by Marie Castle
“Would you please ask Becca to show us to our rooms?” I asked.
Luke gave Jacq an uncertain look. Did he think the woman would maul me if he left us alone for two minutes? I should be so fortunate. I expected Luke to argue, as was his standard. But maybe he was changing. Or more likely, he knew when to cut and run. At my frustrated huff, he left.
I turned to Jacq, inexplicably nervous. She leaned against the wall, watching me with dark, hooded eyes. That look. It made me uneasy in ways I didn’t fully comprehend. My mouth went dry, and my mind blanked. The silence was thick with things that needed to be said, but I didn’t know where to start.
Jacq must have seen something of my hesitation because she stepped forward with hands out, dropping them before touching me. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Something twisted in my chest. “But I don’t regret it.”
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I didn’t understand why that was so important. It just was. Standing only a foot away, Jacq tucked her thumbs into her pockets, hands flexing. Stormy eyes bored into my soul. I recognized what she was feeling, because I was feeling it too. Something in us needed to touch the other, but we were both resisting.
“Let’s sit for a moment.” Legs suddenly weak, I moved to the alcove’s black leather sofa. Jacq closed the velvet drapes halfway, muting the club’s noise, before joining me.
Although we weren’t touching, as I turned to face her I felt her heat. She’d left her jacket in the car and I could clearly see the strong tight muscles that had so recently held me close. I inhaled her scent. Sage, sandalwood, and now something else. My cheeks flooded again. Jacq smelled like me. No wonder Luke had been angry. Not only did I smell like wet woman, but the auburn-haired beauty before me smelled like my personal scent of oranges. There would’ve been no doubt how long and how closely we’d been touching for my smell to transfer to her.
I tried to mentally force the blood to my heart or brain, anywhere but my face. But at Jacq’s husky, “You’re beautiful when you blush,” I felt the red in my cheeks grow impossibly deeper. Hellfire and brimstone, I hadn’t blushed this badly since my mom, Nana and Aunt Helena had tried to give me the birds n’ bees talk…all together…with diagrams. It was quite possibly the most embarrassing game of Pictionary I’d ever played.
“Thank you.” I managed a smile. “Does that mean I’m not beautiful when I’m not red-faced?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jacq teased. “I’ve yet to have the pleasure of seeing you any other way.” I laughed.
Sitting here like this, teasing each other, it was hard to remember my reasons for keeping my distance, but I hadn’t forgotten our dance and that I needed time to digest what had occurred. Maybe Jacq needed time, too, because she was neither the masked flirt hiding behind cold detachment that I’d first met nor this morning’s bonfire of need. She seemed open, relaxed…and waiting.
But for what?
Taking my cue from her, I relaxed, laying my hands flat on my thighs, denying the urge to touch her, not quite meeting her eyes. This wasn’t like me. I’d never blushed, stammered, or been shy around someone I was romantically interested in. That thought stopped me. When had this gone from a simple case of physical attraction (albeit an extremely strong one) to romantic interest? I wasn’t sure. But sure as I knew my name, I knew that was what this was. I was very much interested in the woman sitting across from me. And this was the wrong time to be having such an epiphany, especially when the woman in question was trying to regain my attention.
“Cate, look at me…please.” I squared my chin, raising my eyes. Jacq looked worried. I frowned. She was worried. I could feel it along with her continued desire. My connection to her emotions was weak but sensible.
“Why are you worried?” I blurted out, my mouth on autopilot. Gah, I wished (not for the first time) that tact were part of my personality. Was it too late to be mentally reprogrammed?
A slew of unknown emotions played across Jacq’s features. With joy and reservation, she finally asked, “Do you want the long or the short answer?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Short, please.” Jacq looked both relieved and disappointed. “But only because Becca will be here soon. How about a rain check on the other?” In a way, that was a promise that there would be other days, other talks. That secret half-smile returned momentarily before her face turned serious, watching me.
