Page 2 of Spice (Unhinged Holidays #1)

“Is your last name Ashwood?” he asks, seemingly undeterred by my less than dazzling attempt at banter.

I go still, eyes locked on him. “Uh…yes?” It comes out like a question, like I need him to confirm my own last name for me. He stares at me, his gaze hot and intent. That panicked sensation starts to creep up again, and I look away, laughing awkwardly.

He leans on the counter, palms splayed, and I see the flicker of something in his aura. A golden glimmer that wasn’t there before.

Hope?

“My name’s Ezra Blackwood, and fifty years ago, Cordelia Ashwood cursed me.”

I gasp when he says my grandmother’s name.

“I need…I need a descendant of the witch who cursed me to break it. You’re her bloodline. I can feel it.” He inhales a shaky breath, and that shimmer of gold pulses again.

“Wait, back it up a second,” I say, frowning. “Fifty years ago? You look fortyish.”

This has to be some kind of Halloween prank, and honestly, it’s not very funny.

We stare at each other for a moment, that connection pulsing between us. I feel like my entire body is a magnet, being pulled towards him.

“I’m two-hundred and forty-one years old.”

My eyebrows raise. “You’re immortal?” I could sense that he was powerful, but immortality is extremely rare, even among the most powerful in our communities.

“Not quite. I just age very, very slowly.” He peers at me, leaning in closer. “I don’t know why this is shocking to you. I can smell your Everwane blood.”

“You can smell my blood? And what…what’s an Everwane?” My head is swimming. I’m horny and confused and intrigued and a little scared.

“An Everwane is someone whose magic is so strong that it acts as a natural preservative.”

“And I’m one because you can smell my blood?”

“Yes,” he says with such simple conviction that I almost believe him. But then I laugh.

“I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else. I’m not powerful.” I never have been. My magic’s always been small. Unremarkable. It’s what my mother’s always told me.

He sighs. “You are, but we don’t have time to argue about this.

Fifty years ago, your ancestor cursed me.

If I don’t break the curse by midnight tonight, I’ll lose my magic forever.

Without my magic, my Everwane status will disappear, and I’ll die almost instantly.

” His brow goes tight, and when our eyes meet this time, I can see the fear there.

I don’t think he’s joking.

My expression softens, and I lean in closer. “And you need me to help you break this curse? Because I’m an Ashwood?”

He nods. “I do.”

I sigh, blowing out a long breath. I shrug as I look up at him. “Okay. What do you need me to do to? Is there a ritual, or a spell, or what?”

“A ritual, yes. Sex magic.” He says it so perfunctorily that I almost think I must’ve heard him wrong.

“Sex magic?” When he nods, I burst out laughing. “Is this like, some kind of pick-up line? Because listen. You’re really hot. You don’t need these games.”

“It’s not a game!” he hisses, and my laughter dies instantly. “You’re not just any witch. You’re an Everwane. An Ashwood. And if you don’t help me break the curse before midnight, I’ll die. Plain and simple.”

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s 5:30, and the coffee shop closes in half an hour. “So, we have six hours to break this curse and save your life.”

“That’s right. Only you can help me, Willow Ashwood.”

My eyes widen. “How do you know my name?”

He smiles, a dimple flashing in his cheek. Oh, that’s not fair. Not fair at all.

“Because I know you were meant to be mine.”

I laugh nervously, but he reaches across the counter and takes both of my hands in his.

Electricity races through me, lighting me up from the inside.

The overhead lights flicker and his pumpkin spice latte levitates in the air between us, the spices on top glowing bright.

Jars spin on the shelves. His aura expands, reaching towards me, as mine does the same, reaching out for him.

I feel alive. Glowing. Powerful and euphoric.

“Tell me you feel this, Willow.”

My gaze bounces everywhere, taking in the flickering lights, the floating latte with its glimmering spices, the way Ezra’s blue eyes look like cold flame.

“This isn’t normal,” I manage, heat racing up and down my arms from his touch.

“Touching fate shouldn’t feel normal. It should feel sacred.”

My heart is racing, wild and erratic. My magic hums through my veins, and never in my life have I been so aware of it. It’s always there, part of me, but insensitive, like hair. This, though, it feels like skin. A part of me that touches and feels everything.

And my body…I’m throbbing. My nipples are hard. My panties are wet. I’m responding to this man I don’t know in a way I’ve never experienced before.

He leans in, his drink still floating between us.

“Come home with me, Willow. Help me break the curse and save my life.” He gives my hands a gentle squeeze, and pleasure courses through my body.

“If this is how you feel just holding my hands, imagine how good it would feel to let me make you come, over and over again.”

I shiver, goosebumps covering my sensitive skin.

Our eyes lock, and I can actually see the magic swirling around us like smoke. His is a dark, midnight blue, glimmering like a night sky. And mine…it’s beautiful. It’s a shimmery pink, the colour of a sunset.

I’ve never seen it before.

“Come home with me, Willow,” he says again. “Please.”

I’ve known Ezra Blackthorne for all of five minutes, and he’s turned my world completely upside down.

So, I say the only thing that makes sense. The only answer I can possibly give him.

“Yes.”