Blessedly Bound

by Lucretia Stanhope

  When she told Sebastian about Mike he reacted similar to how she did. He did not seem convinced Mike had it in him to be a killer. The news didn't give him the peace it should have because he also wanted the justice Lizzy deserved. Gwen assumed if Lewis met Mike he would agree with them. Something seemed wrong.

  “I'm going to the prison Monday,” Gwen said, as they all sat in the main room.

  “That sounds unpleasant.” Sebastian looked to Lewis.

  “I agree, but she insists on following that path to its end.”

  “I think William holds the answers we need to piece it together, so I am going. I will get the answers the sheriff is too stubborn to get.” Gwen stood up. “I'm getting coffee.”

  Both Lewis and Sebastian looked shocked by her tone and stance.

  “She's feisty tonight,” Lewis said, loud enough for her to hear as she walked out.

  “So I see. You've been practicing.”

  “Did you feel it?” Lewis turned his head sharply toward him.

  “No, relax. I feel it now. I would like to be alone to tell Gwen about me.”

  Lewis frowned and shook his head slowly. “Do you really think you should?”

  “We talked about this already. I do.”

  Gwen walked back in and sipped her coffee. She sighed deeply as the first sip washed over her.

  “Did you want to see what she's learned?” Lewis asked.

  Gwen cut her eyes at them. First Lewis had been acting way too attentive to her, and now he acted chummy with Sebastian. Things grew stranger by the minute.

  “Have you done anything elemental?” Sebastian asked.

  “Not yet,” Lewis said, and smiled at Gwen. “We could.”

  “We could?” she asked. “What, now?”

  “Sure, with Sebastian here to shield things we could go outside and see what you have in those fingers of yours.”

  “You are full of surprises lately.” She walked over and kissed Lewis on the forehead. “Fine, I'll call your bluff. Let's go.”

  Sebastian smiled to see the sort of interaction he expected between a witch and their familiar happen with them, finally.

  They all went outside, none of them really knowing what to expect.

  Sebastian made a circle for them to work in. He explained to Gwen how she could make one anywhere without powders as he did.

  “So why ever use powders at all?” she asked.

  “There are reasons for specific elements, salts and the like. In a pinch this, what I just did, will be enough to protect you from most things.”

  “But if we are about to do something, strong, shouldn't we use something else?”

  “Usually, I will give the needed extra protection tonight.”

  Lewis shifted and sat perched on her shoulder. She could feel his magic join with hers, and hear his voice as a gentle whisper in her head.

  “Start with water,” Lewis said. “Feel it all around you, inside of you. Make yourself aware of its presence everywhere and call it to you.”

  Sebastian couldn't hear what they said, but he could feel they worked with something powerful. He did his best to make sure none of the magic leaked out.

  She drew water from the air around them, the ground below them, as well as herself, which made keeping it concealed more difficult than he anticipated.

  In front of her hands water formed into a rotating circle. It swirled and swayed as they all watched. “What now?” she asked.

  “Now you can give it back, since you have no real need for it,” Lewis said.

  She allowed it to flow back from where it came from. “What would I have used it for?”

  “Water gives life, you could use it for healing, growth, cleansing, as well as protection. In force or frozen it has destructive strength as well.” Lewis held a look of pride at her success.

  Sebastian walked over to her and took her hand. “That felt beautiful.”

  “You felt it?” She turned to see he also looked at her with pride.

  His eyes held an adoring sparkle to them as well.

  Lewis shifted and said, “I never imagined you'd actually call up so much on the first try.”

  “Hey, I made it snow already,” she said.

  “That she did, and storm. I wouldn't underestimate her,” Sebastian said.

  “Can you, either of you do things like that?” she asked.

  “Very subtly. Enhance a blowing wind, perhaps, make rain from an already cloudy day, nothing like what you can do. We certainly can't call the elements from nothing,” Sebastian said.

  “Let's not make her arrogant. We have enough of that from you,” Lewis said. He cut his eyes at Sebastian while smiling.

  “I'm not sure what pool you two have been drinking from, but I like the changes,” Gwen said, and laughed. She waved her hands and a warm wind of peacefulness and happiness wrapped around them.

  When the wind left, Lewis and Sebastian cleared the circle and they walked back inside, chatting for a little while longer before Sebastian said he needed to leave.

  Gwen walked him to the door where he lingered as he watched her.

  “Would you join me at my house tomorrow evening?” he asked.

  She felt a rush of heat and imagined her cheeks were red. “Of course.”

  “Come hungry. I will feed you and then I would be honored if you would let me paint you.”

  She agreed and watched him walk away before she turned back to Lewis. For most of the night she forgot about killers and Mike. She decided to enjoy the rest of the weekend before she went back to that reality.

  Chapter Thirteen

  G wen felt like a nervous teenager while she stood waiting for Yardley to answer the door.

  This isn't a date, she chided herself. Was it? It was. He did ask her for dinner and a sitting. Maybe it wasn't. Did she want it to be a date? Were the feelings she had for him real feelings, or were they byproducts of magic and a shared stress? Was she reading too much into them meeting at his house versus meeting at hers as usual?

