Winter Fire (Witchling Series) (20 page)

 “He’s a character,” Adam agreed, chuckling.

Morgan glanced back over her shoulder. Beck was watching her, the smile on his face once again warm. She rolled her eyes at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Young love.

The words made her whole body tingle and fluttery. It wasn’t possible that he was serious. Nothing he did seemed very serious.

Adam managed to find them seats with a few other kids from the school, towards the back of the ballroom. Morgan sat down, content to watch. The Turners and Summer sat at a table near the front of the ballroom, near a dais, where speakers began talking about the importance of preserving the environment, just as dinner was served.

Morgan listened, her eyes on Beck as much as they were on the speakers. He was a natural dealing with people and his family, a sentiment she wished she shared. His striking profile – the chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw and full lips – made her heart quicken every time she sneaked a look at him. Having his hands on her body when they wrestled was insanely distracting. She almost missed a few blocks because of it, and the thought of him kissing her …

Halfway through dessert, she began overheating. Her fire magick was antsy anyway at being confined with so many people. It yearned for the calming warmth of earth magick, and her thoughts about Beck did nothing to quiet it.

“You’re glowing,” Adam whispered to her.

Morgan glanced at him then down at her arms. Fire outlined her body. She was grateful there were no other fire witchlings around; this happened when she was turned on. It was humiliating. Connor knew when she was watching a movie with her favorite movie stars. The magick responded to her emotions more than it did to her commands.

“It’s a little warm in here,” she said, hoping he didn’t know better. “Think I’ll get some air.”

“Want me to go?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nodded. Morgan stood and quietly exited the ballroom. When she was in the foyer, she realized just how stuffy it had been in there. One of the massive front doors leading into the lobby was open, and she walked through it and into the night.

A small gazebo off to one side overlooked the lake nearby. She shivered in the cold air and watched her breath drift upwards towards a cloudless sky. Crossing to the gazebo, she leaned against the railing. A couple of lights reflected off the lake’s surface; it was otherwise dark.

Sighing, Morgan propped up her chin with one hand. Her magick was settling, no longer confined in the ballroom.

“I meant to tell you,” Beck’s quiet voice jarred her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“What do you want?” she asked without turning.

“You always glow brighter when I’m around,” he observed, amused. “Either you want to torch me or …”

“Right now? Torch.”

He joined her at the railing. “Can I ask why?”

She really was glowing. Morgan cursed her magick, then the night. During daylight, it was too faint to see.

“Why did you set me up with Adam tonight?” she returned.

“Get you out of the dorms.”

Morgan faced him, leaning her hip against the side.

Beck mimicked her position.

“Okay,” he relented. “Maybe it was my way of trying to protect you. If you’re here with me, then you’re not in danger from Dawn’s lackeys.”

“I’m not here with you.”

“Look, Morgan –“

This was it. The moment when he rejected her. Thanks but no thanks. You’re sweet, but … Why did it make her want to cry?

Morgan started away, not wanting to hear what his lame excuse would be.

“Woah, wait,” Beck said and caught her arm. “Can we talk without you getting pissed?”

She flung her head back and sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Alright, that’s it,” he said, a note of anger in his tone. “You wanna stop being so bitchy towards me? I’m doing what I think is right.”

“Bitchy?” she asked archly, facing him. “One minute you’re kissing me and the next, you’re eyeballing some blonde.”

“We both agreed to walk away.”

“I know. You’re making it hard,” she said.

“Morgan, I’m trying to protect you.”

“Beck, I don’t want or need you to protect me. You know what I want?”

Beck studied her quietly for a moment. Suddenly, he laughed.

“Yeah,” he said. “For the first time in my life, I get it.”

“Get what?” She planted a hand on her hip.

“You want me to make up my mind.”

“Hmmmmm.”

“But you’re afraid of what I decide, either way,” he continued. “So you being bitchy to me sometimes and sweet to me at others is just as much about you being scared as it is me trying to walk away.”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open.

“Slam dunked that round,” he said, grinning. “Come on.”

He walked out of the gazebo.

