I should be grossed out by this. Like, completely. But I’m not. Insanely enough, a traitorous pressure builds between my legs, and a deep throb of want pulses.
Pretty sure my panties aren’t dry anymore.
Our gazes remain glued to one another, and my throat shrivels as his hands sear fiery imprints straight through my coat and onto my arms.
All the oxygen in the world has been sucked from the earth, and in that split second it’s only me and…Mr. Arrogant.
Who just told me to clean up my puke.
“Let me go,” I stammer.
His fingers tighten around my arms like he wants to lay claim to me, as if I belong to him and no one else. Panic should be clawing up my throat, but all I feel is a surprising calmness as if this moment, being with him, isright.
But obviously I know it’s so, so wrong.
The wizard closes his eyes and inhales deeply as if drinking in my scent before he pushes me up gently. My limbs are still wobbly, and my arms pinwheel as I struggle to gain my balance—and at this rate, my crumbling dignity.
Luckily I manage to catch myself before falling flat on my face.
I spin around and yank up my dress to cover my breasts, snapping my head to meet his gaze. He looks a second away from scorching the flesh off my bones, which is how I feel about him, even if my body feels otherwise.
What’s wrong with me? My heart’s shattered thanks to Edward. The breakup has clearly devastated me beyond the breaking point, since I’m fantasizing about some sadist who happens to look like Henry Cavill,Witcherscowl included.
I manage to squeak out, “Goodbye.”
With that I march off, this time prepared for the equilibrium shift and compensating my body for it. I rub my arms as I walk away, the heat of his hands still warming my flesh.
I exhale a shaky breath and take in my hometown—Castleview. It’s a quaint English-style village nestled in the rolling hills of Central, going on Eastern, Tennessee.
A wet cobblestone path stretches out before me. The air smells heavily of rain, but that hasn’t stopped people from being outside.
A smattering of iron tables and chairs circle a fountain of a mermaid holding a starfish. A group of teen boys claims one of the tables, and one by one, they shift for each other, showing off how quickly they can transform from werewolf to their human form and back again.
At another table sits a group of teenage girls—witches by the way they’re tossing up orbs of light and jabbing them with their fingernails so that they pop open. Rainbow-colored candy falls like rain into the girls’ open mouths.
One girl, still chewing, whispers to another. They giggle and nod, sending an orb bobbing toward the shifters, where it opens over their heads, dropping candy on the unsuspecting boys.
Shock quickly turns to laughter as they glance over at thegirls. One of the boys nods to the others and shuffles over. The girls turn shining faces toward him, offering an invitation to join them. Within seconds the other boys follow, and young love blossoms.
I almost puke again.
To stop myself from thinking about love and my grandmother, I turn my attention to the castle on the hill—the centerpiece of our town. It looms dark and ominous in the distance, the iron spires so tall they could touch clouds.
From what my mother’s told me, the castle was originally constructed as a movie set. After the production company was finished with it, the building sold and was snatched up by the tech billionaire Aaron Strickland. He’s the one who created the village of Castleview years and years ago.
Unfortunately, Aaron didn’t live in the castle long before he sold it. Rumor was, he was being hunted by a monster in his own home. I don’t know the truth. What I do know is that after he left, other people moved in. But they eventually left too. The place was empty for years until it was recently acquired by the fae.
It belongs to them now, and as far as I know they keep toit, and we keep to the village.
On my walk I pass shops that flank both sides of the street. Witch lights burn outside each door, turning blue when someone approaches, signifying to whoever’s inside that a customer’s about to enter.
I pass Castleview Tailor and spot Daisy, a rambunctious blonde who’s currently unraveling a bolt of silk brocade, displaying it to a man who smiles and reveals sharp fangs. Vampire.
I stop two doors down, the witch lights flaring blue. My breath stops and I step away from the glass, hoping my presence wasn’t noticed.
My heart races, and when it finally quiets, I venture a stepcloser and peer through the leaded glass windows. My family’s store, Castleview Books, or the Bookshop of Magic, as it’s fondly referred to, houses just about any and every book imaginable. Theresa, one of my mother’s employees and her friend, talks to a man and woman. Theresa’s long purple dress brushes the stone floor as she takes a book from a shelf and places it atop a lectern, where she opens it. She says something to the couple, and they look at each other, smiling.
Theresa gives a nod. She taps the book, and the couple are gone—they’re now inside the story, living it out Jumanji style, only without the Kevin Hart snark.
