by Kelly Moran
“Tact, man. How about you use it?” Riley shifted his irritated focus from Tristan to Ceara, the calmest of the group. “Give us the Cliffnotes version.”
Ignoring Tristan, she acknowledged Riley with a nod. “When our mother learned she was expecting Kaida, she knew the fates were in alignment. She sent Kaida to live off island until it was time for her to return. That time has come.”
“For the love of all that’s holy.” Tristan stalked away, one hand shoved in his hair, and paced the clearing.
Ceara’s brows rose. “Believe what you want, but if we don’t figure out what’s expected of us, the spell will never be lifted.” When Tristan bitched harder, she pinned him with a glare that stopped him in his tracks. “How old was your father when he died? Your grandfather? What about every male in your line? How many girls have been born to a Meath? How many wives have stuck through the generations?”
Tristan snarled. “Don’t lay your bippity boppity boo crap on us.”
“And don’t hide your fear behind a wall of denial.”
Riley and Fiona joined in the bickering, and Brady wearily sighed. This was getting them nowhere. He glanced at Kaida to see how she was doing, wondering when he could get her alone for thirty damn seconds, and stumbled back a step. The breath punched from his lungs.
The tears that clung to her thick, pale lashes lifted from her face. Lifted, not fell. As in, they hovered mid-air before her gorgeous eyes.
“Kaida?” He tried to draw breath and couldn’t manage.
She took a couple steps away, violently shaking, and raised her hands in surrender. The moment she did, shit got weirder.
Dew and residual rain rose. Off the grass, the surrounding ferns, and the foliage, small water droplets elevated in perfect circles. A Salvador Dali version of a reverse storm shower. Higher, they rose until they hovered around the two of them in some kind of...protection bubble. When he dared to tear his eyes away from her, the entire clearing had the same thing happening. Like she’d pressed a rewind button on the elements.
Every hair on his body stood erect. Goosebumps skated across his arms. They stared at each other, wide-eyed and unmoving.
Kaida quaked, frozen but for her trembling limbs, and whimpered.
“Guys?” Brady cleared his throat so he could be heard over the arguing. “Guys!”
A collective silence ensued and he jerked his chin at Kaida. They seemed to finally notice the dilemma and went eerily still. Staring, staring.
After the longest pause, Riley reacted first. “Someone tell me what the actual hell is happening.”
“She’s having a surge.” Ceara stepped closer to Kaida, whose eyes had gone dissonantly vacant. “Take a deep breath.”
“A surge?”
“Power surge. She doesn’t have control over hers yet and stress or fear or anger can trigger a response.” Ceara skimmed her hand down Kaida’s strands. “Rein it in, sister. Take a breath and draw it back into you.”
Tristan, pale as snow, grabbed his chest. His gaze ping-ponged from the events to the group. “Power? Power!”
She turned, impatience in her eyes. “Yes, powers. Fire.” She held out her palm, where a ball of...flame flashed, then disappeared.
“Holy shit.” Riley stumbled into Tristan.
Brady’s heart lodged in his throat.
“Somewhere in the back of your puny minds, you knew we had them. Kaida’s element is water. Obviously.”
They looked to Fiona as if beseeching her demonstration, too shocked to do anything more, but Kaida’s eyes rolled back in her head and her face tilted toward the sky. A strangled noise filled the quiet as her body jerked taut. The hovering droplets swirled, creating cyclones of water, and Brady couldn’t deal.
He pushed aside powers and curses and insane weather glitches to zero in on her. Concern and alarm shifted inside him to block out everything else. His Kaida. Something was wrong, and he needed to fix it. Before his brain had caught up with his body, he took two faltering steps toward her.
Fiona threw up a hand, and Brady hit a wall of...solid air. “Stay away from her.”
He flew backward onto his ass with a jarring thud and blinked. Tried to process. Failed miserably. “How’d you do that?”
“Air is my element.”
As if that was any explanation. His brothers, being no help whatsoever, stood like mute morons with their jaws agape.
