by Kelly Moran
She sighed. “If there’s any truth to it, legend says there’s a blade that looks just like that, and if a witch is slain with it, it takes her powers. Forever. In other words, no descendents can inherit her gift.”
“Magick genocide.” Lord, Kaida’s stomach rolled. “Which Meath formed the group? Finn?”
“Doubtful.” Brady shifted on the couch and faced forward. Taking her hand, he linked his fingers with hers. “According to accounts, Finn didn’t back Minister Meath in his fanatical quest. Though he never got over Celeste, Finn did marry and bore two children. Boys, of course. My guess is a cousin or close family member continued where the Minister left off.”
Riley shook his head. “If the Venatores are an actual faction, why would they leave the Galloways alone? They hated you most of all.”
“Because of the curse.” Ceara stared at the table, her voice hollow. “Our families have been forever tied since that day. Eliminate the Galloway line, and it all but eliminates the Meaths, too.”
“That’s putting a lot of faith in one woman and one spell,” Riley argued. “You’re assuming they believed her.”
Slowly, she looked at Riley, and even Kaida felt the chill from the icy glare across the room. “They believed in her power enough to drag her from her home in the middle of the night, away from her newborn baby, strap her to a post, and set her on fire. They believed enough to start an entire organization for the sole purpose of eradicating others of her kind. One that, three centuries later, is still in existence.”
They stared at one another as silence hung until, finally, Riley sighed. Shoulders sagging, he dipped his chin in supplication. “Touché. I apologize.”
A swallow, and Tristan glanced at his brothers, then focused on Ceara. “What they did to her, my family, it was wrong. Let me go on record to say we’re not them. Riley, Brady, and I had no knowledge of this organization, and even if we had, we’d want no part in it.”
Ceara studied him. “I believe you.”
“Which is why you’re here in our home, having this conversation.” Fiona nodded. “Curse or no curse, we let you in. Both sides took the initial step. Now it’s up to us, all of us, to blow three-hundred years of hate into oblivion.”
Eyes burning with unshed tears, Kaida turned her head toward Brady, only to find his affectionate gaze already watching her. Dark stubble covered his jaw as his lips curved in a secretive smile. The mossy green eyes behind his glasses held tenderness and radiated trust.
Warmth filled the cold corners inside her the longer they locked gazes. In all her life, no one had ever looked at her the way he did. Like he not only knew her, every hidden part and guarded emotion, but as if she...mattered.
“Look what you did,” he whispered, his face close to hers. “And all because you found me in a meadow by the cliffs.”
“No, not me.” Forgetting everything else, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips and eased away. “A world of our making.”
When he drew a breath, she faced the group again. Four sets of eyes were trained on her and Brady. His brothers looked at him with respect and a severe degree of awe, while her sisters stared in wonder with a slight jealousy chaser.
If Kaida didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn not a one of them knew what having a connection or being in a trusting relationship felt like. Then again, sadly, maybe they didn’t, judging by the stunned silence. Fiona and Ceara were very close, as the Meath brothers seemed to be with each other. But what about friends? Lovers?
Kaida had, of course, dated other men. A few even had the potential to be serious until she’d broken it off and had walked away for whatever reason. She didn’t know what category to lump her and Brady in just yet, and their circumstances were very different than anything she’d experienced, but if she were being honest, she hadn’t had a good support system. Her family had been emotionally distant and friends were a commodity never afforded.
Still, as she met the gazes of those in the room, it appeared they had no concept of romantic trust. Not even a flicker of recognition. Perhaps she wasn’t such an outsider, after all. If not for Brady, she wouldn’t begin to know how to detect it, either.
Tristan cleared his throat and straightened as if just realizing something. “Do any of you girls have self-defense training?”
They shook their heads, but Fiona was the one to respond.
“We’re not exactly helpless damsels in need of a knight in shining armor.” To prove it, she wiggled her fingers and a brisk wind whirled through the room, disrupting papers and making chaos of Riley and Tristan’s hair.
