Page 30

PIPER

D inner is mentally exhausting. Tucker, Francesca, and even Anastasia keep making not-so-subtle comments about the coven, and their perceived competition.

The funny thing is, Lucida hasn’t made one comment about how many council positions she wants to fill.

I get the sense that everyone worthy will get a seat, but that’s not how my uncle is viewing this spectacle.

He believes he needs to outlast everyone else.

I flinch as a boom of thunder cracks through the night.

This spring has been one of the stormiest I can remember.

Which is a shame because I hate thunderstorms. Ambrose offered to run outside to get the car so the rest of us didn’t have to get soaked, and then Roman reminded him he was drunk and went with him.

I almost told him not to bother. I’m so ready to get out of this perfectly white house that a jog in the pouring rain would be preferable.

Odie is wobbling beside me. I think she’s about as drunk as Ambrose.

I barely had more than a few sips. I know better than to let my guard down around Tucker.

“Abandoned already.”

My muscles clench at the sound of Tucker’s voice.

“Ambrose is getting the car.” I keep my eyes trained forward, watching out the window for the car to appear through the deluge.

“He’s a pig,” Odie signs beside me, and I nod. Tucker ignores her and steps directly in front of me.

“Does your new husband enjoy bossing you around? Does he have you crawl to him every night to kiss his feet for saving you from your big, bad uncle?”

Odie stiffens beside me.

“He’s not so insecure that he needs someone to praise his every action.

” My voice is stronger than I thought it would be.

Hearing Ambrose stand up for me at dinner was eye opening.

I don’t know if he was doing it because we were in front of his mother, our friends, or if he just wanted to, but I appreciate it, whatever the reason.

Tucker grabs my arm, his fire magic sparks beneath my skin, sending a jolt of burning pain through my nerves. It’s a searing rush of flame that licks underneath the surface. A trickle of sweat drips down my temple, but I don’t scream. He loves when I scream.

“You think you're free? He’ll drop you as soon as he realizes what a burden you are.”

I yank my arm away, his nails raking over my skin. “That might be true…”

Before I finish my sentence, another crack of thunder rattles the house. My uncle throws his head back in laughter. “Still afraid of storms. You’re such a helpless child.”

The front door opens, and Ambrose is there with an umbrella. He glares at my uncle when he sees how close he is to me.

“Do you need a matching bruise on your jaw?” Ambrose asks, but I rush over to him and push him outside, Odie hot on my heels.

“Let’s not have a fight in your mother’s foyer.” I look over my shoulder. Tucker is glaring at me.

“Why not? I think the white floors could use a little color, don’t you? Maybe some red?”

Ambrose doesn’t fight me though. He lets me shove him toward the car where it's idling. The rain batters the pavement and even with the umbrella Ambrose is holding over our heads, Odie and I are soaked when we slide into the backseat. Roman’s behind the driver's seat and Ambrose sits up front with him.

“Do you think Francesca, Tucker, and Anastasia will make it through the rest of the trials?” Odie asks next to me. I have to concentrate because it’s dark in the car and she’s a little drunk. Her hand gestures aren’t as crisp as normal and I’m still learning sign language.

I don’t know if Odie has never been able to speak, or if something happened that caused her to lose her voice. It isn’t my business to ask. Since we’ve become friends, I’ve done my best to learn sign language quickly as possible. Stellan picked it up the fastest, but I’m getting better.

“I really hope not,” I reply.

Ambrose is up front singing along with the radio as though tonight was a totally normal evening. I suppose it was for Mystic Hollows.

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly over the evening. The wipers are furiously swishing back and forth across the windshield, but it’s raining so hard they’re not making any difference. I’m not sure how Roman can see the road in front of him.

“I’ll bring your car back tomorrow,” Roman tells Ambrose as he drops us at the front door of the chateau.

Ambrose waits for me with the umbrella as I get out of the car, but the rain is coming from all directions.

We sprint to the door, rain splashing up my legs with each step.

Ambrose unlocks the front door and throws it open, hurrying us inside.

Even though he quickly shuts the door behind us, the rain follows us inside.

Ambrose drops the soaked umbrella in a stand by the front door.

The two of us stare at each other in the front hall, dripping all over the dark hardwood floors.

I jump at the boom of thunder and Ambrose reaches out to me.

