Patricia—never Patty or Trish—had been born Mal, which automatically put her at the top of the list when he’d been searching for a replacement for his former aide. He would have preferred a man, but she’d served her purpose well, so far.
“I need to talk to Charles. Tell him I’ll call him this afternoon around four. And find me a sharpshooter.”
* * *
Steven’s eyes opened and he stared at a familiar ceiling he hadn’t seen in years.
Memories flooded in, all starring Bella. Some from years ago, some from last night. Some he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember. Others he knew he’d never forget.
He let his mind linger on the latter because she wasn’t here. The bed beside him was cold.
Turning his head, he found a piece of paper on the next pillow.
I’ve gone to Cole. I’m sorry I took advantage. Have a good life. All my love.
Tension tightened his muscles until he thought he’d snap. He took a deep breath, trying to get it to release its stranglehold on him.
She was gone.
He sat up, threw off the sheets and headed for the bathroom down the hall.
Good. This was good. Exactly the result he’d wanted when he’d decided to fly up here. She would be safe with Cole.
She’d left without saying goodbye.
The paper-cup holder on sink flew across the room and smashed into the wall. He didn’t know if he’d hit it with his hand or if his power had gotten away from him.
Damn it. He would not be pissed off about this. He should be relieved. It kept them from saying things they might regret later, things they’d kept to themselves for years.
Yeah, maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d believe it someday.
Looking into the mirror, he saw tears in his eyes.
* * *
Steven couldn’t get a seat on a plane to Tampa until three in the afternoon but he was back in Florida before six.
He hailed a taxi to Case and Jones’ sleek new building on East Kennedy Boulevard and took the elevator to the ninth floor, not surprised to find the glass doors to the office locked. It was Friday. Everyone was gone by five if not before.
Good thing he had his keys because the night guard wasn’t at the front desk. Probably on rounds.
Transferring to the private elevator for Case and Jones employees on the ninth floor, he hit the button for the tenth.
When the door opened without a sound, he heard voices coming from Charles’ office at the end of the hall.
Bella’s accusations replayed in his head. He didn’t— No, he couldn’t believe Charles had had anything to do with Bella’s attempted kidnapping.
He’d managed not to think about anything since leaving the house this morning. Not Cole or Bella or his own…problems.
Still, that kernel of doubt had been planted.
He walked down the hall, not making a sound. He hadn’t forgotten everything his dad had taught him. The voices became clearer as he drew closer. Charles and Tiffani—talking. And then another voice, on the speaker phone.
He began to make out words, sentences.
Ice crept into his veins when their words started to make sense.
“Until now, Steven hasn’t suspected. It’s time to bring him up to speed.”
He stopped several feet from the half-open door, breath catching in his chest.
“We’ll make sure he’s turned in a few days,” Charles added. “The boy is stubborn but I’m sure Tiffani will be able to handle him. Power like his, even though he’s submerged it, won’t be buried forever.”
“We need to step this up.” The voice on the speaker. “I need him now.”
No, no, no.
Steven’s blood froze, as if it’d crystallized in his veins. This wasn’t happening.
“Once the heirs are gone,” Tiffani’s tone held a sneer, “Steven will be mine.”
“No, he’ll be mine,” said the unknown speaker. “I need him here within the week. Once I know he’s on board then we’ll discuss options, Tiffani. Until then, remember your job.”
The unknown speaker hung up so loudly, Steven heard it even though the blood had drained from his head, making him dizzy. He feared he might actually pass out.
Using his right hand, he grabbed his left arm and squeezed until he felt bone. The pain forced him to clear his head.
Just in time for him to hear Charles say, “Don’t worry, baby. He’ll be yours. We’ll find a way to get rid of his little bitch.”
Vaffanculo. Bella had been right. His stomach flipped and he swallowed down the urge to vomit.
They’re Mal.
If this was a movie, the ominous music would start now. Instead, all he heard was a high-pitched whistle that reminded him of a hurricane blowing through. That whistle was in his head, threatening to bring him to his knees.
How had he missed it? How could he have missed the fact that the two people he’d spent the most time with in the past three years were exactly what he’d tried so hard to stay away from? And how had they known about him?
He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that now. He had to get out before they realized he was here. Had to leave and never come back.
Need to find Bella and keep her safe. Need to tell Cole.
Shit. They knew about Cole’s congress.
He closed his eyes for a brief second and swallowed a groan of despair.
He hadn’t believed her. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. Bella had been right. They’d wanted to use against him then kill her so Tiffani would have no rivals for her affections. But someone else wanted him, too. Someone who wanted him to give in to the darkness that ate up a part of his soul.
From infancy, his parents had told him horror stories of the Mal, had taught him to fear what he’d been born to become. His mother had shown him how to submerge his magic, to only use pieces of that great, black well of power. But then he’d turned fifteen and they’d come for him…
And his mother had died protecting him.
