Page 16 of The Witch’s Fate (The Lunaterra Chronicles #13)

IDALIS

T he desire that clings to me is tempting. It scares me in ways I would never admit. I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t tear myself away from Ryker in my bed. I don’t know what’s come over me. It cannot be a simple curiosity. There’s a pull to him. A desire like none I’ve felt before.

I fear if I were to whisper the confession, everything in my life would change. Goosebumps travel down my arms… Confirmation.

All it took was a wish for his body to know comfort and for safety to surround him. That there was no need to fight his needs. My lips tick up into a smirk remembering how he fought. How he called me a witch. I love it. I’ve never felt such desire from another calling me by such a name.

For some reason, the word on his lips is sinful and divine all at once. It’s unfair, though, that he sees me in such a light when him speaking anything at all to me seems to be a spell of its own. His roughly spoken words and deep baritone voice draws me to him in a way that’s undeniable.

He let himself relax onto the mattress as if he has not felt a comfortable bed underneath him before.

Perhaps that’s true. We have not spoken about anything but the portal, and ever so briefly the flowers he was collecting for a wedding.

I’m terrified to know more about him, to let myself fall in obsession with this man.

I could hardly look at him this morning, I felt so flushed, so wanton, so unlike myself.

And then he took that call on his crystal, which piqued my interest.

I let my thoughts wander to his small collection of crystals, telling myself I am forgetting that my fingers are in his hair while I absently keep stroking through it.

His dark hair, clean and dry, is softer than I would have expected, and he seems to relish the feeling, even while he is asleep.

I wonder what comfort he’s felt before. At the thought, I become jealous.

Once again, something I’ve not felt before.

My hands still and I place them in my lap, keeping my hands and thoughts to myself.

How is it that those crystals—the ones he used to make contact with the man who must have been his commander—still hold a charge when mine did not work to summon a portal?

Something about that is off-balance. Whatever has dampened the power of the crystals across my land should have affected all of them, yet…

It did not. It’s only the portal that’s unable to work. All other magic works. I don’t understand, and in the back of my mind I am reminded of what my elders told me long ago: it’s not for us to understand, it’s for us to accept and be grateful.

It is a rare day that my intuition is so very quiet.

Although it is even more rare that my mind is preoccupied with thoughts of another.

Absentmindedly, I toy with the small charm on my necklace.

It’s a carved obsidian, a stone for protection, in the shape of the moon.

I’ve never felt compelled to take the necklace off, but in his presence, I feel as though I don’t need it.

I imagine I don’t need to wear a thing in front of him.

Heat flushes up my neck and cheeks. My word, what has come over me?

The sharp lines of his strong jaw and rough stubble tempt me. His stiff muscular arms and chiseled chest tempt me.

Everything about him tempts me. I’ve never found a mortal so enticing.

He seduces every part of me. I want to know what it would feel like when his lips touch mine.

I want to know what it would feel like to lie on the bed next to him.

To fall asleep next to him and dream next to him.

To listen to rain on the roof next to him.

Would I even notice rain on the roof if I were in bed with him?

Probably not.

Although—perhaps it is because Ryker is not mortal that I find him so enticing. As a wolf-shifter, he is decidedly not a human man. He is so much more.

My fingers linger a few inches above his shoulder. I cannot help myself—I readjust the blankets just so I can feel the heat of him for a heartbeat or two.

Then I turn away from the bed and go to my worktable, breathing deep and slow to try to quench the fire of my…

Curiosity.

I cannot lie to myself. It is not only curiosity. It is an intense desire. I want to know him because I want to…

Have him. I would like for him to be mine. Even if just for a taste.

I would like to be his. If for no other reason than for the memory to exist.

I exhale sharply and fold my hands together, running through several incantations to the moon in my head.

I call on her for wisdom and empathy to know why these thoughts plague me.

I call on her for calm and peace of mind.

I call on her to give me clarity so that I can understand what has happened to the magic here.

I cannot be having these kinds of thoughts! They cannot come to me so easily! I live in solitude because it is the only safe way to live, not because I was waiting for the perfect wolf shifter to come pleading for shelter in the middle of a thunderstorm.

