Books 1-3

by B. C. Burgess

  Quin showed her how to perform magic on herself as well. She could now untangle her hair without a comb, freshen her mouth without a toothbrush, and paint her nails without polish. When she realized she would never have to shave her legs again, she glowed, thrilled to be rid of razors and their burn.

  At Quin’s persuasion, she used sorcery to roll up the legs of her jeans and wash her feet, and only then did she let him show her the spell he used to painlessly walk barefoot.

  When nine o’clock rolled around, Layla was bursting with enthusiasm, a zest for life she hadn’t felt in years. “I still can’t believe I’ve had this in me my entire life and never knew it,” she gushed, pacing between the bed and window. “It seems so natural now. Not so natural it’s boring.” She halted next to Quin. “Do you ever get bored with it? After doing these things for so long?”

  “It never gets boring,” he answered. “You will get used to it, but it’s easy to appreciate the gift of magic. I’m reminded how lucky I am everyday.”

  “Good, because I don’t want it to get old. I haven’t been this excited in years. For a while I thought I’d live the rest of my life in a rut, but this is the complete opposite of that.”

  “I’m glad you climbed out and came to Oregon.”

  “I was still halfway in the hole when I got here.” She paused, cheeks flushing as she looked away. “Until I met you.”

  Quin’s heart ached at the thought of her so depressed, and while he was honored to help, he couldn’t find solace in it. Her pain wasn’t over. He was surprised she hadn’t asked more about her past, but relieved, because he couldn’t answer. He also feared the circumstances surrounding her adoption would change her perception of the magical world, and legitimately so. Some of the darkest aspects of magic had already touched her, changed her, and punished her, yet she’d only been in the light for one day. He yearned for more time to show her the positive side of magic, but getting her to the coven held priority.

  He watched her absently gaze at the wall, her bottom lip tucked in her teeth as her aura exposed the emotions she tried so hard to hide. “You still have a long road ahead of you,” he noted.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean there are a lot of things you don’t know about yourself.” He reached for her face then paused with his fingers an inch from her scarlet cheek, watching as she nervously flipped her gaze between his hand and eyes. She didn’t object, so he tentatively closed the gap, taking her jaw in his palm. “I know you’re curious about why you were adopted, and the truth will be hard to take.”

  Layla looked away, resuming the abuse of her bottom lip. She hadn’t asked too many questions, because finding out the answers would have put a damper on her magical day. But how much longer could she drag it out? If she didn’t commit to meeting her family, Quin would leave without her, and that troubled her more than the unknown. In fact, it made her downright queasy. She couldn’t deny it, because she clearly felt it. She was squirming from her gut to her throat as she thought about losing sight of the only thing that felt solid in her life.

  She tucked her chin in, trying to hide a labored breath, but Quin had one arm around her back, so even if he didn’t see it, he’d felt it. Keeping her head down, she looked up, finding his heart then his neck, and her ears buzzed as warmth rushed her veins.

  She returned her gaze to his heart, thinking she should run for cover immediately, sever the attachment now rather than later, but she couldn’t. She’d finally found her drug of choice. After years of wondering why addicts ached to do the one thing they probably shouldn’t, she finally understood. The idea of drowning never to resurface suddenly sounded delightful, as long as Quin’s ocean was the one in which she sank. And like a true addict, she went where she never thought she’d go to get a taste of temptation.

  Swallowing hugely, she placed her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes, imagining herself rising from the ground. The magic worked, and a sliver of pride poked through the humiliation. By the time she wrapped her arms around his neck, the pride was gone, and she was caught in a riptide of longing and shame. She tucked her burning face into his smooth throat, hoping her actions weren’t proving too desperate, because each time she touched him, her desperation grew.

  Despite her mortification, the position felt heavenly and absolutely right. She couldn’t imagine it getting any better. Until it did. His arms tightened, firmly pulling her against him, and a purr rose from her chest, vibrating her tingling lips.

  The quiver combined with the thrum of Quin’s pulse, and he thought his ribs might crack over the forceful pounding of his heart. He swallowed, increasing the pressure of her mouth on his throat, and his muscles tensed. Willing himself to maintain control, he turned his focus to the scent of her hair as it tickled his chin—a bouquet of roses and lilacs . . . with a hint of sweet vanilla.

  Their bodies melded nicely, easily, so they stayed that way for a long time, and Layla’s blush eventually receded as her regret slipped away. He hadn’t rejected her gesture. He stood there like her personal statue, strong and snuggly.

  She eventually left his neck, once again embarrassed as she steeled herself to look at him, but the moment she opened her eyes, finding herself in the midst of his rapidly swirling aura, she forgot to be humiliated.

  “Wow,” she exclaimed, watching bright colors zoom between them.

  “Mmm . . .” Quin murmured, smiling as he opened his eyes. Then he saw Layla’s stunned expression and sobered. “What?”

  “Your aura,” she breathed. “It’s . . . it’s . . .” She couldn’t find the right word, because she’d never seen anything like it. “It’s magnificent.”

  He smiled and tightened his grip. “I’m very happy holding you.”