Brady lumbered to his feet. “In the not too distant future, we’re going talk about this in a way that doesn’t include a trip to Hogwarts. For now, Kaida...”
Collapsed. One moment she was quaking on her feet, and the next she was in a heap on the ground. The suspended rain fell in a rush, drenching everyone in the clearing.
Concern clenched his gut as he took in her limp form, hair spread around her fair face, and lashes creating shadows on her cheeks. Her plush lips were parted like she was having trouble getting oxygen, but the rest of her features were relaxed. Deathly so.
“No. Kaida?” Panicked, he rushed forward, only to be met with the invisible wall again. Anger merged with anxiety. “Let me through, Fiona.”
“Not happening.” Palm extended, she looked at her sister. “We should get her home.”
Ceara knelt beside Kaida, smoothed a hand down her arm. “She needs to recuperate. Drawing that much power drained her.”
“Agreed. Meeting over, boys.”
The hell it was. Brady pounded against the barrier. No sound emitted for his efforts, but the air shimmered and pain licked his knuckles. “Let me through, Fiona. Now, or so help me...”
“What? Exactly what will you do?”
Kaida didn’t stir, not even a flutter of her lashes, and terror clamped his windpipe. A rush of emotion, so fierce it almost broke him in two, seized his body. Defend. Protect. Hold. He pounded like a madman until his fists bled and tears burned his eyes.
Arms banded around him from behind, pinning his to his sides, and he realized his throat was raw from...screaming. He shook, fought off the restraint, and beat at the solid mass of air anew. He had to get to her.
“Brady, man. Calm down.”
Riley’s voice barely registered through the fuzz in Brady’s ears. He glared daggers at Fiona, huffing. Eyes rounded, she stared at him like he’d gone mental, but her hand remained up, maintaining the shield keeping him from...
A roar, and he went toward the wall, determined to get to Kaida.
“Brady Meath.”
He halted at Ceara’s calm, lilting tone and found her intense gaze on him. She picked him apart in a study bordering on dissection while keeping one hand on Kaida’s arm. Lungs straining, he willed her to hear his plea, understand this need to be beside Kaida even though he didn’t comprehend it himself.
And then sudden intuition told him what Ceara sought from him. Heartbroken, jarred to the bone, he wondered if he should hit his knees to vow.
“I would never hurt her.” He’d die first. He was not his ancestors, nor did he harbor the hate his family seemed to brandish through the centuries. One look at Kaida would’ve cindered that to ash if he did. He slapped a hand over his heart, tears blurring his vision. “I would never hurt her.”
Gaze on him, she eventually nodded. “Fiona, pull it back.”
Fiona dropped her arm and the air before him rippled.
He tentatively put his palm out and met no interference. Rushing to Kaida’s side, he squatted by her hip and reached for her with a shaking hand, only to fist his fingers and draw short.
She was so still, so pale. He had no clue where the blinding need to protect her had come from, but he’d acted out of character and didn’t trust himself. Tristan held the bitter, angry card in their family, and Riley was the impulsive one. Not Brady. He’d always been about logic and good judgment. Control. How long had he hoped to touch her, truly touch her? Here she was, not a dream, and he was scared out of his ever-loving mind. Just being in her presence had turned him into a raving lunatic. What would contact do?
Riley stepped beside him and cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”
Honestly? “I don’t know.”
Tristan dug his fingers into his eye sockets. “Did you do something to him?” He glared at Fiona, then softened a bit at Ceara. “Are you responsible for this? The dreams? His rabid animal meltdown?”
Ceara rose to her feet from Kaida’s side. “Harm none,” she said through clenched teeth. “That is our way, our oath. We harm none.”
“Well, pardon the hell outta me. We just found out you had a sister who can make it rain backwards, and you...” He let out a gusty sigh. “Jesus. You conjured fire from your palm. That’s not accounting for the air shield. This is all a bit new for us.”