  As her mind raced with questions she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Now that she made herself so unsure about what the night was, she doubted her choice in clothes. She viewed it as a date or something special so she didn't wear her usual jeans and frumpy sweater. She wore thick leggings and a form fitting sweater dress. She even brushed on a little makeup and pulled her hair up. She wondered what he might think about her dressing up for dinner at his place. Could she blame it on the idea of being painted?

  When the door opened, the time to change her mind about her clothes or being there slipped away.

  Yardley gave her a warm smile. “Welcome Miss Hensley.” He opened the door fully, took her coat, and hung it up. “Follow me, you are expected.”

  The palms of her hands sweated a little as they made their way through a few halls. She looked forward, too nervous to take in any of the paintings or carpets they passed. When the smell of something cooking started to fill the air, she assumed they neared either the dining room or kitchen.

  Yardley paused and opened a door, “Sir, Miss Hensley has arrived.”

  She walked toward the opened door. The magical vibrations of Sebastian filled the air as they got closer.

  When she saw him stood in the kitchen, an apron hung over his suit without a drop of food on it, looking more like a decoration, she felt her heart flutter. A much more intimate feeling replaced the normal calm feeling she usually got from seeing him.

  “Thank you,” Sebastian said, excusing Yardley. “Come in, I need your opinion.”

  “You're cooking?” she asked, still trying to get her nerves to behave. The proximity to him was making her flush.

  “Of course, I don't have a cook, for obvious reasons.” He stirred the soup, smiled, put the spoon down, and walked over to her with a smooth grace. His eyes danced across her body and back up to her eyes.

  She looked away as the weight of his gaze touched her. She knew if he saw her eyes he would easily read what she thoug
ht, and see how he affected her.

  When he stepped to her, he leaned slightly and kissed her on the top of the head. He breathed in the smell of roses and smiled. Tonight her scent mingled with thick desire and uncertainty. The predatory side of him drew to that strongly. He fought that, allowing the side of him that wanted to protect and pamper her to quiet his own desires.

  After taking a few steps back he looked at her again. The dress she wore clung to curves that already caught his attention, even when she concealed them with jeans. Protect and pamper gave way to an image of pinning her against the counter and kissing her.

  Those good intentions didn't last long, he thought. He drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. “You look particularly breathtaking tonight.” Sebastian pulled his attention from her and turned to the soup. “Taste this, please. I don't cook often as I don't have need.” He held out the spoon and stepped closer to her.

  Gwen sipped a little of the soup and closed her eyes. “It is delicious. I love it.” Saying those words with him standing so close seemed to make the space between them close in even more.

  “Delicious,” he said, his voice low and smooth as it seemed to dance across her skin.

  It felt to her like a tether formed between them and pulled them together. She looked up at him, and let herself get lost in his eyes. She sensed he felt the same tug and struggled with words as she looked for an appropriate response.

  Their faces stayed dangerously close. Before she realized it, she reached up with a finger and touched his jaw. Time suspended as the heat surged between them. It transferred from her one finger to his entire body. In that moment, she only thought of the way he felt. No magic, no voodoo, no death. She pulled her hand away. “Sebastian, I…”

  He placed a finger on her lips.

  She resisted the urge to kiss it.

  The air grew thick with passion and the smell of potato soup.

  He whispered her name, his breath on her lips.

  She felt herself reaching out for him, her hands at his waist and then hesitated.

  Some soup spilled on the burner and made a slight hissing sound.

  “The soup,” she managed to say.

  The spell between them broke.

  He let out a breath along with a sigh of disappointment that the moment ended so soon.

  “Yes,” he said, and stepped back. Tonight things were different, right from the start. He wondered if with all they still faced, he should even contemplate crossing lines they couldn't uncross. He didn't want his emotions to allow him to underestimate Fannie.

  He poured out a bowl of soup and she followed him to a large dining room. He sat the bowl down at the head of the table and pulled her chair out. Once she settled in he sat next to her.

  She felt a little odd eating while he watched but soon relaxed under his gaze. “I've never sat for a painting before. Will we be able to talk, and move around?”

  “Of course. I have been memorizing your features since the first night I saw your beautiful face.”

  “I, that's good, I'm not very practiced at sitting still.”

  He laughed.

  “Can I be serious?” she asked.

  “If you must.” He mocked a frown.

  “Thank you for Thursday. Thank you for everything.”

  “Of course.” His eyes twinkled as he studied her face.

  She looked away from his gaze, toward her soup. “Is that why you look at me like that, with such attention? You are painting my features in your mind?”

  “No.”

  She didn't need to ask any follow up questions, his tone and eyes told her everything she needed to know. She grew hyper aware they were alone, almost alone, at his house.

  He embodied everything she craved in a man. She felt her stomach fluttering and sipped her water.

  Relax, she told herself. It's Sebastian, the same comforting Sebastian that helped you cope with almost every night for the last week. It's also the same Sebastian you wanted to make out with in the kitchen.

  He could feel her tension filling the air and tried for a warm smile, while switching to idle chatter about her room and how she settled in.

  When she finished her soup, they walked together to the room they spent time in the other night.

