by Lori Ryan
Luca snorted. “Minerva likes to get close to anyone she thinks might have power. With that one, she’s playing a long game.”
Gideon shook his head. “I don’t get it. He’s not a very powerful warlock.”
“No, but he’s Floarea’s cousin, which means he’s not only related to our matriarch, he’s a descendant of Guibran Mirga,” Luca said, referring to an extremely powerful, but deceased warlock. In fact, it was odd for a descendant of Guibran to be as weak as Tink was.
“Oh stop, Luca. Gideon doesn’t care about our ancestors,” Floarea chided, as she refilled the mugs of everyone at the table.
“Oh, but I do,” Gwen said, sitting forward. “I don’t have ancestors or family of my own. I find it fascinating. What is it like to have a history? To know where you come from?”
This time Gideon didn’t clamp down on the urge to put his hand on Gwen’s back. He knew he was getting sucked in with her again, but he couldn’t help it. There were times she seemed so vulnerable, so lost, and he had a hard time not responding to that.
It was Floarea who replied to Gwen, though. “Oh, but you do. You’re in all of us, Gwen.” Gideon still thought it was odd that Floarea had immediately seen who and what Gwen was, and seemed to accept without question that the anchor of magic was sitting at her table about to eat a meal with her. “Our ancestry is really your ancestry. The same magic that ran through Guibran also ran through you, as it now runs through me, through Tink, and Harmen—my brother—through many of us.” Floarea nodded to those around her, and Gideon wondered how many of them were from the Mirga family line.
Gwen smiled, but there was something behind it that told Gideon she wasn’t entirely comforted by Floarea’s explanation. He remembered talks they’d had centuries before during her first visit to this realm. She’d wanted to be a part of something, wanted to belong. To have family. A last name. Floarea was right about Gwen having history, and he wondered for the first time if she knew where she came from. He needed to remember to tell her how she became the anchor in the first place.
***
The evening gave way to night as they filled their stomachs with good food and drink. Gideon hadn’t intended to stay when the dancing began, but he found himself surrounded by nearly every witch and warlock in the encampment as music swept them away on the dance floor. He’d had no shortage of offers to dance from the bold women of the Komolvo camp, but he felt he had to keep Gwen close. Without him, she was completely vulnerable to anyone who wished to harm her. Much as he wanted her to complete her task so she could leave, he wouldn’t put her in danger.
He wasn’t sure how it happened. He’d been so sure to hold her at arm’s length. But Gwen began to work her way back into his heart. She was different than he remembered, and yet the same. This Gwen was naïve, but that probably came from her lack of memory of the last time she was here. She didn’t seem to know how powerful she really was. How brave she was. He had watched her throw herself into harm’s way to save magic two hundred years ago despite not having magic of her own, and he had no doubt she’d do so again today if need be.
Other things about her were so familiar they made him ache. Her smile, or the way she pushed her curls from her eyes. The way she wanted to be everyone’s friend. Her laugh. All of it made him want to go back in time. To be able to hold her again. To love her again without the pain of her betrayal between them.
Without conscious thought, Gwen was suddenly in his arms, her body pressed to his as they moved with the music, and she felt so right. So damned good, he wanted to lose himself in her.
She smelled incredible. As he lowered his head to kiss her lips, it was as though he’d come home. As though the last two hundred years of aching for her, of hurt and anger, had never happened. It was washed away in her arms, her kiss.
Part of Gideon knew this wasn’t right. There seemed to be a fog building around his brain, and he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t stop what was happening. But he should stop it. That much he still knew.
Gwen was kissing him back, reaching up to his shoulders to pull him in, her scent surrounding him in a spell he was utterly lost in. They swirled on the dance floor, the faces of the others lost around them. But no, that wasn’t entirely true. Two faces kept reappearing amidst the swirling dancers. Tink and Minerva’s. Only they weren’t dancing. They were watching. Watching him.
Anger tore through Gideon as he felt the spell swallow them, as he realized they’d been enchanted somehow when he hadn’t been expecting it. He’d somehow let down his guard. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders, throwing off the spell with a roar.
Gwen stared at him in shock, but he didn’t offer an explanation as his eyes sought out Tink and Minerva in the crowd. Their faces were the only ones he’d been able to see clearly during the spell. That had to mean something. But they were gone, and all around them, the gypsies danced as though nothing had happened.
“Come on,” he growled at Gwen, tugging her through the crowd, ready to crush anyone who tried to stop them. He should have known mixing with the Komolvo was a dangerous idea. Why the hell he brought Gwen there with him, he didn’t know. But it had been stupid, that was for sure. He shouldn’t have put her anywhere near the danger.
As she followed along behind him, he knew he was lying to himself. He didn’t truly believe they’d been in danger just then. No one would have been able to hurt her with him there, spell or no spell. For them to put him in that trance, he had to have half wanted what had happened.
