by Wood, Vivian
Just the twang on the word lass had Echo all worked up, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell Rhys otherwise. He was intimidating to her, so smart and sexy and wise. Echo was a local girl who worked in a crappy retail Voodoo shop that catered to tourists. She couldn’t control her own magic, and she was more than a little fucked in the head from her childhood. The idea that she and Rhys had somehow been cosmically paired was almost comical.
Not that her traitorous body had any idea that connecting with Rhys was an impossible thing; no, her hormones were flying like a sixteen year old at junior prom. Part of Echo suspected that Rhys knew exactly how turned on she was, and simply chose not to exploit or mention it.
Echo just shook her head. Thankfully Rhys let the matter drop, turning to the research he’d dug up on the Three Lights. There were mentions here an there, most in the last twenty years or so. What interested Echo more were the three mentions in much older texts, one of them written almost two hundred years before Echo’s birth.
Was this more fated cosmic crap? Why was the universe out to screw with her this week? Until a few days ago, she’d never had so much as a flicker of trouble from the Kith world. Today, she was being hunted by world-ending-wannabes and courted by a massive, overly attractive werebear.
What gives?
“There’s a story behind all of this,” Echo sighed after Rhys told her what little he knew. “It’s a family thing, I guess.”
Rhys’s brows shot up.
“You already knew you were the First Light?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” Echo said, grabbing a chair and settling into it. Rhys sat across from her, and Echo could feel his gaze on her as she twined her fingers in her lap, trying to decide how much to reveal.
“Echo, just tell me,” Rhys chided.
“Well… you know that I’m a witch.”
Rhys nodded, his expression patient. Echo continued, “Well, I’m also a medium. I see spirits.”
She paused to let that sink in, but Rhys was unfazed.
“So you were informed about the Three Lights sometime in the past,” Rhys guessed.
“Not too distant, actually. My mother appeared a few days ago, and she told me a few pieces of the story.”
Echo quickly filled him in on the conversation, and Rhys seemed perplexed.
“Why didn’t you dig deeper? Surely your mother would have told you more if you’d asked,” he said.
“We never… our relationship wasn’t good when she was alive. And I was so young when she died, only six. I never really got to know her, I guess,” Echo explained with a defensive shrug.
Rhys reached out and trapped her fingers against the table, lacing them with his own.
“I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t know. Has your mother not visited you often, then?” he asked, his voice warm with concern.
“No. That was the first… the only time,” Echo said, her voice wavering.
Rhys’s eyes tightened a fraction, but he didn’t delve into Echo’s past.
“Did your mother tell you anything else?” he asked.
“Just that I’ve made myself a target. Until Pere Mal gets what he wants, I’m a danger to anyone who hides me. And if he gets me, he’ll use me to find two other women. There’s no winning,” Echo said, her shoulders drooping.
“Well,” Rhys began, his tone cautious, “She’s right about one part. We can’t let Pere Mal get you. That’s more for my sake than anything else, though.”
His gentle joke pulled a half-smile from Echo, and she gave him an appreciative glance.
“You won’t like my mother’s last bit of advice, then. She told me to stay away from you, that I would end up sacrificing myself for you.”
Echo couldn’t miss the black cloud that passed over Rhys’s face, but he merely gave her fingers a squeeze and released her.
“Have you used a scrying mirror before?” Rhys asked, changing the subject.
“A few times, with Tee-Elle,” Echo said.
“Gabriel’s already working on this, but I think it might help if you scried for her, since you know her so well. He doesn’t have active memories to call upon, which can help a lot.”
They worked through the morning and into the afternoon, stopping briefly to eat the refreshments that Duverjay brought up. Echo tried scrying, but it seemed that wherever her aunt was being held, the place was too well hidden.
They turned instead to researching Pere Mal, trying to learn where he might keep a valuable asset like Tee-Elle. The whole time they worked, Echo was hyper aware of every time her skin brushed Rhys’s, every time their hands touched, every time his gaze seared her. Once, she caught herself licking her lips as she studied his mouth.
