Disappointment sinks into my gut, a stone of unease whirling into a surge of nausea. The wind whistles against the balcony door, as if searching for a way in, and I shudder, trying not to think about the strange message left on my mirror or whoever left it.
I pull up my phone, typing in “how to spot a ghost”—
Thwap!
I jolt off my ass, dropping my phone onto the couch.What just slammed into the window? I should have gone out with Lark and Delilah when they’d offered.
Grabbing the phone from between the cushions, I clutch it tightly in my shaking palm, ready to use the emergency setting if some intruder is somehow magically chilling on the balcony. I turn on the flashlight and aim it out the door, making sure no one is standing in the small four-by-four space. Darkness engulfs everything aside from what’s lit by streetlamps and the moon. Unlocking the door, I slide it open, the wind helping me along instead of meeting me with the resistance I expect.
My arms wrap around myself for warmth. The evening chill nips at me, tousling my hair like a gentle lover, the air crisp with the scent of pine and nutmeg—the remnants of the holiday season carried on the breeze. I inhale it deeply, ignoring the cold’s bite. I used to love this, the beauty of winter. But now it’s something I try to ignore…knowing it also brings the anniversary of the accident.
I take a deep breath. Strangely, I’m comforted by the way the wind trails my skin, tiny goosebumps rippling along it. I pop my back and hip, enjoying the release of pressure on the joints, my exhales painting the dark sky in muted grays.
A glorious numb settles into me. I should head inside, but some pull, no matter how illogical, keeps me lingering.
After a few beats of silence, the wind whistles past me. I shiver as the trees rattle against the building. When I turn to slide open the glass door, spicy pine gusts into me, herding me the rest of the way inside.
My body is slammed by the warmth radiating within the apartment. My fingers are stiff and purple as I wiggle them before rubbing my frost-kissed nose. I glance once more outside the window, latch the lock, and listen to the brush of wind against the glass.
My mind swirls back to the mysterious message on my mirror…
And a crazy idea begins to form.
8
JAX
Ididn’t think Jolie could steal my breath away any more, but her brushing against me outside tonight knocked the wind from my lungs. Playing with her long, dark tresses, skating along her exposed skin, my magic’s starved for her as much as I am. For the first time since I felt that nagging thrum post-hibernation, I’m at ease. Satisfied.
I could sway with her for hours. For eras. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way she spins under my chilling spell.
Mytempest.
The word drawn across her chest fractures me, sinking deep between my ribs, giving it new meaning. Jolie’s a storm of motion threatening my very delicate ecosystem.
I want her all the more for it.
My willing yet unknowing partner. Can she sense our connection through the veil keeping us apart?
When her fingers turned blue, I ushered her inside as best I could. I must keep my mate safe, even if she doesn’t acknowledge that I’m here.
I follow her, keeping my distance as she moves quickly down the hall toward her roommate’s room. Has she seen mymessage? I’d left it hastily before arriving in Massachusetts, blowing my way down the East Coast, stopping just past Philadelphia, and then finally returning. Apparently, my extra visits haven’t gone unnoticed. Weather reports of extended cold fronts have finally caught up with me. Now we’ve been ordered to do extra duty up north and avoid this area.Oops.
Jolie heads past me, something wooden and rectangular clutched in her hands. She moves straight for her desk, setting the box on it and rifling through it.
I slip into the bathroom and find my words erased from the mirror. Had they even been there by the time she’d gotten back?Shit.It’s probably for the best, considering I’m not supposed to be interfering. Disappointment claws at me, nonetheless.
Jolie glances around the room over her shoulder. I freeze in place—no clue why since I know she can’t see me—but when I look back to where she is staring, it’s at the empty mirror.
She did see!
Hope drifts through the air like gossamer flurries, fragile and gone far too soon. I zip into the bedroom and over to the corner by the desk, careful not to blow any of the papers in her journal. Her eyes are back down on the rich mahogany board with fancy lettering.
“Eww-I-jah,” I sound out slowly, reading the single word carved at the top.Ouija.
Peering over her shoulder again, she rests her fingers on the curved triangle atop the board. Her hands quiver the tiniest bit. “Are you here?”
I take a closer look at the board. It’s nothing I’ve seen before, but that doesn’t stop the excitement that streaks through me.