He laughed and shook his head again, ignoring Gwen’s questioning look. Half wanted was a load of shit. He’d wanted her in his arms, wanted to taste her, to drink from those lips again, with everything he was. There was no halfway about it. It had only been a day and he was losing himself to Gwen again. And that was something he couldn’t afford to do.
Chapter Six
“Stop. Gideon, stop.” Gwen pulled her hand from his and stopped when they’d reached the center of town. He’d been dragging her behind him with no explanation for the better part of a half-hour, and she was tired of it. “We need to talk about what happened back there.”
“You. You happened.”
“What is that supposed to mean? You know as well as I do, no one would have been able to spell either of us if we hadn’t wanted that to happen on some level. It would have been impossible.”
Gideon let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. She closed her hands into fists to keep from reaching toward him. It seemed her body was fighting her, wanting to reach for him, to touch him, and she wondered if this was something witches and warlocks experienced a lot. A feeling that the flesh of their forms wanted to act without their consent. Not that she wouldn’t consent to it. She had no problem consenting.
But she could see Gideon wanted nothing to do with her now that he was back in control. He couldn’t make that clearer to her if he wrote it across his chest in big block letters.
His chest… No! She needed to focus here, not get lost in a fantasy that wasn’t going to take place.
“I don’t understand what that was, Gideon. What happened at the Komolvo camp?” She understood the magical part of it, but not what was going on between them. Why did he seem to want her and hate her all at once?
“Magic, Gwen. Old Komolvo magic, nothing more.”
Nothing more. The words cut through her. The hard part was, something more had happened for her. She didn’t have a name for it, and she didn’t know what to do about it, but she was feeling something for Gideon. It was powerful, which didn’t make sense, since she’d only just met him. But there was something oddly familiar about these feelings. As though she’d felt them before. As though she knew them. Knew him.
And she did know one other thing. Whatever this was, he wasn’t feeling it back. His body might want her, but his soul didn’t. Not the way her soul cried out for him.
Gwen nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat as she walked past him. “Okay.” She crossed th
e street and headed toward their hotel, a small, broken-down old building in the center of town.
She’d been fooling herself all this time, trying to convince herself the rundown old building was romantic. That its age made it special, somehow. That was crap. She could see that now. In fact, she saw a lot of things now, as if the lifting of the magic spell the Komolvo had cast had also lifted away the false veil she’d been throwing over everything.
This world wasn’t the wonderful, fun place she’d been telling herself it was. Being in corporeal form hurt. It hurt to have a heart and feelings, and apparently to be able to feel things. Things for Gideon she couldn’t have.
“Gwen, wait.”
But she didn’t. She wrapped her arms around herself and kept right on going. The worst part was, he let her. She heard him follow her all the way back to their hotel rooms, but he didn’t try to stop her going into hers alone. He didn’t try to talk to her again. She heard his door open and shut after she’d gone into her room, but that was the last she heard of him that night.
***
Gideon paced the small hotel room and tried not to think about the woman down the hall. He needed to focus on the Komolvo and what he had missed. Something was there. Some hint or clue. He could feel it sitting at the edge of his mind, taunting him just out of reach. He’d seen something.
Except that now all he could see was Gwen. The hurt in her eyes when he’d told her only magic had been responsible for the feelings that kiss had stirred up.
Kiss! That was more bullshit he was feeding himself. It was more than just a kiss. A lot more, and he knew it. All he wanted was to go next door and experience that feeling again. That feeling of utter rightness she brought when they connected. But he couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t fall again. If he gave in to that sense of coming home to her, he’d lose it all again. If there was anyone in the world who knew what it felt like to have your heart, your love, your everything, ripped away from you, it was him. It wasn’t a pain he’d go through again. No way in hell.
A small part of his brain—or maybe it was his heart—kept thinking: unless, somehow, he didn’t have to let her go again.
No! He wouldn’t give in to that line of thought. To the crazy path that would have him thinking somehow, someway, he could bargain with the Goddess this time. That somehow he’d find a way to convince the Goddess to let Gwen stay. There was one thing he knew and knew well. You couldn’t bargain with Goddess. She simply didn’t give a shit what you wanted, and that didn’t leave a whole lot of room for negotiation.
His words from earlier in the night came back to him. Old magic. Old Komolvo magic. It was those words that kept needling at the edges of his brain, urging him to look deeper into the memory. Gideon stretched out on the bed, arms behind his head, and closed his eyes. He focused his mind on the events at the Komolvo camp, letting the images flow through his mind.
There it was again. There was something dancing just out of his line of sight. Something that almost called to him, but when he turned his head, it was gone.
And then, as though a piece of time had been cut from the film in his head, he jumped forward in time, and Gwen was in his arms again. Soft flesh, the curves he loved pressed against him as he rolled his hips, pressing into her. Pulling her close.
Feminine arms wrapped around him. Her tender mouth coming down on his. Gideon groaned and sank into the feel of Gwen’s body moving with his.
And he was lost.
Chapter Seven
“Gideon!” Gwen banged on the door to the hotel room again. She knew he was in there. She could hear him moving around.