“Hilarious, Fi.” Scowling, Riley reshuffled his strands. “I might get used to your powers by the time I’m ninety.”
“I know you’re not helpless,” Tristan said as if nothing had happened. “Nor did I imply you were. But Kaida was pinned against a wall with a hand around her throat. The man who attacked her tonight essentially announced he was coming after all of us. You can bet he has fighting expertise if he’s part of this brethren organization, and magick won’t save you in all instances of attack. We don’t even know how many of them there are.”
“What are you suggesting?” A wrinkle formed between Ceara’s brows. “We start preparing for battle or something?”
“Yeah, actually. I say we train.” Tristan dug his fingers into his eye sockets before refocusing on her. “I can teach the three of you some moves. It won’t hurt for me and my brothers to brush up, too. It’s been awhile since we’ve utilized the skills we learned.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” Fiona tapped her lips as if mulling theories. “Protection and counter magick on our end. Physical readiness on theirs. Combine our resources. We should be prepared for anything.”
“Sure, why not?” Riley rolled his head to stretch his neck. “Fellowship of the ring and all that. I refuse to be the dwarf in this scenario, though. When do we start?”
Chapter Thirteen
Brady leaned against the wall in the upstairs hallway outside Kaida’s bedroom and waited for her to finish up in the bathroom. His brothers had gone home to try and sleep off what remained of the night, but he couldn’t make himself leave her. The moment he’d tried, an all-consuming panic took hold and, sensing it, Ceara had invited him to stay.
For as long as he could remember, he’d cared about Kaida. Whether a figment contrived in dreams or a fantasy born from loneliness, it didn’t matter. She was a part of him. But meeting her in person had turned that tether of connection into an unyielding knot. One he both hoped and feared would never unravel.
So, learning what he had tonight gave terror a new name. To think, their dreams together had been the highlight of his existence and, all this time, she could’ve been hurt. Could’ve died visiting him in that projection state. Throw in the fact his twisted family had started an organization to murder those like her, and his sanity was this close to taking a permanent dirt nap.
And the Venatores were coming for them. All of them.
He wasn’t a fighter by nature. He hated violence of any kind. But come tomorrow, he was going to be…training. As in, relearning battle moves taught to him as a child in order to go into some mythical war over the happiness of two families. Beside witches, no less. One of which he suspected he was falling for so completely, he may never get back up.
A bedroom door close to the attic staircase opened, and he blew out a breath as Ceara emerged. “Hey. Thanks again for letting me crash. I’d go nuts at home wondering if she was all right.”
She studied him a careful beat before nodding. “I understand.”
Striding closer in the dim hallway, she seemed to float rather than walk. Kaida moved like a dancer and Fiona like a temptress, but Ceara ghosted as if not truly there. Throw in the old house’s ambiance, and it was a little creepy.
From what he’d seen thus far, the whole Victorian’s interior was original dark wood. Crown molding, doorways, chair rails, the staircase. The floor plan had wings and bays veering off in many dire
ctions. An intricate maze of various-sized rooms. One could disappear in a home like theirs for hours. The historian in him appreciated the detailed accent carvings and wallpaper chosen for the period style, plus the light fixtures that seemed to jump out of the eighteenth century. As a man, however, the gothic quality of the architecture wasn’t helping the witch stigmata he’d imagined in his head. Despite the large stained-glass windows, unimposing decor, and naturist art, the place felt as if it had a ghost or two. The past coexisting with the present.
She stopped next to him, fingering the pentagram pendant on her necklace. “You are welcome here any time, Brady.”
Keeping silent, he dissected her words. Their families may be linked and they may have grown up on the same chunk of rock, but friendly had never been part of their gig. He and his brothers had dropped their guard tonight, or at least had lowered their shield, yet it would take more than a few pow-wow sessions until he completely trusted a Galloway. Besides Kaida.
