“Because most witches, if they tried to do that, well, it would have killed them, and I’m being literal. Like really, it would kill them. And that wouldn’t only be if they dropped it on themselves. Goddess, Flint.” Emma perched on the coffee table between Flint’s legs.
“My mother is a powerful witch. Powerful enough that it spilled over into us when we should have been only shifters.” Flint pinched his nose. “Honestly, Emma, I’m tired. But I think that has more to do with us being in a hospital bed for days and then only getting a few hours of rest before my nightmares started.”
“Nightmares?” Chills swept over Emma’s bare legs.
“Yeah, I’ve been having nightmares about fires. It’s not uncommon in firefighters.” He glanced away.
“What else did you dream about?” Because she’d been having visions of fire for a while.
“Well, you were there.”
“It’s just a dream . . .” She shook her head, eyes wide. For most people they were dreams, but Flint was a witch and she didn’t know what his gifts were.
“It’s not . . . It’s not just a dream. It feels more real. You’re in it.” He grabbed her knees and pulled her to him on the sofa.
She repositioned herself, lining herself up with him so they touched along their sides. “Silly, it has to be a dream. Granted, I don’t know what of the three types of magic is your strongest gift. But if it was the gift of sight, then you wouldn’t have any visions about me. See, you don’t have visions about those close to you. And while . . . well . . . we’ve certainly been close . . . You know. If I’m in it, it’s not a vision. It’s not going to come true. Just a bad nightmare.”
His breath shook as he exhaled, and he held her head to his chest. “We do need to get some sleep, but not here. It’s a little dirty. I’ll help you clean it up tomorrow.” Flint kissed her cheek. “How’s your car?”
She lifted her head. “You want to go back to your place?”
He gave a quick nod.
She changed, then handed him the T-shirt he’d fetched with his magic. He held her thick winter coat while she found her car keys and then helped her into the garment. Outside, Emma used a bit of power to replace her wards, then threw a small backpack of supplies onto the backseat of her rusted hatchback.
“You sure you want to drive?” Flint buckled the passenger’s side seatbelt.
“I’m sure you know all the cops around here. But if we do get pulled over, how are you going to explain to them driving without shoes or . . .” She flicked her eyes to his bare legs. “Or pants. Flint, you’re not wearing any pants.”
“Trust me, they’ve seen worse. A whole heck of a lot worse.”
“I’m sure.” She backed out of the driveway and hoped her car would make it down Flint’s long shared driveway. The little red beast tried its hardest to get down the road, but 100 yards from Flint’s cabin, it got stuck in the mud. The road clutched her tires, and the back one spun. Flint didn’t comment. He sat facing forward. If she hadn’t fixed her floor-ceiling back at her apartment, she would use magic to move the mud away from the car or dehydrate it to make it easier to drive on. Neither were options because her power had bottomed out.
“Want me to push?”
“Yes, please.” She closed her eyes.
Flint stood at the bumper. “Ease it over to the side of the road and we can get it out the rest of the way tomorrow. You need to sleep.”
Emma nodded, eased on the gas, and turned the wheel. The back tire spun, and it buzzed and buzzed, but the car slowly inched over to the side of the road, leaving a rut as it dug in. Then it gripped out of the hole it had dug and she nudged it over to the corner.
She let out a breath. The sun shimmered through the trees, the light golden color of the day starting. Emma reached around and grabbed her bag. The car door flew open, revealing Flint. Well, a Flint-shaped object. Mud covered him, from his dark hair where it dripped down his ears to clumps on his thick thighs. His T-shirt was no longer white.
He wiped the dirt from his eyes and flicked it away.
Emma didn’t mean to laugh. Really, it wasn’t a laughing matter. The mud was cold, and the poor male had had quite the night, but she couldn’t help it. It bubbled up, and she snorted. She looked away, and when she glanced back, she snorted harder.
“You think this is funny?” He pursed his lips together, his hands on his hips like a dirty Superman.
“No.” She shook her head and tried to hold in her laughter. “Nope.” Her lips pulled inward, she held her breath, and her head dropped forward. She was laughing so hard, she might start to hiccup. Her forehead bounced off the steering wheel and the horn did a loud, brief toot. The car’s horn was equal to or softer than a bike’s horn, really. Emma clutched her mouth. “Goddess, sorry. I hope I didn’t wake your neighbors.” She turned back to Flint, and the cycle of laughter started all over again.
“The closest neighbor works the night shift. He won’t be home yet, and the next one has four roosters. It would serve him right if I woke him up for a change.”
She looked away from him because she felt the laughter bubbling up again. It burst from her.
“All right, funny girl, let’s go.” And he had her over his shoulder, the cold mud sinking into her sweatshirt. He grabbed the car keys and her bag with his free hand and slammed the door of her car shut with his muddy foot.
“Hey, you’re going to get my car dirty.” Emma laughed some more.
“That’s not the only thing I’m going to get dirty.”
“I thought we were going to your place to find somewhere clean to sleep.”
“We’re going to sleep, eventually.” He sprinted. Emma bounced.
Penny was in the yard, yipping with excitement at Flint. He glared at the dog, and she quieted. Flint took Emma straight into the bathroom. He peeled his shirt off of himself and dropped it on the floor. Most of the mud had come off him during their jog into the house.
He turned the shower on and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “You’re overdressed.” He helped her remove her sweatshirt and jeans.
His lips brushed hers, claiming her mouth. He picked her up to move her under the water.
“Don’t get my hair wet. We don’t have that kind of time.” She trailed her hand down his chest to the V above his pelvis.
“I’m willing to spend the time.” He licked along her collarbone.
“Trust me, no one has that much time.”
She lathered soap in her hands and scrubbed down Flint’s torso. The muddy water rolled down the drain. Flint positioned the shower head on his back, and Emma dropped to her knees, running her hands up and down his sinewy, powerful legs. Flint’s hard cock jutted out.
