Under Witch Aura (Moon Shadow Series) by Maria E Schneider Page A

neat as the rest of the place. It was more suggestive than any
other room too. The tingle in my hands and toes was not from the
witching fork.
    White Feather's desk was
pleasantly
cluttered; model windmills and parts sat alongside papers and a
laptop. No less than four computer screens stretched across the
desk. One of them displayed a graph of windmill speeds and battery
charge level stats.
    I approached the handmade
dresser, a
design that quite obviously followed the pattern the wood had
supplied. Rather than a perfect rectangle, the dresser was tall, more
like a very large tree with drawers. The wood was a stunning mix of
reddish browns, too dark for oak. I couldn’t resist running my
fingers across its smooth surface.
    From the doorway, White
Feather said,
“It’s mesquite. Grandfather made it.”
    I jumped and dropped the
witching fork.
“Whoops. Must be where you inherited your talent for wood
carving. It’s gorgeous.”
    He smiled. My heart
stopped. Being in a
bedroom around White Feather was a whole new level of temptation. I
stooped to retrieve the witching fork. “I’m not getting
anything at all. I thought for sure there would be a reaction.”
    White Feather had used wind
at Sarah’s
cabin and some type of force had responded. He felt something the
night Sarah appeared at my place. Then when he brought Sarah's
bones, a malignant wind had appeared again.
    But now, the witching fork
was silent.
    “Let me try.” He reached
for the fork.
    We had merged magics
before. “Are
you sure? If she’s attracted to your wind, it could be
dangerous.”
    “Better on my territory
than
hers.”
    He was right about that. I
waited while
he added his wind to the spell already set.
    “Try it again.”
    I detected no change, but
knew the
spell was stronger with his magic added. Together we paced the room,
not avoiding the bed or anything else. Working with him was heady
stuff. I was wildly attracted to him even without our elements
colliding; add the suggestion of the bed and my magic, and it was all
I could do to keep my hands off of him.
    Our bodies brushed as we
moved from the
bedroom to the master bath and back out. He put his hand on my
shoulder and let it drift to my lower back as we walked down the hall
to the guest bath.
    Things were vibrating
now--everything
except the witching fork. We entered the guest bedroom like dance
partners, matched step for step, our magics still merged through the
witching fork.
    He opened the window.
Without any help
from me, he spun the essence on the fork outside, exploring the
perimeter of the house.
    “She’s not here.” His
hand captured my fingers. “Not inside or anywhere near the
house.”
    “You’re right. So what here
is causing problems?” There was my magic, his magic and a lot
of hormones in the room. There was definitely no Sarah. He kissed
me. The brush of wind he had sent outside wafted back in around us,
swirling with the breeze from the open window.
    He drew me in from the
waist. I met him
more than halfway, fingers splayed across his chest, ready to
explore.
    “Son of a--” he swore and
jerked away. Even as he pulled his hand away, I felt the heat from
the ring. My grandmother’s bracelet, part of the same silver,
reacted in sympathy, flashing red-hot for an instant.
    White Feather yanked at the
band around
his finger. I stared at the witching fork in disbelief. The wand
remained completely dormant.
    White Feather ripped the
silver ring
off. I snatched it before it hit the ground. Even with the ring in
one hand and the witching fork in the other, there wasn't a twitch
from the fork.
    The skin on my face was
suddenly dry
and tight, stabbed by a thousand needles. The presence from Sarah’s
cabin was with us in the room, but according to the witching fork, it
wasn’t Sarah.

Chapter
11
    My heart pounding, I spun
on one foot
and slammed the window closed. There were no trees or soil under me,
but the foundation of a house did little to prevent my silver