Morgan stared after him, unable to digest what just happened. Or why he was happy and leaving, when he hadn’t done or said anything she wanted him to.

He stopped a few feet away and beckoned to her again.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” she said, perplexed. She went to him and stopped a few feet away.

“I want to show you something.”

Morgan looked around. The lake, the lodge, the gazebo. There wasn’t much else to see. Beck leaned forward and took one of her hands, pulling her closer. Unconvinced, she went.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed her. Fog pooled at his feet.

She hesitated, but did as he asked. A mist swept over her, making her shiver. Suddenly, the quietness of the lake turned into the sounds of a drum and singing. Morgan’s eyes flew open, and she stared. The cloud cleared.

A short distance away, through the trees, she saw several large bonfires surrounded by groups of people. Some wore authentic Native American clothing while others were in jeans while still others combined the traditional and modern styles of dress: flowing buckskin skirts with sweatshirts or vests over sweaters.

Half a dozen men and women were dancing while others huddled in small groups, talking and laughing. She smelled some sort of meat cooking and spotted a long table at one end of the clearing. The heated buffet trays on top of it were connected to a generator.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“My cousin’s wedding. They’re having a church ceremony this weekend. Tonight is the traditional ceremony,” Beck explained. “My father is full-blooded, so we were raised with the religion and traditions of his tribe.”

“Wow,” she murmured. “What made you want to bring me here?”

Beck faced her, and she gazed up at him, too aware of his size and nearness once more. He didn’t try to touch her or move closer.

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve never brought anyone to meet my extended family or to see the other half of my life.”

Morgan’s breath caught. The warmth and intensity were back. He was sharing something with her that he’d never shared with any of his blonde girls.

“I don’t want to walk away from you. You want me to make up my mind. I just did,” he continued. “Now, it’s your turn.”

He winked and spun, leaving her with her jaw on the ground and her mind roaring. He had just thrown down the gauntlet. Suddenly, she wanted to beg him to take it back, to let them return to their strange tug-of-war.

Because he was right; she was terrified. He liked her enough to bring her here. It was what she feared more than falling for him, that he might fall for her. That somehow, when she ran away, she’d leave behind a mess.

The earth memories showed her just how good of a person he was. He didn’t deserve someone like her.

 At the same time, she ached to know what it would be like to have all his warmth, gentle humor and goodness to herself. To know someone like him was not only interested, but wanted to be with someone as flawed as she was.

Morgan’s gaze followed him as he entered the small clearing. He was greeted cheerfully and immediately went to the circle with elderly women to hug them all. Smiling and happy, Beck made his rounds.

Morgan approached and lingered at the edge of the clearing. Her mother’s Italian family had some strong customs they weren’t shy about ensuring newcomers knew about. She didn’t want to make a wrong move or say something she shouldn’t.

“Tree me!” one of the kids shouted at Beck.

Another echoed, and they surrounded him. Beck picked up a little girl then turned to the others. The earth sank beneath them, swallowing them to mid-calf. The children squealed in delight and spread out their arms, swaying in place to mimic trees.

Morgan smiled. The idea of sinking into the earth – of being confined at all – scared her, but the kids loved it.

“The fun part is watching them dig themselves out,” a male voice said near her.

She glanced over to see a middle-aged man with long, dark hair clasped at his neck and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. His eyes were warm, his features familiar.

“I’m Beck’s uncle Ben,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Morgan,” she replied and shook. “I’m his … ah … friend.”

He smiled. “You guys came from the fundraiser?”

She nodded.

“Every year, Michael tries to talk me into going. Every year, I tell him no.”

“You’re not missing much,” she agreed.

“Come sit down with us.”

She followed him to one of the fires, where he sat with a couple of women his age and a few kids.

“Everyone, this is Morgan, Beck’s girl,” Ben said.

Morgan almost gasped. The people around the fire looked at her curiously but moved to make room for her to sit on one of the logs.

Beck had stripped off his jacket and tie and was dancing with the little girl in his arms. Morgan watched him for a moment. His disarming charm worked on people of all ages. They sensed how good of a person he was.

