by Kim Loraine
Sadness radiates from her. “Try your hardest.”
Nodding, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Aye.”
11
Izzy
The weight of Grant’s eyes on me sends shivers along my spine as I ascend the stairs. I shouldn’t allow myself to be so bloody distracted by the man, but God almighty, he’s the best lover I’ve ever had. And, with as many lives as I’ve lived, that’s saying something. His rough hands encircle my waist the moment we reach the top of the stairs and he spins me around to face him.
“Give me your mouth, lass,” he mutters, closing the distance between our lips and lifting me up until I wrap my legs around him.
He’s all tongue and teeth, moans and ragged breaths against my lips. I need him like I need air and food and sunshine. I want nothing more than for him to sink deep inside me and bring me pleasure right the fuck now. With a swift kick, the bedroom door is open and he’s walking us toward his large bed. Breaking the kiss, I grind myself against his hardness and take his ear between my teeth, murmuring, “Now, Grant. I need you right now.”
He lays me out across the quilt and steps back to admire what he’s done to me. “You’re so beautiful like that. At my mercy, all worked up.”
I squirm under his gaze, but he doesn’t make me wait long. His long fingers find the waistband of my jeans and with a few practiced movements, he’s unfastened them and is tugging them down my hips, taking my knickers with them. His hands slide back up my legs, spreading my thighs as he kneels on the floor. “Such a pretty pussy,” he says before running a finger over my lips and sinking it deep inside my heat. “Is all this wetness for me?”
All I can do is nod. I want him to keep touching me.
His lips trail hot kisses up my inner thigh as his finger keeps sliding in and out of me. Oh, God, I’m going to combust. “Grant, please,” I beg.
When he closes his mouth around my aching clit, I nearly buck off the bed. Pleasure bursts behind my closed eyelids and my hands dive into his hair, gripping hard enough to make him grunt in pain. I don’t care, though. He adds a second finger and begins curling them, massaging the hidden spot inside me that sends me careening over the edge from ecstasy to blinding euphoria. I scream his name, coming over and over because he doesn’t stop. He eats me like I’m his last meal and I’m helpless to get away. My legs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasms continue and then finally he relents, his fingers leaving my body at the same time he releases my clit from between his lips.
“So, this is how you’re going to kill me?” I ask.
He smirks and shakes his head. “I said I was going to make you come all day. I’m no liar.”
Standing outside the door to our small house in Cornwall, I fight the desire to drop my glamor before I enter. I can’t risk being seen by anyone, but my sisters won’t know I’m using magic to disguise myself. They’ll see a stranger, a threat, and they might fight me off before I can dissolve the damn spell. I reach for the doorknob, about to produce my key, but I rethink my strategy. Raising my fist, I deliver three sharp raps to the heavy door.
I sense it the moment the wards are strengthened. One or both of them stand on the other side, ready for a confrontation. I’ve taken on the guise of Galen Turner, a tall handsome man we’d been introduced to when we were summoned together. This was solely in hopes of them recognizing me. Now, as I stand here, uncomfortable in the form of the Irishman, I shift from foot to foot and sigh.
“What in the bloody hell is this?” Helena asks through the door. She must be peering through the peephole.
“Let me in, woman. I’ve got business with you.” My voice is unfamiliarly masculine as I’ve taken on his timbre.
“You’ve no business with me, Galen. I think you should go home—to your wife.”
Oh, the stupid witch. “Just open the damn door. I need to talk to you. Besides, The Bachelor is on in fifteen minutes.” It sounds daft coming from him, but I know the statement will change her understanding of the situation.
The door swings open and I’m pulled over the threshold without a second’s hesitation. No sooner than my feet are inside the entryway does the sound of the slamming wood reverberates through the flat.
Shaking off the spell, I roll my neck and sigh as my own body greets me like an old friend. That’s better. I’ve never taken the form of a man before and I won’t do it again.
