Page 5 of How to Charm a Coven (How to Flirt with a Witch #2)

I scramble to meet her at the bars, our hands finding each other through the gaps.

The moment our fingers intertwine, comfort rushes through me so fast I could melt into the floor.

Her skin is warm, and that familiar current passes between us like she’s pouring her strength into me through our connected palms. It’s a ridiculous thought—I know magic doesn’t work like that.

But I can’t help feeling like she’s given me something just by touching me.

“Let me see your wounds.” Her voice is urgent as she takes me in. She’s out of breath, her hair is a mess, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her brow—mirroring how I feel. “I can’t believe they hurt you. The people I’ve known my whole life.”

“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though we both know it couldn’t be further from the truth. “I mean, I guess I could use something to clean up these cuts, but—”

“I’ll have Doctor Sharma come down.” Natalie presses her forehead against the bars, and I lean in, wishing she could hold me.

“Can you pass through like with the steam clock?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, she gives her head a tiny shake. “Enchanted.”

I huff. “Of course.”

She squeezes my hands. “If I’d known, I—” The words catch. “I would’ve told you to stay in Toronto. They let me think it was safe.”

“I know.” I squeeze back. “Don’t blame yourself. It was my choice to set bio magic free.”

“ Our choice. And I got off easy.” She shuts her eyes and takes a breath. When she opens them again, she fixes me with a serious stare. “I’ll have the trial moved up to tomorrow. I’m not letting you stay in here.”

The pain in her voice makes my chest ache. I nod, my eyes prickling.

Our hands are locked, our foreheads separated by cold iron, her lips close enough to kiss.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper, remembering all those video calls where I couldn’t touch her at all. At least I have this now, even if there are bars between us .

Her thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “This isn’t how I pictured the evening going.”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask. “I’ll imagine it when I’m trying to fall asleep tonight.”

“I had specific plans for you,” she says, tracing a finger along my wrist. “Ones that involved keeping you up all night.”

I bite my lip, a flutter in my belly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Sorry.” She locks our fingers together. “I was also thinking we’d get dinner at an Italian restaurant downtown. Maybe go dancing after.”

I smile. “You dance?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“I look forward to seeing that once I’m out of here.”

It’s been so long since I saw her smile in person that I get lost in her for a second, watching her eyes crinkle and her cheeks lift. There’s something so impossibly gorgeous about her that our calls couldn’t capture, and it hurts how much I missed being with her.

A vision of how today should have gone flashes across my mind’s eye—walking hand in hand along the Seawall, getting dinner and watching her twirl pasta around her fork, listening to her updates about what’s been going on in her life. Exchanging the three words that have been on my mind.

Those words linger between us. But I sure as hell am not saying it under these shitty circumstances. It needs the right moment—one where we aren’t on opposite sides of a prison cell.

Does she feel it too? This thing that’s grown too big to ignore? Sometimes, like now, her lips part like she’s about to say something important, but then she stops herself. Is she also waiting for the right moment, or is she afraid of what loving me might mean for her position in the coven?

“Speaking of being held captive,” I whisper, breaking the silence, “any progress on finding your dad?”

She lets out a slow breath. “We think we know where he is. ”

“But?” I trace my index finger over the lines of her palm. The life line. The heart line.

“Now that Sophia’s a witch, she’s gone berserk rigging the place with curses and magic. It’s like trying to navigate a minefield.” Her frown deepens as she watches me trace her palm. “We could’ve used your help.”

I pause. “Really?”

“It’d be useful to have someone who can sense magic to tell us where the danger is. It’s like feeling around in the dark otherwise.”

“Of course I’ll help. As soon as…” I look at the bars, unsure how to finish the sentence. The outcome of the trial will dictate whether I’ll actually be able to help her or not. My heart slams into my ribs as if trying to escape. The walls feel too close, the ceiling too low, the barrier too solid.

Natalie reaches through and touches my cheek. “We’ll sort this out, Katie. I promise.”

We stay still, her warmth seeping into me, the only thing holding me together when I feel like I could disintegrate into a thousand pieces.

The door above bangs open again, and we jump.

“Zacharias, time’s up,” Fiona calls.

Natalie holds both my hands in hers. “I’m not leaving.”

Heels click down the stairs, and panic rises in my throat. “Go,” I whisper. “You’re already in trouble.”

As Fiona’s silhouette appears on the steps, Natalie leans in, pressing a kiss to my lips through the bars.

It’s awkward and partly blocked by cold metal, but the softness of her mouth against mine sends a cascade of warmth through my body.

Her breath is minty, and there’s a desperate pressure in her lips as she tries to convey everything she can’t say.

Her scent envelops me, herbal, woodsy, and the familiar comfort I need to make it through the night.

“Tomorrow,” she promises .

I nod, trying not to show how scared I am. If she knew how much I wish she could stay, it’d break her. “Natalie, I need you to do a couple things for me.”

“Anything.” She grips the bars, her arms flexing like she’s ready to rip iron from stone.

“Tell Hazel I’m okay, and see if she needs help. She’s probably having a meltdown.”

She nods firmly. “Promise.”

I take a breath, struggling not to let my voice shake. “Second, do you think you can bring me a copy of the coven’s oath and all the paperwork I signed when I was inducted?”

Her brow furrows.

“Natalie, let’s go!” Fiona snaps.

“I will,” Natalie says to me. She backs away slowly, like some magnetic force is holding her to me.

And then I’m alone in the bowels of C.S.A.M.M., the quiet settling in, a chill running through me. The walls seem to inch closer, constricting my chest until it’s hard to breathe.

I set my jaw, refusing to panic. Time to rehearse a really fucking good argument to present at my trial. Because between Natalie, Hazel, Ethel, my family, my degree, and my whole future… I’ve got way too much to lose if this all goes wrong.