Page 27 of Extraordinary Quests for Amateur Witches

Kieran spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through his body.

Every creaking sound and innocuous thump from the ship’s hull turned into another troop of mercenaries come to kill him.

When he did finally fall asleep, he had nothing but nightmares of swords against his throat and gleaming red eyes.

When he woke, dawn had just begun to break.

He felt wide awake. Realistically, he should try to get a few more hours of sleep, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to.

Not with the way he’d fallen asleep thinking of Sebastian and woken up to the image of him with blood in his hair and the most shame-stricken expression Kieran had ever seen.

I should check on him, he decided. If I were him, I’d want someone to talk to after last night.

Kieran got dressed, tied his hair back with a piece of twine, and crept out into the hallway.

He could hear snoring coming from Delilah and Briar’s room.

Having lived with them for months now, he was all too familiar with the fact that they were both extremely deep sleepers, which was probably a good thing considering how loudly Delilah snored and how much Briar talked in her sleep.

Kieran quietly went to Sebastian’s door.

Light shone out from underneath—either he was awake or he’d slept with the lights on.

Kieran pressed his ear to the door, listening for movement.

Indeed, there was the faint sound of humming, paired with a scrape, scrape, scape sound Kieran didn’t recognize.

The humming, though—he knew the melody. It was the tune of a love song Kieran had heard on the radio many times, the lyrics telling the story of a young man who fell in love with a traveling witch.

Kieran loved that song. For a second, he just waited, listening to the low vibration of Sebastian’s voice.

Kieran raised his hand to knock, then stopped. Perhaps he should bring a sort of peace offering. I could try to catch him a bird to drink from. Then again, I don’t know how to catch a bird, much less kill one.

Just the thought of slaughtering a bird made the back of his throat tighten. Okay, maybe not something with a heartbeat. He does still drink normal things along with blood, right?

Coffee, Kieran decided. I’ll make coffee.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Kieran brewed himself a coffee, then paused, wondering what Sebastian might like.

He seemed to enjoy sweeter foods. Nodding, Kieran poured steaming coffee into a mug, leaving room at the top.

He grabbed some cinnamon and sweetened condensed milk, mixing them into the coffee.

Then he spooned in a bit of frothed milk, topping it with a sprinkle of sugar and more cinnamon.

It smelled absolutely divine—sweet and creamy and bold all at once.

When he was done, he brought both mugs back upstairs, careful not to spill on his white shirt. Once he was back in front of Sebastian’s door, it occurred to him that he didn’t have a free hand to knock. He went with his first instinct and gently kicked the door three times.

His heart raced. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why—he wasn’t scared of Sebastian, even after last night. And he wasn’t usually the type to get nervous talking to people. But there was something about Sebastian that made his knees feel like jelly.

Just like how you used to feel about Ash, a traitorous voice in his head whispered. He’s the one you should be thinking about.

Kieran chose to ignore that.

After a pause, Sebastian called from inside, “Sorry—it’s, ah, locked from the outside with magic.”

Oh, right, duh. Forgot about that. I really do need more sleep. Kieran’s eyes darted around the frame, looking at what spellcasting method could have done that, and found a small rune painted beside the handle. Probably Briar’s doing, he decided. Delilah rarely uses runes.

“Give me a second,” Kieran called back. He set the mugs on a side table below an oil painting in the hallway, then used his fist to rub away the ink. As he pulled away, he heard a lock click. “Okay, should be good.”

Kieran grabbed the mugs as Sebastian opened the door.

He was dressed far more casually than usual, wearing just black undershorts and a tight, sleeveless dark-blue shirt instead of his usual put-together businesswear.

His arms and legs were exposed, and it became exceedingly apparent to Kieran that Sebastian was quite fit.

He was muscular in a lithe way, defined but not bulky.

His hair had been washed but hung messily in his eyes.

His shirt rode up a bit, exposing the divots above his hip bones and a small dusting of hair beneath his belly button.

Oh, shit.

Kieran broke into a cold sweat as the blood seemed to drain from his brain and venture downward all at once.

