The clerk finished with the customer in front of him, and Kian moved closer to the counter. “Thanks Mike. I appreciate it.”
Mike patted his back. “Well, I'd better get back to my brother. I'll see you Saturday. I'll text you with the details.”
Kian bumped his friend's fist with his knuckles. “No doubt, see you later, bro.” He watched Mike amble toward the power tool section on the other side of the store.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked the clerk behind the counter.
Kian handed over his receipt. “Yeah, I'm here to pick up a glass order.”
***
Pete sat in his car across the street from the discount shopping center in the middle of Bum Fuck, Pennsylvania, a stogie pressed between his thin lips. He cracked his neck and groaned as a family of six rushed past him, the youngest screaming louder than a car alarm.
He hated this country crap. Fresh air and big-ass trees, who needed it? It wasn't natural to live in the middle of nowhere with furry vermin and annoying insects. His mom may have been a witch, but his pop was human. Because of this, he hadn't been blessed with any magic, inheriting more of his no-good human father's genes, while his half-brother, Lex, got all the power.
He glanced at the main entrance of the hardware store. What shit had the kid gotten into now? Something seemed different about the golden boy, but Pete couldn't put his finger on it. If Pete had inherited more of his mom's magic, he'd be able to read the bastards mind or cast a spell, forcing him to confess his secrets. Right now, Pete's only leverage was threatening Kian's mother, a woman he'd never even met. Oh, he'd seen pictures. The woman was smoking hot, but Mr. Lancaster never let Pete get within fifty feet of the broad.
At least Pete had some benefits from his witch mother. He had the strength and enhanced senses witches were born with. He also knew that other supernaturals existed, and he knew, for a price, they could be bought. It helped when handling some of the tougher jobs for Maxwell.
Pete never bothered telling his boss about his trace of supernatural blood. He worked for him, but he didn't trust him. If Maxwell knew other, more powerful witches existed, he'd have an army of them under his control in hours, and where would that leave Pete? Fucking broke and unemployed, that's where.
Kian hurried out of the store and over to his truck, where he had parked by the delivery doors. Pete watched him load panels of what looked like glass onto the bed of the truck.
“I'll never understand this kid,” he mumbled. He shook his head. “He could have the world at his feet, all the pussy he can fuck, and more money than Fort Knox. Instead, he lives in this hick town.”
He had followed the boss's son around for the last few hours, fighting off a swarm of flies and the suspicious glances of a department store rent-a-cop, and still he had no idea what Kian was up to.
And he was up to something. Pete's nose itched, and when Pete's nose itched, it meant trouble.
According to Mr. Lancaster, Kian hadn't responded to his last four calls. The boy should know better than to piss off daddy. If he planned to keep his mother living in the lap of luxury, he had better get something the boss could work with and quick.
Pete didn't care one way or the other. In a way, he hoped the kid messed up. He'd been dying to break Kian's teeth in for years.
He started his car and ducked seconds before Kian's truck drove past him.
Time to see what the little prince has planned.
Chapter 10
Summer couldn't breathe. Her throat was blocked by the reality of her unavoidable circumstance. Her joining had been inevitable, she knew this, but knowing and being given a definitive date brought her impending fate to horrifying life.
Summer sat on the couch with her parents’ letter clutched in her hand. Her destiny arrived earlier this morning, clenched in the talons of a phoenix. Fitting messenger, since life as she knew it was about to burn to ash.
Her promised male, Malcolm Campbell, would join with her on the next full moon in an ancient ceremony. Bitter tears burned her eyes. Since Malcolm's bloodline went all the way back to the original coven masters, his parents had demanded a joining of power, spirit, and bodies. Knowing the moon's cycles, her freedom would run out soon. She would give herself to Malcolm in less than three weeks.
She trembled uncontrollably as a dark and grainy picture of her future emerged—months, years, an entire lifetime tied to a man she would never love.
