Page 13 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Skye

I felt the presence before he appeared, the same one that visited me frequently but always refused to speak or show himself.

Until now.

“What did you just say?” Wesley’s voice broke the madness sweeping my mind. His hand gripped my shoulder, the other nudging my head back to the stunning jade eyes I had lost myself in only moments prior.

I stammered, utter shock freezing my world as I fought for words. “It’s you.”

Confusion rippled Wesley’s forehead. “What?”

I pointed at the mirror image of Wesley sitting in the chair. “Twins,” I whispered. The word reverberated through the room, bouncing off its walls as if it couldn’t settle.

Hollowed beats passed, like there was no heart to my pulse, only a dull ache. The walls seemed to come closer, compressing around me and stalling the breath in my chest. Fearing what may come next.

The ghost moved his gaze between Wesley and I. He fisted a hand in the palm of his other one, staring down at them momentarily. His dark hair was cut shorter than Wesley’s, but, as I looked between them both, the resemblance was astonishing. Identical.

The ghost’s lips moved slightly, finally sounding a word. A whisper. “Darling.”

I couldn’t look away from him; something behind those words, those eyes , just seemed so familiar. Not in a 'they looked exactly like Wesley way'; it was more than that.

What was it?

I tore myself from his unexplainable pull, turning to Wesley, who stared at me like my brains hung out of my ears. His face had paled, his pupils dark and wide. He turned to the chair, where I knew he would see nothing, before returning to me again.

If his lips hadn’t moved, I may not have heard him.

“Brother?” The word came from him softly, in a tone so somber I felt the syllables cling to my heart.

I turned back to the chair, to the ghost who moved his gaze to Wesley, watching him with curiosity.

I grabbed Wesley’s hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Identical,” I whispered, trying to get my head around this more for him than anything.

I knew Wesley had lost a brother when we were young in a tragic accident, but it still made sense why I saw his ghost at the same age Wesley was now.

At my boarding school, I learned that, until a spirit moved on from the void, their ghost form kept aging until they passed over when their life was naturally supposed to end.

Spirits could also appear as young children even when they were an old soul, the reason behind it simple: so as not to scare the living.

Wesley’s brother was choosing to show himself to me like this.

Wesley pulled his hand from mine so hastily I startled. “He’s dead.” His head shook vigorously, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “He died, ” he repeated, as if trying to convince me I was wrong.

I could not hide the sadness in my tone. “He did.”

I waited for my words to sink in. For Wesley to draw his own conclusion.

He stood, pacing the room, careful to not pass the chair. Shoving a hand through his hair, he suddenly stilled

“Are you saying my brother’s ghost has been haunting you? Is sitting in that chair right now?”

I nodded, weighing my next words. “Yes, he’s here, and no, he doesn’t haunt me as such. He… visits every so often.” Even that would be a loose term for it.

Wesley’s hands fell to his sides. “This is so messed up. How frequent? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

He forced a hand into the air between us. “What do you mean you don’ t know?” He glanced at the chair again before quickly looking away.

“He doesn’t speak,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm for both our sakes.

Wesley frowned. “If you don’t talk, what does he do?”

Embarrassment washed over me at the memory of this spirit’s last visit. Of the feeling of breath on my neck, the whisper I thought I’d heard. When I didn’t answer, an agonized sound left Wesley, his hands threading together behind his neck.

“Please tell me my twin’s ghost is not getting off on you.”

I felt my face flush and turned away, attempting to avoid Wesley’s heavy glare. I could not answer that and did not know what his brother’s spirit wanted from me. What I had felt, or thought I had felt on my neck, could have very well been a dream.

“It’s not like that. Not really.”

“Not really!” Wesley stared at me like I was insane, motioning toward the chair. “Maybe he’s the problem. Maybe the reason I can feel the mate bond and you can’t is him .”

Stunned into silence, I sat quietly, Wesley’s words making more sense the more I thought about them. Was it possible that Wesley’s brother thought I was his fated mate?

I bit my lip, letting that thought settle for a moment. Let it simmer as I mulled it over. If this was correct… It was almost too much to comprehend.

“I need to go,” he murmured, suddenly heading for the sliding door.

“No, wait!” Moving toward him, I planted my hand on his chest, the thump of his heart kneading my palm, an unruly beat.

“ Please .” He forced out the plea, a part of me scattering into a thousand pieces at the sound. Pain, devastation, bewilderment all bundled into one breath. I wanted to capture the word in my hand and caress it. Somehow make whatever this was right.

I felt his composure waning with every second and understood his need for time to digest this before we could figure out how to move forward from here.

“We will fix this,” I promised, and I raised to my toes, brushing my lips on his cheek.

Wesley held me captive in his stupor, his irises molding from pain to something more predatory in a single moment. His head turned to the chair once more before hurling his attention back to me, a newfound intensity imploding in his gaze before his mouth claimed mine in every sense of the word.

Demanding. Taking. Possessing .

I was weightless in his arms.

When he tore his lips from mine, his tone spoke of the demons in his head. “You’re mine,” he rasped, a gravelly, chilling sound as if he were trying to convince himself just as much as me.