“That was mean,” Helena scolds. “He was beautiful. Did you have to remind us of the one who got away?”
Laughing lightly, I run my fingers through my hair. “He was the only one I could think of besides Sariel. Would you have opened the door to him?”
“No. He can’t be trusted. Besides, he’s useless to us now that he’s human.”
I brush past her and survey my cozy flat. It’s a disaster with candles, salt, a scrying mirror, and countless dried herbs scattered about. “Where’s Gwen? What the hell have you been doing in here?”
She shrugs. “Trying to free you of that beast’s clutches.”
“I’m not in h—”
“You are. If he’s mated you, you’re in his grasp.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and make my way to my bedroom. I shove everything I’d unpacked back into my bag.
“What are you doing?” Helena stands in the doorway, a disapproving look marring her beauty.
“I need clothes.” It’s true. While I can conjure anything I want, doing so every day will diminish my power. If we’re going up against Calista, I need to be at full strength. I can’t use my magic on paltry little things.
“You’re going back?”
I nod.
“Why?”
“We’re mated,” I state.
A harsh laugh falls from her. “No, you’re not. Not really.”
Pulling open my drawers, I grab as many pairs of knickers and bras as I can, and shove them to the bottom of my bag. I do the same with the rest of my clothes until I’m worried the zipper won’t close. “Really, Hel. It’s true.”
“No. You’re a witch, he’s a shifter. You can’t be a mated pair.”
“Gabriel said it himself.”
Her eyes widen and her perfect red lips form a surprised O. “Gabriel? As in—” she swirls one finger over her head in imitation of a halo.
“He called me Grant’s mate.”
“I don’t understand. How can you be? God wouldn’t be so cruel to give you to him as a mate and doom you to die all at the same time.”
My heart gives a pained squeeze at the thought. “It’s true. Grant is determined to help us break the curse.”
“Us?”
“You’re coming with me. You and Gwen.”
She shakes her head and puts both hands on her hips. “No way. I’m not sleeping under the same roof as a mangy dog.”
I stare daggers at her. How dare she speak that way about Grant? He’s not a dog, he’s my ma—oh, bloody hell. I am completely under the influence of this damn love spell. Gritting my teeth against the irrational need I have to throttle her, I take a long breath and close my eyes. “Just gather your stuff. Unless you want to be assassinated by a pack of shifters who aren’t mated to me and therefore won’t do a thing to protect us.”
Her mouth opens and closes as though she’s trying to come up with some sort of retort, but I zip my bag, heft it onto my arm, and stride past her. “Now, Hel.”
She obliges, which is a little surprising, but I won’t complain. Looking around the living room, I come up short when I don’t see Gwen anywhere.
“Helena? Where’s Gwen?” I call over my shoulder.
“Here.” A feeble voice floats through the door to the second bedroom.
Dropping my bag, I rush toward her and find Gwen lying across the bed, her arm draped dramatically over her eyes.
“What’s happened?”
“You. You’re going to leave us.”
I shake my head and sit next to her. “No, love. I’m not. You’re coming with me.”
She grips m
y arm so tightly it hurts. “You are. We’ll lose you before this is over.”
It’s then I realize she’s had a vision. My blood turns to ice in my veins and I have to suppress a shudder at the possible meaning in her words. “So…we don’t break the curse?”
A tear slips down her cheek. “We can’t. If we do, you’re lost forever.”
We can’t travel until Gwen recovers from this terrible vision. Typically they don’t affect her so badly, but this one seems to have taken everything from her.
“Go to the market and bring me back everything on this list. It’ll take time for her to recover, but this will at least ease her migraine and help her sleep.” Helena presses a piece of paper into my hand and ushers me toward the door.
I don’t argue. Seeing Gwen in pain makes my stomach twist. She doesn’t deserve to suffer because of the gift she was given thousands of years ago.
