Free Abra Cadaver by Christine DePetrillo

inches from him. If she wanted to, she could drop a hand, press her palm to his scruffy jaw, outline his lips with a fingertip. On those thoughts, she backed up a couple steps.
    His gaze shifted to her feet as she moved, and she regretted her choice. He was feeling pretty shitty at the moment. He didn’t need her overanalyzing her reaction to being so close to him. As if to prove a point to herself, Holly sat on the end of the bed by Keane’s feet. She rested her elbows on the footboard of the bed and feigned casual.
    “Did you have fun at the beach?” he asked.
    “Doesn’t everyone?” She traced a finger around the flower pattern on her quilt careful not to touch him.
    “I miss the beach. My brother and I had a cottage with woods in front of it and the ocean behind it. It was a nice place to call home.”
    “You have a brother?”
    “Had. Eliah’s been dead for ages.”
    Of course, moron. She wanted to slap herself. “What’s the best thing you remember about Eliah?”
    At this question, Keane smiled, and Holly wanted to take a picture of him. He was downright beautiful when his lips curved up, and his eyes resembled Caribbean water. He pulled his legs up so she had more room on the bed, and she slid on a little farther. Just a little.
    “The best thing about Eliah was his loyalty. I could count on him for absolutely anything. He was the only person I could count on.”
    Holly fixed her gaze onto the quilt pattern. Counted the petals on the nearest flower. Picked off some lint. Tried not to look at how comfortable Keane appeared to be in her bed.
    “Have you tried finding a witch to undo the curse?” Witches in movies were always doing counterspells.
    “Eliah tried. He took responsibility for my situation, but he didn’t find anyone who wanted to mess with this brand of magick. After Eliah died, I looked for a witch who would try to reverse the spell, but with no results. The abra cadaver is a rare hex. It scares even the powerful witches.”
    Talking with him so openly about his curse made her chest ache. He was completely in the way of her enjoying her life right now, but his life wasn’t all roses and chocolates either. He was trapped by the curse as she was trapped by having to do something important. He couldn’t get his life back. Neither could she.
    He straightened his legs and nudged her with his foot. “Don’t look so sad, Holly.”
    She blinked out of her musings. “I think I just realized how hard it is to be you. I feel as if I should be nicer to you.”
    He shot her a half-grin that streaked up the left side of his face, and she nearly launched herself on top of him. “You’ve been nicer to me than most of my other saves, but I won’t stop you if you want to make improvements.” He tapped her again with his foot.
    Slowly, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. She was enchanted by the way the black strands fell back into place. Her fingers literally itched with the need to feel his hair against her own skin so she stuffed her hands underneath her legs.
    He slid his legs off the bed and, holding onto the headboard, he stood. Holly edged off the bed as well and prepared to support him. He held out a hand as if to tell her to give him a minute. He took a few steps deeper into the room and turned around.
    “Feel better?” Sweet Mary, he looked better. Damn perfect standing at his full height and rubbing his stomach with his hand.
    “Much.” He came to stand in front of her. He was close enough for her to wrap her arms around him, but she didn’t. “Don’t let me do that again, okay? I felt human for a few moments drinking that beer, but it’s not worth the pain.”
    “Guess you need tighter supervision.” A heat washed over Holly’s cheeks as she glanced up at him. His eyes were back to the brilliant sky blue, his skin flawlessly pale.
    “Yes, Miss Brimmer. That’s exactly what I need.” He grinned, and Holly forgot the rules.
    “You up for a ride?” she blurted. What