His hands held the sides of my face as if feeding me his own assurance, like he would not stop until I was his.

When he finally let go, I felt his absence like one would the eye of a hurricane. A stone- cold quiet that sank into my chest, rendering me speechless and immobile.

I watched as he turned away, walking to the door, his footsteps heavy as if they held the weight of the world in their soles.

As he slid the door open, it rumbled like thunder clouds rolling into the uncomfortable silence between us.

He glanced behind him, capturing me in his spell once more, before clambering back over the balcony and disappearing into the night.

I exhaled deeply, my chest sinking. It heaved and sank again as I stared at the chair. Which now sat empty. My head spun, searching for Wesley’s brother, but he was gone.

I could not explain nor comprehend tonight’s events. Wesley had broken me, so damn sure he was my fated mate . His conviction in every word, every touch, every kiss…

I needed to not think about that kiss right now.

It alone had the means to completely and utterly break my heart if my instincts were anything to go by.

And if he was wrong? I wasn’t sure I could deal with that.

With him . If there was any truth to Wesley’s admission, how cruel it would be to create such a bond and mask it with such fragile indifference?

But I knew one thing to be true. If we were indeed fated mates, I wanted to feel it all. I needed to feel it all.

Torn between two worlds, my heart staggered, searching to make any sense of this. I could see the desire in Wesley’s eyes, the way his body reacted to mine, and the pain at not having me feel the same way. It was molded into every interaction of his.

There was no denying my attraction to him. Something deep inside yearned for his touch, searched for it, even. Something clawed at my insides, wanting to be freed.

But how to go about it? I wasn’t sure.

I flopped back into bed, my thoughts spinning. Twins .

I tugged the bedcovers under my chin, staring at the empty chair.

I believed we all got to live another life after death, and I could not let myself think that there was nothing more after this one.

That this was it. Death would not be the end for us, and that was something I held onto, even if I did not voice it out loud.

Sleep eventually tugged me into its hold, the wildest of dreams coming to me in vivid detail. Images of a living room where a fire burned brightly under a mahogany-trimmed mantle, an antique chandelier casting a dim light over the room. It felt strangely familiar.

At some stage of the night, I woke up. Every nerve on alert as a brush of air hit my neck.

The ghost?

I froze as pressure floated over my hip.

This had to stop. I had to get through to this spirit somehow. “Please don’t,” I whispered, and I realized Wesley had never mentioned his brother’s name. “Tell me your name. Let me help you.”

An all-too-familiar voice infiltrated my head. “It’s not him, Skip.”

Okay, now I was officially losing my mind.

Wesley?

He’s not here. This isn’t real. Wake up. Wake up now.

My body ignited at the sensation hovering over my skin. How could it feel so real?

It moved ever so softly, just like Wesley had done before his brother appeared.

A murmur filled my mind again. “You never told me what you wanted before we were rudely interrupted.”

Holy. Shit.

“How are you doing this?” I gasped, still not one hundred percent sure this was really happening.

“I’m a sensor mage, remember?” Three taps on my temple. “I’m in here, somewhere he will never be.”

“This isn’t real. Wake up, ” I whispered as the feeling moved over my hip.

“It is. Use your words, Skip. Tell me you understand what’s happening here,” he urged.

Oh my… “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I understand,” I breathed.

Hot air skimmed my neck before his voice sounded once more. “Want to see what a sensor mage can do to his mate?”

“ Yes, ” I managed again, barely audible.

“That’s my girl.”

I melted at his praise.

The feeling of knuckles grazed my hip bone before the tingle trailed up my side, curving to my front and landing on my breast. “Wesley.” The word came out a whine as flames lit inside of me at the sensation pressed around my nipple.

I moaned as warmth rushed between my thighs, and I clenched them tighter, trying to ease the needy craving between them.

The motion trailed lower, grazing soft circles over my stomach, my chest collecting quick breaths, releasing them just as fast.

I didn’t know if I should be angry at Wesley’s sudden intrusion of my subconscious, or grateful. But right now, the way he touched me, I was most definitely leaning toward the latter.

The feeling dipped lower until it stroked the insides of my thighs, teasing me until I had the manners of an untamed cat. I writhed under his touch, trying to maneuver it to where I ached for him most.

“So eager.” A light chuckle, and I was sure I felt a lick from the base of my neck to my ear.

Oh hell.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he ordered, stroking every inch of my thighs until I was a quivering mess.

“Please,” I begged. Whatever this was, I wanted more. So much more.

“Please what? Words, remember…”

I felt his smile against my ear. And even though I knew he was in my subconscious, that this was not real, I was not ready for this to stop.

“Please. Please touch me,” I moaned unabashedly.

At that moment, the brush of movement slid lower, covering the apex of my thighs. Cupping me.

He paused, leaving the pressure right where I wanted him. Giving me nothing more to release the aching need grappling my sex.

Suddenly I felt his smirk against my ear, a low chuckle. “Hold on to that thought, Skip.”

Then his presence was gone, leaving me with an unhinged frustration and sweaty brow.

Asshole.