Bewitched (Fated #1)

by Kelly Moran

  Her sisters hugged her, offering praise and support. Once they stepped out of the circle, Kaida turned to him. A grin split her face and she made her way toward him like he was pulling her strings for a change. She launched at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and forcing him to stumble back a step or they’d both go down.

  Banding her snug against his chest, he smiled at her while her feet dangled inches off the ground. “You were fantastic.”

  “I’m not going to sleep for a week. I’m so hyped. The energy was amazing. It’s like electricity in my bloodstream.”

  Mercy, the light in those cerulean eyes and megawatt grin were their own power source. “Stay at the mansion with me tonight. Please?” His gaze swept over her features and his sinuses prickled. “Spend the night with me.”

  Her expression indicated she knew just what he was truly asking, and her excitement didn’t dim in the slightest. “Yes.” She gave him a brief kiss and glanced at his brothers. “If that’s okay with you guys. Would it upset you to have me there?”

  They both shook their heads, but it was Tristan who answered. “Door’s always open for you.”

  Her smile shifted to aw-shucks. “Thank you. I—”

  A slow, obnoxious clap came from the other side of the clearing. Slap, slap, slap.

  The fine hairs on Brady’s arms rose, and he turned in the direction of the intrusive noise. A man stood at the edge of the woods, his form masked by the dark and offering nothing but a sinister shadow.

  Another slow series of claps, and the figure stepped into view, moonlight distinguishing his characteristics. Brown, neatly trimmed hair was threaded with gray and deep-grooved frown lines etched his forehead. Tall and lean, his mannerisms and stride were familiar, even if the hardened jaw and unmistakable green Meath eyes weren’t a dead giveaway to his identity.

  Disdain dripped from him like acid. “Well, well. Isn’t this bloody cozy?” The mix of slight Irish and English accents slammed Brady back into childhood like a bang.

  Ice filled his chest cavity, and he carefully set Kaida back on her feet. “Uncle Greg? What are you doing here?”

  Tristan grabbed Ceara’s wrist and pulled her behind him, securing her there with an arm. The move was almost more jarring than their uncle’s return.

  “Still protecting the little witch, I see.” Uncle Greg’s lip curled. “Pathetic.”

  What the hell did that mean? Brady looked at his brother, wondering what was going on. Up until Kaida had arrived on the island, none of them had any contact with the sisters. Not unless it involved something work-related or was a community event forced upon them.

  Stark terror shone in Tristan’s eyes despite the determined set of his jaw. “You leave her alone. Leave all of them alone.”

  Brady exchanged a confused as shit look with Riley.

  Fiona, hands on her hips, inched forward. Until Tristan pulled the same move he had with Ceara and shoved her behind him. Riley blocked her from easing around Tristan by stepping between her and their uncle. Blessedly, she remained there and didn’t protest.

  Following suit, Brady reached for Kaida’s hand and dragged her the few remaining feet separating him from his brothers to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. He had no clue why their uncle had shown up, and in the clearing tonight of all nights to boot, but every instinct inside him was wailing for caution. To take heed.

  “It’s him,” Kaida whispered brokenly. She trembled, her grip on his fingers clenching painfully. “He’s the man from my vision this morning.”

  All attention turned to her.

  Heart thundering, he soughed for air. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, but froze on a dime when Uncle Greg’s menacing gaze sized her up from head to toe.

  “The youngest Galloway, back on the island.”

  “You know who I am?” Her pretty eyes bugged from her skull.

  “I know a lot of things.” Uncle Greg sniffed as if she were of no consequence and refocused on Brady, his brothers. “You’re the same feeble cowards as the day I left.” Teeth bared, he strode closer and stopped mere yards from them. “The years I spent forming you, and for what? Wasted on you useless weaklings. You put the great Meath name to shame. And now you’re consorting with these devil offspring. This is the thanks I get? Where would you be without me?”

  “Well-adjusted and happy come to mind,” Riley drawled.

  “Silence!” The bastard’s roar sent creatures scurrying, and Kaida’s flinch was the last straw.

