Spells A Bayou Magic Novel - Kristen Proby Page 0,33
and my gut clenches. “I was enjoying our time together, apart from the crazy.”
“I know.” I walk to her and wrap my arms around her, hugging her close. “I was, too. But we’ll have more moments.”
“I’d better get dressed.” She doesn’t move out of my arms. “I wish I’d thought ahead and packed an overnight bag.”
“That’s something we should talk about,” I begin and pull away so I can look into her face. “This is escalating, there’s no doubt about it.”
“A hand yesterday, a foot today.” She cringes and nods. “Yeah, it’s escalating.”
“I’d like you to stay with me.”
She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, one of us should move in with the other. I don’t want you alone, Millicent. I can’t protect you from across town the way I can when we’re together.”
She bites her lip, thinking it over. “I don’t disagree. I mean, this is some creepy shit, Lucien.”
“No argument.”
“I guess you can come stay with me until this is all over.”
My hands tighten on her shoulders, and then I let her go. “I’d rather say this is a permanent situation, but if that makes you feel better, that’s fine with me. For now.”
She frowns. “Wow, we’re moving fast,” she mutters.
“I’ve never moved so slowly with you in all of my lives,” I reply calmly. “But this is another time, another place, and I’ll go at whatever pace you want, as long as you understand that you’re mine, a stór mo chroí.”
She tilts her head to the side. “I’ve known that I’m yours, and you’re mine, for a very long time, Lucien. That’s not being debated here.”
“Good. Now, I need to examine this foot and the bloodstone on it before Cash comes and takes it away.”
“Oh, I gotta see this.”
“You’re going to need clothes first. I don’t need Cash walking up and seeing you dressed like that.”
Her lips twitch. “Like what?”
“Like sex on a fucking platter.”
“Oh good, this outfit worked, then.” With that, she sashays back to the bedroom to get dressed.
I shake my head and turn back to the open door. The foot hasn’t moved. Not that I expected it to. I crouch down and take a closer look.
The bloodstone is once again coated in blood, and I suspect that it’s different from that of the foot. The skin on the appendage looks as if it’s been burned.
“Why is it black?” Millie asks. I heard her approach from behind. She’s leaning over my shoulder. “Like it’s been burned.”
“I was just thinking that,” I murmur. “It looks like little squiggly lines.”
“No, that’s not it.” She gets closer and suddenly reaches out a hand for the bloodstone.
“Stop.” I take her hand in mine. “You can’t touch it, Mill. It has a spell on it. It’ll shock you again.”
“It’s the weirdest thing,” she says, shaking her head. “It puts me in some kind of trance. I want to reach for it.”
Fascinating. I’ll have to do some research on that.
“Keep your gorgeous hands to yourself.” I kiss her knuckles and then focus back on the foot. “I wonder if that’s supposed to be words.”
She bends closer and then gasps. “It’s the number six, Lucien. Over and over again. You know, like off an old-fashioned typewriter.”
I look closer and see that she’s right. “He branded it with the head of a type bar. The number six from a vintage typewriter.”
She nods and sits back on her haunches. “That had to hurt.”
“Probably not as badly as having the whole foot cut off,” I reply just as Cash walks around the side of my house.
“Please tell me neither of you touched it.”
“Ew, no,” Millie says. “You know me better than that, brother-in-law.”
“At least this time you aren’t unconscious.” Cash looks down at the foot. “Christ Jesus.”
“So, Lucien found a foot,” Millie says, gesturing dramatically. “As you can see.”
“Are you always a smartass in the morning?” Cash asks.
“Yes,” we both say at once. Millie raises a brow at me, and I just shrug.
“Tell the ME to pay extra attention to the brandings on the skin,” I suggest to Cash.
“Brandings?” he asks and takes a closer look. “Fuck, it’s tiny sixes all over.”
“That’s what I see.”
“What else do you see?” he asks. Cash is married to Brielle and has been a part of this since the beginning when Horace started making himself known to Brielle last year. I know I can be brutally honest with the other man about what I see, either with my eyes, or my mind.
“Not enough,” I reply in frustration.