“You two are bonded in a way the rest of us aren’t,” she said in that ever-calm, all-knowing tone. “I would never want to bar you from that. She needs it, needs you.” She glanced at the bathroom door, then him, and the gratitude filling her eyes nearly knocked him down a peg. “Tonight, you went against everything you were taught in order to help her. You could’ve ignored my warning or advice and tried to wake her yourself, yet you didn’t. Instead, you offered the truth, a painful one, so we could solve the problem. Fiona and I are indebted to you.”
He shook his head. “I care about her. Regardless of what you think of me and my family, I’m not a monster. Neither are my brothers. We all want the same thing.”
“I know.” She smiled, faint and a little sad. “I can feel it, your emotions. Though they’re not as open as you, I felt it from Tristan and Riley, too.” She tilted her head. “You are welcome here any time, Brady,” she repeated.
Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Thank you.”
“I would like to extend an invitation to you and your brothers to join us in Eostara tomorrow. Or, later today, as the case may be. There are rituals we perform and a celebration for Spring Equinox.”
Something told him her offer wasn’t merely an olive branch, but a bird’s eye view of their practices. She was letting him into their world, trusting him with something private and sacred. Damn if his throat didn’t constrict.
“We’ll accept on one condition. That you and your sisters join us at our place for Easter on Sunday.”
He didn’t know what the hell had prompted him to say such a thing, other than he needed to offer up something in exchange. They didn’t celebrate holidays. Christ, they hadn’t even put up a Christmas tree in more than ten years. There were no plans in place for Easter, but he’d figure something out. He could only pray his brothers wouldn’t kill him dead, not only for agreeing to Ceara’s proposal, but tossing out one of his own. A Galloway had never set foot in the Meath Mansion, not in three centuries.
“We have a deal.” She ducked her head, smile widening. “Goodnight.”
He watched her drift back into her room, his gut clenching as her door quietly closed.
Point three seconds passed, and Kaida emerged from the bathroom. Her fair skin was flushed from her bath and she’d reset the knot of caramel hair into something less messy, but her eyes were still wary. Haunted.
“You could’ve waited for me in my room.”
Like that was going to happen. It had taken all his restraint to give her privacy and not barge into the bathroom.
“Do you feel better?” Visions of her snapping out of the dream, her clinging to him and trembling, shoved to mind again.
“A little, thanks.” She took his hand and led him into her bedroom, closing the door. “I’m glad you’re here, though.”
“Me, too.” He cradled her face in his hands, not liking the restlessness still present in her eyes. “Daylight’s a couple hours off, but you should try to sleep. I can wake you if something strange happens.”
Her teeth went to work on her plush lower lip. “Thank you for what you did for me earlier.”
“Kaida, you don’t—”
“Yes, I do.” She met his gaze, her cerulean eyes earnest. “That took courage, Brady. The more I learn about our families’ history, the more I realize just what we’re up against. You came right to me, to my sisters. I’m here because of you. Thank you.”
Clenching his jaw against the rabid fear of all that could’ve gone wrong, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come lie down with me.”
A nod, and she moved across the moonlit room to slip under the covers.
He followed, setting his glasses on the nightstand. Lying on his side facing her, he took in her pretty features. The sweep of her pale lashes. Her high cheekbones. The delicate curve of her eyebrows. Those full lips.
It was but a dream within a dream to actually have her in front of him. To be in the same bed, breathing in her rosemary scent and having her gentle exhalations fanning his jaw.
“Surreal, isn’t it?” She smiled as if reading his mind. “Being here together.”
“Yes, not that I’m complaining.” His gaze lowered to her throat, to the black and blue marks forming. Bruises she might not have if she hadn’t blocked him from getting to her. Irritation pounded his temples at the helpless sensation she’d thrust at him. “What you did in the hotel room? Don’t ever do that again. Promise me. I couldn’t get to you because of the water you erected. I was out of my damn mind.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” She sighed. “It was instinct, I think, to protect you. That was more power and control than I’ve been able to wield before, and I conjured it without trying.”
