her ear. “Close your eyes and breathe. Feel the sun on your skin, and the way the wind lifts the fine hairs on your arms. Breathe and feel the expansion of your lungs. Feel the grass between your toes.”
“I know how to ground myself,” Ivy grumbled, hissing softly in reprimand when Uriah nipped at her throat.
“We're not grounding. Sometimes, shifters have trouble going from form to form. They're in their heads too much and forget about their bodies, just like you're too much in your head right now, expecting to fail.”
Uriah pulled her arms away from her chest, sweeping his hands up and down the center of her body, one spreading wide between her breasts, the other coming up to circle her throat. Just like he had before, he wasn't restricting her airway so much as letting her feel the way her pulse thumped against his palm.
“Now, focus and forget about your fancy spells and shit. It's just a weed. There's no ritual, no incantation, no potion or lunar calendar you need to make it grow.”
For a moment, Ivy thought about what Uriah said. At school, there were rituals, precise movements and pronunciations of incantations. So many details and complex formulas... so many ways to mess up and do the wrong thing.
Uriah treated her like a shifter instead of a witch, such simple instructions, no pressure. Determined to try, Ivy heaved a huge sigh, leaning back against Uriah, letting him take her weight.
She focused on the warmth of his skin on hers, on the throbbing veins in her neck pushing against his hand, his breath ruffling the hair above her ear.
“Picture the weed in your mind, not as it is, but as it could be.”
Ivy obeyed, struggling not to overreact or open her eyes when she felt the ground rise up beneath her feet, like a muscle flexing beneath the skin. With extreme effort, she held onto the picture of a huge weed growing.
Startled by Uriah's deep, growly hmmm of satisfaction, she scrunched up her nose and peeked out through one eye.
A thick patch of clover now covered the entire garden bed.
The screaming came next, as Ivy wiggled out of Uriah's embrace, triumphantly jumping up and down like a toddler on a sugar high. Uriah's laughter echoed her shrieks; he caught her in his strong arms when she launched herself at him.
“I did it!” she shouted in his face, trembling with a wild surge of adrenaline-fueled excitement.
“Hell yeah, you did,” Uriah praised, grinning from ear to ear, like he'd known all along she could. “That's the biggest fuckin’ weed I've ever seen.”
*****
Ivy still shook an hour later, her mind racing as she tried to figure out why she was just now able to access her magic. Was it Uriah's firm, gentle support and instructions? Was it simply a maturity thing? Maybe all the orgasms or the bear bonding stuff had juiced her up. It wasn’t like she’d tried using sex magic before, and she hadn’t gone to bed with Uriah intending to stock up, but maybe her body had done it for her.
Uriah had to go see about his job before the whole project fell apart, so he was taking her back to the coven house. Ivy couldn't wait to see the girls and show them what she could do now. But what if she couldn't do it without Uriah? What if her magic was somehow tied to their physical proximity?
“Hey.” He reached over and took her hand as he turned off the main road and headed up the driveway. “Why are you so nervous?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to pull over for a quickie. It couldn’t hurt, right? And then she’d know for sure if her new weed growing abilities were tied to sex.
“What if I can't do it without you?”
Uriah smiled and gave a manly chuff of laughter before lifting her hand up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Honey, even if I'm not right there beside you, I'm with you. I already told you, magic or no magic, it doesn't change a thing. You're still mine.”
She felt his words imprint themselves on her bones, and by the time Uriah pulled up in front of the house, all five of her best friends waited on the porch, grinning salaciously.
“Oh, hell,” Ivy muttered, remembering having participated in watching Juliet roll up with her last lover after having spent the weekend with him. Watching, cackling, and making all kinds of lovingly lewd comments