He’d made her a promise before she’d died. He’d promised never to go willingly. That he’d fight until he couldn’t.
He’d lost so much. And walked straight into a trap.
How could he have been so stupid?
“According to Dietrich,” Tiffani continued, “Steven took the bitch back to her house and stayed the night.”
His stomach heaved. He’d been followed.
“Dietrich said she’s got a flight out of Philadelphia to New Orleans late tonight, around one a.m. Steven hadn’t left the last time I talked to him.”
So they didn’t know he was back in Tampa. He had to leave, now, before they realized. And he needed to warn Cole, needed to make sure Bella was safe.
The sound of a vacuum cleaner jolted him into action. He backed toward the elevator so he could watch Charles’s office, throwing glances over his shoulder to keep an eye out for the cleaning woman. He’d almost reached the elevator when he realized the night watchman had probably returned to his post by now. The elevator released directly in front of the reception desk. He’d have to take the stairs. They would take him all the way to the bottom floor.
Still, there were cameras in the stairwell. Heart pounding, hyperventilation a real possibility, he took a deep breath and forced down the fear.
And reached deeper still for his magic, praying he could control it.
* * *
Bella let her gaze roam over the people waiting in the gate area of the Philadelphia airport.
She’d been sitting here for at least an hour. And she still had another hour before her plane left for New Orleans.
But she hadn’t been able to sit in her apartment on Bainbridge Street and mope any more.
Alright, at least be honest with yourself. You don’t want to cry anymore.
That’s all she’d done since she’d left Steven this morning.
She’d hoped—prayed—that Steven would follow her back to her apartment, beg
her to let him back in her life.
Damn him for crushing her dreams. Again.
Well, shit. Her eyes were flooded. Again.
Wiping them, she took a deep breath and forced herself to continue people watching. It was a favorite pastime—watching the eteri.
There were a few families with young children, several businessmen in suits carrying briefcases and a whole crowd of seniors dressed in polo shirts and casual slacks. And white sneakers. Every single one of them. Smiling, she wondered if there was a shop that only sold white sneakers to seniors. Must have a booming business.
She closed her eyes and took a breath, sorting through the smells to pick out a few people with magic, none strong enough to worry about.
Wait. What was that? She’d caught a hint of something…different. Her eyes shot open.
Power, strong and nearly feral. Drawn from the same source as hers but more inherent, more a fiber of his being.
A grigorio.
Rising and slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder, she wandered toward the news stand farther up the concourse, discreetly sniffing.
She turned right when she came to the hallway that led back to the security metal detectors and ended up in front of the small snack bar serving muffins, sandwiches and other finger foods.
“Hello, Princess. Took you long enough. Must be slacking off.”
* * *
Watching Charles’ door for the slightest movement, Steven began chanting, a bare whisper of sound. His skills were rusty, but he performed the spell without screwing it up, testing for wards of protection around the building.
He found what he was looking for then thanked the Blessed Goddess Charles relied more on technology than he did magic. He still had no idea how Charles had hidden his Mal background from Steven. It didn’t seem possible. He must have a shitload of power.
The words were coming back to him now, his Etruscan gaining momentum as he began the spell that would make him invisible to the cameras.
Even with just these simple spells, he could feel the darker magic trying to consume his will. Whispering to him, trying to seduce him with possibilities.
Battling back, he spoke the last word as Tiffani stepped into the hall, followed by her father. Steven froze, but they never glanced his way.
“I think I’m going to stop at Steven’s, maybe hang out until he gets home,” Tiffani said as she pressed the button for the elevator. “A naked woman in his bed might finally break down his reserve.”
Charles winced but chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way, dear. But I don’t need to know details.”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid back silently. Charles and Tiffani entered and disappeared while Steven stood there.
It took him several minutes to unfreeze his muscles, to make sure his power wasn’t leaking out of him and affecting the environment around him.
A buzz sounded in his ears and his muscles twitched with the sparks of magic.
Gods-be-damned, it felt good. Wonderful. Fucking amazing.
And he couldn’t let it.
As if he was tearing pieces of his flesh from his body, he forced the magic back into that black hole inside his chest. Where it brooded and sulked and grew.
Then he walked down the stairs to the first floor.
* * *
“Diego!”
Bella swung around and leaped at the dark-haired man, throwing her arms around him for a hug, knowing it would exasperate the quiet grigorio. “What are you doing here?”
She pulled back and looked at the gorgeous man her brother had hoped she’d marry some day. Never gonna happen, but…oh, my.
Diego shook his head, brown waves falling to his shoulders. Those copper-colored eyes held amusement but his unsmiling mouth and handsome face with all those broad Latin planes looked tense.
“Your brother asked me to keep an eye on you. I was going to New Orleans for congress anyway, so I agreed.”
She liked Diego, she really did. He didn’t believe in giving you a line of crap. Her brother, however… She was going to kill him.
Her eyes narrowed. “So, Cole asked you to babysit, too? Quinn had his turn in Reading.”
