Witcha Gonna Do? (Witchington #1)(46)
He stomps off back to the house, his unicorn horn sparkling in the setting sun’s rays.
If I had it in me at this moment to be embarrassed, I would be mortified. However, the level of satisfaction floating through my bloodstream pretty much eliminates any feeling but blissed-out contentment.
Gil wraps his arm around my waist from behind and pulls me back against him while we both stand in the open doorway trying to catch our breath. There’s no missing the hard length of him pressed against my ass. With my orgasm still making me feel all floaty and loose limbed, the duíl spell should be over for me now that I’ve satisfied my desire, but I’m already hungry for more.
Starving.
Famished.
Ravenous.
“So I guess we’ll have to finish this later?” I ask, trying my best not to showcase the fact that I am still dick drunk and possibly . . . probably . . . fine, very much still wanting him as much as I did before he curled my toes so tight I lost half a shoe size.
He dips his head down, kisses that sensitive spot behind my ear, and says with a low growl, “Tilda, you and I both know this is far from over.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gil . . .
Back in the library, I can’t keep my eyes off of Tilda. She’s practically glowing as she moves around the room, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her phone as she posts old photos of her mom and sisters around the family cauldron to WitchyGram to keep suspicions at bay about where they are. Eli and Birdie keep sneaking peeks at her as they pack the last of the juniper berries into enchanted wooden boxes as big as large suitcases that will walk themselves to the train station for our trip to Salem. Meanwhile, Vance stands by the fireplace glaring at me as if the fact that I’m breathing offends him.
The unicorn shifter cracks his tattooed knuckles and then crosses his massive arms across his chest. “The Council is on to you.”
It is expected, but I had been hoping there was more time.
“How?” I ask, not that it matters, but curiosity and all that.
Vance snorts and shoots me a withering look. “Ever since the Council started to really make moves to take over Witchingdom, Cassius and I have been battling back and forth. He’s about as trustworthy as a leprechaun with a pot of gold to hide, and that man probably has you spell bugged six ways to Sunday.”
Tilda walks across the room and sits down next to me on the love seat across from the huge fireplace, her hand resting on my thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “But we’re under a protective dome.”
“And that’s probably what sent him scurrying to the Council like the plague-carrying rat he is.” Vance’s gaze drops to Tilda’s hand and his snarl increases by ten degrees. “So it’s a damn good thing I’m going to escort you on my train to Salem to get The Liber Umbrarum and unfreeze the entire Sherwood family—minus our Tilda here—before the Council figures out what’s happened and makes its move to take over.”
“The train?” Birdie asks. “But aren’t those for carrying goods only? No witches use them.”
Vance’s face is transformed by a smug grin. “Good thing you’re traveling with a shifter then, because it’s the last form of transportation anyone from the Council will be monitoring.”
It all makes sense, and that’s what sets off the warning bells in my head. “Why should we trust you?”
“Because with Griselda frozen, I’m the only Resistance contact you’ve got who can help. Also, there’s this.” He tosses a ring on the coffee table.
One look at the silver and sapphire engagement ring that has been in my family for generations, and I can taste bile on the back of my tongue. My mom never took it off. Not when she did spell work, not when she foraged for items to bargain with in The Beyond, and not when she could have traded it for a few loaves of bread out on the tundra.
“They’re okay. They’re in a safe house on Tybee Island. She sent this and said to tell you Kiehl says hello.”
The breath I’ve been holding comes out in a whoosh.
Kiehl has been our code for all’s well since we got banished to The Beyond, one that only my parents and I know about.
“So we’re really doing this?” Birdie asks as Eli wraps his arms around her and tucks her close against his side.
“Yeah.” Tilda nods, her answer firm even though her hands are shaking as she picks up a cup of tea from the ornate silver tray on the coffee table and takes a sip. “We’re really doing this.”
The library goes silent beyond the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. Tilda looks up at me, her eyes wide behind her round glasses, and something roars to life inside me that doesn’t feel anything like the duíl magic. This isn’t about what I want, it’s all about Tilda.
“Then let’s not fuck it up,” Vance says, shooting back something from the flask with the words “fuck being polite” engraved on it that he always carries with him. “We leave in thirty. I grabbed the agaric mushroom powder you two gathered for Griselda and took care of her with a spell to keep folks away from her house so no one discovers her doing her icy pop impression. You two”—he points at Tilda and me—“take care of the rest of your family while the three of us load everything we need into the train.”