Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(17)

Morgan got out, gazing around her with a combination of glee and despair. She missed holidays. She hadn’t celebrated in four years. She was surprised to find how much she yearned to feel that sense of exhilaration and anticipation, of wonder and magic. The emotions were brittle now, not quite fully formed, in case the memories returned and reminded her why she hated this time of year.

The air was cold yet charged, and bonfires were set up every hundred feet or so. Fire magick called to her, as cheerful as the crowd.

“Ready?” Beck asked from the boardwalk.

Morgan faced him, as ensnared by the reflection of fire in his eyes as she was by the lights. He held out a hand. After a brief hesitation, she took it. His grip was strong and warm, much like the gentle earth magick drifting into her, settling her fire as it did. She had wondered why he was so strong; now knowing he was the Master of Light made sense of the powerful magick that so naturally surrounded him.

She grew hot from the inside out and hoped her face wasn’t red or she was glowing like she did sometimes. They walked slowly through the crowd, admiring the lights as they went. Morgan’s sense of anxiety of this being a real date faded. With her attention elsewhere, she didn’t notice Beck’s calming magick ease the tension and worry in her body.

“I’ve been waiting to see you smile.”

She glanced at him, not realizing she was, until he pointed it out. His eyes were on her.

“A little less Scroogey?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“Look.” He tugged her towards a railing and released her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He rested his other elbow on the railing and drew her into his body. Stunned by the warmth of his frame and his earthy scent, Morgan stared over the railing at the water below for a few long seconds, before she registered what it was he wanted her to see.

The lights lining the banks were reflected in the river, shimmering with the movement of water. All the way up and down the river, tiny lights danced.

“They look like fire,” she said, mesmerized.

“I thought so.” Beck’s baritone was as soft as his expensive sweater.

Morgan didn’t feel herself tense at his touch, but did feel the tension slip away as they stood, their sides pressed together and his strong arm around her shoulders. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Instead of seeing the lights, she found herself wondering what it would be like to rest her cheek against his chest or wrap her arms around him and sink into his earthy scent and warmth.

Terrified of the idea of such intimacy, she stayed where she was. His phone buzzed, and he reached for it without releasing her.

Morgan didn’t see the message, but she felt the impact of it. Beck stiffened. He put the phone away, and she looked up at him, resting her head in the crook of his arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sensitive to the mission Sam gave her.

Beck’s features were drawn, his eyes shadowed. For a moment, she wasn’t sure he heard her. He glanced down finally.

“Life ain’t always pretty,” he quipped.

“Don’t I know it,” she murmured.

He held her gaze, until she was way too self-conscious about standing so close to him. Morgan held out her hand, where a pink flame burned. She offered it to him.

“It’ll make you feel better,” she said.

“Really? How?”

“Trust me.”

Beck looked at her again. “I trust you, Morgan.”

He meant it. She didn’t know why the small admission made her fire dance. He accepted the flame, and they both watched it burn in his hand. It sank into his skin, and Beck smiled.

“I call them candy flames,” she explained. “They look pretty and make you happy. It’s like an energized hug.” She felt it counteract the phone call. Beck’s body relaxed as the warmth of fire magick worked through him.

“That’s really incredible, Morgan.”

“I have to take care of you.”

He tilted her chin up, so she could see his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to take care of me, though.”

“Someone does,” she countered, caught up in his beautiful eyes and masculine scent. She never noticed the smell of anyone else, even Connor. Something about Beck made her want to bury her face in his sweater, where she could breathe him in and soak up his warmth. Her fire magick responded to his earth magick, playfully pushing at the calmer element.

When Beck’s direct look grew too intense for her, Morgan ducked her head.

“Hey, Beck.”

Beck’s touch slid away as he turned, but he took her hand instinctively, as if not wanting to let her go. The couple approaching made Morgan look twice. The guy was almost identical to Beck, except his eyes were dark and his aura shadowed. She knew without asking it was his twin, the Master of Dark. The beautiful girl in his arms glowed with Light and happiness, her dark eyes dancing.

“Morgan, this is my brother, Decker, and his girl, Summer,” Beck said. “Decker, Summer, this is Morgan.”

Morgan caught the curious look Summer gave Beck and wondered why both seemed surprised to see Beck with anyone. Given what she had heard, he got around.

“Fire,” Decker said, his assessing gaze on Morgan.

She nodded and held out her hand, a pink candy flame in her palm. Summer glanced up at Decker, who released her with one arm to take the flame. He smiled faintly at its effect and passed it to Summer.