Fiona closed her eyes a beat, her shoulders deflating. “You’re right. We’re sorry.” She glanced at each of them. “We had no knowledge of the dreams, and we don’t know what they mean. Aunt Mara might. You have to understand, our families have been at odds for generations. We had no way of guessing what you’d do tonight or how you’d respond.”
Riley shook his head. “I’ll admit, I was ready to piss myself. Still might. I’m not saying we’re onboard for whatever whacked out plan you have, or that I’m okay with any of this, but we’re not Minister Gregory Meath and this isn’t the seventeenth century.”
“There are still those out there who kill our kind.” Ceara crossed her arms. “Most people don’t have an inkling magick is real, but some do. We call them hunters, and a good portion of them stem from your family tree.”
Tristan and Riley exchanged worried, confused glances before Tristan dropped his hands on his hips. “I don’t believe you.”
“Shocker.” Fiona rolled her eyes.
“If your surprise at our powers is sincere, and I believe it is, then you’ve been purposely left in the dark by your relatives.” Ceara bowed her head, then looked helplessly at Fiona. “Where are we supposed to go from here?”
Fiona shrugged.
It was apparent the girls hadn’t expected the meeting to go down as it had, and Brady was trying to wrap his head around everything, but there was a more pressing issue at the moment. He swallowed, looking at Kaida. “Is she...okay?”
“Yes.” Ceara knelt again and took his hand across Kaida’s body. “Think of it like she ran a marathon without eating this morning or sleeping the night before.”
“Or a tequila bender,” Fiona mumbled.
“She just needs to rest.” Ceara squeezed his hand and let go. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
“I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling, but yeah. She matters to me.” Since Ceara was studying him again in that unnerving way, he focused on Kaida. He might breathe with less effort if she’d just open her eyes. Something. Anything. “Kaida?”
Her lids flew open, revealing a frightening shade of white where her cerulean irises used to be. She sucked in a harsh breath, blinked, and her normal eyes returned, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined the change.
Pulse hammering, he leaned over her. “Hey there. Welcome back.”
“Brady?” She pressed a hand to her brow. “I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.”
“We’re awake this time.” He smiled, forcing a serenity in the act despite the chaos inside him. “It’s really great to meet you. Officially.”
Confusion wrinkling her forehead, shock in her eyes, she glanced at the faces over her. “What happened?”
Tristan eased closer. “Not sure, but you put on a good show.”
Realization crept into her expression and she swallowed. “I scared you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right.” In a surprising move, Tristan squatted beside Ceara at Kaida’s hip. “You’ve made quite the impression on my brother here, which makes you solid in my book. Not a big fan of your sisters, though.”
She laughed nervously and tried to sit up, but didn’t manage.
“Lay still for a few more minutes.” Brady, unable to fight the urge anymore, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The barest of touches, a trace of her soft strands, and...
Light blasted from where he’d made contact. There and gone in a flash, yet bright enough to fry his retinas. Heat shot from his fingers, up his arm. She gasped, eyes wide. He lost balance and landed beside her on his ass.
The others backed up, mumbling under their breaths.
Before he could so much as check if she was hurt, pain seared the inside of his left wrist. He cursed and watched in horror as black lines formed on his skin, burning as they merged into a...trinity knot. A symbol he recognized only because of his Irish heritage and the countless Galloway Wiccan documents he’d examined through the years. Slightly larger than a quarter, it branded him like a tattoo.
Kaida cried out, grabbing her arm as the same pattern emerged in the same spot on her inner wrist. Breaths soughing, she sat up and glanced from the mark, to him, and back again. “Oh God. Did I...do that?”
“No,” Ceara breathed. “I have a feeling Celeste Galloway just sent you a sign.”
Chapter Six
Inside the great room of her sisters’ home, Kaida slumped in her chair, exhausted. As in, her bones were melting and her muscles cried uncle.
What a night. Her clothes were still damp from the meeting in the clearing because she’d conjured rain and the man she’d met in dreams sat on the plush brown leather sofa to her left, rubbing the mark on his wrist with a tissue for all he was worth.
Utter insanity.