His thoughts became a string of curse words as he tried to distract himself with mental images of other things—a boring passage from a book he’d read, the Celdwynian national anthem, the concept of taxes—to little avail.

Hoping to draw attention elsewhere, he shoved the mug in his left hand directly into Sebastian’s face. “I made you coffee!”

Sebastian blinked. He reached up, his fingers brushing Kieran’s as he took it. The touch sent an electric jolt through Kieran that only made things worse.

Well, if there was any question about my inability to stay focused on Ash, that’s gone out the window.

“Oh—thank you. That’s…very thoughtful. Did you want to sit down for a bit?” Sebastian hooked a thumb back toward the little sitting area beneath his window. There were two chairs and a small table, identical to the ones in Kieran’s room. “I…assume you have questions about last night.”

“I— Yes!” Kieran’s face was absolutely burning. “Sitting down, great call.”

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at him for a moment but thankfully didn’t comment on the fact that Kieran had turned the color of a ripe tomato.

Kieran took a seat, scooting the chair in and silently thanking whoever had built this table for saving him from a deeply awkward situation.

While he did his best to steady himself, Sebastian sat down across from him, taking a sip of coffee.

“Mmm,” he said, pulling it away from his lips. A bit of foam stuck to his upper lip. Kieran inwardly cursed at how cute it looked as Sebastian added, “This is lovely. ”

“I’m a barista back home in Gellingham,” Kieran explained, finally feeling as if he could breathe again. I’m overthinking it. Definitely just overthinking it. “Whenever I get bored at work, I start throwing stuff together to make new drinks. That’s one of my favorites.”

“Well, I’ll have to start coming to your coffee shop when this is all over,” Sebastian said. He took another sip, then paused. “Assuming you’ll have me, of course. I’d completely understand if you’d rather not invite someone with a condition like mine into your place of work.”

Kieran’s forehead wrinkled. If there was one thing he was familiar with, it was self-loathing, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow coming from someone else. It made him want to reach across the table and put his hand over Sebastian’s just to reassure him that he wasn’t afraid of him.

But I won’t, Kieran told himself. Because I have Ash.

“It’s a curse,” Kieran finally said, shaking off those thoughts. “Trust me, I know from experience how terrible they are. I’d never judge you for something like that.”

“Shouldn’t you?” Sebastian asked. “You saw what happened. I nearly attacked you last night. I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t,” Kieran pointed out. His fingers went to the bandage on his neck for a moment. “That has to count for something.”

Sebastian worried at his lower lip, sitting back in his seat. He cradled his mug like something precious, sighing. Dawn sun streamed in, making his long lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones. He was, genuinely, one of the most beautiful people Kieran had ever seen.

“I wasn’t always like this,” Sebastian said, thumb rubbing the side of his mug in circles.

“It’s only been…six months, maybe? I’ve gotten better at controlling it since I was first cursed, but it’s never easy.

The thirst is always there in the background, like an alarm in my brain that never turns off. It gets quieter but never goes silent.”

Kieran sipped his own coffee. “You were cursed that recently? That’s terrible, Sebastian. Have you considered going to the Witches’ Council for help?”

Sebastian shook his head. “No. The person who put it on me…Well, their magic is very strong. I doubt the Council could do anything.”

“What do you mean?” Kieran narrowed his eyes.

“Was it a famous witch or something? Because even they can fall. My family’s a great example: After the curse on me and Briar broke, the blessing tied to it broke too, and their supernatural luck vanished.

That’s why they’re in every paper for a newly discovered scandal each week. ”

“Not exactly,” Sebastian said. “It’s, ah. It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it. It’s not easy for me to think about.”

“Oh—that’s okay.” Kieran rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t love talking about my curse much either, even though it’s broken. You don’t have to share more than you’re comfortable with.”

Sebastian’s nearly black eyes met Kieran’s. There were bruiselike marks under them—it occurred to Kieran that Sebastian probably hadn’t slept at all last night after everything. “Maybe…maybe I can share a little about mine, and in exchange, you tell me a little about yours?” Sebastian suggested.

Kieran considered it. “I think I can handle that.”