Buried Passion

by Marianne Willis

  “Did you know you were an Elite? That’s probably why you lived. A part of you may have wanted change, but the hope you held became a spell that kept you alive.”

  “An elite?”

  “Mortal witches are categorised into three ranks. Morsel, Ordinare, and those with extraordinary abilities are the Elite.”

  He chuckled, his gaze lost in another time. “I remember when the first vampires turned. Their families and other village people cared for them for months before they awoke. As for you, your magic preserved you in the coffin. The power must have faded as you transformed into a vampire. From the information I read, you were a powerful witch. It’s a shame the world lost such a talent.”

  Rachel thought back to the night she died. She’d been so miserable without Ian and her parents. Inside, she had ached for things to be different. That drive was one of the reasons she’d turned, and if she hadn’t been a powerful Elite, she wouldn’t be standing here right now.

  “I need you to drink this slowly. As you do so, I will recite the incantation needed to complete the spell.”

  “What is this?” She held up the flask.

  “A transfusion potion, it will help alter your blood. You might become light headed, so I suggest you relax.”

  She stared from him to the flask. No going back now. Leaned into the couch, she relaxed against the leather and exhaled before sipping the sweet liquid. Armand raised his hands above his head and chanted in French at the ceiling. Unable to comprehend a word of what he spoke, her body responded to the foreign language.

  Heat infused her like a deadly fever, aching her muscles, coating her in sweat. Vertigo smacked between her eyes. She winced. His voice softened as he spoke the last of the incantation. Her body sagged against the sofa, panting and spent as if she’d finished an intense workout.

  “It’s done. You’re an Impure.”

  “And my blood is the cure?”

  “Come, see for yourself.”

  She took his outstretched hand, and he helped her to her feet. “A minute,” she requested, holding up her free hand. The dizziness hadn’t subsided. When she assumed it was all right to walk, she nodded to Armand who led her out of the room. They passed through a hallway adorned with beautiful abstract paintings and gilded mirrors. All eyes fell on her when they entered the main throne room, but she searched for Ian. He waited at the far back, leaned against the wall. Rachel’s heart skipped a beat followed by a sense of foreboding at his doleful expression. Something wasn’t right, he seemed absent.

  Lord Sylvestre appeared with a handcuffed Maurice right in front of her. The addicted vampire snarled and glared at everyone. He grew bug-eyed when his gaze landed on Cynthia. Still recovering from weeks of malnutrition, it showed in her ashen skin and slim figure. Regardless, her decline did not detract from her gorgeous features, and yesterday when Cynthia smiled, it had heightened her glamorous beauty all the more. Right now that smile was nowhere in sight. Instead, Cynthia’s eyes narrowed into slits, mouth a thin line.

  Maurice squirmed to break free like a frantic witch about to be burned at the stake, but his attempts were futile against Lord Sylvestre’s strong hold.

  “For the hundredth time, what is going on?”

  Cuffs? Did they expect to hold a crazed, supernatural vampire with typical restraints a sheriff would use?

  “We’ve also injected him with a serum to keep him from flashing,” the leader told her.

  Rachel blushed. Did her thoughts leave her mouth again? “Let’s do this.”

  “Do what?” Maurice shouted, his hard-set scowl dared her to take one more step closer.

  She stopped and stared into his eyes. “Cure you.” Everyone in the room was forgotten as she raised wrist, offering it to Maurice. “Go ahead, drink.”

  He looked at her hand. A crease appeared between his brows when he stared back at her. The temptation that swirled in his eyes told her he wouldn’t be able to resist, the addiction was too strong. Maurice visibly swallowed. His mouth descended on her, fangs pierced her flesh, swift and sharp. Her wrist numbed as he took greedily. All her concentration remained on Maurice, waiting for a change, a hint it had worked.

  His eyes shot open. The green of his irises brightened, his face twisted as he sputtered and staggered back.

  “What the hell?” He pointed at her wrist with both bound hands. “Your blood, the more I consume, the more the flavour grows worse. Like burnt coals in my mouth.”