“Are you okay?”

“Just tired, and I think my nerves are a little rattled.” I hug my arms, shivering in my damp clothes.

Ambrose’s eyes drop down to my body, and his throat bobs as he swallows. I pluck at my dress that’s clinging to me like a second skin.

“I’m going to get a snack.” Ambrose nods toward the kitchen, but his eyes never leave my body.

“We just had a six-course meal.”

“It’s an empty pit.” Ambrose smacks his washboard stomach.

His white button-down clings to his skin and the outline of each of his abs is clearly visible. I would really like to be his snack. I blow out a breath and wipe water from my face. I’m sure my makeup is melting at this point.

“I’m going to dry off. Get changed into something warm.” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder as if he doesn’t know where my room is.

Neither of us moves. There’s a lamp on next to the display of broadswords, and it casts everything in a soft golden light.

Ambrose looks angelic, his skin golden, his hair darker from the rain.

Droplets of water cling to his skin, and I almost lean forward to press my lips to his jaw, his cheek, wondering what the taste of the rain mingled with him would be like.

Another crash of thunder has me stumbling away. “I’m going to get changed.”

“Piper,” Ambrose calls out when I’m halfway up the steps. I turn and look down at him. He’s still in the same spot.

“I’m sorry about your uncle. I wish I’d done more to get him to shut up.”

I grip the railing, willing myself not to run back down the steps toward him. “You’ve done more than anyone else has. Between tonight and the woods, you’re definitely my hero.” I cringe at my words, spit out another good night, and then sprint up the stairs to my room.

The house is too solid for me to hear if Ambrose makes his way upstairs. I brush my teeth, change into a pair of warm pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. I crawl into the bed to the sounds of the storm battering the sides of the house and the windows rattling.

I check the radar on my phone. The storm must be almost done. Nope. It’s circling over Mystic Hollows in a vortex of bad memories. We haven’t even hit the worst of it yet. The wind howls and I tug my covers up to my chin, unable to relax or fall asleep.

Lightning splits the sky every few seconds. It’s like a strobe going off outside. The rain tings against the windows so hard I wonder if it’s hailing, but then the wind changes and all I hear is howling and the creaking of trees fighting the assault.

There’s another boom of thunder that rips through the sky, so loud the room shakes.

“Fuck.” Tossing back my covers, I dash for the door. I stand there with my hand shaking above the doorknob. Am I really going to do this? Like I’m a helpless child who can’t ride out a storm?

Another earth-shaking thunder propels me through the door, and straight into Ambrose’s room without knocking.

The TV is on, but the volume is so low I can’t hear what anyone is saying.

It’s some black-and-white movie, where a couple is dancing across a stage.

I thought Ambrose might be passed out in bed.

Instead, he’s sitting up, scrolling on his phone, his chest bare, and the sheet draped around his waist.

“Piper?”

My fingers are wrapped in the cuffs of my sweatshirt. I swallow thickly and try to hide my shaking limbs.

“Piper?” Ambrose says again, getting out of bed. “Are you sick? Is it your curse again already?” His hands cup my shoulders, and I feel their warmth through the cloth.

“I shouldn’t be in here. I should go back to my room.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s stupid.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

The lightning is still lighting up the sky outside through my closed eyes. I imagine it’s the television flickering until the thunder strikes again. I shudder.

“Is it the storm?” Ambrose sounds confused.

“It’s…” I hang my head. How do I even explain?

“I was just finding something to watch. Why don’t you come in here and we’ll put on some trashy TV that I know you love so much.” Ambrose pulls me over to the bed. He flips back the covers and pats the bed before launching himself onto the other side, like a little kid.

I’m stiff when I get in. I don’t know what I imagined would happen in my head. Actually, I didn’t think about any of this. I just didn’t want to be alone in my huge cold bed with a storm raging outside.

“How will you warm me up if you’re all the way over there?” Ambrose wraps his hands around my waist and drags me across the bed until I’m practically in his lap.

He arranges us so that he’s lying down, and I’m tucked into his side with my head on his chest. He doesn’t change the old black-and-white movie on the TV.

“You don’t like storms?” Ambrose asks as he drags his fingers down my scalp and begins to massage my neck. I tense and his fingers stop kneading. “You don’t have to tell me.”