100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,58

Nero freed himself, the icy fire racing under every inch of her skin begged for him to stay. Thankfully, he pulled her close to him and wrapped her in an embrace that sheltered her from the world. Had they been lying naked to the elements, the storm wouldn’t have been able to touch her in his arms.

Tiffany watched the flames dance as she felt that breathtaking hardness soften against her. Her breath swelled her lungs in great gulps, only to be matched by his in perfect rhythm. Even their lungs had synchronized in the grip of their passion.

He poured his voice into her ear, and the honeyed heat of it almost eliminated the need for words. As if there was anything to say that hadn’t already been stated in plain fact by the flawless tangle of their bodies.

The words were as light and ephemeral as the fire in the grate, and she giggled and cooed as she pressed back into him. Nero’s fingers absentmindedly played with her nipple, sending dizzying waves of pleasure coursing through her as they came down from the intensity of what they had just shared.

Don’t ask questions, she told herself in the quiet of their afterglow. Just enjoy it.

The rain had subsided, and a lonesome groan rose above the wind. It sent a shiver across her flesh, and Tiffany cuddled even closer to Nero in hopes of stamping it out.

But it lifted again, deeper, fuller, and more sonorous than before—like a chorus of voices had joined together in a droning wail of sorrow. It was so unsettling, she sat bolt upright, clutching Nero’s hand.

“What is it?” he asked in the lazy, satisfied voice of one who’s just made love.

“That,” she said as the mournful noise redoubled. “What is that?”

“Oh, that,” he said, smiling as he rolled onto his back, pulling her into the crook of his arm. “Just the woods earning their name.”

“Earning their name?” She shook her head and looked down at him, admiring how half of his face danced in the glow of the fire and the other was cast in shadow.

“Mmm-hmm. The Weeping Woods. A tree must have fallen in the storm. It happens when the weather really picks up. Or in the fall when things have begun to turn, and the old trees give up their hold.”

“Wait. The trees actually grieve?”

“Can’t you hear it?” Nero lifted a hand, pointing loosely into the air as a fresh chorus cut through the mist. “It must have been an old one tonight. Someone beloved. I’ll have to go look tomorrow.”

“I’m, um… It’s just…” Words failed. The idea of trees registering the loss of one of their own had never occurred to her, though as a witch, she knew better than most the magical qualities of nature. Given how old the woods were, the depth of those ties must have been unfathomable. It was humbling.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He wasn’t pressing. Merely offering an invitation for her to explore all she felt and give it shape.

“It’s beautiful.” That was close enough. Because it was true, but the word only faintly touched what it really meant. Her heart ached for the trees, and as their song wafted over them, the melancholy only pierced her more.

“You think that’s beautiful?” His voice held a cryptic, solicitous tone, and he reached up to place his hand on the flat of her chest, just above her heart. Those broad fingers warmed her sternum, sending goosebumps over the gentle swell of her petite breasts. She had never truly felt self-conscious about being a small-busted woman, but under his gaze, she felt incandescent.

Reaching up, she placed her hand over his and pressed his palm into her skin. Willing her heart to beat all she was feeling into him.

Another cry from outside crept through every crevice in the cabin. It very nearly brought tears to her eyes, and she closed them to lean back and soak it all in. The sound, the warmth of his hand, and the improbable perfection of all that had happened since she stepped over the threshold.

Tiffany had never considered herself an outdoorsy girl. Far from it, actually. The closest she had come to nature was darting through the Othercross University gardens when she was late for class and taking a shortcut. Maybe picking the odd herb to grind into an elixir of some kind.

That was it.

But Nero was showing her a whole new way of being. Cracking her eyes open again, she let them wander over the rough-hewn