by Lenore Wolfe
THREE
MORGAN
Morgan stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her head, mentally ticking off the things she needed to get done to make her new home livable. Catching a glimpse of her wet face in the mirror, she hesitated. Setting down her comb, she stared at her pale complexion. Her eyes glistened back at her with unshed tears.
She was alone—again.
Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. Besides, wasn’t that the theme of her life? Perhaps spending her life by herself was just her lot in life. She should be used to it.
She stopped, looking down, before gathering herself to take one more look at the stranger in the mirror. Disgusted, she looked away from her pale face. Even if she could change her life, she wouldn’t know how to get along with anyone now.
She’d spent much too much time without friends and family.
The doorbell rang, and she scowled at her reflection, unwrapping the damp towel from around her head and half-haphazardly throwing it over the old paint-chipped towel bar. She needed to replace that too, she scowled, trying to pull her shorts and shirt on over her still damp skin.
Her bra straps clung to all the wrong places, as well as her panties, and she was still rearranging her clothes when she opened the door. She sucked in her breath, then choked.
The strikingly handsome man, on the other side of the torn screen door, quickly opened it to give her a good pounding on her back, as she strangled on the broken, ravaged remains of her windpipe.
“Alex?” she squeezed out between spasms. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she turned to look at him. She had an inkling that her tears had nothing to do with the fire now burning its way up her throat.
He took her into a tight bear hug, and she further shocked herself by clinging to him—afraid he’d disappear. But, how could she? Five seconds ago, she didn’t know he existed.
After several long moments, he leaned back—gazing at her. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you write—or call? Why didn’t you ever come back?”
She stared into his dark eyes, wincing at the pain she saw there. “I—Oh, Goddess!” She shrank back in alarm at all the blank spots in her memory. “I didn’t remember you!”
He frowned at her, and she realized she wasn’t making sense. She’d called him by name. She shook her head. “I have only these—slices in time left….” She held out her hands in confusion, pleading for understanding. She had nothing else to offer.
He took both of her hands into his, stepping fully through the doorway and putting a gentle arm around her.
She gaped at him. She couldn’t help it. She stared, amazed at the sweet relief of the shelter she now found in his arms. He steered her to the small rickety, equally paint-chipped kitchen table, sitting her in one chair while he took another next to her, still close enough to face her. He seemed afraid that she would just disappear again….
She stared at the table. One more thing she needed to replace. How odd? She glanced at him, her heart pounding, knowing he watched her. Then, she caught her faint reflection in the glass covering the cupboard doors, and she sputtered. She looked like a train wreck….
Her eyes held the quality of wide-eyed vacancy, her hair uncombed. She took a ragged breath. “You must think I’ve lost my mind?” She tried for a small laugh to break the atmosphere, but even to her ears it sounded brittle.
He smiled. “You look beautiful. Perhaps a bit wild….” he teased, but his gaze grew serious. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “I thought you were—dead,” his voice grew husky. “We all did. Only your grandmother refused to believe it.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember much.”
His eyes widened in comprehension. “You’ve blocked it all out….” He seemed to catch himself. He stood quickly. “Perhaps we should stop. I wouldn’t want anything to force your memories….”
She stood too, grabbing at his shirt like a lifeline. “No.” She shook her head. “You’ve no idea what my life has been like—living with all these holes…. Please….” she said, “I know what you must think. But please tell me.” She waved furiously at her head. “It’s like living with a broken mind—always feeling like there’s some black void waiting to swallow me up. Feeling like at any moment, I’m going to fall right in. All it would take was the wrong person to come along and give me a great big push.” Her shoulders sagged.
He stared at her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Your mind has blocked your memories to protect you.” He shook his head, his gaze scanning her face. “You shouldn’t try and force it.” He touched her hand. “It could hurt you. You’ll remember when you’re ready. Don’t push it.”
Tears sprung to her eyes, and she dashed them away in frustration. “Do you think the truth could be any worse than all the stuff I’ve imagined?”
His face was set in stone, his gaze flinty. “Yes.” His jaw clenched. “Yes, it can.” He turned away, then stopped. She saw him take a great breath. He looked back at her. “But if I were you—I’d still want to know too.” He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.
