Page 8 of Spellbound & Speechless (Witches of Starbrook #2)

Aspen

Calloused fingers slide along my thighs, pressing into the smooth skin. A gasp falls from my lips. My eyes roll back. The fairy lights twinkle above me, and the soft music in the background does, too.

Mac looks out of place in my bedroom, yet he looks like he’s right where he belongs, his large body fitting perfectly between my legs. He’s the spot of dark and cool in my pastel room. Like a black hole, he draws me in, looking like he wants to swallow me whole.

His light eyes are darker than I’ve seen, dangerous and hungry as he lowers himself between my thighs. He’s close enough to taste and smell me, his nostrils flaring. A low growl comes from him as he finally presses his face to my needy, wet, hot cunt .

I let out another gasp, this time louder, as my fingers tangle in his mess of curly hair.

“Please…” I writhe beneath him.

He lets out a moan, intense pleasure vibrating through me as he buries his face in my heat, his tongue pressing against my sensitive bundle. I wanted it the moment I saw him—wanted this . It’s easy to acknowledge when his tongue laps against my clit.

There’s a desperation in each lick, as though he’s been waiting for it, too. He thrusts against the bed, chasing his release without a single touch. My taste and smell are enough to send him over the edge.

“Aspen…” My name is a growl in his rough, agonizing voice. The sound cuts me up and splits me open, my legs spreading wider. He presses his face closer, moaning as his lips wrap around my clit.

“Yes... yes…”

Fireworks fill my vision.

A dog barks.

Wait… a dog barks? My eyes open wide, and I look around the room wildly. Bright sun shines into my face. Sounds from downstairs flow into my bedroom. A happy Timber, barking for attention. The clink of dishes. The sound of someone laughing—Laurel, I think.

A dream. It was all a dream.

Why am I dreaming about him? Goddess. I need to have sex soon, don’t I? Good, mind-shattering sex. That will be hard to find in Starbrook; I already know everyone here.

There is a soft tapping against my window. Erie , my dove familiar. That’s a message from the goddess herself, confirming what I already know to be true.

It’s been too long since I’ve had someone to make me come. I’ll have to do something about that soon, but other things are on my mind now. More important things, I would say, considering the attack on my sisters.

At least I was here for it. I wasn’t supposed to be at the bar last night, and there’s nothing I can do to help, but I would rather be here than hiding in New York. My sisters may need me, and I certainly need them on a day like today .

Having my familiar around will help, too.

I rise from my bed and open the window enough for Erie to fly in.

“Where were you when I needed you?” I click my tongue. “You had me worried that you were waiting at the motel. Silly dove.”

She coos, and I scratch her neck, my gaze softening. At least one thing from my old life remains. My familiar is home, and the relief is great enough to chase away the strangeness of my dreams…

For now.

He follows me throughout the day. Okay—not really. That would be weird, but it feels like I’m still in bed with him… and it shows. If I was distracted at work before, that’s enhanced by a thousand, and I don’t care. It’s a Sunday morning. Who comes into a bar on a Sunday morning?

Apparently, a few people do—the brunch crowd, as I call them. A group of women drink bottomless mimosas, and there are a few men in a corner eating fish and chips while they talk about… whatever older men chatter on about. I don’t care; I tune them out whenever I pass by.

Other than that, it’s a quiet day. There are no attacks or problems—unless you count me spilling potions. Potion spills can be disastrous, but the bottles we keep behind the bar are safe.

I yelp as the cool liquid splashes on my hand, and I set the glass bottle on the bar .

“You’re a wreck,” Laurel says. “What’s going on with you today?”

I shoot her a sideways look. “You don’t want to know.”

She leans in, her eyes sparkling. “I definitely want to know. What are you keeping from me? Huh?”

Laurel and I have been getting along better after our last heart-to-heart. I shouldn’t be so desperate to get on her good side, but… if telling her some gossip does that, who am I to get between sibling bonding? Our nosy natures may be the one thing we have in common.

“I…” I clear my throat. “I had a dream about Mac.” The words come out all at once, quick and muttered.

She gasps. “The hunky werewolf?”

