I pulled off the ring to study it. It was sure pretty. Had Bryn put it on me while I slept? The skin of my finger burned and ached. I looked inside the ring. In fancy old letters, it read,
Blood of my blood
.
My finger joints stiffened until I couldn’t stand the cramp. I gasped in pain and shoved the ring back on. The pain faded instantly. What the Sam Houston?
I shoved the door open and rushed out of the room, hurrying down the stairs. I burst back into the downstairs guest room, startling Dr. Suri who nearly fell out of his chair.
“Good morning,” he said, getting up. “Excuse me.”
I didn’t pay attention to him leaving. Instead, I grabbed Bryn’s hands and stared at them until I saw it. A white gold band on his left middle finger. The pattern etched into the band was a leafy vine. I dragged the ring off, scraping his middle knuckle in the process. I peered inside. The same antique lettering.
Bone of my bone.
Setting in my hand, his ring touched mine, and they both vibrated with power, a soft hum buzzing in my ears.
“Put it back on,” he said, holding up his hand.
There was a fiery red mark on his finger where the ring had been.
“I finished the spell? On the tor when I said the words?”
He nodded, taking the band and pushing it back onto his finger.
“Where did you get the rings?”
“I had them made.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“You couldn’t have known that I’d agree back then! Why would you have had them made before we did the spell?”
He shrugged. “Most of the time, I follow my head. Once in a while, I follow my heart.”
Speaking of hearts, mine thumped in my chest, adrenaline searing my veins. What had I done by finishing that spell?
“What if we don’t end up getting along? What if you marry someone else? Or I do?” I said breathlessly. “This magical bond—it’s forever?”
“For life or longer.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. That sure was a long time. “You might live to regret it,” I said.
He smiled. “No, I won’t.”
He interlaced our fingers, his left palm against my right, the rings touching. Magic and warmth rose up my arm and into my chest. It did feel so right, like everything always did with him.
Plus
,
I had to finish the spell or let him die.
I shuddered at the thought of him being lost forever. He was too important to Duvall, to the world of magic, and to me.
I leaned forward, the curtain of my hair hiding my face and our hands. I kissed his knuckles and whispered, “I won’t regret it either.”
Kimberly Frost, award-winning author of the Southern Witch series, began writing stories in grade school and has not been able to stop since. For news about new releases, free stories, or to contact Kimberly, visit her website at
www.frostfiction.com
.
Berkley titles by Kimberly Frost
WOULD-BE WITCH
BARELY BEWITCHED
HALFWAY HEXED