Fresh tears burned, slipping down her cheeks while she waited. She nodded her thanks in relief.
“Hmmm,” he said, looking around, “we’d better get comfortable. It’s going to be a long day.”
They went into the living area and by some silent agreement began cleaning it up, pulling the covers off the old sofas, vacuuming and dusting. Then they built a fire in the old fireplace to ward off the fall mountain chill, placing pillows in front of the warmth.
When they’d finished, they were starving. So, telling her this would be his treat, they ran to the store to stalk the frig and cupboards, and replace the missing toiletries and hygiene products the house no longer held, or were too out-of-date to use.
They chose a locally owned little grocery store, and he parked, getting out to come around to her door. She grinned, getting out before he could open her door. He grinned back at her and waited for her to join him. She eyed him, a bit shy as they walked. Even so, they talked, as he tried to pull up old memories for her of the little mountain town of Red Bluff.
In the store, she glanced down in surprise when he took her hand and pulled her toward the meats and cheeses. When they reached the wine, Morgan pulled up short, trembling at the thud of her heart. Flushing, she inspected him out of the corner of her eyes.
They held many things in common. Too many. She didn’t know how she should feel about that.
For their little picnic in front of the fire, they picked out an excellent red wine and some aged cheese, stone-milled crackers, and fruit. When they’d settled in and stoked the fire, they nibbled at their food, making light talk about all the work the house needed.
“I’ve always thought the old rooms upstairs could use decks out over the grounds,” he said.
She found herself watching him talk. His voice filled with warmth as he talked about her grandmother’s house. She studied the old house as it came alive for her when she tried to picture the changes he mentioned. At the mention of the decks, she grinned, then frowned. “Wait. How would they put them in?” she asked.
“We could use ornate columns for support….” he caught the ‘we’ at the same time she did and faltered, looking down at his plate.
She touched his hand, and he glanced up, gazing at her. “Tell me what happened,” she said.
He looked away. “You’re going to think I’m nuts.” He shrugged. “But all I have is the truth.” He straightened. “I was in love with you, even then.” He shook his head. “But after what happened that night….”
She sucked in her breath, the room taking on an odd spinning sensation. Strange dream-like images floated before her. But they were just that—dreams. Weren’t they? Dreams of past lives…. She heard him calling her name from somewhere far away and turned to stare at him, blinking s
everal times to clear the cobwebs. “I think you’d better tell me….”
He nodded. “We were kids, but we were inseparable. You were there—and me—your sister—Sophia and Tara—and two of my cousins.” He watched her. He hesitated, seemed to wait for her to absorb that.
She nodded. “Go on….”
“You—and your sister…. Well, you both could do things. And Tara—well she loved the old magick….”
She frowned as he talked, a lump forming as she tried to swallow. She repeatedly tried to get past it, but it wouldn’t go away, and she flinched when he said the word magick. “What sort of things could we do?” she squeezed out past her dry throat.
He hesitated. “Your grandma was a witch. Later, when you went missing, she taught your sister….” He stopped because she was already shaking her head before he’d had half of that said.
“That’s nonsense….”
“It’s the truth,” he said whispered, then chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that. You come from witches….”
Morgan’s brows shot up, and she gaped at him. “You’ve got to be kidding….”
Alex’s grin widened.
Morgan stared at him. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not a witch.”
Alex’s gaze danced now. “Oh, baby. I get that you don’t remember any of this—but you most definitely are a witch, and from what I witnessed that night—you and your sister are two of the most powerful witches I’ve ever met.”
She made a face. “Witches don’t really have powers.”
One of his dark brows arched, emphasizing the strength of his chiseled, handsome face. “You and your sister do. Tara, too. And where do you think that power comes from? People out there,” he gestured wide, “they live in ignorance of the things around them. But we are the bridges between our worlds.”
Morgan scrambled out of his reach. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said again. She got up, heading up the stairs, as he followed her. Reaching her room, she stomped over to her suitcase and began to push her things frantically back into it, so she could zip it shut.
“What are you doing?” he said, pulling her back close to him. “You’re not going to run from me,” he murmured.
