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Witchy Sour(52)

By:Gina LaManna


I hesitated. “I don’t want to put him at risk. That Thomas guy sounded like he meant business. As for Harpin, he’s his own force to be reckoned with.”

“Don’t you think he owes you some explanation if you’re going to be involved?”

“When you put it like that...”

“I’m not swaying your opinions either way. You heard what you heard, and you saw what you saw. You have a missing spellbook that was stolen by an impossibly adept thief, and you witnessed a meeting of strangers where one of those men, a man you care about, was supposed to be somewhere else. I’ll leave it up to you how to proceed.”

“What could they be working on?” The answer felt just out of reach, hovering around the edges of my consciousness and begging for me to name it. “I feel like I should know this, but it’s just not coming to me.”

“Then forget about it for tonight. Gus is gone for now, the rest of The Isle will soon be asleep, and you need your rest. You’ll have another day tomorrow at the bungalow and plenty of time to think about it then. Best to do it with a clear head.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I said slowly.

“More importantly, I don’t want to end this non-date on a sour note. Can we enjoy the last five minutes of our stroll?”

I smiled. “I’d like that.”

True to form, the next five minutes passed too quickly and too easily. They were such happy minutes I didn’t want them to end. Ranger X had pointed out the various sea shells on the shore, describing their names, their patterns, and how they were formed. When we reached the beach in front of the bungalow, we stopped.

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. “I found this at the very start, but I wanted to save it for last.”

“Best for last?”

He nodded, and then opened his palm. I leaned in, gasping at the sight of a beautiful pebble.

“That is the most incredible color I have ever seen. May I touch it?”

“It’s yours.”

I reached for the stone as reverently as if it’d fallen from the sky itself. Blue on the outside, swirls of silver danced through the middle, illuminating the rock from the inside out. A fuzzy, golden halo circled the outer rim, reflecting off a blue so pure it looked like bits of another world had been gathered and packaged in a bundle full of air. “What is it called?”

“Angel’s Breath,” Ranger X said. “These pebbles are known for their luck. Carry it in your pocket for when you need it the most.”

“Does it work?”

“They say each time a soul enters the afterlife they are given one pebble to leave behind on earth. Whenever a person wishes on the stone, it’s that soul’s duty to determine if their intentions are pure. If the answer is yes, your wish will be granted, the stone will lose its glow, and their spirit is able to move on.”

“That is an incredible story,” I said, turning the rock from one palm to the next, the smooth outside feeling like a mixture of satin and glass. “But you didn’t answer my question. Does it work?”

“You’ll have to find out.”

I slipped it into my pocket. “Shall I test it now?”

“Save it for when you need it most,” Ranger X said. “Right now, you don’t need luck. But I would like one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“A non-kiss.”

“But—”

“This is a non-date, and a non-kiss. It’s only fair,” Ranger X said. “I have manners, and I won’t bring it up again, I promise.”

My head told me to say no, but my heart, my body, and my soul all said yes. Three against one were tough odds, and this time, my head lost the battle. “Make it good.”

Curling me into his arms, Ranger X’s lips met mine in a furious tangle of heat. The heady taste of wine mixed with the fresh sea salt. As his tongue slipped between my lips, all thoughts disappeared. No worries lingered and no fears surfaced. It was just the two of us, his strong hands twisted between my locks, pulling the hair tight against my scalp as he trailed his lips down to my neck. I shivered, my own arms snaking around his neck and just holding on, absorbing the moment until he pulled back, his dark eyes swirling with desire.

“That was some non-kiss,” I said. “Wow.”

“I would like to non-kiss you again,” he said. “A lot.”

“We might as well get it out of our systems, right?” The irony was not lost on me—he’d said that exact phrase just weeks before. Apparently, we weren’t out of each other’s systems yet. “What do you say?”

“One more can’t hurt.”