“Certainly.” Jacq released a quick breath. “The short answer. This thing between us,” she gestured to our bodies, “it’s intense, but it feels…natural…true? I’m not sure of the word you would use.”
“Right. It feels right.” I spoke softly, halfway closing my eyes, not wanting to see her rejection, but she nodded, smiling. In a way, it was a relief that she felt the same thing. But in another, it was a different sort of strain. It gave this between us hope. Potential. Possibility. Something that could never be. Maybe it was the masochist in me that kept me from stopping her explanation.
“I don’t want to scare you away.” Her words were truthful, but there was more she wasn’t saying. I’d have to make time soon for that long version.
Jacq watched me expectantly. I recognized that look now. She expected me to run, hoped I wouldn’t, and was preparing for the inevitable. How had we gotten here so fast? Luke and I had been together for months, maybe years, before I’d seen that look. Did that mean we were doomed to crash and burn at an even quicker pace? How I could hurt this strong and wonderful woman was beyond me. Yet that was the only future I could see. For us both.
“Jacqueline…Jacq.”
Her smile was radiant, a flash of white teeth and that delectable dimple. What could I say to reassure her without making false promises? I bit my lip, plunging onward, forcefully keeping my head up and my eyes locked on her dark gray gaze.
“I’ve never felt this sort of attraction to a woman before.” I took a deep breath. “And it scares me. In fact, I’ve never felt this sort of magical soul-deep connection with anyone. That scares me a thousand times more.”
Her pupils widened. I could’ve lied. Probably should’ve. But lying seemed wrong. We were both in agreement that the thing between us felt right. I wanted to keep it that way. We might never have anything more between us than honesty.
I couldn’t take that away, as well.
I took a quick breath, continuing, “But I’m not running. I can’t guarantee I won’t want to, but I plan on sticking around to figure out what this is.” For now. It was true, I would never run. But I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t someday walk away. I knew now that, if—or when—that day came, there would be more than a little hesitation in my step.
I wasn’t sure which of us was more shocked by my words. I’d always been an extremely private person, never sharing much of myself, which had caused more than one fight between me and Luke. I hadn’t planned to share so much this time. I just couldn’t seem to stop. Giving in, I put my hand over hers where it rested across the sofa’s top—purely to offer comfort.
Or so I told myself.
“Besides…” I waited for the eyes that had been looking at our joined hands to meet my own before smiling. “You owe me a new pair of jeans.”
Jacq turned her palm over, grasping my fingers. I was getting used to the warmth that crept through my body at her touch. With the sharing of skin, her emotions became clearer. There was worry and a measure of contentedness. But things hadn’t changed. I couldn’t promise her anything beyond friendship. Even if something did develop between us romantically, one day she would have to leave—preferably before my hair turned gray and my bones brittle. Still, I was loath to say those words and ruin her current joy. Sometimes the truth, like bad-tasting medicine, was best given in small doses with lots of sweetness in between. No one had ever accused me of being sweet, but I could certainly attempt it.
That dimple peeked out again, and my hand, acting on its own, reached up, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. Ever since my magic had don
e the same, I’d been dying to let the silky strands run through my fingers. Those same traitorous digits momentarily lingered, finally pulling away.
I’d almost forgotten we were having a conversation until Jacq cheekily replied, “If I’m buying, do I get to choose? You did say that if someone gives you a gift, you wear it.” Her voice got notably deeper. “That’s the nice thing to do.”
I shivered, managing not to blush, but by the look in her eyes, Jacq knew the effect she was having. How typical, my own words were coming back to bite me in the ass. “Um,” I gulped, backtracking as swiftly as I could, “we’ll have to see about that.” We needed to have that talk…and soon. The dark light in her eyes said she was thinking about shopping—but for something other than jeans.
I hadn’t needed a chaperone for a trip to the mall since I was fourteen. Her eyes said that was about to change.
Chapter Nine
“Dreams often tell us what may be. Nightmares often tell us what might have been. It is up to you to be able to tell the difference.” 1687 A.D.