  “Your body recognises you only need the blood of your moitié.”

  “Impossible,” Maurice said, then sank to his knees. His eyes shifted with confusion. “I’m…” He placed his chained hands on his chest and swallowed.

  “What is it?”

  He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t have the urges any more. They’re gone.”

  Rachel smiled. It worked. She beamed at Cynthia, but the motionless woman stared at Maurcie.

  “Maybe now you can try again with your bonded,” Rachel suggested.

  Maurice’s head snapped up, sweat beaded his forehead as he trembled. Relief suffused his face as if the dark cloud that hung over his head for so long finally disappeared. Amazing, how instantaneous the change was. Rachel couldn’t wait to heal many others.

  “No.”

  Both her and Maurice swung to the sound of Cynthia’s soft hostile voice. “I will never give Maurice another chance.”

  “But, Cynthia.” Tristan pointed at his brother. “He is cured.”

  “Doesn’t change a thing.” Cynthia glared daggers at Maurice. “I’ve been rejected by you for almost three hundred years, long before your addiction. I. Don’t. Want you,” she spat each word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Maurice swallowed, his face stark white.

  Had he ever seen Cynthia this way, strong, dependable, with a backbone of steel? Perhaps over the years he’d grown accustomed to the woman so utterly in love with him, who’d throw herself at his feet whenever he called her name.

  “I’ve seen enough.” Cynthia flashed from the room.

  Rachel bit her lip when Cynthia disappeared. Maurice tilted his chin, his jaw rigid. He could try all he liked to hide his emotions, but Cynthia’s declaration had to have been painful.

  Rachel locked eyes with Ian across the room. Maurice and Cynthia might not have a happy ending, but Rachel was ready to start one with Ian. From the strained look on his face, however, there was nothing happy about it.

  Chapter 18

  All good things come to an end. That bullshit line taunted him now. Ian struggled with each step he took, as though he lumbered through mud. He forced his body, soul, and might to do something he didn’t want to do. Say goodbye to the vampire he’d fallen in love with.

  From across the room, Rachel locked eyes with him. He couldn’t even attempt a smile. What was the point? After convincing her they should be together, he now had to do the opposite. Heat infused his cheeks, and he averted his gaze as his stomach twisted.

  “This is the best news ever,” Brianna squealed and hugged Rachel.

  Rachel returned the embrace, but kept her gaze on him. “What’s wrong?”

  Brianna gave him a knowing look. “I’ll give you guys a minute.”

  The woman strolled to the other side of the room where Tristan stood, speaking with Maurice. Although glad for the privacy, he was also pleased Brianna wasn't too far. Rachel would need her sister.

  “How are you feeling?” The inevitable could wait. Right now he worried about her.

  “I’m fine.” Relief relaxed her features, and she hugged him. “Is that why you look so glum, you’re worried about me?”

  God help him. His arms snaked around her small waist, eyes fluttered closed as he relished in her soft warmth. The bliss was torment. How could he do this without breaking her heart, without crushing his own? “We need to talk.”

  One delicate shaped brow arched when she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “If you’re concerned about me being the cure, don’t
be. I can do this. We can do this.”

  We? The word sounded so right. Rachel and Ian against the world. He could see a future with Rachel by his side. Without her, all he saw was murk.

  Suspicion darkened her beautiful hazel eyes, and she squeezed his biceps. “There’s something else troubling you. Tell me.”

  “It’s us,” he spat out the words as if acid coated his tongue. “We can’t be together.”

  Rachel untangled her arms from him and stepped back, brows knit together. “You don’t want me?”

  “Are you kidding me? I want you so much it hurts, but after talking with your sister and Tristan…Rach, I can’t risk your life again.”

  The air between them crackled with tension. Rachel licked her lips. “If what we share isn’t love, I’ll take it. Whatever this is between us, I want it.” Soft palms flattened over his chest. The temptation to cover her hands and keep them there grew unbearable.