Lord. She’d fainted. Actually fainted like a southern belle. If she weren’t on the brink of a coma, she’d be embarrassed for the night’s events.
Tristan paced the far side of the room in front of the stained-glass window, his shoes silent on the hardwood floor. Riley stood beside the ginormous fireplace big enough for three men his size to fit inside, his hand braced on the carved mantle teeming with lit candles. Her sisters sat side-by-side on the matching sofa across from Brady, a black walnut table between him and them. An ornate decorative rug matching the burgundy walls lay underneath, well-worn but cared for. Colored glass bottles and spheres held by black iron stands littered the end tables, shelves, and book cases.
Despite the warmth of the room and comfy decor, tension crackled in the terse silence, thick enough to choke a giraffe. They’d made the trek back to the Victorian as a group, and hadn’t spoken since. The Meaths, reluctant to come, looked one parlor trick away from bolting, and her sisters seemed torn between letting them or considering restraints.
After being in the meadow by the cliffs she’d often dreamed about and everything her sisters had told her, Kaida shouldn’t be surprised Brady was an actual person. But having him in front of her, seeing him the first time while awake, had been like a lightning bolt to the chest. Throw in the fact he was a Meath, and she was tempted to do a little red wine therapy. A good Chateau Pontet-Canet Bordeaux sounded perfect.
They were a great-looking group of men, though. She’d learned yesterday from her sisters they were triplets. All three had black hair in varying shades with similar cuts. Green eyes, too, but as was the case with her and her sisters, the tones were unique to each one. They shared similar body types as well. Tall and lean, wide shoulders and narrow waists. Yet their facial shapes, aside from square jaws, were nothing alike. Family resemblance, but obviously fraternal.
She couldn’t stop staring at Brady’s profile. Surreal. She knew his features intimately, yet being here was like encountering him for the first time. A quiver in her belly and a thrum of excitement warred with a strange sense of calm inside her body.
Riley glanced at Brady and frowned. “Would you quit that?”
A heavy sigh, and Brady tossed the tissue he’d been using onto the table. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have a mysterious tattoo. I wasn’t drunk and sowing wild oats. I was in the woods, sans a dirty parlor and an inked dude in a wife-beater holding me down.” He glared at the mark on his wrist, now reddened from his vigorous mini
strations. “It won’t come off.”
One just like it had formed on her inner wrist, too. Burned was more like it. A trinity knot, of all things, and originating out of nowhere. At least it didn’t hurt anymore.
Riley crossed the room and took a seat by his brother. “All your research books and studying didn’t say anything about this?”
“No.” Brady swiped at a smudge of dried blood on his knuckles. He frowned as if surprised it was there.
That was the other thing adding to the night’s craziness. Details were a little hazy, but she clearly remembered Fiona putting up a block and Brady going batshit trying to get through to Kaida. She’d never seen him act that way before. Anyone for that matter, especially when it came to her. No one had ever shown that kind of fierce protection on her behalf.
Riley shoulder-bumped him. “Some historian you are.”
Kaida whipped her gaze to Brady’s. “You’re a historian?” At his nod, she offered up a bit of herself since he seemed unnerved. “Me, too. Well, I teach the origins and practices of certain religions at a college in Iowa.”
“Huh, a professor.” Riley’s brows rose. “Peas in a pod, aren’t you? God save us, there’s two geeks on the island. He bores the crap out of us with random facts all the time. And if he makes me watch a documentary on the History Channel again, just shoot me. You should see him with his nerd glasses.”
A hum in her throat, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her calves. “I’ve seen him in glasses. He looks very intellectual wearing them.” It took her a beat to realize four sets of questioning glances and Brady’s smiling pair were aimed at her. She fidgeted. “He fell asleep reading once and still had them on.”
Riley barked a laugh. “Is that how the dreaming thing works? He ever fall asleep naked?”
Grinning, she glanced at Brady. “No, but there was a case of an unusual pair of boxers.”
Affection in his gaze, Brady shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“So,” Riley leaned back, “what went down in these dreams? Sordid things? Do tell. He never shares.”