“Don’t you think?” Rhys prompted, touching her shoulder and making her jump.
“What?” Echo looked up, flushing. Rhys seemed to be trying not to smile, a deep dimple flashing in his cheek as he gave her a knowing look.
“His ancestral home in Algiers Point,” Rhys repeated, drawing her attention back to the city map spread across the table. “If the sources we’ve seen are right, he likely has a home there still. Or maybe he’s got Tee-Elle in one of these warehouses outside the city near Gentilly. You know New Orleans better than I do, what do you think?”
“Oh. Uh, right,” Echo said. “Algiers Point is a pretty nice neighborhood. I can’t imagine someone not noticing a house where Pere Mal keeps hostages. Gentilly is more likely, in some areas there are less cops and more abandoned buildings.”
“I’ll let Aeric and Gabriel know. We can focus our search there while we formulate a plan of attack,” Rhys said.
An hour later, Echo and Rhys were tapped out for the day.
“I can’t look at another line of tiny Latin text or my eyes will go crossed,” Rhys said, setting aside the dusty book he’d been studying.
Echo plunked down a scroll with a nod.
“I feel the same. I’m getting hungry, too.”
“I usually take my meals with Aeric and Gabriel, but they’ll both be working or patrolling tonight, I think,” Rhys said, looking thoughtful. “How about I have Duverjay bring up something for dinner and we just…”
He stopped, seeming unable to finish the sentence. Echo realized that Rhys was searching for a the right term, and coming up empty. Though his speech was perfect, almost overly proper at times, she could sense that he still struggled with slang.
“Hang out?” she suggested with a smirk.
“Right, yeah,” Rhys said, rolling his eyes.
Rhys pulled out his cell phone and sent off a series of texts, presumably ordering dinner from Duverjay.
“Do they not hang out in Scotland?” Echo asked when he’d finished.
“Not in the mid-seventeen-hundreds, not so much,” Rhys said.
Echo’s breath caught in her chest.
“Excuse me?” she demanded, startled by his words. “Are you making a joke?”
Rhys seemed to realize that he’d blundered, and he had the presence of mind to look a little abashed.
“Ah. Yeah, I was going to get around to telling you all that,” he said. He jumped up and busied himself with pulling down a projector screen from the ceiling across from the couches.
“Uhh… when, exactly, were you planning to tell me you’re… what, a time traveling werebear?” Echo asked with a snort, crossing her arms. “Unbelievable luck I have.”
Rhys shot her a guilty look.
“I wasn’t really sure how to tell you. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
Echo mulled over his words for a moment.
“I guess you should start by actually telling me your story, not just dropping that bomb on me,” she said.
Rhys caught her hand and pulled her to the couch. Echo settled in beside him, but not too close. Rhys did funny things to her brain when he touched her, and she needed a clear head for this.
“It started when I was fourteen, and I began to shift to my bear form,” he told her. “My ma died young, and so i
t was just me, my father, and my brother. I’m the oldest son.”
Echo broke her own rule immediately, reaching out and lacing her fingers with his, giving him a quiet bit of encouragement. Rhys traced soft circles against her palm with his thumb as he spoke. lulling her.
“My brother and I were only a year apart, and we used to buck at one another a lot. My father gave us each a choice, take a tutor and expand our minds, or go out in the lists every day and learn the business of war.” Rhys smiled, perhaps recalling a fond memory. “I chose battle, of course. My brother chose books. When I reached maturity at nineteen, I left my home and went to fight for the King.”
“What’s the name of your town?” Echo asked.
“Tighnabruaich,” Rhys said.
Echo actually giggled at the unpronounceable word.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “That’s the most Scottish name I’ve ever heard.”
“Aye,” Rhys agreed, dipping his head to hide a fond smile. “Tis a very Scottish place.”
“So what happened that brought you here? Or now, I should say?”
Rhys’s smile faded.