“I suppose that is one way to describe him.”

Mac is the hunky werewolf, but I’m unhappy with him. He may have danced with me once, but after that, he went right back to being standoffish. Was he using me when we danced? No. I can’t imagine what he was using me for.

It can’t be sex. I would let him use me for that , but he’s disinterested. Whatever. It’s all for the best, but it’s left a needy, empty hole in… well, not in my chest, but somewhere between my thighs, probably.

Like most men, he’s better in my dreams than in reality.

“He’s into you,” she says. “I saw him admiring you at the bar, like, days ago.”

“That was nothing. He was bored. He’s just a man .”

“You’re so right. Forget him.” The shining look in her eye doesn’t match her words. “What kind of dream was it?”

I turn my attention to the little bottles, carefully pouring more sparkling potion into one. “You know what kind. I wouldn’t act this way if I had a dream about… I don’t know… my teeth transforming into clouds and floating out of my mouth. ”

“Have you dreamed of that before?”

“Yes. Is that weird? Gods, there is something wrong with my dreams.”

“No! There’s nothing wrong.” A playful smile dances on Laurel’s lips. “So, it was a sex dream?”

“Yes, Laurel! Must I spell everything out for you?”

“It’s more fun that way, but I won’t press for details.”

“Thank you.”

We continue to work in silence, but that only lasts for a few moments.

“Look, I know I said I wouldn’t press for details, but…” She’s holding a deck of tarot cards. When did she get those?

I’ve only been home for a week, but it didn’t take long to realize my little sister has become quite the tarot reader.

She has her corner of the bar where she does her readings, and her customers always leave with an expression of shock and awe.

I know what she’s getting at before she says it aloud.

“No.” I hesitate, giggling. “Unless… should we?”

“I think we should.”

“Are you just trying to take my money?”

She scoffs. “What money? You’re broke. I’m offering a free reading . That doesn’t happen every day, you know.”

I put the stopper on the bottle. “What kind of reading would we even do for this?”

“A simple three-card potential love spread. I do this one all the time.” She shuffles the deck with ease and confidence. I haven’t agreed to the reading yet, but Laurel doesn’t seem to care. “What you want, what they want, and what your future may hold.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “What if I don’t want anything?”

“Then the cards will show that, and you can move on. Easy. ”

It would be a lie to say I don’t want love. The question is, do I want it with him? It’s not as if I know Mac at all. He’s a stranger. Perhaps the mystery makes him attractive, but that’s not enough to build a stable relationship.

Laurel may be right. I need clarity, and the guidance from the cards can offer that.

My resolve breaks in a second. I move to the other side of the bar, settling on a stool like I’ve seen her clients do. “Fine. Just three cards.”

“That’s all we need.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I straighten up. “You lead the way.”

“Relax. Breathe. Focus on him—and how he makes you feel.” Laurel inhales slowly and closes her eyes while shuffling the deck. “Tell me when to stop.”

How he makes me feel . He shouldn’t make me feel anything. The sparkle hidden behind his grumpy gaze shouldn’t elicit curiosity. My heart shouldn’t race whenever I slip past him, close enough for our shoulders to brush. Feeling him watch me, always watching, shouldn’t make me feel so safe…

But it does. He makes me feel too much. Everything. Nothing.

I’ve done enough tarot readings myself to know how it works. We were all taught by the same woman, after all. Our mom was one of the best witches around, or so I would say, and most witches can do one or two forms of divination. We usually have an area of focus, but Mom could do everything.

Mac’s appearance makes me question more than the future of my love life and my apparent poor taste—because really, who likes someone who won’t give them the time of day? That could never be me. It’s not supposed to be me .

But there’s more. Was my mother’s strength her downfall? Did she know something we don’t? Did she really have a weapon hidden somewhere in the shop?

The ruffling of the cards grows louder. Louder.

“Stop!” The words fall from my mouth before I think of them. My instincts know the deck is ready for me, for us, and for the three cards that will dictate the future.

I gulp.

Laurel sets the deck on the table and cuts it into three piles. With a flourish, she picks the card from pile number one.

