in a house full of monsters, but the truth is here, written on paper in clear, definite lines.

Tonight, with these three men, I’ve been happy.

Alister’s hand is on my shoulder, shaking gently. “Come upstairs. To my bedroom.”

Even with all this drama, my mind perks up. I’m going to see where Alister sleeps, where he does…other things.

He holds my hand as we climb the stairs, fingers interlaced with mine. That’s when I notice we’re completely alone. No Mick. No Caspian.

Like he can read my mind, Alister chuckles. “Kinda quiet without them, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I almost miss them,” I admit, mouth curving as I picture strong, brash Mick and quiet, haunted Caspian. I’m terrified of what’s coming, but steadier knowing all three will be there with me.

We’re like the legs of a table, I realize. We need all of us to stand.

Alister’s hand tightens around mine and I shiver, noting how icy his fingers are. “Brr,” I say, “remind me to get you gloves for Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I’m cooling myself down for you.”

“How so?”

“This is my normal body temperature. Usually witches run hot when they awaken. Sometimes,” his gaze flits to mine and then away, “they burn up.”

I swallow, stomach plummets when I realize he means that, burn up, literally. “But you were warm every time I’ve touched you before?”

“I can vibrate my cells to generate heat, just like I can force my heart to beat or lungs to breathe.”

“Don’t you need to do that anyway?”

“No,” he says simply. “I’m dead. Died a long time ago.”

I try to cover my shock, but I’m sure I do a poor job of it. “How…”

“I’ll tell you all about it another time.” There’s a sad smile on his face, like he still grieves for who he was. Then he lifts our clasped hands and brushes his lips, cool and dry, across my knuckles. “Today, little witch, is all about you. It’s your birthday.”

My birthday.

To think all these years I had it wrong, didn’t even know the actual day I was born.

We’ve reached the top of the landing. I drag my feet, hesitant to reach our destination.

The grandfather clock downstairs ticks louder.

The chandelier sways above, crystals clinking like a metronome.

I wait for Alister to urge me along, to remind me of the countdown to midnight, which is less than an hour away, but he doesn’t.

He lets me linger. He gives me those precious extra minutes to process what’s about to happen.

“Have you ever done this before?” My fingers twist the hem of my sweater.

“Had sex with a witch?” A tiny smirk. “Yes, I have.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know he misunderstood on purpose.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he adds ruefully. “I’ve done…a lot.”

“But the initiation, have you done that before?”

“Never performed one, but we’ve seen plenty. Some covens host a big party where everyone watches their young witches awaken. Other covens keep it private, especially the ones hunting the Clover Witch.”

“Do you really think I could be her? What if I’m not? What if I only get one element or you’re wrong and I’m just…me?” I scuff my toe against the floor, overwhelmed.

His hand tips my chin until I meet those winter-blue eyes.

“Listen to me, Madison. Human or witch. One element or five thousand. It doesn’t matter.

You’re perfect as you are now, as whoever you’re about to become.

Don’t feel pressure to be anyone but yourself.

” He steps closer, his gaze dropping to my lips in a slow, deliberate way.

I remember earlier, on the couch, how I’d sell my soul to the devil for his kiss. I didn’t know who he was back then. Didn’t know who I was. Now that everything’s changed, do I still feel the same way? It takes less than a second to decide.

I place my hands on his broad shoulders, lift on my toes, and kiss him.

His lips are just like his hands, cold, dry, and yet he ignites me.

Heat flares through my body, sharp and bright.

Electricity sizzles through every nerve ending as our tongues meet.

I can feel the way my hair stands on end, the goosebumps that chase one another down my arms, warmth that pools between my legs.

I moan when he deepens the kiss, guiding my jaw with a sure hand beneath my chin until it’s just right.

My hands tangle in his hair, tug on the ends, as we grow more desperate.

More heated. God, for someone who’s supposed to be shrouded in darkness this man lights me up.

By the time we break apart, I’m panting, a single note of need humming through my body, head to toe.

Alister leans his forehead against mine. “I can’t wait to meet you, Madison. All of you.”

For someone who doesn’t need to breathe, he’s strangely breathless.