The market is quiet this time of day. Most people are home with their families. As I gather my items, I let my thoughts drift to Grant while I go through the motions of paying and bagging my groceries. We’re not in love, and if I have it my way, we won’t be, but the sex is an intense, nearly religious experience every time. I may not be able to let him claim me fully as his mate, but I intend to enjoy him until the curse takes me. I won’t be responsible for taking him with me when I die.
“Well, hello again.” In the parking lot, a warm voice that can only belong to Tristan pulls me from my thoughts of Grant.
My gaze snaps to his and I can’t fight my smile, until I realize he shouldn’t be able to see through my glamor. “Tristan. How are you?”
“Better now that I’ve seen you.” He’s got a bottle of wine in one hand and a loaf of French bread in the other. Such an oddly normal thing.
“Dinner date?” I ask.
He looks as if I’ve caught him doing something bad. “No. God no. Dinner with my family. I’m just picking up the last few essentials.”
“I see.” Dammit. I don’t want him to care what I think.
I turn away, needing to get out of this conversation, but he calls out. “Wait. I don’t have to be there for another few hours. Shall we pop round to the pub and have a drink?”
“I don’t want to get in the way of your plans.”
“My plans are better if you’re part of them.”
He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I can’t tonight. My sister is sick. I just came to get her an herbal remedy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He looks back toward the car behind him, then at me. “Perhaps I could come round and get you after you deliver your purchases? Or, I could give you a lift home.”
I wonder about what Gwen said, that this is my second chance. Am I throwing it away because of this twisted magical need to be with Grant? What would happen if I gave Tristan one night?
“A lift would be nice.”
After dropping the items off with my sisters, I check in on Gwen. She’s sleeping, but looking pale and unwell still. No harm will come from me having a drink with Tristan. We won’t be able to leave until morning at this point.
“All set?” he asks, and it’s so wonderfully normal, I let myself relax a little. There’s no crazy shifter mating bond, no force of nature calling for us to be together.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
It’s a short drive to the pub, and by the time we get there, I’m already more comfortable in his presence. I’ve set aside our past and am trying to think of him as a new person, because that’s what he is. He has no memory of our past life together and I’m thankful for it. We settle into a cozy booth and he orders us each a glass of wine before turning his gaze on me.
“So tell me more about you, Izzy.”
I shrug, not wanting to get into details. “There’s not a lot to tell,” I lie, taking a deep drink of my wine to give me more time. “I work at a pub, live with my sisters…”
“And? Is that what you always wanted to do with your life?”
His question brings a painful twisting to my chest. How do I answer that? I don’t have a life. I’m not destined to have a future with a family and normal things. No matter how much I might want them. “I guess. I haven’t really planned anything…long-term. I’m still trying to get on my feet after starting over.”
He turns those blue eyes on me and asks, “Why did you have to start over?”
God, but he’s making me nervous. Grant knows all about my life and who I am. I don’t have to lie and tell him tales. “You know, I just need the loo. Hold that thought.”
His answer is a nod and smile. “Shall I order us another round?”
Smiling brightly, I take a breath to calm myself. “Sure.”
He takes my hand and squeezes before I leave. “Don't worry. I’m not going anywhere. Just relax and have fun.”
When I get to the bathroom, I’m nearing a panic attack. This was a terrible idea. He wants a normal woman with typical human problems. Not a cursed witch with a shifter for a mate and a looming expiration date. I splash some cool water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. Running my hands through my long hair, I braid the strands to one side, exposing my neck. My fingers trail over the slight bruise still present from Grant’s teeth and a shiver of longing races through me. He’d been so raw and rough, demanding and dark. Dammit if my nipples don’t get hard at the thought. That’s it. After this night out with Tristan, I’m going to tell him I’m spoken for and get back to Grant. I need my shifter, whether I want to admit it or not.
There’s a fresh glass of wine waiting for me when I return. Tristan beams at me, his posture relaxed and confident.
“All right?” he asks.
