Bound In Blood (The Adams' Witch Series Book 1) by Butler Erin

Author:Butler, Erin [Butler, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lilymoor Publishing
Published: 2015-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

***

Drake’s idea of total normal teenager fun involved a bonfire in the woods. And a party. I could go for a party.

I let Drake drive the Escalade since I’d noticed him eyeing it a couple times. He drove down the same dirt road he had before when we went to the Wiccan meeting. This time, instead of candles and prayers, the Crazies tried to vibrate two-hundred year old trees with loud, thumping music, and light up the sky with a blazing fire. The burning wood sent thick smoke into the dusk night, clearly visible from back on the main road.

“You guys don’t get in trouble?” I asked.

“Nah. The cops leave us alone during the festival. They have too much other stuff to worry about.” He peeked at me briefly, hands still holding on to the steering wheel firmly at ten and two. I threatened him with his life. “Of course if they hear you’re here, they’ll probably make a special trip.”

I laughed. “Do you think your cop friend thinks I’m a nut job?”

“Probably, but I’m sure he sees a lot of ‘em.”

I smirked at Drake. He wore a pair of nice jeans with a loose fitting polo, hair gelled and spiked. “So, did you dress up for your old girlfriends?”

“Ha. No…”

“You look nice.”

“Nice, huh?” He nodded and then shrugged. “I’ll take nice."

Once we got to the clearing, groups stood near coolers and passed around drinks. Some swayed back and forth to music, and more than a few made out along the fringes where the firelight barely reached.

Now this reminded me of home. Except for the forest part. Beach parties were more of a Miami thing. Who knew, forest parties could be fun too…

“What do you want to drink?” Drake asked, hopping out of the SUV.

“What do you got?”

Drake led me over to a cooler. He said hey to a few friends as they parted, leaving us a straight shot to raid the drinks.

Beer. And a lot of it.

“I didn’t know you were into this,” I joked.

Drake smiled. “Which kind?”

“The bottle.” Drake opened it for me and I took a sip, face puckering. I’d much rather have a fruity daiquiri or wine.

The heat of the fire drew me closer. I used to camp with Jamie and her family until we grew out of it at about the age of thirteen or so. About the age where we wanted to look at lifeguards more than we wanted to eat ‘Smores. Thirteen—the age I realized my mother was a joke.

“What are you smirking at?”

I looked over at Drake. His face reflected the orange flames from the fire. “My mother.”

“What about her?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I was just thinking how when I was thirteen, it started to really bother me that Mom would bring home her ‘guy friends’." I picked up a branch and stuck the end in the fire. “She wanted me to become friends with all these guys, yet she wouldn’t tell me anything about my own father. She wanted

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