Page 9 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Wesley

Everything about Skye was infectious. Her smile, her glare. Even the bite in her tone when she spoke to me. Thoughts of her consumed me constantly. I dissected every sentence she had ever spoken, every word.

Last night was a complete fuck up, kicking off from the moment she danced with that wolf. My stomach recoiled at the thought. Another man’s hands on her.

A predatory rumble moved throughout me, remembering the way his hand held her hip. I had turned in my seat, nearly losing control of my element at the sight of it.

Then I’d fucking touched her. And worse, without asking.

I of all people should know better. I never touched a woman without her consent, not since... I shook my head, ripping my thoughts from the dregs of my past that threatened to choke me. I wouldn’t let myself touch her like that again. No matter how much I wanted to.

I’d held it together the rest of the night. Even when the group went back to our house and we were all eyes all night long. Skye gave me fuck off eyes, for fuck’s sake eyes, and at one point, fuck me eyes. Anyone who didn’t believe in fuck me eyes hadn’t seen hers.

Never in my life had I imagined Ty’s sister would give me those eyes, and although I wanted to act on them, I knew it was the alcohol that she’d been loading herself up on all night causing them.

I refused to take advantage of it.

She didn’t know I’d snuck back into the living room after she had fallen asleep, watching her at her most peaceful. Because she undid me in ways she would never know.

When Ty barreled through the door from walking Morgan home, I froze, hoping like hell Skye didn’t wake. He hadn’t seen her crashed on the couch, and I’d cursed under my breath with relief.

The rest of my week had been uneventful. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. I hadn’t seen Skye since the night at Jinxed, and wasn’t sure if she was avoiding me, or if our paths simply hadn’t crossed. I needed to see her, to talk to her.

I needed answers.

Done with this game she was playing, I was desperate to make this right.

I didn’t know what I would say. Only that I needed to be near her, to speak with her alone. Somewhere without her brother.

It was hard enough trying to keep this thing between us a secret, let alone pretend it didn’t exist around him. I hated lying to Ty. I’d never lied to him in my life. There was no way I could tell him thoughts of Skye consumed my every thought, leaving me with a constant semi for his sister.

I let out a curse of frustration, and the sea air captured it, misting it into salt and sea spray.

On the far side of Cutters Cove, a crescent moon barely illuminated the rocks I currently sat on outside Skye’s house.

The ocean’s angry, high tide pounded against the cliff face, rushing at me and almost hitting my boots.

Picking up a stone, I palmed it, my thumb running over its smooth surface before launching it into the ocean.

A constant tug pulled me toward her. The need to be near her vibrated through my limbs.

I felt the mate bond like she was my other half. Already a part of me. I didn’t understand how she could deny it.

I stared at Skye’s house, which was dark with no hint of movement. Go figure. I checked the time on my wristwatch. 11 PM.

Her house faced the oceanfront, the darkened backdrop behind it casting shadows over its exterior. I’d walked there when sleep would not come, no matter how long I lay staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of her consumed me.

My magic reached out to feel her presence in the upstairs bedroom, where a sliding door led onto a balcony. Its timber railings wrapped around the exterior, thick beams suspending it in the air.

The back of my neck chilled, hairs rising as if being watched. A warning that maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I reached out again, my magic searching for anyone in the vicinity, but found nothing. I parked that feeling, letting it settle on my shoulder.

Clambering up the rocks, I carefully made my way back up to the street when another blast of cold chafed my neck. I lifted my hood up and over my head.

Silenced by grass, my footsteps moved closer with an unnatural stealth until her balcony loomed above me. I wasn’t one for stalking, but fuck there was a first for everything.

Was this stalking? I wasn’t sure. Did I have a plan? No.

I took a final glance over my shoulder and down the amber-lit streets, another press of my senses to check we were alone before staring at the house again.

A large sculpture sat close to a supporting beam connecting with the balcony outside her bedroom.

One hand on the beam, a foot on the sculpture, I lifted off the ground, just high enough to grab the balcony above.

Gripping the edge, my biceps burned as I chinned myself up and over, landing silently.

