“Serena.”
“Hello, Gabriel. Is everything alright?”
Not by a long shot. “Tell me about Kyle and Celeste. Everything you know.”
He heard Serena take a deep breath, caught off guard by his unexpected demand.
As a grigorio, he’d been taught the history of the boschetta, had had it drummed into his brain until he could recite it in his sleep. He knew Celeste had been Serena’s best friend. That Celeste and her husband Antonio had been blood-bound before Antonio’s death five-hundred years ago. The ancient rite of mixing their blood together during sex had enabled Celeste and Antonio to find one another each time they were reborn. Like a magical homing beacon. He knew that Kyle had been born with Antonio’s soul.
He knew that they’d disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth, more than twenty years ago.
“What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.
His heavy sigh reverberated through the phone line. “Just… Do you know if Kyle had any children before he met Celeste?”
“Gabriel,” Serena’s voice held a breathless quality he’d never heard from such a pragmatic woman before. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know.” Great Goddess, he didn’t even want to think about what he was trying to say. What it would mean to this woman. “Just answer the question. Could he have had other children?”
Serena went silent for several longs seconds. “Celeste found Kyle when he was fifteen but did not take him for her own until he was twenty-one. I suppose there could have been other children. But not after he and Celeste were together. They were devoted to each other.”
Yeah, that’s what he’d thought. Still, he’d had to ask.
“Gabriel, the girl. Is she… Does she say she’s…”
Hell, even Serena couldn’t finish the thought. Not out loud.
So he did it for her. “Yeah. She claims she’s Celeste and Kyle’s daughter.”
Another pause. “Do you believe she is?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? After all these years—
“Gabriel, what do you think?”
His sigh made the phone line crackle. “I don’t know what to think yet. We’ll be there as soon as we can. I want to make sure we don’t have a tail.”
* * *
“Quinn, I believe Gabriel may need your help.”
Quinn Kennett ignored the familiar tug Serena’s husky voice always gave his libido and flopped onto the sofa in his apartment in Philadelphia.
“Hello to you, too, babe. How’s it going? I’m fine, by the way.”
He heard her sigh, heard her disappointment. And couldn’t care less.
“Quinn, please. I know things haven’t been good between us—”
He snorted, his upper lip curling back in a snarl. “Yeah, well, considering the fact that you only call when you need something, I think I pretty much deserve to be pissed off.”
Shit. Shit, that sounded so damn whiny. Why did he let this woman do this to him?
Because he was an idiot, that’s why. A gods-damned reincarnated, blood-bound idiot.
And wasn’t that a cosmic fucking joke?
For seven years now, since he was seventeen, he’d been pining after this woman. The woman who was supposed to be his. The woman who, five-hundred years ago, had bound herself by blood and love to his soul.
And the woman who, today, wouldn’t allow herself to love him back.
“Quinn, please.” Her persuasive voice floated over the phone lines. “We don’t have time for this now. Gabriel needs you.”
“And you don’t, do you, babe?”
She didn’t answer right away and he held his breath waiting for her reply.
Gods, you’re such an idiot.
“Quinn—”
He sighed, knowing he couldn’t refuse her anything. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go to him. Keep him safe. And Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“You stay safe, too.”
Then she was gone and he sat there, staring at the black plastic receiver in his hand until it began to beep.
Anger built until he hurled the receiver across the room. Reaching the end of the cord, it snapped back and nearly clipped him on the shoulder. He growled at it then dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling.
Damn. He had no back bone. No matter what Serena asked him to do, he did. Why didn’t he just hand the woman a leash and a collar to put on him? He was already whipped.
Well, at least he’d get to see Gabe. They hadn’t been in the same place at the same time in at least six months. He missed his best friend, though he’d never say that to Gabe. Gabe would shake his head and shrug him off. It wasn’t that Gabe didn’t care. He just wasn’t into public displays of emotion. Hell, Gabe had been trained not to show emotion at any time.
That’s okay. Quinn usually had enough emotion for both of them. And they were in an uproar now.
Serena tied him in so many damn knots every time they talked, he’d been avoiding her for months. Which was pretty fucking easy since she never left her home. And lucani business kept him so damn busy he didn’t have the time to camp out on her doorstep. Not that he would.
Fuck no. He was sick of chasing her.
Yeah, and what a load of shit that is.
It was nearly two a.m., the nearly full moon a pale disc hanging in the sky, calling to him. He pulled on his sneakers.
He’d walk as far as he could then change and let his wolf run to its heart’s content. Or at least until he wore himself out.