  Ian swallowed. Be strong, he had to be strong. “You might find your moitié one day and need him to live. His blood will keep you alive. You’ll never understand true completion and love until you find your mate. I love you too much to take that from you.”

  “You love me,” she whispered, tears glittered in her eyes. “I might not find him.”

  “And what if you do, ten, twenty years from now? Even if you and I build a relationship, we’ll have to let it go because one of us might find our mates. Aren’t we delaying the inevitable, which is goodbye?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. A far away look encompassed her eyes.

  “Rachel…”

  She bit her lip. “I’m thinking of all the reasons to hold on to you, to us. We could run away where no one will find us. Where our mates won’t find us. But that wouldn’t be fair now, would it? Not to them, to us or even our families.”

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Her arms wrapped him in a hug. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

  Dreams of a future, a family, crushed with their final goodbye. And yet, wasn’t the point of saying goodbye to preserve said family and future. Fate was twisted. They shouldn’t want each other this much if they had to give one another up.

  “Rachel, can I talk to you,” Lucas asked as he approached.

  What was the warlock’s problem?

  “Can’t you see we are in the middle of something?” Ian snapped, having about enough with the guy’s strange behavior.

  Lucas’s eyes never left Rachel. “It’s important.”

  “Whatever you have to say, you can do so in front of Ian.”

  Lucas glanced from her to Ian, unsure. “Have you tasted his blood?”

  Body tense with annoyance, Ian snickered. “What the hell is it to you?”

  Lucas ignored his outburst. “Rachel, answer me.”

  She cleared her throat. “Not that it is any of your business, but yes I have.” Eyebrows raised, question resided in her eyes.

  “Do you remember your past with him, the campsite, the spells, your relationship?”

  Ian straightened. “You know about that?”

  The warlock’s eyes whipped to Ian’s. “Wait, you already know?” Lucas sputtered.

  “Rachel has had memories of us as teenagers. She said she pretended to be my mate.”

  “She did,” he confirmed. “And with my help we erased your memory.”

  Rachel inched backward, her fingers danced over her open mouth. “You helped me?”

  “Remember me telling you we had each other’s backs? Well, you asked for my help all those years ago.”

  Rachel rubbed her face and sighed. “What exactly did I ask you to do?”

  “The spell we performed was too strong for one witch alone. Together we made a substance that erased Ian’s memory.”

  Rachel blinked, shaking her head. “Okay, but what about his friends? The other werewolves, Eddy? One of them would have mentioned me, right?” She looked at Ian for confirmation.

  Eddy had been a friend, but never part of his pack. Besides, Eddy and the others never kept in contact after he started professional riding. And with his new career, he’d made new friends and stuck with his own pack.

  “Even if someone had retold him what happened, he would have forgotten instantly. It was part of the spell.”

  This was insane. “So what, I have short-term memory loss?” He gave a bitter laugh. “That can’t be right. Rachel told me this yesterday and I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Either myself or Rachel can break that part of the spell by telling you…which she already has.”

  A chill danced down his spine. His old fear of witches made sense now. Ian turned to Rachel, throat tight. “Wow, you went to extreme lengths to hide our past.”

  Lucas chuckled at the statement. “She’s a Johnson, our family have a history of letting our anger fester. The night you had a pack of wolves chase Rachel off the campground, she called me.” Lucas smiled at Rachel. “You refused to tell your parents where you were, and I was the only family member at the time with a licence and my own car.”

  “I remember how hurt and embarrassed I felt the night Ian discovered I was a witch and not his mate,” she mumbled.

  Lucas frowned. “What exactly do you remember?”

  “Deceiving Ian and subtly declaring to erase his memory. Why, is there something else I should know?”

  This topic had long gone off subject. “What does this have to do with her drinking from me?” Ian demanded.

  “It’ll be easier if I show you. Follow me,” Lucas said, then stalked to the sofa in the foyer. “Sit down, both of you. I’m going to transfer my memory to you both.”

