Touch of Magic

by Carin Rafferty

  As she led him to the bedroom, he said, “While you go mix a potion for his pain, I’ll undress him.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Shana objected. “I can take care of him from here. As you said, you need to get back to the festival, and you really shouldn’t leave Ariel alone for too long. She is eight months pregnant.”

  “I’ll get back to her as soon as he’s undressed. He’s heavy, Shana.”

  Shana rolled her eyes. “Lucien I’m a witch, remember? I have the same physical strength that you do. I’m perfectly capable of undressing him.”

  “I said he’s heavy.”

  “Warlocks!” Shana mumbled, heading for the kitchen. “Why do they have to make everything a battle of superiority?”

  Unfortunately, that was a question witches had been asking since the beginning of time. To date, not one of them had come up with the answer.

  When she returned to the bedroom, Lucien had undressed the man and covered him. After she poured the small glass of herbal medicine into the man’s mouth, she turned to Lucien. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”

  “Well, let’s hope you’re feeling that way in a few days,” he stated grimly. “Cast the spell over him before he wakes up, Shana. I want to make sure that when—if,” he corrected at her frown, “he leaves, he remembers nothing about his time here.”

  “I’ll cast it the minute you’re gone.”

  “Good. If you need any help with him, let me know.”

  “I will. Now, you’d better get back.”

  He nodded and walked out. As he disappeared, Shana was hit with a sudden urge to run after him and ask him to stay. But if she did that, he’d sense something was up. He’d start questioning her, and she’d probably blurt out the entire Moira fiasco.

  “You got yourself into the mess, and it’s up to you to get yourself out of it,” she said, turning back to the mortal. “And the first order of business is to get this spell out of the way.”

  Opening the charm bag she wore at her waist, she retrieved a small vial of amber liquid. Popping off the lid, she said, “Well, my friend, I guess it’s time for a touch of magic. Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. You heard what Lucien said. I’m the most adept spell-caster in the coven.

  “I also hope you aren’t modest,” she went on as she grabbed the edge of the sheet, “because to get the best results, I need to rub the contents of this little bottle all over your body. Well, maybe not over all of it, but a good portion of it.”

  She tossed back the covers and let out an appreciative sigh as her gaze traveled from his neck to his thighs. She knew from the lovemaking vision they’d shared that he was well-built, but he had been wearing moonlight and shadows. Lamplight revealed the full extent of corded muscle and sinew.

  “I’m sure glad I didn’t let Lucien cast this spell,” she told him as she sat on the edge of the bed and poured the liquid onto his smooth chest. “I have a feeling that if we do end up as mates, we’re going to have a lot of intense emotional moments. We’d have probably driven him crazy. I also think that I’d better get this over with quickly, or I’m liable to drive myself a little bit crazy.”

  She fell silent as she quickly rubbed the potion over his chest and down to his hips, trying to keep her eyes from straying into intimate territory, but failing miserably. As she eyed his male endowments, she felt a small stab of desire. Quickly, she returned her gaze to his face. If he was a warlock, she’d simply connect with his mind and play out her sensual fantasies. But he wasn’t a warlock. He was a mortal with a very troubled soul.

  After she finished rubbing the potion into his skin, she placed one hand over his heart and the other in the center of his forehead. Then she murmured the incantation. She felt energy shoot down her arms and enter his body, and then it returned up her arms in a warm rush.

  She removed her hands and gave him a wry smile. “Well, now you’re spellbound. I sure wish you’d wake up so I could find out your name. We have a lot to talk about.”

  When his only response was a soft snore she stood and tossed the covers over him. Then she carried his dirty clothes to the laundry room and put them in the washing machine. When she returned, he was still out, and she sat down in the chair next to the bed and started her vigil. A short time later, he started shifting on the bed. A quick brush against his mind confirmed that her mysterious mortal was finally waking up. Shana shot to her feet, feeling both nervous and excited. In a moment, she’d be talking with the man who was to be her mate.

  AS RYAN BEGAN to surface from the blackness, he shifted his body. When he did, a sharp, tearing pain shot from his knee, causing him to groan.

  “I know it hurts, but the injury isn’t too serious. Just lie still,” a woman murmured as he felt the mattress dip beside him.

  He knew that voice! It was the woman from his nightmare! His eyes flew open, but everything was blurred. It took a moment for him to focus on her face. When he did, he stared at her in disbelief. In his nightmare she was no more than a shadow, and he’d never considered what she looked like. It was just as well he hadn’t, he now determined, because nothing he could have imagined would have done her justice.

  Her dark brown hair hung in a silken fall to her shoulders. She had a heart-shaped face with flawless features. Her large brown eyes were framed by long, thick lashes. Suddenly she smiled at him, and he realized that she had a perfect cupid’s-bow mouth. Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was also a stranger. So why was she in his nightmare?

  She interrupted his confused reflection with, “I’m Shana Morland, and I’m sorry that my horse and I caused you to crash. Do you remember what happened?”

