1. Ambrose

1

AMbrOSE

A month ago, my entire world changed for the worse. It will never be the same again and there’s nothing I can do to change it back. My tears fall as I kneel by my parents’ grave, and I can barely breathe.

Aspen & Ellie Stone

As I stare at the letters carved into the marble stones, a suffocating truth finally hits me. Those are my parents’ names. They’re dead and gone—their bodies given back to the earth as our bloodline’s elemental magic demands. My family—the only people who ever understood and didn’t judge me—are in the ether.

It’s just me now.

My family held an ancient, powerful magic. Everyone but me… The other members of the coven avoid me like the plague, because something is wrong with me. My magic doesn’t work like my parents’ and all the Stone witches before us. I’m defective.

My brain doesn’t work right, either.

But then again, it never really has. I’ve always been different, and the coven knows that. The little magic I do have, I can’t control. Sometimes it’s nonexistent, and other times it’s a tsunami that rages, destroying everything in its path. High Priest Smythe thinks I’m a danger to the coven, a troubled boy.

At twenty years old, I’m not a boy anymore. Without my parents here to guide me, I feel like one, though. A lost boy floating through the world, waiting for someone to tether me back to reality.

Is there even a point of coming back? This world has nothing for me. I don’t want to be here anymore.

Who would miss me if I disappeared?

My eyes blur with tears, and the tentative control I have on my unruly magic cracks. It seeps out of me like sand through a sieve, causing big gray clouds to gather in the sky above us. Fluffy flakes of snow fall, sticking to the dead grass. The same kind of flurries Dad used to make when there wasn’t enough snow to go sledding. We’d spend hours sledding down the steep hill behind our cottage every winter when I was growing up, laughing and feeling the wind in our hair as we sailed downhill.

I may have the same natural magical gifts as Dad, but I’ll never be even half the witch he was. Aspen Stone was larger than life, the kind of man everyone respected. A true pillar of our coven who was willing to help those in need. He was so powerful that he served as an elder, despite still being under one hundred years old. I am no match to him, and I don’t think I ever will be.

I hear a car door shut in the distance but don’t turn around to look. A lot of people are buried here.

The farther I plummet into my sadness spiral, the harder it flurries. A swift drop in temperature makes my bones rattle in my suit. The wind lashes at my face, practically turning my tears into ice on my cheek. A warm hand lands on my shoulder, offering reassurance with a firm squeeze. I peer over my shoulder to find Caulder Scarborough looking down at me with a smile.

His handsome face is calm, his hard, masculine edges smoothed out with sympathy. His thick chocolate hair is mussed from the wind, and flurries rest on his perfectly trimmed beard. The compassion in his usual stoic toffee eyes almost unravels me.

“Let’s get you out of the cold,” he says as he steers me from their graves toward the parking lot. “I’ll take you home, Ambrose.”

I’m surprised Caulder knows my name. He and I do not run in the same circles. No one wanted to spend time with me, despite how powerful my parents were—they definitely don’t want to now. He’s older than I am, with much more credence in himself, his magic, and his place in this coven. His family’s rare fire magic is renowned, making them formidable opponents and protectors. He’s in line to be a coven elder one day—if not a High Priest . He shouldn’t be wasting his time on someone like me.

I can’t help but soak up his attention. His charisma is magnetic. The way he walked with this innate confidence in himself. The way he talked with conviction. The way his face drew me in so I’d hang off his every word. He drew me in when I was a kid, and I’ve been hooked ever since. He was my first crush, my only crush.

Everyone either wants to be him or be with him.

I’m no one compared to him .

It takes me a few moments to formulate a response as we carefully walk through the slippery grass.

“Um, I can walk home, it’s okay…” I murmur as I stare at the ground.

He takes in my appearance. My face is wet with tears, probably swollen from crying and beat red. My pale skin makes the redness stand out double. My hands are shaking from not being able to control myself, and I don’t have a jacket or the proper boots to walk.

I'm still wearing my pajamas from yesterday…

“You’re in no shape to walk. It’s snowing. I’ll take you home,” he gently insists. His voice is smooth, commanding. I can’t help but agree.

He takes me to a sleek, expensive black sedan parked in the front of the lot. My family comes from money too, but Mom and Dad weren’t as flashy as the Scarboroughs. I never rode in a car with heated leather seats that felt like butter beneath my palms. I melt into the upholstery as he turns out of the cemetery and drives down the main road that takes me to my house.

We sit in silence, because I’m too scared to talk to him. Every now and then he sneaks a glance at me, but I can't make eye contact with him. I’m so embarrassed he’s seeing me like this. A weak mess of a man who can’t stop crying over his dead parents.

A loser. I’m a mentally unstable crybaby.

I just stare at the footwell as I try not to spiral into tears again.

When we arrive at my house, the realization I never gave him my address hits me. Somehow, he already knew where I lived.