I pressed my palm to the glass separating us before curling it into a fist. Unease lingered in my stomach, threatening to spill its contents onto my boots.

My head dipped, dropping against my fist, my eyes sliding closed until all I saw was her face, those fiery orbs. I couldn’t back out now.

I tapped lightly against the glass so as not to frighten her, as if a knock on her window in the middle of the night wouldn’t cause concern.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. Stupid. I turned, about to leave, when the door slid open.

Sleep-filled irises stared warily back at me. She rubbed them as if to clear her vision. “Wesley?” The distance in her soft voice hinted I had roused her from a deep sleep. She stood in the doorway, her hair tousled in messy waves falling freely over her shoulders.

Breathtaking .

I wanted to run my fingers through it. My gaze dropped to her bare legs beneath a white oversized tee that barely covered her thighs.

For the love of…

I quickly looked away.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, brow furrowed.

I shook my head. “I didn’t…” My voice faltered as I tried to refocus. This was a bad idea.

Skye wrapped her arms around herself, brushing them to keep warm, the effect causing her chest to move with it.

Fuck my life.

A shiver moved over her. “You can’t just turn up here.

What is going on with you?” Confusion painted her heart-shaped face, and I knew I had screwed up.

I shouldn’t be here. But I was . Acting like a fucking hormonal teenager.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweats, she followed the movement, shuffling uncomfortably. Her cheeks bloomed with heat.

Was she blushing?

I blew out a slow breath, allowing me time to find words. The right ones.

“I know this is stupid. Really stupid. But can I come in? We really need to talk… alone.”

Hesitation pursed her lips as she considered my words. She chewed her bottom lip, and I ignored the urge to moisten my own.

“Fine,” she sighed with reluctance. But I didn’t miss the softness that also brushed her tone. That was new. I liked it.

She motioned me inside before settling on the edge of her bed. Crossing her legs, she pushed the front of her top between her thighs, inspecting me closely.

I scanned her bedroom like it could help me get to know her. Simple and tidy with a few drawers, the bed the biggest piece of furniture. I eyed an armchair pushed into one corner and opted to sit on it, seemingly the safer option if she was to hear me out.

I sank into its pale blue material covered with white doves.

My finger traced the outline of a bird in mid-flight on the armrest. “You like doves,” I stated.

Her throat bobbed. “Yeah.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why?”

She paused before answering, fiddling with her ring. “They symbolize love and peace. I figured the chair was less of a commitment than a tattoo.”

I wanted to understand her from the inside out, the little fragments of her life suddenly the most interesting of details. I studied her closely, feeling like I was speaking with a completely different Skye. “You want a dove tattooed on you?”

Her shoulders rose and dropped again.

When I didn’t speak, she continued. “I see spirits. The doves give me something to focus on when the nights get… loud.”

“As in ghosts?” I questioned.

A nod.

I was surprised she indulged me with an answer. This was the most genuine conversation we’d had since she returned. Everything until now had been sharp words. This was progress.

I cracked my knuckles, a bad habit I knew, but it helped contain my nerves. “That must be hard,” I offered.

She tucked her legs beneath her. “It has its moments.”

I softened my voice, needing to keep her in this state of okay at my unexpected intrusion. “Why did you leave?” I asked earnestly, leaving my heart on the table.

Her vision clouded, her head shaking as if she wanted to rid herself from the conversation.

“Skip, please,” I begged this time. I was owed an answer. I deserved it. My pulse pounded in my ears, not sure if I was ready to hear what she had to say. Because this woman had broken my heart. Smashed it into pieces.

Her silence stirred anger in the pit of my stomach.

She chewed her bottom lip again, twisted her ring.

I tried again. “You left. And when I needed you most, you never came back.” My eyes burned. Could she not see how much she had hurt me? How much her not being there had fucking broken me?

I lifted from the chair, unable to sit any longer. I couldn’t temper my blunt words. “You never came to his funeral.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t,” she whispered.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t come back.” I pointed a finger at my chest. “To be there for me .”

My breathing quickened as I held her captive in my blurred confusion, and when I could face her no longer, I paced the room, unable to think clearly. To understand. Trying to keep it together. I forced a hand through my hair.

Silence choked the room.