  Brady tensed to the point of pain. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”

  Seething, Uncle Greg glared at him. “I have things to collect from the property.” He shoved a hand in his pocket and tossed a key at Brady’s feet. “That doesn’t work, so you will come back to the mansion with me this instant and let me in.”

  “The hell I will.” Nine years had passed since the bastard had taken off for parts unknown. An occasional email, the only means of communication. They’d waited a whole day to change the locks and reset the security alarm code. “The hotel here on Six Fates is in our name and severed from Meath Corporation. The estate is legally ours, too. We’re not kids anymore and don’t have to follow your orders.”

  But, Jesus. One glance at their uncle had knocked Brady back two decades to a time when he couldn’t draw breath without wondering if a blow would follow.

  “You bloody shite.” Uncle Greg had Brady pinned against a tree, arm at his throat, and face shoved in his before Brady ever knew what hit him. “You will mind me, boy. The things I left here for safe-keeping are my birthright and you will not keep them from me. They don’t belong to you. You’re undeserving.”

  Brady grabbed for the bastard’s arm, but Kaida screamed and...

  No, not screamed. More like let out a feral warrior cry that pierced his eardrums and had his head splitting open. “Get your hands off him!”

  Water from...who the hell knew where whooshed between him and his uncle, a giant wave, sending Uncle Greg flying backward, only to land on his ass thirty feet away. Slumping against the tree trunk, Brady soughed for air.

  Frozen, everyone stared. Moments passed. Several long, shocking moments.

  Huffing, Kaida fisted her hands. “Don’t you ever touch him again.”

  Drenched to the bone, Uncle Greg growled and shot to his feet. A murderous glare, and he charged at her.

  Brady’s heart stopped for point five seconds.

  Chaos ensued. Fiona and Ceara wrestled their way out from behind his brothers, palms outstretched like they were readying for a magical counter. Tristan and Riley ran toward Kaida, lifting her clean off the ground and carrying her out of Uncle Greg’s war path.

  With a rage Brady had never known beating at his temples, he drew his arm back. Thrusting his fist forward, he nailed the bastard on the jaw mid-stride. Uncle Greg’s head snapped back, blood spurting from his mouth, and he landed on his back with a grunt.

  Brady stepped beside him and shook out the twinge in his hand. “I remembered that much from your stupid lessons, didn’t I?”

  Wiping blood from his lip, Uncle Greg sat up. “You are going to regret—”

  “Enough.” Tristan slapped a palm to Brady’s chest and eased him back, then focused on their uncle. “I suggest you leave. You’re not welcome here. If you’d like to remain on the island, you can stay at the hotel. I’ll tell the staff to prepare a suite. At full price, mind you. Make a list of these supposed items you want from the estate and email it to me. I’ll see to it you get them, assuming me and my brothers agree to hand them over.” He paused, drawing a sharp inhale. “And if you ever, ever come after one of the girls again, you won’t get back up.”

  He offered his hand to assist the bastard off his feet, but Uncle Greg slapped it away and rose on his own. “We’re not done.”

  “Oh, we are.” Tristan eyed him until Uncle Greg had disappeared in the foliage, and whirled to face the group. His worried gaze scanned Ceara, then Fiona and Kaida. “Are you all right?
Anyone hurt?”

  “I’m butt-hurt you didn’t let me get a punch in.” Riley drew Kaida closer to his side, where she was tucked under his arm. “I’m a little frightened of you, Wonder Woman. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  She breathed a laugh and closed her eyes.

  Brady hauled her away from his brother and tugged her to his chest, arms banding as she pressed her face into his shirt. Eventually, his heart rate would decelerate but, for now, he was just happy to have her against him. Her rosemary scent infused his nose and he breathed deep, relief washing over him.

  “Is anyone else thinking what I am?” Riley rubbed the back of his neck. “If Uncle Greg is a hunter like we assumed, then he just conceded pretty fast. I mean, he all but slunked away with his tail between his legs.”