“We both have instincts. I get that. But using energy to defend me is counterproductive. We’re in this together, sweetheart. I’m not completely useless.”
“You’re right. I’ll try to be more aware of my actions.” She pouted. “Are you mad?”
Mercy, she slayed him. “No. I’m a lot of things, but angry is not one of them.”
Her gaze swept his face in a careful exploration. “What happened while I was asleep? It was like night and day the way your brothers were with my sisters.”
“A truce, you could say.” He gave her a run-down on what had been said to help Ceara figure out what was wrong with Kaida. “Tristan and Riley saw me opening a vein for Fiona and Ceara, and blindly followed suit because they trust me. My concern and subsequent freak out scared them, too.” He shifted slightly on the pillow to get closer to her. “I think everyone involved is beginning to realize we’re not one another’s enemy, despite what we’ve been ingrained to believe.”
“Whatever you told them, it must’ve been profound.”
He’d been vague with her sisters, giving them an abstract version of events. But he wanted to be honest with Kaida, no matter how hard the past might be to dredge up.
“My uncle was not a forgiving man. After our father died, the tension inside the house became its own entity.” He tried to swallow and couldn’t manage. He’d never had to talk about his childhood, not even with his brothers. Through the years, it had been something they’d swept under the rug, never to reexamine.
“He demanded perfect grades, perfect performance in sports, and the perfect image in public. Perfection is nothing but smoke and mirrors, though. Behind closed doors, he did everything within his power to make us feel small. Insignificant.” He looked at her, at the sympathy in her eyes, and he wanted to weep for the first time in ages. “When yelling and name-calling and taking away privileges weren’t enough, he’d use blunt force.”
She gasped and reached for his hand.
“I didn’t consider it abuse. In fact, I still don’t think that’s the appropriate term.” He laced his fingers with hers, squeezing. “Strange as it sounds, I think he was trying to…harden us. Make us tough. I have no clue if he’s part of the brethren, but his behavior and actions lean that way. What Tristan said tonight got
me thinking. He might be right, that our uncle was attempting to train us to be hunters.”
“But you said he stopped, right? When you were teenagers?”
“Yeah,” he said absently. “Been thinking about that also. No matter what, he couldn’t break us. My brothers and I stuck together. I’m wondering if he eventually came to the conclusion we just didn’t have it in us to…kill.”
“God.” She let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry. Sorry you had to go through that and sorry someone who was supposed to love you treated you like nothing.” She rose up on her elbow to look down at him. “But how you turned out is a testament to your strength, not your uncle’s weakness. I don’t know your brothers very well, yet from what I’ve witnessed, they have good hearts like you. You’re better men than he could ever hope to emulate.”
He cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers in her hair as his heart turned over in his chest. She’d offered no pity or pithy words, just understanding and support. Telling her what he had was akin to cracking his ribcage open and exposing what he’d always deemed as shame. Emasculating. And what had she done? Empathized. In a few sentences, she’d attempted to build him back up again in her image.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He siphoned air, shaking with need and desire and… He didn’t know what. “Amazing.”
She inched her face closer and paused as if calculating his wishes, his mood. Her gaze roamed over his hair, his cheeks, then dropped to his mouth. Heat infused all that blue in her irises until his insides were liquid from the inferno. The air vibrated in the miniscule space between them, anticipation a living thing.
“You start something right now, sweetheart, and I’m not so sure I can stop.”
A smile tugged at her lips before she erased the remaining distance and sealed her mouth to his. Tenderness was met with simmering passion as she gently kissed his top lip, then the lower. The feather-light brush erected goosebumps across his skin. He opened for her, craving more, and she dipped inside to stroke her tongue against his. Slow. Teasing.