“My father and brother both died suddenly, mysterious causes. The neighboring laird was greedy, and he took advantage of the lapse in leadership. He wanted to annex Tighnabruaich into his holdings.”
“And you were still gone?” Echo asked.
“Aye. Adventuring, as I thought of it. Flirting with women and filling my coffers with gold, all while my clan suffered terribly.”
Echo winced at the bitter anger in his tone.
“You didn’t know,” she said.
“I never should have left. By the time I rode back, Tighnabruaich was in shambles. There were hardly enough men left to protect the women and bairns. We had to pack what we could and run like cowards. It didn’t… I couldn’t save them.”
Echo’s eyes widened, her heart fluttering.
“They died?” she gasped.
“Not quite. They would have, but for the witch.” Rhys caught Echo’s confused look and nodded. “Mere Marie. She offered me the devil’s bargain.”
“She saved your clan?” Echo asked.
“Aye, and me brother along with it. I could not turn from the deal.”
“What exactly did she get in return?” Echo asked, biting her lip.
“My loyalty and service, until such time as…” Rhys paused, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. He let out a rumble of laughter and shook his head. “No wonder she was so rude to you. She’s going to to lose me as soon as I mark you.”
“I don’t understand,” Echo said, wrinkling her nose.
“Not to worry. We’ve got a bit of time before we come to that, I should think,” Rhys said.
There was a knock at the door, and Duverjay entered with a large serving tray.
“Thank you, Duverjay, you can leave it on the table,” Rhys said.
Duverjay did as commanded, shooting Rhys and Echo a curious look, then the butler departed.
“Should we eat at the table?” Echo asked, peering at the silver-lidded dishes that Duverjay had brought.
“Actually, I have a better idea,” Rhys said, an unexpected grin lighting his face. “Hold on.”
He vanished to his bedroom again, returning with a huge plush blanket. He spread it out on the floor in front of the sofas, then gave Echo a questioning glance.
“Picnic style, huh?” Echo asked with a grin. “Very romantic.”
Rhys gave her a smile that Echo’s favorite English Literature professor would have called ‘downright gallant’, and her heart fluttered a little. If she had to be cosmically fated for someone, she supposed at least it was someone who looked at her like that.
Echo nearly rolled her eyes at herself as Rhys went to get the dinner tray. A few flirtatious smiles and a lot of sexual frustration didn’t mean she should just roll over and agree to this fated mate thing. Hell, she still didn’t even think she believed in any of it.
“Here,” Rhys said, picking up a remote and turning on the projector. A vast list of movie and television choices came up on the screen, and then he turned the remote over to Echo. “Your choice, since I’m so romantic.”
They settled down on the blanket and Rhys uncovered the dishes. Echo’s mouth instantly began to water when she saw that Duverjay had delivered two perfectly seared filet mignons, plus sautéed mushrooms and grilled asparagus.
“Ah, I think we’re missing an important component,” Rhys said. “Pick out something to watch, and I’ll be right back.”
He left the living room and headed out to the landing, presumably going downstairs. Echo flipped through the movies in his queue, surprised to see that had a wildly varying selection. Though there were a lot of recent action flicks, he also had the Harry Potter films on his list, along with a number of older classics.
Rhys reappeared with two huge wine glasses and a bottle of red wine, looking pleased with himself.
“Please tell me you like wine,” he said as he settled in next to her.
Echo laughed.
“Yeah, of course. I waited tables in college, so I know a little about wine.”
Rhys looked relieved.
“I’ve only been on one date since I came to New Orleans, and the girl didn’t drink wine. She only liked amaretto liqueur with sour mix in it.”
Rhys shuddered, and Echo burst into laughter.
“That’s horrible,” she said as she accepted a glass from him. She watched him struggle with the wine key for a moment, trying to pull the cork from the bottle. “Here, let me. I’m a pro.”
Rhys lifted a skeptical brow but handed the bottle and corkscrew over. When Echo smoothly uncorked the wine and poured it into their glasses, Rhys gave her an appraising glance.
“Useful skill,” he said.