* * *
The world slowly came back into semi-focus.
Shea reached for the glass of water Leo always set by the bed after she slept off a migraine.
It wasn’t there.
Groaning, she sank back into the firm mattress. She didn’t want to open her eyes yet. She knew she had to get her contacts out but she was going to enjoy the blessed calm for a few minutes more. She hated to take the prescription pills because they knocked her unconscious, but, oh blessed Goddess, it felt wonderful to wake to complete silence in her head, even if it would be short-lived.
She reached for the opposite side of the bed.
Leo wasn’t there.
Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up, the previous hours coming back to her in a rush. The drive, the fight, Leo’s power.
“Hey. Take it easy.”
Gabriel sat in a chair next to the bed, a glass of water in one hand. “Drink this.” He placed the glass in her hand before she could reach for it. “Leo’s fine.”
Jeez, could the guy read her mind now? She hoped not. She had way too much to hide.
She sipped, eyes still closed. Yes, she was in high-avoidance mode but she figured she was entitled for a few minutes.
After placing the empty glass on the bedside table, she looked around the room, noting its bare walls, plain wooden dresser and short bedside table. She looked anywhere but at Gabriel, who stared straight at her.
“Where are we?” She nodded at the room in general. “This doesn’t look like a hotel.”
“It’s not. It’s a safe house built by the lucani.”
Her eyebrows raised, she met his dark eyes, but his expression showed nothing.
“It’s been here for years,” he continued, motioning toward her neck. “Available to anyone with the right key. Yours would work. It was your mother’s, right?”
She reached for the iron key on the leather strap around her neck, feeling the metal warm in her hand. She released it before it transformed into its natural shape. Her gaze narrowed as she digested his words. “So you’re saying you believe me now? To what do I owe your sudden change of heart?” She threw back the covers—and grabbed them back again when she realized she was naked. “Hey! Where are my clothes?”
He smiled, and her breath stopped in her throat as heat pooled between her legs. Those lips, framed by that dark scruff, drew her gaze. She wanted to lean in and put her mouth over hi
s, feel the rough scratch of his beard against her skin. She wanted him to kiss her, to wipe her mind of everything but her desire for him.
And that was really not good. Not now, on top of everything else.
Forcing herself to drop her gaze, she hoped he never realized what she was thinking.
“Pick new ones out of the chest,” he said. “There’ll be something in there to fit you. Meet me in the atrium and we’ll talk. Don’t wake the kid. He’s next door.”
Then he walked out, leaving her sitting there with her thighs clenched and an ache low in her gut.
* * *
Before Gabriel headed to the front of the house, he stuck his head into the neighboring bedroom to check on the kid.
Sound asleep and looking even younger than he was.
Too damn young.
Hell, they were all too young when they started.
Gabriel had been three. He still had the wooden practice knife his dad had made for him. He’d gotten the real deal when he was a year older than Leo. The following year, he’d gotten a gun.
Leo hadn’t said anything about training. Hell, the kid hadn’t said anything at all. But, Christ, the kid had power. Too much. Maybe Kyle had been killed before he could start Leo’s training. Then again, maybe Kyle had never intended to train him.
So many maybes. His eyes burned and he felt like he could sleep for days. But there was no time. Shea was on her way. They definitely needed to talk.
He headed for the atrium, the main gathering space in the house, and dropped into the sofa, willing his body not to fall asleep as his thoughts raced through the information he had. And more importantly, what he didn’t.
After a few minutes, he heard her footsteps on the wooden floor, measured steps, as if she were taking her time, looking around.
Cautious. Good. That he could handle. Pissed off was okay, too.
The way she’d looked at him in the bedroom, when he’d smiled at her… That was a complication he didn’t need.
Gods’ balls, the woman hit all his buttons. And when he’d undressed her earlier, every single one of those buttons felt like they’d been pressed, fondled and hung out to dry.
He’d realized after he’d pulled her shorts down those long, smooth legs that he shouldn’t have started on her clothes. Shouldn’t have even thought about it.
But he’d tried to be a nice guy.
Oh, yeah. You’re a real prince. Just admit you wanted to see her naked.
No, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d wanted her to be comfortable. Which was completely out of character for him. He was a damn good fighter. A damn good grigorio. But he was, by no stretch of the imagination, a humanitarian. He didn’t play well with others.
But he couldn’t stand to see her uncomfortable.
So he’d undressed her. And stared, hard and aching, at her naked body as she lay passed out on the bed.
Pervert.
Maybe he was.