  “He wasn’t prepared to find you here with us. He left to regroup, not because he was giving up.” Visibly shaken, Ceara knelt by the circle and, hands trembling, began packing the supplies into a knit bag with an air of frantic desperation. “He...he’s a vile, vile man. I’ve never felt such wrath before. I...I...”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Fiona crouched by her side and reached for her arm. “We dealt with it and he’s gone.”

  “No, don’t touch me!” Ceara backed away, tears streaking her pale cheeks. “I still have his presence on my skin, in my mind’s eye. Filthy. It’s awful. I have to cleanse my aura. I need to...” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and hitched a sob. “Excuse me.” Hastily, she rose and walked out of the clearing in the direction of the Galloway house.

  Once she was gone, Fiona sighed and ducked her head. “Her gift isn’t always a gift. Her body sucks in the emotions from others and...it can be overwhelming. Sometimes, it’s hard for her to shake them. She’ll be all right tomorrow. I’ll go check on her. Blessed be.” Picking up the bag, she trailed after Ceara.

  Without a word, Tristan rigidly turned in the opposite direction and strode out of sight. After a moment, Riley followed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With Brady holding her hand, Kaida stepped into Meath Mansion and through an elegant foyer. The breath backed up in her lungs as she glanced around.

  The whole place screamed something courtesy of Daddy Warbucks. From the winding marble staircase to the vaulted ceiling to the crystal chandelier, it oozed money. Boatloads. Old and new fortune. It was like standing in a museum with the art pieces and fancy vases. And just as cold. Everywhere she turned, there were hallways and rooms off the entryway.

  “Wow, Brady. When you said mansion, you weren’t exaggerating.”

  He grunted, but any reply he might’ve given was cut off by his brothers exiting a room to the left of the staircase.

  Tristan pocketed a cell and handed a piece of paper to Brady. “That’s the new alarm code. Memorize it. I just got off the phone with the security company. We now have to give that code when changing anything in our plan. I also informed them no one but us three are allowed to make any alterations.” He strode for the front door.

  Brady let go of Kaida’s hand and faced his brother. “Where are you going?”

  “To recode the gate.” Tristan’s jaw clenched. “That’s how he got onto the property and into the woods. We changed the house locks and security alarm years ago, but not the access gate.”

  “I’ll go with him.” Riley offered Kaida a weak smile. “You two can head upstairs. We’ll handle it.”

  “Hold up.” Brady waited for his brothers to turn around and looked pointedly at Tristan. “What did Uncle Greg mean back there? He said you were still protecting Ceara. Far as I know, we’ve had limited contact with the sisters.”

  When Tristan merely crossed his arms by way of answer, posture rigid, Brady called his name in warning. Riley and Kaida’s heads ping-ponged back in forth to follow the conversation.

  A sigh, and Tristan eyed the floor. “He caught wind Ceara and I were talking, being friendly. It was a long time ago, back in high school. Later that night, he came into my room and threatened to hurt her. Violently, was the implication. I did what he wanted so he’d leave her alone.”

  Chills skated up Kaida’s arms.

  “What did he want you to do?” Again, Tristan didn’t respond, and Brady nodded slowly as if understanding. “She doesn’t know, does she? That her life was threatened or that you did whatever it was he asked in order to protect her.”

  “No, and she doesn’t need to, so drop it.” Tristan ate the distance to the door, slamming it behind him.

  “I’ll go after him.” Riley lifted his hands in a not-it pose. “And no, I had no clue, either.”

  Brady shook his head in clear frustration and tucked Kaida to his side. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he spoke into her hair. “What a night.” He skimmed his gaze down the length of her white robe to her bare feet. “You must be cold. Come on, let’s head upstairs.”

  They climbed the staircase, her mind a riot. She couldn’t help but wonder if things would’ve turned out differently had Ceara known Tristan was protecting her all along. The hostility between their families had been present for centuries, and it had taken a lot of coaxing on Kaida’s part to breech the gap for the sake of their destiny. It would’ve proved he’d meant her sisters no harm. In fact, he’d gone beyond ambivalence to sacrifice. That much was obvious by Tristan’s demeanor. Ceara had come out unscathed, best Kaida could tell. Whatever horrible thing his uncle had forced upon him, Tristan had done it, anyway. In silence.

