Free Healing the Bayou by Mary Bernsen

I snarled.
    “It’s not a bad thing, Eliza. It’s just a name. You just need to adapt your meaning of it. And by the way, there is a little truth to the broom thing. The priestess uses a broom to sweep away bad energy.”
    “What? Get out of here!”
    “Seriously.” He snickered only shortly before he his tone returned to its more natural solemnity. “You can’t run from who you are. You’re special. You’re going to be just as special in Florida as you are here. You might as well surround yourself with people who understand what you are instead of with people that fear it.”
    I hated that he made sense. There were people elsewhere that accepted me—Aunt Patrice and Uncle Charlie loved me. But they couldn’t ever really understand what I was, and besides, they were even farther away than here. Was there anything left for me in Florida? I could always sell the house and buy one here. At least I had someone to call family in New Orleans. And there was someone here I wanted to be with. It sounded right. All of it fit together, but it was too much at once.
    “Why are you fighting it so hard?”
    I gaped. The directness in his question caught me off guard.
    “Samuel, I just found out that I was adopted. I hopped on a plane and flew here with a man who was supposed to help me find out who I am and abandoned me in a diner while I was being attacked. Some mind-reading Prince Charming comes to my rescue and brings me to a woman who tells me I’m the lost priestess of a Voodoo cult. Sorry if I don’t come running to the idea.”
    “Sounds as if that could make one hell of a Disney movie.”
    My mouth dropped open at the unexpected dig, but I appreciated the giggle it gave me. Pushing playfully at his shoulder, I nearly knocked him into the water, and he grabbed my arm in reflex. Catching his mistake, he let go immediately, but the warmth still lingered where his fingers had been.
    “I’m sorry,” he said with a sincere, apologetic tone.
    “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t hurt me.”
    It wasn’t a lie. I almost thought I was finally going to feel the sensation Aunt Vivian had briefly explained before he took his hand away. Now I was clenching my jaw out of frustration and irritation, but I was even more determined to defeat his bipolar approach to me.
    “Aunt Vivian said you have been watching me. How long?” I eyed him intently for some sign he returned my attraction.
    “A long time.”
    I huffed at the lacking reply. “What is a long time?”
    “Ten years.”
    “Ten years?” I echoed with astonishment. “How have you been watching me for ten years? You’re not much older than me.”
    “Well, I could always feel your presence, but I moved to Florida to watch over you when I was sixteen. I came back here a few times a year to report to the elders.”
    “So, the community has always known I survived the fire? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “What would you have done if a stranger came up to you and told you any of this?”
    “Does the stranger look like you?” I smirked.
    He arched his brow, and I melted at the sexiness that oozed out of him. Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies filling my stomach did little, so I resorted to fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
    “You can read my thoughts anyway,” I said. “There’s no use not just saying it.”
    “Fair enough.” He looked away, refusing eye contact. My boldness had discomposed him.
    We stared up at the twinkling stars in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, pretending to be interested in the way they peeked through the thick leaves on the tree branches. Just when I thought I had thoroughly humiliated myself, he shifted his body so that his arm came behind me and I was leaning into his shoulder. He coolly pointed out constellations.
    “That’s Ophiuchus, the serpent bearer. If you look closely you can see him and the snakes he’s holding.”
    “He’s the reason I’m not an Aquarius anymore,” I joked.
    Distracted by the