  Ryan frowned as the events leading up to the crash came rushing back. He recalled the nightmare and his death-defying drive along the mountain road. He remembered taking the fork, and a few minutes later, he’d come around a bend and found himself practically on top of a racing horse. He’d realized that a collision was imminent, and he’d jerked the bike toward the side of the road.

  From there, everything became muddled, though he had the oddest recollection of lightning circling around him. That must have been his imagination. In order for there to be lightning, there would have had to be a storm. He definitely recalled that the sky was clear.

  “I’m sure things are confusing right now. You took quite a fall,” the woman said.

  His frown deepened. She was right. He had taken quite a fall. In fact, considering the speed at which he’d been traveling, he should be dead, not lying here looking at a beautiful woman.

  “Where the hell am I?” he muttered, trying to sit up.

  She placed a hand against his shoulder to hold him in place. “Please lie still. I’ve given you something for the pain, but it will take awhile for it to work. The less you move, the less pain you’ll have until then. And you’re in Sanctuary.”

  Her use of the word “sanctuary” conjured up another memory. As he’d taken the fork in the road, he’d heard her voice whispering that he’d now found sanctuary and his journey was over. How had she been speaking to him in his mind?

  “What’s your name?” she asked, again breaking into his thoughts.

  “Ryan Alden,” he answered, glancing around him. He was in a fairly large room that reminded him of a castle he’d once visited in Scotland. The walls were made of stone. There was a small window positioned high on the far wall, through which he could see a star-studded sky and a full moon.

  He continued his survey of the room, noting that old candle sconces had been converted to light fixtures. However, there were so few of them that they couldn’t penetrate the dark corners. The only furniture he saw was the large bed he was lying on, a rough-hewn nightstand, and an equally rough-hewn chair. The room was as strange as the woman.

  Again he tried to sit up. This time
she let him. As another tearing pain shot from his knee to his groin, he almost wished she hadn’t. When the covers fell to his lap, he suddenly realized he was naked beneath the covers. He wasn’t sure what upset him the most. The fact that he’d been so out of it that he hadn’t known he’d been undressed, or that there was a good possibility this woman had done the disrobing.

  “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  “They’re being washed.”

  “Who undressed me?”

  “Lucien.”

  “Who’s Lucien?”

  “He’s the high priest.”

  “I’m in a convent?” he gasped. That would explain the strange room, but surely a woman this beautiful couldn’t be a nun!

  She laughed softly. “No, you’re not in a convent. I told you, you’re in Sanctuary.”

  “And what is Sanctuary?” he asked as he cautiously moved his leg. When he was hit with another wave of pain, he closed his eyes against it. He wanted to examine his knee to see what was wrong with it, but he’d have to toss back the covers. He wasn’t about to do that in front of a strange woman, and he meant that both literally and figuratively. How could she have been haunting his dreams for the past six months?

  “Sanctuary’s a town in Pennsylvania,” she said. “You know, if you’d lie still, you wouldn’t be in so much pain.”

  “Yeah, well, you know what they say, no pain, no gain,” he muttered. “I’d appreciate it if you’d bring me my clothes.”

  “As soon as they’re dry, I’ll bring them to you.”

  “Just bring me my duffel bag. I have plenty of clothes in it.”

  She blinked at him, as if he were suddenly speaking a foreign language. “Duffel bag?”

  He released an impatient breath. “Yes, my duffel bag. It’s strapped to the back of my bike. And speaking of my bike, where is it?”

  “It’s where you crashed.”

  “You left it lying on the side of the road?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you, lady? That’s an expensive bike. Someone will steal it!”

  “My name is Shana, not lady, and people don’t steal in Sanctuary.”

  “People steal everywhere.”

  “Not in Sanctuary.”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “People don’t steal in Sanctuary. Just get me my clothes so I can get out of here.”

  “But you can’t walk,” she objected. “Your knee is sprained. As I said, it isn’t a serious injury, but I suspect it will be several days before you can walk on it.”

  Several days? That was totally unacceptable. He had to keep moving. If he didn’t, the eyes would catch up with him. He shuddered at the thought.

  “I don’t have to walk,” he informed her. “All I have to do is sit. Now get my clothes. The faster I get out of here, the better.”

  “How are you going to leave?”

  “The same way I arrived. I’m going to get on my bike and hit the road.”

  “I’m afraid you can’t do that. Your motorcycle is damaged.”

  “What do you mean it’s damaged? What’s wrong with it?” he demanded, a sense of panic stirring inside him. He had to have his bike. It was the only way he could outrun the eyes.

  “I don’t know the proper terminology, but I can show you,” she answered.

  “Fine. Get my clothes and we’ll go.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t walk, remember?”

  “I’ll manage,” he snapped. “Just bring me my clothes!”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to hear your buts, lady. I want to go see my bike, and I want to do it now. So go get my clothes, so we can leave.”

  “We don’t need to leave,” she said impatiently. “If you insist on seeing your motorcycle, I can show it to you from here.”

  Before he could respond, she placed her hands against his temples. A peculiar jolt shot through him, making him feel as if he’d been invaded. Every self-protective instinct he possessed began screaming at him to pull away from her touch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move.