  Memory transfer? What else did these witches have up their sleeves? “Can’t you tell us?”

  “Trust me, I need to do this.” He then turned to Rachel, his smile wavered. “The old you would kick my ass for what I’m about to do.”

  Her lips pouted in confusion. She took a seat. Ian sat beside her, took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Whatever we learn, whatever you did, I won’t hate you. The person you were in the past is not the same person I see now.”

  A delicate glow filled her soft eyes. “Thank you.”

  Lucas placed his palms against their foreheads and chanted in a whisper. The warlock and his words faded into darkness as Ian slipped into a trance.

  ****

  Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell would he tell her? Lucas stomped toward the shrub covered corner of the yard. He had to say something. In the last few weeks, Rachel had become such a damn good Elite, she’d might pry the information out of him with a clever spell. Ever since the night of her hellish ordeal, she had poured all her energy into perfecting her craft and it paid off. Then again, revenge motivated a person like nothing else.

  A few weeks ago, his cousin had called in tears, afraid and alone. He’d dropped everything and drove the long distance to get her. The usual, happy, confident young lady had been replaced with one devastated teenager when he picked her up outside a gas station out in the middle of nowhere. She’d told him about the campground, Jeff, her spells, how it all blew up in her face.

  And here they were, pack territory, in the werewolf’s backyard, risking their asses. Rachel sat on the grass behind the bushes. He rustled some leaves to garner her attention. She handed over the small vial with the liquid that ceased the invisibility cloak. He could have waited for it to fade on its own, but that would have taken hours. Lucas downed the substance and within a few seconds manifested.

  “Well, did you see him? Is he home?”

  Without making eye contact, he knelt to the ground and pretended to rummage through his backpack. “We should come back another time.”

  Rachel hopped up and snagged his arm as he headed for the fence. “Is he home?”

  “Yes, but he’s…busy.”

  Laughter tinkled in the night. He grabbed his cousin and dove back behind the bushes.

  Rachel peeked aroun
d the shrub’s edges, her hazel eyes grew wide as a beautiful girl climbed out of Jeff’s bedroom window.

  “Give me back my bra,” the girl demanded with her hand outstretched. The long shirt she wore reached her shorts. Had to be Jeff’s.

  Jeff poked his head out, and kissed the brunette on the mouth. “You can collect it tomorrow night when you come over again.”

  “No,” Rachel whispered, voice hoarse.

  The brunette bit her lip. “Oh, I’ll be here. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Jeff waited as the girl opened the wooden back gate and disappeared, then shut his window.

  Thank God they cast a spell to mask their scent, otherwise he and Rachel would be werewolf meat.

  Lucas knelt beside his cousin. “You okay?”

  Tears brimmed her eyes as she furiously shook her head. “No, this can’t be.” She choked on a sob. “How the hell did this happen?”

  The devastation radiating from her sent a chill down his spine. “What?”

  “He was having sex with Tara. That’s what you didn’t want to tell me?”

  “That wasn’t Delta?”

  A sob retched past her throat as she answered no. She was not in the right state of mind to be doing this. They had to leave. Now. “We’ll come back another night.”

  “The good Samaritan,” she snorted, and swung her fist into the shrubs. “Tara must have sent him my diary. That bitch. How could she do this? After everything I told her about Jeff and me.” Another sob hiccuped from her mouth.

  “She knows about you and Jeff, the truth?”

  “Everything.” Rachel clenched her stomach. “And Jeff, he’d met her, he knows she’s my best friend…I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Lucas held out his hand. “Let’s leave before you do something rash.”

  “Leave?” She blinked and dried her face with the hem of her shirt. “No. We’re going with plan b.”

  Dammit, he worried this would happen. “Don’t you still want to confront him, give him a chance to understand why you did what you did? It’s not too late, but I strongly suggest we do this another night.”

  “No wonder Tara hadn’t returned my calls.” She jumped up, her feet pounded the ground as she paced. “The coward. I hate them. Both of them,” she uttered, passing him as though he wasn’t even there.