She craned her head to glance back at him. “I’ve got to get out of here.” She turned and poked him in the chest. “You’ve lost your mind.”
He grinned down at her.
Morgan leaned back and looked up into his eyes. “I can’t take this right now.”
“I’ve only just found you again, Morgan,” he said. “I wouldn’t alarm you for anything—but you and your sister are witches.”
Perhaps it was the quiet way he’d said that, like he’d nothing to prove, but she stopped. She stood there, trembling. “Okay…,” she said, after several uncomfortable moments. She swallowed—curious now to know the rest—eager to remember everything she’d forgotten. “So, what happened?”
The grandfather clock made a loud clang from the living area downstairs, so loud in the quiet house they could hear it clearly in the silence of the room. He regarded her, unaffected. It made another, then another. She eyed the door, leading to the other room, as a chill swept up her spine. “It stopped that night,” he said, like stuff like that happened every day.
She tilted her head to gaze at him. He leaned forward and met her stare, as though nothing unusual was going on, “Your family has some uncommon enemies. One of them followed you and your sister in this lifetime too.”
She trembled like a leaf blowing in the wind. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor.
He followed her down—held her in the circle of his arms.
“A shadow,” she finished, “who pursues us in our sleep….”
He nodded. Taking her hand, he helped her up. Hand-in-hand, they walked back down the stairs, crossed the room, went down the hallway and into the kitchen. He took a couple of old glasses out of the cupboard. He picked up the dish soap they’d bought from town. He washed the glasses, then poured her a glass of water. Turning, he handed it to her.
She thanked him, thinking how much the gesture touched her.
“The night before—he attacked your sister again in her sleep. You’d had enough….” he said.
She swallowed. “So, I talked her into calling him out….”
He nodded. “My cousins and I helped you prepare—but none of us could have prepared for what you called out…. We still don’t know what it was—but it wasn’t Dante.” He took her icy hand into his. “You’d both made potions. We all tried, but we’d no clue a thing like that existed.”
He stared at her, struggled. “There was a bunch of chaos. Some kids heard us talking about what we were planning to do after school…. They’d followed us out to where we did the ritual in the woods, out behind this house.” He swallowed. “A couple of them got scared and went to get help. Your father was livid. The other kid’s parent’s—terrified. When it was over, your sister lay in a coma for three days— you couldn’t remember anything. A few days later, you simply vanished….”
“All this time—I thought it’d been a dream….” she whispered.
He pulled her close to him. “How….”
She lay a finger over his lips. At the feel of him she stopped, then something took over, and she went up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then began to kiss her back. Fire snaked up her spine. Her hands crept up and clung to his massive, muscular shoulders, then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling her body flush against his.
He backed her into the sink with some force. She wrapped her legs around his flat torso, and still kissing him, began to unbutton his shirt. She couldn’t stop now, even if she’d wanted too, which she didn’t. He’d called to her—to her heart—and her heart and her body answered.
Afterward, it took several moments for her head to clear, to realize what they’d done. When it did, she stared at him. “What the hell was that?”
A surprised look crossed his face, and he frowned at her when she pulled away from him, gathered her clothes and headed for the stairs. She took a shower and laid down on her bed, still naked.
He’d waited, sitting on the bed. He touched her shoulder, ran a single finger down her arm and over her hand, then headed to take a shower, himself. When he climbed out, he lay down on the bed beside her. He didn’t touch her, and he didn’t say anything.
She moved to her side—running her index finger down his muscular arm. “Okay—wow…,” she said. “Where exactly did that come from?” She sucked in her breath. “I’ve never done anything like that in my life.” She gave a little laugh. “I didn’t even know what I’d been missing.”
He turned on his side, facing her and leaned in, kissing her tenderly. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.
She smiled. “Somewhere, deep inside of me, I’ve missed you too, apparently.” She sighed. “I just didn’t know who I was missing….” She gazed up at him. “But I looked for you in every face I saw….”
He reached out and cupped her cheek, drawing her in for another hot kiss. His kisses set her blood on fire, and she gave herself up to the sensations driving her body.
Some time later, they fell asleep—their bodies entwined.