“This is what you want.” She sets it face down. “What he wants… and…” She picks up the last card. “Your future.”

Three cards lie before me, all face down.

It’s a silly reading with my baby sister, just for fun.

That’s what I tell myself to take the weight of the situation off, but it doesn’t feel ridiculous.

There’s something deeply serious about this topic, this situation, and this infuriatingly mysterious man .

Love has always been easy for me. It’s entertainment , an offering for my goddess, and an essential part of my life. Aphrodite wouldn’t want me to struggle.

Despite not knowing if there is love between us at all, it feels heavier than I’m used to. It’s not like a burden, but a trophy. Is that what love is?

“This is what you want.” Laurel flips over the first card. Six of Pentacles, a man holding scales and feeding those in need. “What he wants.” Knight of Wands, a man on a horse. “And your future.”

The fool—someone about to jump off a cliff to begin their destiny. Or not. They could just fall.

I cringe but say nothing.

Laurel tilts her head. “This is more complicated than Juniper’s was. ”

“Is it?” I twirl my hair around my finger. “Like, complicated bad or complicated good?”

“I don’t know. I think it shows that you both have other things going on. For you, the six of pentacles is about balancing your finances and finding generosity. You’re more focused on work.”

I laugh lightly. “Am I?”

She shrugs. “Maybe you should be. Or not. Were you dating in New York?”

“Not seriously. I didn’t have time, and believe it or not, suitable partners were just as hard to find when more people were around.”

“Makes sense. There it is. It’s about balancing your time and seeing where losing your job could have been good. Now, you have more time for love, and you can learn to be generous with your energy.” She wiggles her brows. “And to be a generous lover.”

“A generous lover?” My jaw drops. “That’s his job, not mine!”

Laurel cackles. “Fine—just be generous with your time. He’s made moves on you.”

I shake my head. “No, he didn’t! When?”

“When he bought you a drink. Hello?”

“Oh.” My shoulders slump. “Right. Forgot about that.”

It was only a few days ago, but it feels like more time has passed.

“Can you say the same?” Laurel crosses her arms. “Have you made a move on him?”

I hold my head higher. “No, and I won’t be making any moves. The only times I tried to speak with him, he wasn’t interested.”

She taps her painted fingernail against the center card. “I guess he is the knight of wands. ”

“That’s not good, is it? That’s, like, the fuck boy card.”

“Not always! Here, it may mean he wants to pursue you . You don’t really have to do the chasing with him.”

“Thank the goddess.”

She squints at the card. A look of understanding crosses her features. Her eyes glaze over. “But the quest for your love is not the only quest he is fighting. There is something more he fights for. Fights against. Struggles against. Something darker.”

My pulse quickens. “What? What do you mean?”

Her words come out in a rush. “He is fighting against your destiny. It is a part of his battle.”

“Laurel! Stop!” My eyes widen. My fists clench. “I don’t understand.”

“The fool.” When Laurel meets my gaze, it’s as though she’s looking through me. She’s channeling from the spirits—from our gods. Aphrodite? “You will not be free to love until the burden lifts.”

“What burden?” I lean in.

“His. He is?—”

The front door swings open. Mac’s thundering presence fills the space. Laurel snaps out of her trance, and whatever message she had to share floats away along with the glazed look in her eye.

The difference in her features is clear, and I know she broke the channel. Being able to channel messages is a gift; it’s more than a basic tarot reading. My youngest sister may be a powerful divination witch after all.

She beams at Mac. “Hey! We were just talking about?—”

I shoot her a glare, and she goes quiet.

Mac smirks. “Talking about what?”

I pay them no mind. My attention shifts to the cards on the table—one rogue card hidden off to the side .

How did that get there? I hadn’t noticed flying cards when Laurel was shuffling. Flyers usually contain important messages. This one, hiding its face, represents something unseen… unknown…

I lift it. The imagery etched across the card makes my blood run cold—and hot—and I burst into nothingness. My spirit floats up to the ceiling. It’s as if I’m watching myself.

The lovers. Two hands clasped together, with a spirit watching overhead. A choice to make. Our destiny.