In a few weeks, she would allow Malcolm into her body. She had no choice. The ceremony's legitimacy counted on the proof of the consummation. She would have to lie before him, spread her legs, and act like the submissive breeder her parents raised her to be in front of the coven masters.
Oh, the idea of having sex in front of a half dozen people didn't bother her as much as her partner for the little performance. Witches, after all, were very sensual beings. Copulation was considered a beautiful act. Couples were expected to celebrate their love, not hide behind the cover of night as if shameful, but that was where the problem lay.
No love existed between them.
She would be giving herself to a man she had met once, a man who in that one meeting had assured her he had the emotional fortitude of a rock. He would cage her spirit, enslave her powers, and rule over her as one would a disobedient dog. Taking Malcolm into her body would offer her no pleasure at all, no matter how handsome his face or attractive his body. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of his cold touch. She allowed the salty drops to cascade over her cheeks and bleed over her quivering bottom lip. They tasted bitter.
A sharp knock on the front door made her jump. “Summer, you in there?” Even the sound of Kian's voice didn't offer her comfort at this moment.
She quickly wiped her face, ran her fingers through the hair, straightening a few unruly waves, and lifted her chin. No matter what, she would do her duty. Her coven depended on her. Her parents put their trust in her. She refused to disappoint either of them.
Another rap made her jump. She marched over to the door and threw it open. As Kian stood there staring at her with his warm, coffee-colored eyes, her chest was struck with an unbearable ache.
Although she hadn't known Kian much more than Malcolm, she wished it was him named in the letter. Wished with everything in her that her parents gifted Kian with her future, but it wasn't to be. That knowledge ripped her wounded heart in half with vicious tugs.
“I brought the… Hey, what's wrong? Are you crying?”
She shook her head. “No… no, I'm not.”
He tried to grab her, but she evaded his attempt. Crying signified weakness, a failing she refused to allow anyone to see, especially Kian.
She crumpled the letter in her fist and threw the cursed paper ball into the furthest corner. She pushed past Kian and took off, running out of the house and toward the grove. She needed to call to the Goddess and ask her for guidance, beg her for the strength to survive the union Summer so desperately wanted to escape.
Bright rays of sun pierced the thick canopy above, shooting past Summer as she raced to the one place she knew would give her peace. Beneath her heavy pounding feet, the wood creaked and cracked, not used to such abuse. She skidded at the edge of the pathway, ran to the center of the grove, and dropped to her knees onto the soft, moist grass. Silence fell over the forest as tears drenched her face. Violent tremors shook her shoulders as she pressed her chin to her chest, the weight of circumstance too heavy to bear.
With her face hidden behind her palms, she wept. She cried for the dreams she would never fulfill, mourning the love she would never know.
All of a sudden, her sobbing stopped and her emotions warped, twisting into a ragging inferno of fury. “Goddess!” Her pounding heart filled the empty silence. “I need your help.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Please.”
“Summer.”
Kian called to her. His smooth voice held a profound richness, a spicy, dark intonation no woman would dare ignore. Yet, she did. She didn't face him. If she dar
ed, she'd run right into his strong arms.
The atmosphere in the grove shifted. Cold despair vanished, replaced with waves of warm pleasure, as if the sun broke through a thick wall of clouds and erased years of bitter darkness. Intense, masculine energy wrapped around her, blanketing her, giving her the strength and comfort she needed. Her skin heated. She submitted, allowing his unique scent to fill her senses. Helpless to resist his call, she turned around.
Anger smoldered behind his gaze. In his hand, he held the letter, the wretched evidence of her future hell. “You're still going to marry this guy?”
What gave him the right to be angry? He was not the one to marry a person he would never love. A person he didn't even like.
He had no responsibilities. He was a human who knew nothing of sacrifice or responsibility.
She lifted her chin. “It is my duty.”
He threw his arms in the air. “Jesus Christ, what century do you live in? Because I swore when I woke up this morning, it wasn't the damn dark ages.”
