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“It’ll be fun.” The grin Roxie sported told me it would be more trouble than fun.
“I’ll pass.”
She scoffed and reached over to flick Hawk’s ear. “Tell your partner she has to come with us.”
Hawk’s velvety brown eyes danced under the setting sun. “It’ll be fun.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Roxie’s idea of fun meshes with mine.”
Those dimples made an appearance. “Come on, Strawberry Shortcake, don’t make me hang out with her crazy ass all by myself. I need my partner there.”
Drunk butterflies zoomed through my belly as that smile and those damn dimples tore apart my resolve. His fresh scent of soap and oranges didn’t help either. In fact, my knees weakened from the sensory overload.
“Fine,” I muttered. “And don’t call me Strawberry Shortcake. I’m not that short.”
Hawk slung his arm over my waist. “Yes, you are, but you also fit perfectly right here.”
I gave a dry laugh and pretended my body temperature hadn’t climbed a couple dozen degrees. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you save that for your next conquest?”
“Maybe I want to save it just for you.” He didn’t wink or laugh. Instead, he gave me a smile that stole the air from my lungs.
A jolt of electricity punched me in the gut and traveled between my legs as the wave of sexual heat flowed off Hawk—directed at me.
What the actual hell?
The rest of Coltrane’s speech was a blur, but as the male witch—who belonged to the most powerful coven in the witch realm of Illyria—stepped forward, the fog evaporated from my mind. Zane stood a few feet away to enchant us with inhuman strength, speed, and the ability to withstand most nightworlder glamours.
As he worked his way down the line of new inductees, casting his magic, my heart raced faster than a stray trying to evade animal control. I’d seen him or other Grove members perform The Calling incantation several times since living and training at Corvin Manor, but my instincts urged me to fight against the unnatural invasion of magic.
When Zane reached me, he dipped his finger into a copper bowl and drew a sigil on my forehead.
“Repeat after me,” he said, his voice as low and cool as an autumn breeze. “The moon claims the tides. The stars burn the sky. Betwixt the shadows and the light, an unkindness of ravens gather. To protect and defend. Never to strangle a life unjust. Only the harmful and toxic deserve the blade. That is my promise. So it is made.”
The symbol buzzed as I echoed his words, and he gave me a gentle smile before moving to Hawk.
Roxie leaned toward me. “He’s smokin’ hot. I’ll ride his witchy broomstick any day.”
I held back a shudder. “We really need to talk about raising your standards, Roxie. Stop drooling over every male you see.”
She snorted but continued to track the beautiful witch with golden hair and cocoa eyes. I could see the appeal—if he were human. As a nightworlder, I wouldn’t get near him.
Zane returned to the folding table set up for him and tossed a few more ingredients into the bowl. The plants within the courtyard shivered as magic simmered in the air. Something tangy and sweet danced into the atmosphere, prickling my scalp like static electricity.
“We bestow upon the chosen this power. Grant them strength, speed, healing, and let human sickness never devour. Warriors we make, true and sound. Earth, air, fire, water, and spirit give me your blessing. Do not stray. Do not unbound.” The witch grabbed a knife and sliced his palm, squeezing blood into the bowl.
“Double bubble toil and trouble,” Roxie murmured under her breath, earning a grin from Hawk.
Why did I think it was a good idea to be sandwiched between these two during something serious?
Zane’s irises, now glowing amethysts, swiveled in our direction. “Now make your sacrifice.”
I grabbed the dagger Coltrane had given me off my belt and cut my palm, wincing at the sharp sting. All twelve of us held our hands out and let droplets of blood puddle onto the pavers.
“Repeat after me.” The witch lifted his arms wide, and a churning magenta cloud rose from the bowl. “My blood is my boon. Take my gift and give it anew. Fill my veins with Nightworld fire. Break the human confines. I surrender to the mystic sire.”
As we recited Zane’s words, my veins simmered and the cloud swirled toward us, the magical wind whipping my ponytail. The blood we’d shed sizzled and floated into the air, joining the spell mixture. Tremors rippled through my muscles, and I had to concentrate to remain upright. Sweat beaded my skin while a metallic taste coated my mouth.
Magic.
