Page 27 of Untraced Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #1)

Tyler

I hadn’t slept, too content with watching Morgan in my arms dozing peacefully. Her hair smelled of coconut and vanilla as it rested on my shoulder, a leg draped between mine as I drew lazy circles over her luscious skin.

Sex with her was unreal. Period.

She’d sent me to places so far beyond my realm of awareness, I now knew for sure she was my mate. The one person chosen for me, destined to be together.

Tied for life by a bond so strong it could only be severed in death.

I’d never believed in fate before. The whole everything happens for a reason thing? I’d called bullshit.

Until now. Now, fate had completely flipped me on my ass and given me the middle finger, my own goddess, and she was truly one of a kind.

Morgan murmured in her sleep, burying her hands under her pillow as she rolled onto her stomach. I drank in her nakedness, visible under the crisp sheet. I couldn’t help thinking how lucky I was to finally get to hold her in my arms like this .

I’d had my doubts when she’d asked me about covens, that the possibility of her not being part of ours was almost a given. But would fate really pair me with someone from another coven? I hadn’t heard of it before; it was something I needed to look into further.

I had a more pressing issue to sort out. Namely, how was I supposed to describe to her what a mate was? I could only imagine her face as I tried to explain it to her.

‘So, I know we just met, but we’re fated mates. Bonded, for life.’ Yeah, good luck with that.

My mind went through the various ways I could tell her until I finally drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, I woke to silence, reaching for Morgan’s side of the bed only to find it empty. Sitting up, I gave a small laugh at the mass of clothes spread on the floor from last night.

I located my boxers and jeans before pulling them on, sleepily making my way from the bedroom and into the hallway. I faltered at the mass of books blanketing the floor and what looked like a bookcase pulled from the wall.

Was that a… door? Having never noticed it before, I moved toward it, stepping between the books scattered over the floor in small piles.

Leaning on the doorframe, I watched with intrigue as Morgan sat at an easel, paintbrush in hand. Opened boxes lay on the ground, surrounded by paints, brushes, palettes, and pieces of art. I remained still, scanning the room, trying to understand why she’d hidden this until now .

I pushed a hand up my face and into my hair, drinking in the silky gown she wore that covered her to mid-thigh. A naked leg was casually tucked underneath her as she focused on the canvas before her, a rough bun piled high on her head, exposing her neck as she tilted her head to the side.

Goddamn, she was a sight.

I snuck up behind her and slid my hands around her waist, nuzzling her neck.

“Tyler!” she gasped. “You scared me.”

She turned to face me, clutching her chest, and I lowered myself to my knees beside her, pulling her in for a kiss that lingered longer than intended.

Morgan laughed nervously like I’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t. “You’re distracting me.”

I grinned. “I can see that.” My head turned to the painting on the easel that looked like it should be in a gallery. “I didn’t know you liked to paint.”

Her eyes found mine, then dropped to the floor, her hand running the length of her necklace. Turning her attention back to the canvas, her brush delicately dabbed at it, and I watched in comfortable silence. Her brush moved like it was part of her, and still I waited.

Whatever was going on here, she needed to tell me when she was ready. On her own terms. A hallway full of books, a hidden room, pieces of art tucked away from sight. It didn’t make sense.

The brush stilled in her hand before she dropped it to her side .

She inhaled in a deep breath. “I was close to both my adoptive parents. But my father and I had special bond… we both shared a love of art. He taught me to paint. It was our thing.”

I let her continue.

“Ever since the accident, I couldn’t bring myself to paint anymore.”

“Why not?” I asked.

Silence.

A long breath.

“My connection with my parents and art was too raw; it dragged up memories I couldn’t bring myself to face without falling apart.”

My heart caught in my throat. It pained me to hear the words come from her. To hear the anguish in her voice.

Death speared our hearts. Ripped them open.

Left shadows of ourselves to put back together its scattered pieces.

My hand rested on the small of her back.

“You’re a natural,” I said, admiring her work. “Why today? After so long?”

She turned, studying me as if I were one of her paintings. Her irises a bronze against the daylight spilling through the room.

“It just felt… right.” Morgan shrugged.

A knowing look moved between us. I could feel it. She could feel it. Last night, walls had come down, emotions stripped back. Raw and unguarded.

It was then I knew.

I loved Morgan.

I was in love with her .

