Page 9 of Resurrecting the Witch
And so that punk Merrick would know she was mine without a doubt. A double win.
“How can you be proud of me when you don’t know me?”
“I know loss, and I know what it is to be alone. I don’t know your specific pain, but I will tell you that I want to take it away and help you find a bit of joy. I’m told dating is supposed to be fun, and I don’t think we can have any fun if we cling to our painful pasts.” I paused to give her a moment to stop me but she just looked at me and nodded. “I want to know everything about you already,mo grá. Your scent has already ruined me, and the way it calls to me is something I have never felt. In time, I want to know all the pain that makes you who you are. But for now, we can just get to know each other and trust that this app matched us well enough to know that we can handle each other’s shit. I got a lot of feckin’ shit, Cliona. But you seem strong enough to handle it all in time, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”
I would need to talk to the few other fae in town I knew to find out what they remember of true mates from our elders in thesídherealm. I needed to do this right and not scare her. She was mine, and I was hers. It didn’t even scare me that I felt this so suddenly because my instincts were always correct and led me in the best direction.
Except for the day I didn’t see my own feckin’ murder coming.
But this is not that day. This is the day I met my true mate. I knew it in my bones.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Patrick, but that actually sounds kind of perfect.” Cliona offered me a smile, and I knew I needed to kiss her then. I didn’t want her to overthink with words, I simply leaned in close to touch my forehead to hers. Our breaths mingled, and I felt her nod slightly in permission to my silent ask.
I wasted no time second-guessing the rules for dates and how long it had been, and if she had any religious rules forbidding it; I simply touched my lips to hers. I felt our magick collide instantly like a swarm of all things good in the world; the joy sparking between us was something tangible and intoxicating. I had heard about this from the elders, and if there was any doubt left in my mind that she was my true mate it evaporated with the emotion swelling in my soul from the small, yet extremely powerful brush of our lips. I let the kiss linger for longer than was probably decent, but I maintained some self-control by not exploring her warm mouth with my tongue that ached to dance with her own.
I pulled away so I didn’t get carried away completely. The emerald-colored ring in her eyes glowed bright and I knew she felt it too in that moment.
“I’m glad,mo peata,because I plan on this being your last first date.”
Chapter 3
The next morning, I walked to Town Hall, more specifically, Guillermo’s office, and tried to keep my thoughts somewhat clear before I unpacked everything that happened with Patrick.
And I had a lot to unpack.
When Lennox moved to Haven Pass four years ago and attached herself to me with more dedication than a reminder of an expiring warranty, I realized how truly lonely I’d been. Lennox had felt like a breath of fresh air, albeit a very angryall men suck; fuck the patriarchy; I will castrate you for looking at me wrongtype ofair, but still new and welcomed nonetheless. Her friendship had been unexpected but invaluable in my own healing. We helped each other through our shit in a way only someone’s twin flame could. I kept Lennox from transforming into a ball of fiery rage hellbent on destroying every person who so much as looked at her wrong, and she kept me from becoming a full-on hermit who avoids people like the plague. We were two angry, exhausted women who dealt with feeling out of control in very different ways.
But when she showed up, it worked.Weworked. My love for her grew steadily from our first encounter and didn’t stop. She was the mirror to my soul, and I still couldn’t believe it took me as long as it had to realize Lennox was my twin flame, something coveted more than a mate bond in some circles. The Ó Cuinn Coven had many twin flames over the years, some of my aunts and uncles had romantic flames and nonromantic flames, but the end result was someone who they could depend on more than themselves, and Lennox was it for me.
And Guillermo.
And probably Drew and Dominic.
My circle felt small but when I stopped to catalogue all of the relationships that meant something to me I realized how surrounded I was by the love of my found family.
I had always thought Lennox and Guillermo together had woken me up from my depression and PTSD nightmare, but apparently, they’d only woken a part of me. The part that was a fun teenage girl that liked volatile music with foul language and made dressing in the color black a main part of her personality; the young woman who wanted to throw a middle finger up in the air and hex the patriarchy more than anything; the bad bitch who tried new spells or magick with no trepidation or hesitancy; the woman who loved playing in the dirt and belted 90s grunge music to plants so they’d have an appropriate amount of angst to stimulate growth. Lennox and Guillermo woke the part of me that I hadn’t realized was important until I realized they were helping me remember a better time when I was less concerned with perception and more concerned with fulfillment. Why couldn’t I have both? Lennox gave me back the permission I refused to grant myself to embrace my authentic spooky self while still being responsible for thousands of lives seeking sanctuary with HOMES.
The cool October morning breeze whipped my black hair around my face as I opened the door to Lennox’s coffeehouse and a place I stopped at multiple times a day, The Witch’s Brew. Luckily for me, it was set up right across from where my council office at Town Hall was.
“Hey girl,” Lennox said from behind the counter at the back side of the shop.
The Witch’s Brew was my happy place. Walking in here each morning and afternoon, and sometimes evening if it was a particularly rough day, always brought me a sense of peace. The pale-green walls were adorned in mismatching frames of famous witches and various occult memorabilia from Lennox’s favorite movies. Lennox wasn’t even a witch, but she was the most witchy fan girl I’d ever met, and I adored her for it.
And for making the best cup of coffee on the entire island.
“Hey.” I walked toward the counter, attempting to soothe the throbbing headache that was my unfortunate normal now.
“For someone who met the man of their dreams last night, you sure look like shit, Cliona.”
“Leave it to you to keep me humble, Lenn.” I shook my head and walked behind the counter.
“You can’t have everyone sucking up to you, oh supreme Spirit Council chair.” She sketched a mocking bow.
“Give me coffee so I can leave,” I demanded.
We’d already caught up after last night, and I told her all the sordid details of my date. She helped me vocalize what I was feeling. How Patrick woke a completely different part of me. How he wrenched me from the stasis I hadn’t even known I was in until the butterflies he inflicted deep in my belly flapped their decrepit wings at the sight of his fucking dimple. I told her all about how the sparkle of his bright blue as fuck eyes brought back the woman who craved sex like breath; a woman who used orgasms in her magick as much as the moon cycle and planetary placements; a woman who craved a partner to share the burdens of existence with while also offering the ability to trust freely; a woman who no matter what life threw her way, didn’t lose sight of the bigger picture.
And it was only a first fucking date.