He shrugged. “I guess you can look at it that way. I look at it as companionship.”
She glared at Diego for several seconds until he lifted one perfectly dark eyebrow. “You gonna sulk the entire flight or do you want to get a drink?”
They got drinks at the bar next door—a ginger ale for Diego and a whiskey sour for her.
Diego turned a deceptively lazy gaze her way. “Something you want to talk about?”
She shook her head then sighed and nodded. “Can we wait until I get some alcohol in me for the answer to that question?”
He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Yeah, well, I got a lot of those but they never seem to work out for me.”
The bartender brought their drinks and she downed half of hers in one gulp, appreciating the burn on the way down. Not that the buzz would last long. Lucani metabolism burned alcohol out of the system faster than an eteri.
As Diego sipped his soda, she turned back to him, her head tilted. “Do you think I’m spoiled?”
Both of Diego’s brows rose this time. “Is that a trick question?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He snorted. “You’ve been spoiled by every man in your life. You’ve got to know that.”
A grimace twisted her mouth, but she couldn’t really dispute his statement. “Alright, let me ask you this. Do you think I manipulate events and people for my own benefit?”
“Don’t we all?”
She sighed. “Diego, please. You’re the only person I know who’ll give me a straight answer. And if you don’t, I’m going to start calling you, ‘Your Highness.’”
He winced. “Let’s not get nasty. Help me out, Arabella. What’re you talking about?”
Chin on hand, she stared into Diego’s beautiful eyes, wondering why she hadn’t fallen in love with him. Damn Steven, maybe it was time she tried.
As heirs of two of the oldest versipelli families in the world, she and Diego should have been made for each other. It didn’t matter that he was an Iberian lynx and she was a grey wolf. If they had children, they would be either wolf or lynx. Or have the ability to shift between both forms.
While the old European families hadn’t intermingled much, the influx of immigrants to the United States had meant more mixed unions, something the elders had looked on with horror. They’d predicted dire consequences—contaminated blood, the end of the versipelli, the end of the world.
Of course, it hadn’t happened.
However, the hereditary families were dying off and mixed unions with humans only rarely produced children with magic.
Diego had been born from a versipellis father, king of the Falcus family of Galicia, Spain, and a strega mother, a direct descendent of the legendary boschetta of thirteen Etruscan witches cursed to immortality.
Diego had been double-whammied, born versipellis and grigorio and that combination made for one mean, fighting machine.
“Hey, Bella. You zoned out on me. What happened?”
She sighed. “Do you believe in soul mates, Diego? One love for your entire life?”
He didn’t answer right away but seemed to give it some real thought. “Yeah, I do. But I also believe we can be happy without our soul mates in our life.”
“Do you know who your mate is? Have you met her?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know that I want to, either.”
Feeling tears well, she blinked them back and gulped more of her drink. “I’d rather not know mine. He’s a bastard, pig-scum, lying sonofabitch.”
Diego snorted. “So tell me how you really feel.”
“Like I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest.”
“Tell me the word and I’ll kill him for you. Then you can get on with your life.”
The thought of Diego disemboweling Stev
en gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling, even though she knew she’d never let anyone truly hurt him.
“Maybe I’ll just let you maim him a little.”
Diego nodded. “Better to be by yourself.”
“Is that why you don’t talk to anyone? Live with anyone, date anyone, associate with anyone? Are you a virgin? Gay?”
In the process of drinking his soda, Diego nearly spewed it across the bar. “What?”
She shrugged, as if she hadn’t just accused one of the most masculine men she knew of being gay. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t. “You heard me. No one’s ever seen you with a woman. You skulk around like a wraith, you have no friends. No one knows where you live. Where do you live, anyway?”
His gaze narrowed. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Why the sudden interest in my life?”
“Because I’ve decided it’s time to move on and you’re the lucky guy.”
If she hadn’t inhaled her drink, she would’ve been able to think fast enough to figure out the expression that crossed Diego’s face. But by the time she got her thoughts together, he spoke.
“Luck’s not a word I’m acquainted with, though, for you, I’d make an exception.”
Bella signaled the bartender for another drink but Diego waved him off.
She flashed Diego a look that would have made a lesser man cower in fear. “You are not my brother. Or my keeper. If I want another drink, I’m going to have one.”
He shook his head. “Right now, I need you sober.”
She huffed. “Alright, no more alcohol for me.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Diego helped her to her feet and she felt the room swing, reminding her that she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, even if the buzz wouldn’t last long.
“I’ve gotta go to the rest room.”
She swayed on her feet and took a moment to steady herself, taking a deep breath and heading for the bathroom across the hall. She had to cut through a crowd of what looked like Japanese tourists to get there, the smell of humanity almost overpowering her with its blood and tension and sweat.
In the bathroom, she used the toilet, trying to shut off her olfactory glands as she did. The amount of chemicals they used in this place was going to make her sick.
Moon Bound Page 6