—Claire Jovet, friend to Jacqueline D Slone
Day Six
“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Becca said the next morning, barring me from Kyle’s door and the possibility of seeing him without Were backup. Practically poking me with her finger, Becca spit the hushed words into my face. “His Beast grows more restless. The Alpha has promised you safety. And while I wouldn’t mind seeing you with a few bruises, I don’t want Kyle to pay for it. If you’re injured, Luke will have to kill him to honor Grey’s promise. Do you want that on your conscience?”
Becca’s anger had a bitter edge. I wanted to tell her she had nothing to worry about, but after Luke’s showdown last night, I wasn’t so sure. At least I was certain of my own feelings. His? Not so much.
I’d lain awake for a long time considering that very fact. Not the issue with Luke—the one with Kyle. I’d formed a plan. I simply needed the Weres to go along with it. It was doubtful that Isabella’s fiancé had told his people about her premonitions. Henry Richmond had been unrelenting in his belief that only he and Kyle knew what Isabella’s abilities were. If no one knew, I wouldn’t be the one to let the cat out, but I couldn’t question him thoroughly if we were trying to step around that information.
With head cocked, I gave Becca my best crazy-lady look, resisting the urge to shake my finger back—she’d skipped breakfast. “That is not the worst idea you’ve ever heard. I’m sure you’ve watched reality television at least once.” Her strangled laugh was a good start. My grandpa had always said, “Kill ’em with humor if you can’t kill ’em with a knife to the gut,” which could explain my twisted sense of humor. “And Kyle won’t be an issue…if you’ll give me permission to magic him.”
Permission was important. The Pack was touchy about using magic on their people without it. It was okay for self-defense or law enforcement. Otherwise, it was dishonorable since most Weres couldn’t harness their magic. It was like bringing a gun to a knife fight. No matter that most witches couldn’t grow claws and fangs…and didn’t have a couple hundred pounds of extra muscle at their disposal. Considering Kyle’s incapacitated state, Becca’s position as his superior in the Pack allowed her to say yea or nay.
“I can calm Kyle. It’s a simple spell. If I put enough magic into it, the effects will last for two days. That buys us time to find Isabella.” I looked into Becca’s chocolate eyes. “I don’t want to bring her home to find her fiancé dead. Let me do this.”
“Fine.” Her pretty voice wasn’t so lovely coming through clenched teeth. “But one of us stays long enough for the spell to take effect.”
“Okay, but I can’t guarantee that the magic won’t affect anyone else in the room.”
Becca gave me a scorching glare then tossed her hair back. “I won’t ask my men to expose themselves to the Moon knows what magical mumbo jumbo. I’ll stay, but if I come out of there with green spots and donkey ears, then the minute you’re out of the Alpha’s territory your ass will be mine. Capisce?”
I muffled my laugh as a cough, nodding my assent. The image of a jackass with Becca’s face was too much for me. She might not care for my company, but at this moment I almost liked hers. Almost.
I wheezed out, “Understood.”
The ground the Blue Moon was built on sloped downward in the back, allowing for a basement with high windows still above ground level. That was where we were now. “After you.” I looked at the door and swept my arm forward.
Becca gave me another glare. Since I didn’t have a key, the sarcasm was obvious.
After undoing several deadbolts, Becca led me into the room. I immediately recognized Kyle from the photos in Isabella’s phone. The face and body were the same, but the messy hair and haggard expression didn’t match the carefree, laughing man Isabella had captured so well.
“Kyle?” Becca inquired softly. He turned. Magic, warm and caring, brushed my shoulder before flowing toward Kyle. Becca’s powers of manipulation weren’t all physical, but it seemed very innate and unrefined. She likely didn’t realize she had—and used—magic. Combined with the power, the sound of her voice could be very soothing. While Becca approached Kyle and began speaking to him softly, I stepped into a corner and began my spell.