  Suddenly, her eyes took on a strange glow, as if some inner power was pulsing inside her. He gulped and real fear shot through him. Who was she? What was she?

  Relax, Ryan. Nothing I do will hurt you. Relax.

  He was staring at her face, so he knew she wasn’t speaking. How could she talk inside his head? It simply wasn’t possible! He had to fight her. He had to get away from her. He had to . . .

  Relax.

  Despite his determination to escape her, he felt his body growing slack. Her eyes became so luminescent that he felt as if he were looking into a pair of headlights on high beam. Oddly, he didn’t feel blinded by the light, but drawn to it in mesmerized fascination.

  Look, Ryan.

  At her words, the light vanished, and he was staring down at his bike. The headlight was on, but even as he watched, he saw it grow dimmer, the life draining out of it. The front wheel and fender had been torn away. The back wheel was twisted so that it pointed skyward. The body of the bike looked as if some huge hand had tried to rip it in two. He didn’t need an insurance appraiser to tell him it was totaled.

  Panic surged through him. How was he going to outrun the eyes if he didn’t have his bike?

  Now you’ve found Sanctuary. Your journey is at its end.

  No! That wasn’t true! If his journey had ended, he wouldn’t be alive. He’d be down there with his bike, his life draining away. Why wasn’t he down there with his bike? How was he going to outrun the eyes?

  Come to me, Ryan. Let me help you.

  The voice came from behind him and he spun around. The shadow-woman from his nightmare stood in the distance. She was wearing a long, black robe with a hood that covered her head. Though he couldn’t see her face, he now knew who she was. Her name was Shana, and she was offering him sanctuary. As she stretched her arms toward him, he wanted to go to her but he knew the eyes would never let him go.

  The eyes aren’t here, Ryan. Come to me. Let me help you.

  He glanced around him in confusion. It was true. The eyes weren’t here. Where had they gone?

  Come, Ryan. I will help you, but you must hurry before it’s too late!

  Her words were compelling, and he started running toward her. As he drew closer to her, a sense of unease stirred inside him. There was something wrong with her, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He slowed his step, wishing he could see her face, but it was shielded beneath the robe’s hood.

  Ryan, if you want me to save you from the eyes, you must hurry! she insisted when he stopped several feet away from her.

  Again, her words were compelling, filling him with an overwhelming need to rush into her arms. But as he began to take a step forward, some primitive instinct made him step back instead.

  The moment he did, he recognized what was wrong with her. He couldn’t see her face, but he could see her eyes glowing from the depths of the robe’s hood. Though they had the same luminescent sheen as Shana Morland’s, there was a paradoxical quality of smothering darkness lurking beneath the surface.

  Who are you? he demanded, taking another step back.

  I’m Shana, and you must hurry, Ryan. Look behind you. The eyes are coming.

  With a shudder, Ryan glanced over his shoulder. It was true. They were bearing down on him with such speed that in a matter of moments they would overtake him.

  Ryan, please. Come to me. Let me help you!

  He jerked his head back toward her. She still had her arms extended. All he had to do was go to her, and she would protect him—provide him sanctuary.

  He took a step toward her. When he did, he saw a flash of triumph flare through her eyes. At that moment, he knew who she was, and a combination of fear and hatred surged through him.
>
  He lunged for her, determined to destroy her, but just as he reached her, a voice yelled, “Ryan! Wake up!”

  At the urgent order, the shadow-woman vanished and Ryan found himself staring at the woman named Shana. Her brow was contracted in a worried frown, and he knew her concern wasn’t real. She was trying to deceive him just as she had before. But he knew better, because he could now sense her evil. She would never fool him again.

  Looking her in the eye, he said, “I killed you once, and I’ll do it again. You’ll never defeat me. Never.”

  SHANA STARED AT Ryan in horrified disbelief, though she couldn’t decide what was more alarming. His threatening words or his face. He didn’t even look like the same man. It was as if his entire facial structure had undergone a metamorphosis.

  She blinked several times in rapid succession, sure that it was just her imagination. When she again focused on him, the image hadn’t changed. His eyes were set deeper into his face and had an almost Oriental cast to their edges. His cheekbones were higher, more pronounced. His nose seemed to have lengthened and taken on a slight hook at the end. His cheeks were more hollow, his chin more pointed, and his jaw more square. Even the color of his hair had darkened. He had the same fierce looks of a warlock! What was going on?

  Whatever it was, she’d better figure out a way to deal with him and fast! He was glaring at her with so much hatred that she knew it was only a matter of moments before he’d act on the emotion. She was also sure that when he did, he’d make every effort to carry out his threat to kill her.

  Though her survival instincts were telling her to get away from him, she reminded herself that she was a witch and he was a mortal. Her powers would protect her against him. Reassured, she tried to probe his mind. When all she encountered was the emotional emptiness she’d experienced following his accident, she quickly pulled away. Moira had trapped her in that soulless desert once. She wasn’t about to let her do it again.