  She attempted to touch the glowing haze, but while it parted around her fingers, she couldn’t feel it. “Can you see it?” she asked.

  “No, but I can see yours and it’s exquisite.”

  “It can’t be better than this,” she argued, trying to catch a strip of luminous silver darting through a rushing emerald river.

  “We’ll just have to agree to disagree,” he replied, “because I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than what I’m looking at now.”

  Layla raised her gaze to his, and a lump seized her throat. His aura was magnificent, but it couldn’t outshine the guy it surrounded. His expression was so sincere and tender, Layla couldn’t look away. Not even her flaming cheeks could persuade her to surrender the mesmerizing view.

  “I’m ready,” she decided.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, but I can’t put it off forever.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “No. I have to know so I can move on. Everything’s different now, and I don’t want to start a new life with a mystery hanging over my head.”

  Quin carried her to the bed and smoothly flipped her legs up, sitting down with her on his lap. “There are a few things you should know before we go.”

  Layla felt cozily secure and uncommonly happy, and wondered what would happen if she imagined him never moving. Curiosity got the best of her, and she closed her eyes, picturing him completely still as he held her in his arms—a more intimate statue, a very detailed statue. She was just about to commend herself on the specifics when the real Quin’s muscles flexed.

  She quickly opened her eyes, finding his jaw tight and his lids shut. Oh no. Her stomach flipped and tightened. Oh shit.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said, opening his eyes.

  “What did I . . . I didn’t mean . . . Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” he answered, “but it’s an uncomfortable feeling when you’re not expecting it.”

  “What did I do?” she squeaked, beyond mortified and so ashamed.

  “You used magic on me.”

  “But I didn’t think it would work. I didn’t know I could do that.” She felt horrible for causing him discomfort, and the reason behind it left her breathless. She’d ne
ver been so humiliated in her life.

  “It’s okay,” he assured, laying a hand on her cheek. “I’m not hurt, or the least bit upset, but for the record, yes, magicians can perform magic on other people. But most of us don’t unless we’re given permission.”

  Layla burned with a full body blush. “I’m so sorry, Quin. I just thought it felt nice, sitting like this. I didn’t think . . . I didn’t mean . . . It wasn’t supposed to work!”

  “Layla,” he whispered, touching a thumb to her trembling pout. “It’s okay. I promise. I was able to block it when it hit me, and it isn’t a harmful spell to begin with. It was merely unexpected. And unnecessary. All you have to do is ask, and I’ll stay like this until you’re ready to move.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, burying her face in his bicep.

  Quin shook his head, sliding his hand from her cheek to her curls. She had no idea how he felt about her, and nothing he said made a difference. He wasn’t accustomed to fragile egos, and didn’t know how to bolster the one in his arms. “Don’t be sorry, Layla. I like that you feel that way, but the next time you want something from me, just ask. I’m pretty sure you’ll get it.”

  “Why are you so nice to me?” she whispered, keeping her face hidden.

  Quin scowled, dumbfounded by her insecurities and pissed at whomever or whatever had caused them. If she’d been living the life she was destined for, she would never have such doubts. He gently forced her to look at him, alarmingly moved by the moisture clinging to her long lashes. “You are quickly proving to be the most beautiful, resilient and kindhearted witch I know, Layla. You’ve been living a nightmare for the past few years, and I’ve put you through hell today, yet you’re still shining. I look at you, at your aura, and the first things I see are love, compassion, determination and hope. I wouldn’t be very decent or very smart, if I didn’t treat you kindly. And I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you exactly what I see and feel when I look at you. No matter how much it makes you blush.”

  A tear escaped, falling to her flushed cheek, and he quickly swept it away with his thumb. “Please don’t cry, Layla. What can I do?”

  “Nothing,” she quietly answered. “You’ve done so much already. I . . . I don’t know why I’m crying. Today was amazing. I’m just not used to this, to feeling this way. It embarrasses me and makes me nervous . . .” Her top lashes fell like black velvet over a stage of emerald. “It scares me.”

  Quin hugged her close, loving and hating her confession all at once. “I don’t want you to be scared, Layla. I want you to feel safe. And the last thing I want to do is make things harder on you. I can’t possibly know all the reasons why you’re scared, no matter how long I look at your aura, and I’m not going to ask you to explain yourself. But I will say this. I’m not going anywhere. I have nowhere else I need to be, so until you ask me to leave, I’ll be right here. Unless you’re over there,” he teased, pointing across the room.

  Layla wanted him to promise, but wouldn’t dare ask. He’d known her for one measly day and didn’t owe her another.

  She breathed deep, smelling him as she collected herself. Then she boldly met his stare. “What did you need to tell me before I tried to freeze you in time?”

  It took him a few seconds to remember what she was talking about. “Oh yeah. I need to fill you in on a few things before you meet your grandparents.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, your dad’s parents, who live in Virginia, they’re here. Should be anyway.”

  “What?” Layla blurted, shocked by the prospect of meeting all four of her grandparents in one night.

  “We called them last night,” Quin explained, “and they left right away. They were due to arrive this evening.”