“My daughter Linda and Tony over there are getting married this weekend,” Ben told her, pointing to a young couple a few years older than she was whispering and snuggling with each other by their own small fire in the center of the clearing. “Poor fools.”

The woman beside him slapped him on the arm with a stern look. Morgan laughed.

“Are you a witchling?” one of the teen girls asked her curiously. “Like our cousins?”

“Yes,” Morgan answered. She stretched forward to the fire and reached into it. The others gasped. She loved the shock value of her magick. She retrieved a flame and sat back on her seat. “Fire.”

“Like Decker!” one of the girls exclaimed.

Morgan nodded and tossed the flame back.

“Michael got the magick and the wife with the nice … personality,” Ben said ruefully.

“Rania’s had two kids. I’ve had six,” his wife snapped.

Giggling, Morgan quickly looked away as his wife glared at her this time.

“I’m Lisa, and I’m earth,” one of the girls said. “Linda is air. I’ve never met a fire witchling.”

“Did Beck teach you to dance?” the second asked.

“Um, no,” Morgan replied.

“Come on!” Lisa stood and held out her hands.

Morgan took them. While she had great hand-eye coordination for fighting, she couldn’t dance to save her life. She moved with Lisa to the end of the line of dancers. The men were facing the women, and Morgan wondered how she’d get out of this one, before they saw how bad of a dancer she was.

“It’s not hard. You just have to listen to the music and then do this.” Lisa began moving her feet in rhythm with the music.

One of the boys crossed the clearing to Lisa and paused beside her. Without saying anything, he placed what looked like a fat stick decorated in pictures at her side. He moved across from her to the men’s side of the dance line.

“No, Tom Hawk!” Lisa said. She picked it up and tossed it.

He retreated, frowning.

“What just happened?” Morgan asked, baffled.

“He’s been trying to ask me out for months,” the young teen said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s an old custom,” Ben explained. “When a boy wants to ask a girl out, he brings her a special stick and places it at her side. If she accepts him, she keeps the stick. If she doesn’t, she tosses it.”

“Some of us should’ve tossed ours,” his wife said calmly.

“Tell your daughters, so I don’t have to pay for any more weddings,” he advised.

Morgan laughed again. Ben’s wife smiled faintly.

“Okay, you gotta try it,” Lisa said. “Just, you know, bounce.”

Morgan slid off her four-inch heels then tugged her dress up, so she didn’t get tangled in the train. She made an attempt to bounce, but the combination of the changing pace of the drums and the coordinated foot movements soon defeated her.

Tom Hawk returned, though instead of bringing the stick to Lisa, he took it to Morgan. Lisa gasped, offense on her face.

Morgan looked down at where he’d placed it. He was closer to Lisa’s age of thirteen than he was to eighteen.

“Toss it. He’s used to rejection,” Ben advised.

“Oh, god, I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” she replied.

“No, Tom Hawk!” Lisa yelled. She bent and picked it up, tossing it. “She’s Beck’s!”

“Technically, I’m not, but thank you for the offer,” Morgan said to the boy.

He nodded glumly and moved away again.

Lisa tried again to show her how to dance, but Morgan couldn’t quite get it. The girl giggled and danced around her.

“Maybe just bounce in place?” she recommended. “That’s what the little kids do.”

Morgan flushed. Laughter went down the line of dancers and around Ben’s fire. The dance changed. Music grew quicker and the chanting became upbeat. The bride-and-groom joined the dancers, and Morgan stepped back, watching with a smile. Beck danced with Lisa then joined a circle dance while a queue of teens formed across from Morgan.

She didn’t think twice about them, until the first stepped forward with a stick he placed by her side.

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I’m sorta … well, I’m …”

The boys in line laughed, and she stopped, flustered.

“Toss it! We have a bet going!” one of them called to her.

She picked it up and tossed it a few feet away with an apologetic smile. The teen moved away, only to be replaced by a second. The adults were laughing, the girls giggling at Morgan’s stammering rejection. She hated the idea of hurting anyone, even the poor boys who wanted to ask her out.