I pulled her lips to mine, kissing her softly, hers responding with the same intimacy.

“I enjoy watching you paint. You go into a whole other world.”

She smiled, and I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Maybe I should teach you someday,” she mused.

I chuckled. “Think I’ll keep my hands busy with things I know best.”

“And what’s that?” she countered playfully.

“Cars,” I said, drawing her lips to mine. “And you,” I added, kissing her again.

I could have her right here, riding me on this stool in a heartbeat, but I decided against it. She was in her element, and I wanted to let her get lost in it.

I pulled away, sliding a thumb over her bottom lip. “Are we still on for a lesson in self-defense today?” I asked.

She arched a brow. “If you say so. What if I kick your ass? I could be a ninja for all you know,” she teased.

I pinched her shoulder playfully, and she yelped.

“I’m serious. It’s not just about defense, it’s about reading your opponent and trying to gauge their next move. Besides…” I said, conjuring up a cheeky look, “I want to see you in yoga pants.”

She thumped me in the arm with a grin.

I feigned hurt. “What?” I looked at her innocently, and she laughed. Who was I to turn down the chance at some compromising positions with tights like that involved?

After leaving Morgan in peace, I made us breakfast and took two fresh mugs of coffee outside, sitting on the side of the deck .

Morgan came out to join me, dressed in a long-sleeved black top and… I gulped my mouthful of coffee down faster than intended and coughed. I wanted nothing more than to take her ass in my hands at the sight of it in those tight leggings.

She gave me a funny look as she took a seat, and I composed myself, hiding a grin behind my coffee mug.

“So, how are you feeling today?” I asked carefully, avoiding the obvious.

“You mean after I found out my whole world is about to change and the fact I’m expected to be at a dance full of werewolves the day after my magic emerges? Just peachy.”

I gave her a sympathetic look. “I mean after catching up with Betty.”

Morgan smiled, creases appearing in the corners of her eyes. “Well… I don’t really have a say in the whole thing and figure I just need to take it as it comes.”

My hand cupped her knee. “I think you’re handling it really well.”

After finishing our coffee and breakfast, I jumped to my feet.

“Let’s do this,” I said, taking her hands and helping her up, a little too eagerly so she rested against me.

A half huff, half giggle came from her. “This isn’t self-defense,” she protested, pretending not to look impressed. I wrapped my arms playfully around her waist.

“First rule: Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

She laughed halfheartedly. “Seriously?”

“In all seriousness, yes.” I released her, and she planted her hands on her hips. “Obviously, that’s not always possible, or the safe option. But knowing who your enemies are, and both their strengths and weaknesses, gives you the upper hand in any situation.”

She nodded. “Right.”

“Now, let’s go. I spoke to Colt yesterday, and he’s keen to help me teach you. He’s expecting us at his place in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a mock salute.

I shook my head with a slight smile. She didn’t seem to be as worried about everything as I was. Or maybe she just hid it well. For days, a tension had been building within me, my shoulders a constant ache and jaw tight as fuck.

I pulled the van out of the driveway in the direction of Colt’s converted warehouse. He lived on the opposite side of the cove from Skye, the eerily calm side.

Sheltered by the decayed trees that even after death refused to bow to the pull of nature, they stood bare in the water, almost protecting the town in a way, and no one dared go beyond them.

There were tales of deadly fae who lived beyond the tree line where a wall of magic supposedly kept them from entering the human realm.

I’d never encountered one, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the tales were true. Nothing was out of the question where the supernatural was concerned.

“What is this place?” Morgan asked beside me as I steered the van into the driveway of Colt’s warehouse.

Its iron-clad walls made it look like some sort of workshop, but I knew the disguise well.

With Reid’s help, Colt had made the place his own, and for his own reasons .

“Welcome to the world of Colt.” I gave her a sidelong look. “He’s a private guy and likes to keep his business to himself. Just remember, he’s an earth mage,” I said quietly.

Curiosity quirked her lips as she scanned the building, nodding at my comment. After parking, I led her up the gravel driveway.

Pushing the door open, I let her in before me.

“Wow!” she gasped, looking to the ceiling where daylight spilled into every crack of the room from the sky above. “There’s no roof!”

My hand found the small of her back. “There is… You just can’t see it.”

“This is insane…” she gushed in awe at the greenery everywhere .