The spell was for peace. That was true. But there was also something extra. I opened my mind’s eye, viewing the Weres. Becca’s energy was light lavender. Her aura pulsed steadily like the ocean’s waves. Magic rolled out as she spoke, washing over Kyle, hypnotic and calming, like a mother stroking her child’s hair. I forced myself to look away, lest I get trapped in her spell.
Kyle’s energy was dark yellow but didn’t have Becca’s consistency. Instead darker random bursts of color flashed out and then fell back inward, like solar flares. As I worked, tendrils of green earth-magic attached themselves to his aura. The energy’s color didn’t change, but the bursts gradually slowed, finally stopping completely, Kyle’s agitated pacing stopped. Becca glanced at me briefly before guiding him to sit on the bed.
While I worked, I examined Kyle. A faint magical thread led away from him. Upon closer inspection, I saw not one but many. Different from the magical signatures I’d followed when searching for Isabella, these were two-way bonds. The stronger the bond: the thicker the thread. One such thread, part of the Pack bond, connected Kyle to Becca. It merged with the other threads that comprised his connection to the Pack. Each was slim and fragile, but together they bound Kyle to the Pack more securely than duct tape.
Several thick threads wove through the others. This would be the Pack’s connection to Luke as the Wolf Alpha and Grey as the Clan Alpha. Half of these were blue, the others copper-red. There was also one very weak thread the same dark yellow as Kyle’s aura. Stretched taut, it didn’t resemble the rest. It had to be his bond to Isabella. But it was so weak. I studied it for several moments. Could I?
I thought so. Thanks to all the heat and the phers I’d absorbed on the dance floor the night before, I was ten times stronger today than two days ago. With only one string to follow, I could be quick, reducing the chance of growing too weak and becoming lost…even without Jacq on this side to ground me. Reckless? Maybe, but I made the choice without thought. After this spell, I would follow the thread.
As I worked, I studied Becca. Part of my spell was for clarity. It had helped me see the mating connection with Kyle as well as unintentionally revealing Becca. Technically, I wasn’t spying. Some things were just hard to miss. Her aura reflected creativity, strength, great purpose—and hid a deep heart. There was promise of more, if I only looked a little deeper. But that would’ve been an intentional invasion. Besides, I’d seen what I needed to see. The Wolf Second had lots of potential.
This next part would have been more secure if Jacq were here. But I’d left her and Luke upstairs divvying up the assignments. So far, Luke had been on his best behavior, even managing a toothy smile when we’d joined him for breakfast. I was relatively certain
that for an hour at least he and Jacq could manage not to kill each other.
I moved into the magical plane quickly. The feeling was similar to sky-diving—a great rush then a thrilling sense of weightlessness. But that overriding sense that the ground was rushing toward you was missing. Here, you could freefall for eternity…or until you died when the thread holding you to your body broke. Again the colors grew brighter, varied to a degree that the mind cannot comprehend. I found the thread I needed and began to skim along its path. The trip across the Mississippi and into my state named after the rich delta waters would’ve taken hours by car but was only minutes when flying through the magical plane. I headed north, passing Gandsai and the military base. Right outside The Burg, I hit a brick wall.
Or rather, I rammed some sort of shield. Made with magic, tainted with death, it blocked my progress. The impact addled my wits and numbed my spirit, leaving me a helpless fly in the spider’s web. Cold fingers of dark magic twisted, seeking to drag me into the barrier, which began to open.
Still strong, my own thread, my link to the physical plane, instinctually reacted. For the first time ever, that connection yanked me back, ripping me from the dark web, hauling me in seconds the distance I’d previously traveled in minutes, forcing body and soul together like a rubber band, drawn tight, finally released. My consciousness roared in without preparation. I would’ve fallen, but strong arms grabbed me. I blinked several times, my mind’s eye disappearing. Right before the colors diminished, I noticed a faint outline around Becca. A ghostly lavender—or was it blue?—thread waited to be born. I blinked again, and it was gone.