“The worse the day I’ve had, the more useful it gets,” she joked, setting the bottle aside and taking a sip of the wine. It was a bold and fruity Cabernet Sauvignon, and Echo could tell that it was an excellent and expensive vintage.
“You got this from downstairs?” she asked, surprised.
“Ah…” Rhys flashed her another devilish grin. “Actually, I nicked it from Gabriel’s rooms. He always has a fully stocked bar in case he brings a girl home.”
“I can’t judge,” Echo said. “He does have great taste in wine, at least.”
“It’s a world away from the wines I had back in Tighnabruaich. I always liked wine, but this is so much clearer and smoother,” Rhys said, swirling the Cabernet in his glass. “Did you pick a film?”
“I saw that Harry Potter was on your list. Have you seen them?” Echo asked.
“Never.”
“Oh, well we have to watch it, then.”
“I’d think a witch would find them too silly,” Rhys said, giving her a speculative glance. “I thought most young witches devoted themselves to hours of magical practice a day, so I figured you wouldn’t like watching something that made light of that.”
“I like them because they’re silly. Magic wasn’t really something I practiced growing up, so it was still fun for me. Actually… if I were going to be honest, Rhys, I don’t have much control over my powers.”
Rhys sipped his wine and nodded.
“I noticed that you seemed unsure of yourself in the fight,” he said. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”
Echo didn’t respond as the movie started, so Rhys dished her up a plate of steak and vegetables without pushing her further. They ate quietly, growing engrossed in the movie and the food. Duverjay’s cooking had been nothing short of excellent since Echo stepped foot on the Manor’s grounds, and this meal did not disappoint.
After they finished eating, Rhys took the whole tray back to the table and pulled a few oversized pillows off the couch, leaning them against the sofa to create a comfortable spot to lounge.
Without interrupting to movie, he drew Echo to his side, tucking her in beside him and slinging a brawny arm over her shoulder
s. She leaned into him instinctively, and the combination of the filling meal and his body warmth lulled her to sleep.
When she woke, Harry Potter was long over and Rhys was watching a documentary about Martin Luther King Jr., his expression one of intense focus. Echo’s face was buried in Rhys’s neck, the curtain of her hair flowing over them both. Echo was a little embarrassed that she’d clung to him so in her sleep, though it was to be expected. They’d shared a bed for several nights now, and Echo was pretty sure that she and Rhys were entwined most of those sleeping hours.
Echo allowed herself to take in a few drowsing drags of his wonderful scent before she pulled away, rubbing her face. Thankfully, she hadn’t drooled on him during her steak-induced nap.
“Uh… hey,” she said, feeling a little sheepish.
“Hey to you,” Rhys said. Distracted, he turned his head and brushed his lips over Echo’s cheek, close to her ear. A casual enough touch, but Echo was still sleep-addled. Not to mention that her hormones were completely out of whack because of him; currently her gutter-dwelling mind was urging her to discover what his lips felt like on literally any other part of her body.
Echo stiffened at the touch of his lips, and Rhys dragged his attention away from the movie, looking down at her with a frown of concern. His arm tightened around her shoulders the barest fraction, and their gazes caught and held.
Echo gazed up at Rhys, curiosity welling in her chest. She licked her lips and lifted her chin the barest inch, and Rhys’s bright green eyes darkened with carnal interest. He shifted and leaned down, surprising her by dropping a second kiss on her cheek, just beside her ear again.
Then another, his lips brushing her earlobe this time, the soft bristle of his beard teasing her neck. Rhys brought a hand up, fingers cupping the back of her neck, thumb braced against her jaw. He rolled her head back to expose her throat before pressing his nose and lips to her pulse, a deep rumble escaping from his chest.
His lips and teeth teased her neck at the sensitive spot where it met her shoulder, and Echo’s body truly responded this time. She could feel her breasts tightening with need, nipples drawing to sharp points. Her skin felt too tight, too hot; a gentle throb began to strum low in her body, matching the rising beat of her pulse.