He gets out of the car and opens my door, positioning an umbrella over me so I’m not further drenched by the torrential downpour outside. I fumble to find the door key, unsuccessfully slotting it inside the lock. The scrape of the metal lock on the key is grating. It’s so cold now my whole body shakes. He leans over me, taking it from my hand and unlocking it in one smooth motion.

“I got it,” he whispers. I can feel his humid breath ghost over the shell of my ear, and my stomach tightens.

“Th-thank you,” I stutter. Being this close to the man I’ve wanted ever since I was a child makes me nervous. I dreamed about being alone with Caulder, but now that it’s happening in reality, when I’m at my worst, I don’t know what to do.

The man of my dreams ushers me into my house, turning on the lights. He takes my coat and hangs it on the rack. When we get to the fireplace in the living room, he throws a ball of fire inside that rotates like a spit and warms the room instantly.

“Um…thank you,” I mumble. Ugh, I just said that.

He waves his hands over me, from my head, down to my knees and back again. I feel heat seep into my clothes—down to the marrow of my bones—warming me from the inside out. My clothes dry, and I feel somewhat better. Makes me almost forget my parents died.

Caulder slowly walks around the living room, gravitating toward the bookshelf. It’s filled with magical texts and grimoires passed down through both sides of my family. He takes his time, running his fingers over the spines and stopping at a black, worn leather spine.

“That’s a grimoire. My grandmother’s…” I say to fill the silence.

“Oh, I’ve heard of this book. It’s something of a legend in the coven,” he responds as he crosses the room.

He sits on the couch, his thick, muscular thighs spread wide. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his knees. He gestures for me to sit, and I take a seat close enough to him that it’s not rude, but far enough away so I don’t embarrass myself any further.

“Ambrose, are you going to be okay by yourself?” His face is etched with worry, and a little furrow forms between his brows.

No , I immediately think. But I can’t tell him that.

“I will be, don’t worry about me,” I lie in an effort to make him feel better. It’s nice he cares, but I’m not his problem. I’m no one’s problem but my own, now.

“It’s okay that you’re hurting. When I was a kid, my mom left. I cried every night for months, waiting for her to return, even though I knew she never would.” He takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. “I had my dad and brother, but she took a part of me with her. I still miss her and can only imagine how hard this must be for you.”

A tear breaks free, rolling down my cheek. His wistful expression breaks my heart. His father died not long after, if I remember correctly. He’s an orphan too, but he’s so strong.

I know that no matter how much time passes, I’ll still miss my parents… Living without them hasn’t been easy. I still see them in every room of this house, like they’re ghosts. All my memories with them are alive and well, like spectral beings who constantly remind me they’ll never be here to make more.

The floodgate breaks and I almost choke on my sobs.

It is hard.

It’s impossible to get up every day and make myself leave my room, knowing they won’t be there to greet me. We’ll never share a meal again. I’ll never have tea with my mother or taste her blueberry scones. Their laughter, their words, endless patience and acceptance of having a defective loser for a son are gone.

The fierce wind outside bangs the tree branches into the window, and the electricity flickers. I can’t hold my shit together.

Caulder moves closer, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I cry like a hysterical baby, and he pulls me onto his lap. My face rests on his chest, and I can smell his musky, woodsy scent. Breathing it in makes me feel safe. He holds me for what seems like an eternity, letting me fall apart in his warm embrace as he rubs my back. His magic surrounds me again, relaxing me with a controlled warmth, and eventually, I wind back down.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out as my shame piles higher, suffocating me. I’m sitting on his lap, for fuck’s sake. I need to man up—I’ve embarrassed myself enough.

I try to stand up, but he pulls me back down and cuddles me to his chest.

“You have no reason to apologize. You can cry as much as you want. Let all your feelings go. I’m here for you.” His words vibrate in his chest before wrapping themselves around my heart. It feels so good to have someone to lean on. Someone who makes me feel like I’m not alone.

I rest my cheek on his pec, turning to putty in his embrace. We talk about loss, life, and how things will change going forward. Caulder knows what it’s like to lose a parent, and having his comfort right now is keeping me from going off the deep end.

“Be honest with me. How out of control is your magic?” he asks.

“It’s always been a little off, but aside from an incident here and there, it was mostly under control. Now… It’s bad.”

“I overheard your parents talking about it once. Sometimes I have the habit of eavesdropping.” He tips my chin up, and I melt under his intense stare. “You know, I can help you gain control of your magic, give you lessons.”

“You’d do that?” Why would he do anything for me? He barely knows me.

“Yes. People like us have to stick together. You’ll never be alone again, Ambrose,” he promises me before pressing his lips to mine for a lingering, chaste kiss.

His kiss sends sparks of life through me. The shades of gray in the black and white world I’ve been trapped in suddenly have color. I feel alive for the first time in days.

I lean into him to kiss his pink lips. He rubs his tongue along the seam of my mouth, and I open, letting him plunder his way inside. He explores me, claiming me wholly and filling me with hope.

For the first time since my parents’ untimely death, I don’t feel alone. Because Caulder Scarborough is here for me.