“Who are you to judge me? You don’t understand and you never will. We are from two very different worlds, Kian.”
He closed the distance between them. “Make me understand.”
Anger erupted in her. She wasn't mad at Kian, but at the circumstance forced upon her. “Let me show you what you're dealing with, human.”
She raised her hands to the sun, taking in the solar energy surrounding her. Her palms glowed electric white. Streaks of light swirled around her fingers, dancing, spinning faster and faster until they blended to form balls of glittering color. The energy overflowed within her. Still, she absorbed more power until her blood boiled in her veins and pain ravaged her trembling body. The second her magic threatened to explode from her, she threw the oversized, glowing spheres into the air.
They rocketed into the sky a hundred feet and exploded, raining thousands of pink, white, and blue stars across the grove. When each star touched the ground, a sprout grew, rising to form a beautiful, colorful daisy.
“What are you doing?” Winter stood at the path’s end, staring at Summer with wide, terrified eyes. “You're going to be in so much trouble.”
Kian stood there. His expression held a mix of fear, amazement, and, if she was not mistaken, lust.
Summer glanced around at the hundreds of new flowers blooming all over the grove. Her heart pounded beneath her breast. Every muscle ached. Her vision faltered as she turned her blurry gaze on Kian. “I have healed the land.”
She sure did. She did a week's worth of healing in a few seconds, but the trick cost her. Exhaustion overcame her and she stumbled. Warm, thick arms caught her, lifting her and locking her within a cage of muscles. She raised her tired eyes to find Kian's worried frown.
“Now you know,” she whispered before darkness claimed her.
***
Holy shit. What the hell just happened? He was both amazed and confused by what she was capable of. He'd never seen anything as incredible as this woman before him. A woman blessed with sexy features and a body made to fit into a man's arms like the lost puzzle piece to his soul, and apparently she was unbelievably powerful as well.
Summer belonged to him, not the bastard her parents sold her to. She was his woman to care for. His heart to hold. His in every way possible.
Partnered with a ruthless sense of possession came a powerful protective streak. The need to shield Summer from harm forced his thoughts in a dark direction. This chump Malcolm Campbell wasn't her only threat. Kian's father had his own ruthless plans. The fact that he'd been a part of it made him sick to his stomach. He had to find a way to throw his father off, change his mind about this place. The bastard would use the truth of her and her people to destroy them.
“Kian, we need to bring her back to the house.”
No, his instincts pulled him toward the small house a few feet away. He didn't know why, but he learned to trust his intuition one hundred percent. He headed straight for the prayer house, or whatever she had called the strange little building.
Winter grabbed his shirt. “You can't take her in there. It's forbidden for you to enter. You're not—”
“To be honest, Winter, I'm not one to follow the rules. Seems neither is she. Right now, I want to get her inside and safe. Okay?”
He kicked open the thick, ornate door and rested Summer on a bunch of pillows scattered on the floor. Each silken hassock had intricately embroidered Celtic knots. A haze of sweet incenses clung to every square inch of space. No couches or chairs sat in the usual spots. Instead, puffier cushions lay in a circle. Long, thick candles burned in each corner. Jesus, this place would give a fire marshal a coronary.
Winter followed behind him, a shadow of fear and concern in her face. She stood beside a long wooden table covered in a black velvet tablecloth with more twisting designs around the edge and… Oh man, there's a damn pentagram burned into the wood.
He dropped his gaze to Summer's pale face.
Who are you, Summer? What are you? Her breathing steadied as he cupped her face, stoking the pad of his thumb over cheek. Man, her skin is so soft. It’s like touching a rose petal.
She wore no makeup at all. Most women clopped on tons of crap to cover blemishes and disguise their imperfections. Summer didn't need any nonsense. Her skin glowed without aid. Her full, pouty lips were an enticing shade of warm pink. Her nose was small, almost perky the way it lifted at the tip. Long, thick eyelashes rested on her high cheekbones. They were the kind of lashes women paid good money to possess. Even closed, he could tell how enormous her eyes were. Without a doubt, Summer was perfect.