  At the top of the steps, Brady pointed to their left. “That’s the west wing. It used to be our uncle’s, but it’s gutted now.” He guided them to the right where a hallway branched off in three directions. “Tristan’s suite is on the left, Riley’s on the right. I’m up here.”

  They took the center path down a dark, wood-paneled hallway. Portraits stared back at her while her bare feet padded on a runner, but she looked ahead at Brady’s tense posture. He’d asked her to spend the night before his uncle had shown in the clearing. Maybe she should head home and give him some breathing room instead.

  Deciding to gauge his mood first, she followed him into his room. And...wow. She wondered if he’d been a king in a past life. He closed the door behind them and walked straight ahead to a set of French doors, stepping out onto a balcony.

  His bed, which was a four-poster sovereign design, matched a honey walnut dresser and was along the far right wall. An intricate dark green oriental rug took the chill out of the mahogany floors and had a similar pattern to his fabric wallpaper. Pictures of old maps were evenly spaced and encased in thick, detailed frames. He had a stack of books on the nightstand beside a low-lit baccarat lamp.

  To the left was another doorway she assumed was a bathroom where he could hold the population of a small world country and another next to it that was probably a closet. She could fit her whole condo inside his bedroom. Though there were traces of the man she’d come to know like a photo of him and his brothers on another nightstand, the decor was too polished to suit his personality. Him, but not really.

  A cool breeze blew in from the balcony, tinged with the scent of saltwater, and she wished she had her phone with her to snap a shot of him. All she’d brought was the ceremonial robe on her back.

  Brady, facing the vast inky ocean, had his hands on a white stone railing and was leaning into them. Moonlight darkened his hair to nearly navy and wind had the strands in chaos. Back tense, he stood unmoving. The muscles in his shoulders bunched and the ones in his forearms coiled like he was gripping the banister with force.

  Joining him, she moved to his side and took in the view. Stars winked overhead and reflected off the Atlantic. She couldn’t tell where the sky ended and the water began. “It’s beautiful.”

  He nodded. “I come out here to think.”

  Seeing his uncle again after all these years had to have been a blow, especially if one threw in the way he’d acted and the things he’d spouted. Knowing what that man had done to Brady and his brothers made her heart
hurt. She wanted to comfort him, but wasn’t sure if he’d go for it.

  Holding her hair from her face, she searched his profile. Stubble darkened his jaw. He had such masculine features, a wide chin and sharp nose, but his thick lashes and lips offset the balance. So handsome.

  “If you prefer, I can head home.” She smiled when he snapped his gaze to hers. “I won’t be offended if you need some time alone. It’s been a rough night and—”

  In a flash, he cupped her cheeks and backed her against the doorframe. “What I need is you.” He sealed his mouth to hers, rough and demanding. “Only you.”

  He pinned her in place with his body while his hands roamed and his kiss devoured. Harsh, desperate strokes of his tongue met hers in an age-old mating dance that had every one of her senses coming alive.

  Grabbing her hips, he bunched the fabric of her robe and inched it higher. Higher. Panting, he broke away and glared at the material as if offended. “Does this thing have an end?”

  Laughing, she removed it and dropped it on the floor. “There. Better?”

  Apparently, he hadn’t expected her to be naked under the robe because his breaths soughed and his mossy eyes went molten the longer he looked. “Out there in the clearing, you stole my breath.” His gaze flicked to hers. Held. “Mercy, you glowed. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Beautiful.” His throat worked a swallow. “But now, with nothing but moonlight on your skin? Ah, sweetheart.”

  The low, rough rasp of his voice was riddled with need and his reverent tone of infliction sent her into a liquid puddle of heat. Desire for him had always been consuming. Its own entity, really. Yet, this went beyond a past marked by dreams and careened her into a can’t-live-without-him mantra that engaged more than her body. It encased her heart. Invaded her mind.

  She dipped her hands under his tee and splayed her fingers over his ribbed abs. At his sharp intake, she smiled and tugged the shirt up and over his head.