With several deep breaths, I don’t suddenly find an answer to the problem of Ryker’s portal, but my mind does clear.

I feel a pull toward Ryker. With my mind settled—whether by the grace of the moon or from my own efforts or both—that is the one sensation that stands out above all others. It is almost a physical pull, like a string tugging at my waist, trying to pull me back to him.

And then, I suppose, it would have me climb into the bed. Nap the day away? Press myself closer to him in my sleep? Reach for him in my dreams?

Allow my lips to touch his and see what sensations come over me?

I will not be doing that. Not right now.

It must be my prolonged loneliness that’s making me think this way. With such temptation and curiosity.

Ryker’s handsome, powerful, and strong. Much stronger than a mortal man.

Above all, he is trustworthy. He has stayed in my cottage for an entire night, longer than anyone has in years, and he has not made a single move to assert dominance over me.

Although that very thought sparks a different kind of want. One I shove to the back of my mind.

Shoulders back, I return to one of the shelves by my worktable and find my worn, beloved tarot cards.

The cards are soft and pliable from having been shuffled between palms hundreds and hundreds of times. As I gently let them slide against one another, I center my mind on them. On the smooth, slippery feel of the cardstock. On the wisdom they hold. On the answers I’m seeking.

I meditate on the events of the past day.

What change in the world around me brought on the storm? Did that force also inspire the pull I feel toward Ryker? I think of him most of all, dwelling on how open his expression is when he’s sleeping and the long frame of his body on my bed and the sound of his breathing.

I need these things to be clearly communicated to the cards, so I pace quietly around the cottage, turning all of it over in my mind—but especially Ryker.

The soft sound of his steps. The light grumble in his throat when he contemplates.

The sharpness of his eyes as our glances catch one another.

The little details that make him who he is, that’s what I focus on as I hold the cards and absently shuffle them.

Every time I make another circuit of the room, I cannot help letting my gaze linger on him.

The afternoon light from outside caresses his skin as if it wants to touch him as much as I do. He sleeps as if he is sure of his safety here, deep within the peace of the spell I put on him. He’s turned over onto his back and flung out both arms, taking all the space he can on the bed.

Surely I would only fit if he were holding me.

With the thought shocking me to my core, I return to the cards.

What brought you here? I ask, not of him, but of the cards and the moons.

There’s a simple answer to this question, but I already know it.

I want the cards to show me the hidden reasons that Ryker—who is not from this land and was sent here by his commander—truly came here.

Why did fate send him here? Why truly, with the meaning of life and purpose has this man come to my door?

When the cards are sated from shuffling and warm in my hands, I sit down at my worktable and clear a space.

I keep Ryker at the forefront of my mind, held in concentration, asking the cards over and over to respond to him.

To show me the inner truth of the most beautiful man who has ever crossed my threshold.

Open my eyes, I request of the cards. Show me the things I cannot know. Help me to understand the will of the fates.

One by one, I draw four cards and lay them out on the table.

The first card is the Two of Cups.

The second card is the Lovers.

The third card is the King of Pentacles.

The fourth card is the Queen of Pentacles.

I look at the cards in their neat spread before me, my heart racing.

The lovers on its own would have given me a shock, but along with the King and Queen of Pentacles? What could the cards be referring to if not me and Ryker?

But we are not lovers.

“We are not,” I tell the cards in a breathless whisper as my heart races. Even the Two of Cups echoes the message of the Lovers card. My questions catch in the back of my throat. This desire I feel, it is not temporary. This shifter is for me. But shifters have mates. Surely, I cannot be his lover.

The cards stare back up at me. They could represent the future or the past as well. Perhaps another lifetime. A star-crossed lover maybe?

The King and Queen of Pentacles together represent…

Well, it represents power. Two forms of power. Both outward strength and inner balance. As a pair, they represent a nurturing emotional core and material abundance.

In other words…a marriage. Although a chill comes over me. I think of the royal wedding. Maybe it doesn’t refer to us after all. Maybe it’s the prince and princess that brought us here like this.