“Beautiful, is she not?”
Kian spun. On instinct, he placed his body in front of Summer and made sure he knew where Winter stood if he needed to protect her as well.
The strange woman stood behind him. Well, she didn't stand; more like floated an inch above the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Winter dropping to her knees in adoration.
The woman sighed. “Why must everyone fall before my feet? It becomes tedious after a few centuries. Please rise, young Winter. There is no need to make a fuss.”
Winter lifted her eyes, but hesitated before she rose. “Good day, Goddess.” She offered the woman a little wave. “Hi,” she added.
The Goddess flashed a wide grin and returned Winter's gesture.
“Who are you?” asked Kian.
She drifted past him without a word and lowered her bare feet to the floor before kneeling on the other side of Summer. A spike of fear shot through him. Kian pulled Summer closer to his chest.
“Don't worry, Kian. I mean her no harm. She and Winter are my children. To harm her would be like harming myself, and I have to say, I'm pleased to see you so ready to defend them. Seems as though chivalry is not dead among your kind after all.”
“My kind…? What are you talking about? How many kinds are there?”
She chuckled. “A few.” She put her hand on Summer's forehead. “She'll be fine. She siphoned far more power than her body could tolerate. She should wake soon with little ill effects. Maybe a headache and some sore muscles. The news of her promising was too much for her. Such a ridiculous rule put into place by the fear of change.”
Kian couldn't agree more. “Who are you?” he repeated with more demand.
“She's the Goddess,” Summer said, her voice weak.
“Summer, Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” He brushed his fingers through her hair before Summer pulled herself up to a sitting position.
“Goddess, I'm sorry. I… I cannot. My parents will return in…” Summer sighed. “I am to be married in almost three weeks' time.”
Not if I can help it.
The Goddess locked her gaze on Kian. She flashed a grin, as if she heard his silent promise about Summer's pending marriage, before lowering her iridescent irises back on Summer.
“Your fate will not let you break your promise to me. The letter he has fisted in his hand changes nothin
g. You will teach him regardless.”
“Wait a minute. Teach me what? Who are you, lady? What happened out there? What the hell is going on here?” He raked his hand through his hair.
“Relax, Kian. My name is Flidais. Please use it. None of these witches seem to. It's always 'Goddess this' and 'Goddess that.' It becomes tiresome. I am the deity who guides the witch population.”
“Witches… you're talking about real spell-casting, potion-making, and curse-wielding witches?” His shocked gaze fell on Summer. Witches were real? All the stories he heard as a kid and all of the rumors whispered around town were true? He stared at her smooth pale skin, full pink lips, and cute curved nose. Witches were hideous green hags with long, pointy noses, black hats, and warts. He turned back to the strange woman. “She doesn't look like any witch I've ever seen, sweetheart.”
“Kian, never speak to the Goddess with such disrespect.”
Flidais rolled her eyes. “Believe me, child, his human endearment, although haughty, is a welcomed change.” Summer bit her lip. “Is it so hard to believe the existence of witches, Kian, considering you spray painted the word Witch on Summer's home?”
He growled. “I didn't spray paint anything, and you damn well know it.”
“Kian,” Summer snapped.
“Besides, we never thought those stupid rumors were true. Tales about these woods and your family have been going on forever. Man, I can't believe it, real witches and gods too. What else is running around out there?”
Winter strolled over with an answer. “Several types of shifters and, of course, vampires. There are other kinds like demons and elves too, but they live in a separate dimension. They visit when they want to cause mischief.”
The shock of Winter's response hit Kian hard. He fell back on his butt and rested his arms on his legs as a sense of euphoria came over him. Did he pop some crazy pills and not remember? His head spun like he was on some wild acid trip.
Winter plopped beside him, staring over at him with an adorable grin. She swirled her hand around, and before his eyes, a glass of water appeared in her hand. “You look thirsty.” She handed it to him.
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