“In here,” he called, cutting off that train of thought.
She came through the dining room, skirting the upholstered chaise lounges and low side tables that replaced a typical table and chairs, her expression showing every ounce of her wariness. That he’d expected. The clothes she’d chosen to wear…not so much.
She’d picked a dress. And not a slinky, sexy dress, but an honest-to-Gods girly dress. Soft pink fabric dotted with tiny purple flowers draped over her slim body while the neckline only hinted at the generous curves of her breasts. The high waistline began right under her breasts and the skirt fell below her knees but the sleeves ended high on her arms.
Hell. She looked young. Girl-next-door college student, not the prophesied savior of the women he’d sworn to protect. One of whom he loved more than his own life.
Shea claimed to have never heard of the curse. If that was true, she probably didn’t know how to break it either. And that was the real bitch of the situation.
No one knew how to break the curse.
And he had to tell her. The weight of that responsibility settled on his shoulders like ten tons of bricks.
“What?” She frowned and her hands landed on her hips, eyes narrowing. “Never seen a dress before?”
He swallowed a smile and nodded toward the couch across from him. He really was starting to like this girl more than he should. Especially when she was pissed off.
“I’ve got questions you’re gonna answer. Now. And,” he added when she started to object, “I’ve got some answers. But no more bullshit, Shea. I need to know how much you know about the curse.”
She moved closer to the couch, continuing to stare straight into his eyes, and he realized she’d taken out the brown contacts she’d been wearing.
Oh holy shit. Her eyes.
He swore his heart stopped for a full five seconds before it started beating again like he’d just jumped off a cliff. Blessed Goddess, it was true. The answer to a five-hundred-year-old curse stood in front of him, staring at him through eyes he’d only seen on the thirteen cursed streghe.
Anyone catching a quick glimpse of them would think they were hazel, that indiscriminate mix of colors that could range from blue to green to brown and any variation in between.
But when you looked into a cursed strega’s eyes, you saw how truly odd they were, like someone had shattered a stained glass window then set the shards in a round frame. It was so unusual, most of the women wore contacts when they went out among the eteri.
As if his intent scrutiny embarrassed her, she looked away as she sank into the chair across from him. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
Christ, this was a nightmare waiting to happen. One he wasn’t prepared for. One he needed to get prepared for right now. “Your mother never mentioned a curse? Did she ever talk about Italy? About the time she spent there? How long ago it was?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“She never mentioned Serena or Andrea? Tullia or Madrona or Furia?”
Again, she shook her head but a tiny flicker of her expression told him she knew the names.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “You know the names, don’t you?”
Her chin lifted slightly. “Yes, I know the names of the Priestesses. I have to. It was part of my training.”
Holy freaking hell. Celeste had trained her to take her place as a Priestess of Menrva and, after her death, the nail, hidden in the shape of a key, had passed to Shea. He’d seen it hanging around her neck when he’d undressed her. He just hadn’t wanted to believe.
“And Celeste never said anything about a curse?”
“No.” Then she frowned. “But I always knew there was something she wasn’t telling me. Something to do with the voices, something I didn’t realize until I’d left. But I couldn’t go back, not then.”
“What do you mean, when you left?”
Swallowing, she dropped her gaze and let it rest on her hands in her lap. “Until I was twelve, I didn’t realize there was a world outside the boundaries of my home in Wisconsin. There was only my mom and my dad and me.”
Damn. Kyle had hidden them good. But that wasn’t anything they needed to discuss right now. “Do you know how old your mother was?”
Now she returned his gaze steadily. “I’m assuming not forty-three like she told me.”
“Try five-hundred-and-forty-seven.”
He thought for a second she was going to faint. Her mouth parted and she started to draw in fast, shallow breaths. When her eyes glazed over, he reached for her and pressed her head down between her knees. She didn’t fight him.
“Slow, deep breaths, Shea.” Leaving his hand on her nape, he rubbed, trying to comfort. “Come on, don’t pass out on me now.”
Because there’s more.
If it had been anyone else, he would’ve continued to hammer away, try to trip her up. But he had to respect a woman who smiled when she took one on the chin.
And that did not bode well for his future.
“Not…going…to pass�
��out.”
It took her a minute, but she finally caught her breath. When she sat up, the look she gave him burned. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He leaned back into his chair, squashing a smile. “What makes you think there’s more?”
She waved a slim hand in the air, her skin still pale. “Oh, please. There’s always more. There’s probably more you don’t know.”
Spell Bound (Darkly Enchanted) Page 10