“Fine. Listen, Tristan—”
He interrupts me, holding up his glass and waiting for me to do the same. When I raise mine, he says, “To new possibilities and destined encounters.”
A chill rushes down my spine, but I follow his lead and drink. As the rich flavor of the wine hits my tongue, I watch Tristan, how his throat moves when he swallows, how every strand of his beautiful hair catches the light around us. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“How are you feeling, Izzy? You look a little dazed.”
I feel dazed. Foggy and unfocused. My vision is only clear when I’m looking at him. “What…what did you do?”
“What are you talking about?” His voice holds genuine concern as he moves from his seat to slide into the bench next to me.
My rising panic is eased when he pulls me into his arms and the delicious scent of him overtakes my senses. “I don’t feel right. Does the wine taste different to you?”
He looks at the two identical glasses standing next to each other. “I didn’t drink mine yet.”
Suspicion flows through me but is rapidly beaten back by desire for him. “Go on, then. You’re ruining your toast.”
He reaches for a glass and takes a small sip, easing my unwarranted fears. After staring at the table for a few breaths, he turns his gaze on me. “I know this is forward, but I want you, Izzy. I want you to be mine, tonight, tomorrow, every day.”
I should tell him no but I can’t. My body won’t let me. “It’s you, Tristan. I need you.”
He cups my cheek before pushing his fingers into my hair and gripping the back of my head. “Come here,” he whispers. When he pulls me to him and presses his lips to mine, I lose all hope of rational thought. Fire races through my veins along with a tinge of despair and sense of wrongness. “Don’t think of anything else,” he murmurs against my lips. “Only me. You only want me. Just as I’ve always only wanted you.”
He presses his tongue into my mouth and moans, a desperate man. I give in. Not letting thoughts of Grant break through the haze of want and attraction. He devours me, long drugging kisses and caresses over my body. I don’t care that we’re in public, that my sister is sick in bed, that I have a handsome shifter waiting for me back in London. All I see, think, and feel is Tristan.
A loud ringing sounds
from my pocket, startling us apart and bringing some much needed clarity to my head. Offering Tristan an apologetic glance, I answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Izzy, you need to come home.” Helena’s voice holds the same calm used on a person who is at risk for hurting themselves. “Gwen had another vision. They’re coming for us.”
My stomach turns to stone. No. They can’t get between me and Tristan. But when I look at him, at his crystal blue eyes, I know I have to leave to keep him safe. I hang up the phone and clear my throat. “I…I have to go.”
“What? But we’ve just gotten started.”
I shake my head. “I know, but there’s a lot happening at home. I have to get back there.”
“Please, at least tell me how to find you.”
Blinking hard, I fight the guilt taking hold in my heart. I wish I was able to give him something. If only to wipe that look of hurt from his face. “You don’t need to find me.”
“Isolt,” he says, breathing my name like a holy word.
“The other man, the one I’m seeing?”
He clenches his jaw and stares at me…hard. “The one you’re going to stop seeing?”
“He’s keeping me at his house.”
“Keeping you? As in, you’re not allowed to leave?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Obviously I’m allowed to leave. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“So, where is this house? London?”
“In the country. But you can’t come for me. It’s not safe. There’s so much going on you don’t understand and I can’t tell you.”
“I am not going to let you go.” He’s all fierce determination when he grabs my phone from the table and programs his number in my contacts. Then, he calls himself and, just like that, he’s got a way to find me.
I rise, taking back my cell and shoving it into my pocket. “Thank you for tonight. If I could stay, I would.”
He stands as well and grabs my hand, pulling me against his chest. “I know this is sudden, but I can’t let you leave without saying it. I think I’m in love with you.”
Everything stops. I’ve heard those words from him before. Those exact words. And my heart squeezes as the feeling echoes in my mind. I can’t be in love with him. Not now. Not after a scant three conversations. But I don’t want to leave. Everything in me screams at me to forget the rest of my obligations and be his forever. Until Grant’s face flashes in my mind.