  Once she sat down he stood by an easel at the side of the lounger.

  She relaxed as he told her to and tried not to think about how closely he looked at her.

  “What are you knitting now?” He tried to shift things to a lighter frame for her. He didn't realize just how much them being alone and relatively stress free would ratchet up the intense desire between them.

  “Squares for the blanket. Oh, I forgot to even mention it. Kathy and Mel wanted me to ask. Well, I want to ask too.” She paused and her cheeks grew warm.

  He laughed. “What are you asking, that you have failed to ask?”

  “Do you want to go with me to the festival in a few weeks?”

  “Are you asking me out, on a date?” he asked, in a playful tone she hadn't heard him use before.

  “Yes, yes I am.”

  “I would go with you anywhere. Even the festival.” He winked at her. His hand moved gracefully over the canvas as he sketched her.

  “I thought you painted?”

  “I do, I will. I'd like several sketches to work from.”

  She sat up and looked at him, her nose winkled. “What's wrong with the festival? It sounds quaint.”

  “It is that. I do try not to spend a good deal of time in town,” he said, and paused. His eyes looked at her as he tried to gauge if they reached the moment to tell her why. It certainly needed addressed very soon. Before they could make any magical bond. Certainly before they made any other bonds. The thought of how close they came to crossing lines in the kitchen made up his mind. “I won't be able to join you for the daytime events.” Once he said it he wished he could take it back. It needed said, needed addressed, but he wished it didn't.

  Her eyes now studied him. She noticed he never came over in the day, even on the weekend. She felt his demeanor change, the uncertainty coming from him grew stronger, different. She knew they reached an important moment. The time to talk about the thing he hinted at before. His dark past, the thing she still didn't want to hear.

  She stood up and walked over to him. On the canvas, he had made one large sketch of her lounged back and several of different angles of just her face. She looked from the canvas to him.

  His eyes held a look of fear.

  It was going to be bad, she thought. She reached up, and placed both hands on his face, one on each side. Her eyes searched his expression.

  He felt her magic pulse out as a gentle vibration while she explored what he radiated.

  She would sense it; he knew she would. He braced himself for the recoil when she did. He expected that, knew it would happen. He closed his eyes, not waiting to see the disgust in hers when she felt it.

  She closed her eyes and stepped closer, the space between them filled with magic. She could feel the familiar vibration of his magic. She could feel his magnetism and the way it tugged her. She forced herself to ignore those things and tried to feel him on a deeper level.

  She felt sadness, she remembered how that felt. Something colder, darker even than his engulfing sadness lingered under the surface. His heartbeat sounded steady and his breathing remained relaxed as she listened to every sound he made.

  She breathed deeply. Sandalwood, animal, man, musk. She felt drawn to him again. Her hand traced his jaw. She stood on her toes and gently kissed his face. The way his skin felt against her lips sent waves of desire racing across her entire body.

  Something else nudged at her senses. She ran her nose across his skin, and nuzzled. Her lips barely made contact. Under the surface something cold touched her aura. Deep, penetrating cold reached out from beneath his soothing warm buzz.

  She stepped back when it clicked.

  Death. Cold, death.

  Her eyes shot opened and s
he sucked in a sharp breath.

  The sound forced his eyes opened in time to see the look of horror on her face.

  “You're dead? How are you dead, and warm and alive? What are you?”

  She stepped back. She needed away, further away. She stumbled a little over her own feet as she walked backward, her eyes still locked on him.

  Sebastian reeled from her look, and tone. Lewis knew her well, he horrified her. He could not deny the monster inside of him, regardless of the gray areas. There was no pretty way to spin it. Nothing he could say to make it anything else.

  “I am both dead and alive.”

  “No,” she said. She shook her head and took another step back toward the door. “I've seen the undead in New Orleans, they are not like you. They are not warm. They don't look like men. What are you?”

  “I am what happens when a magical creature is turned by the undead.”

  “Sebastian, no,” she said, her voice rang with sadness, fear, and disappointment.

  The air in the room seemed too thick to breathe as he fought the urge to go to her and hold her. He couldn't give her the comfort she needed. “I'm sorry,” was all he could say.

  She continued to shake her head no, still not able to reconcile what she felt, what he said, and the man in front of her. Sebastian did not resemble the hideous, pasty, pale, monsters with black eyes, and cold, dead flesh. She thought about how easily he made himself appear older. Maybe he just glamoured a pretty face over his true vile form.

  She shivered as she thought about how close they stood just moments ago. She could still feel his arms around her and the way his face felt against her lips.

  He watched as her thoughts played out on her face. He could feel her disgust fill the air. He should have listened to Lewis. Sweet Gwen would not suffer a monster like him.

  “Do you, must you feed?” she asked.

  He turned his head and his mouth opened.

  She knew the answer even before he managed to get yes to croak out. Her eyes filled with tears and her hand raised to her mouth. “I need to go, I need to go,” she said through her hand.

  His eyes closed and she turned.

  She took the last few steps to the door. She ran into Yardley and paused, her eyes scanned him. He didn't pulse magic, didn't feel dead, but he looked at her knowingly.