  “From Virginia?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess they flew?”

  “Yes,” he answered, flashing a grin.

  “Oh . . . ” she replied, “you mean they flew. No plane.”

  “Right,” he confirmed. “It takes about twenty-four hours to get here from Virginia.”

  “They flew for twenty-four hours straight?”

  “Sure. It’s not as difficult as it sounds.”

  “But that means they flew overnight.”

  “And all day.”

  Despite his claims, Layla thought it sounded like an exhausting journey. “They didn’t have to do that. They could have waited. Or at least slept. Why did they come so quickly?”

  “A few reasons. Most importantly, they want to see you. They’ve waited a long time for this opportunity, so they weren’t going to sit in Virginia and let it pass them by. But there is another reason. When your dad last saw Serafin, he gave him a box and asked him to keep it safe for you.”

  “My dad left me a box?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “A ring.”

  “The kind that goes on a finger?”

  “Yes. Aedan imprinted his and your mom’s memories on her wedding ring. When you wear it, the memories will be yours.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Layla replied. “If I put this ring on, I’ll see my parents?”

  “Their memories,” Quin corrected, “not them.”

  “Right . . .” Layla mumbled. “Like home movies or something?”

  “I can’t answer that. The box is sealed with magic only you can break, so no one has seen or touched the ring since Aedan told Serafin about the imprint. The memories might show like home movies or photos. A lot of imprinted objects show that way. But sometimes it’s just voices, or images combined with voices, and I’ve heard of a few that were like out-of-body experiences, but with another person’s body. We have no idea which method your dad chose.”

  The thought of watching any of these things starring her parents excited and scared Layla. The memories would be sad, but the chance to see where she came from, to see who her parents were, was too good to pass up. “When will I see it?”

  “That’s up to you,” Quin answered. “When we go tonight, the minute you enter the community, everyone plays by your rules. We know this is overwhelming, so we do it your way. If you want to see the ring before you meet anyone, that’s what you’ll do. If you want to meet one person at a time, that’s how you’ll meet them. If you want a welcome home party, the feast will be prepared before we get there. The call is yours.”

  Layla understood the enormity of his offer. Twenty-six people were bending over backward for someone they didn’t know. “I don’t want a party.”

  “I know,” he replied, lips twitching into a grin, “but my point remains. This happens the way you want it to.”

  “That’s really nice of everybody. I know it must be inconvenient.”

  “Not really. We’re a laid-back group of people good at rolling with the punches. As you’ve so beautifully proven today.”

  “I still appreciate what they’re doing.”

  “I know you do,” he assured, playing with a curl.

  Layla closed her eyes, absorbing his tingling touch while debating her next steps to the truth. Her dad must have left an explanation, either on the ring or in the box. So whose account of events did she want to hear first? Her parents’ or her grandparents’?

  Her parents’, she decided. No one would know better than they why things turned out the way they did.

  Now, did she want to meet anyone before she got her chance with the box? On this she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t want to be rude and make her grandparents wait, but she would have a better idea how to receive her new family if she knew why they were strangers. Only then could she be honest about her feelings toward them.

  Quin patiently waited, watching her face as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger, so when Layla opened her eyes, she immediately found his.

  “If I choose to see the box before meeting anyone, where would I look at it?”

  “Wherever you’d feel comfortable looking at it,” he answered. “You could use your house, your gran
dparents’, or mine. Or we could have someone bring it here.”

  “Wait a minute. Go back. My house?”

  Quin grimaced. “I’m sorry. I forgot I hadn’t told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  “You have a house in the community.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It belonged to your parents. When they died, the coven decided to keep it for you. I should have mentioned it earlier. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s fine.”

  “Then I’ll get back to the point. Where would you like to see the box?”

  Layla considered having the ring delivered, but decided it would be more fitting to discover the truth in her parents’ house… her house. Besides, she didn’t want to ask favors of the family she’d never met. “My parents’ house,” she answered. “I mean . . . my house.”

  “Okay. When would you like to go?”

  She checked the time—ten o’clock. “Won’t they be going to bed soon?”

  “Some of them, but your grandparents won’t sleep until they know what’s going on. If they think there’s a chance they’ll get to see you tonight, they’ll stay up.”

  “What if I get there, see the memories, then decide to wait until morning to meet everyone?”

  “Then that’s what you’ll do. Is that what you want?”

  “Maybe, I’m not sure. I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Then you’ll take it one step at a time and we’ll follow you. They’ll be fine with whatever you choose.”

  “What about you?”

  His dark eyebrows drew together. “What about me?”

  “What will you do when we get there?” she elaborated.

  His confusion smoothed into thought. “Hmm . . . What do you want me to do?”

  Layla took his hand, fidgeting with his fingers as she swallowed a lump and her pride. “I want you to stay with me,” she confessed, feeling weak and immature.

  Moisture stung her lids, so she squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear escaped anyway, landing in Quin’s palm. “That’s convenient,” he whispered, transforming the teardrop into an emerald green rose petal, “because I really want to stay.”