As she was about to call out again, the door opened and Floarea stood in the opening, an amused smile on her face. “Impatient, are we? He’s all yours,” she said, as she breezed by, her long hair wet and hanging loose over her shoulders.
“Gwen?” Gideon came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, one arm raised to dry his hair with another towel. “Were you talking to someone?”
A punch. That was what it felt like. A punch right to her belly, making her want to double over. She didn’t. She stood tall, walking into the room.
“Yes,” Gwen said slowly, looking around. How could he act so casually about her practically walking in on him and Floarea? Goddess, she knew he didn’t want her the way she wanted him—he’d made that abundantly clear last night—but she didn’t think he’d be so cruel about it.
“What’s wrong?” He stepped further into the room and looked around.
“Are you doing it on purpose?” she asked. “Because, honestly, if you’re trying to make a point, I got it last night. Heard you loud and clear. You don’t need to drill it home.”
He was good at looking innocent. She’d give him that. He looked around the room a bit more, then turned back to her.
“Okay, you need to back up. What point am I driving home? And who were you talking to?”
“Floarea. She just left.”
Oh, wow. Either he was a really phenomenal actor, or he had no idea Floarea was in his room.
“Hello! Gwen. Are you in there?” It was either Mickey or Mighty; she couldn’t be sure which one. With a glare at Gideon, Gwen turned to open the door and let the Mouse Shifters in the room.
“Hello, boys,” she said, garnering the smiles and blushing cheeks she’d come to realize would probably always be there from the mice. She was more than happy for their company. Being around Gideon by herself was turning out to be a bit too dangerous for her heart.
“Sure,” Gideon grumbled, tossing an arm in the air. “Invite everyone. We’ll have a party in my room.” He conjured clothes with a wave of his hand, the towel vanishing as jeans and a tee shirt took its place.
The thought of his towel reminded her of the unpleasantness of moments before, and her heart plummeted again.
“She was wet.” Gwen tried not to grit her teeth as she spoke, but this hurt like hell.
“Excuse me?” Gideon asked.
“Who was wet?” Moose asked with a leer.
“That’s not helpful.” Mickey smacked Moose in the back of the head. “We’re here to help.”
Gwen shook her head, but kept her gaze on Gideon. He was a damned good actor, but she wasn’t buying it. “Floarea’s hair just now. It was wet, Gideon. I’m not howling in the wrong bush. I know what I saw. If she wasn’t just in the shower with you, why would it be wet?”
Gideon ignored whatever attempt Gwen had just made at an idiom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gwen. Floarea wasn’t in here with me. She wasn’t here at all. I was alone. I went to bed alone and I woke up alone. I even took a shower alone.”
“I know what I saw. How do you think I got in the room? She let me in as she was leaving.”
That got his attention. Gideon walked around the room as though he could see something she couldn’t. He opened drawers and dug through his bag. He stripped the blankets off the bed, checked in the small closet, and even looked behind the curtains.
“What are you looking for?” Mickey asked.
“Anything she left behind or tampered with.”
At that, the Mouse Shifters changed into mice and began to scamper through the room, their tiny noses going a mile a minute. She didn’t understand mouse squeaks, but they seemed to be helping Gideon look.
“Why would she do that?” Gwen asked, above the squeaking.
“Because Floarea wouldn’t do anything without a reason. If she was in here, she wanted something, and I think we need to find out what that is.”
“You really weren’t with her?” Gwen didn’t make eye contact as she asked the question, but Gideon turned her toward him before answering.
“No,” he said, eyes boring into hers. “She was likely messing with your head when she heard it was you. She conjured the wet hair and let you in. I wasn’t with her. And I don’t want to be with her. At all.”
Gwen nodded then looked away again. Because he hadn’t said he wanted to be with her. He hadn�
��t said what she most wanted to hear.
He continued to grumble about Komolvo spells and enchanted dreams as he searched the room again, his mood growing darker and darker by the minute.
***
It took Gwen the better part of an hour to convince Gideon to let her go with him to see Sassy. He still hadn’t figured out what Floarea was doing in his room. He and the mice hadn’t found any clues, but he was convinced Floarea was a danger to both him and Gwen.
He’d gotten it into his head that taking Gwen with him would put her in the line of fire. If Gwen had figured out earlier that telling him she’d just go investigate on her own would work, she could have saved a lot of time and energy. Lesson learned.
They sent the mice back to keep an eye on the carnival camp, then took the old red truck Roger had loaned them and drove out to Sassy’s house. It turned out she lived next to Zelda, so finding the place wasn’t hard at all. Getting in the door was another story.
Within seconds of ringing the bell, they heard feet stomping coupled with a whole mess of curse words Gwen had never heard. The tone told her they weren’t very nice.
When the door swung wide, they were treated to the sight of a very pissed off, curvy blond witch. She had sparks coming out of her fingertips and a stream of smoke curling up from her backside.
“Thank the Goddess you’re back. I can’t take it anymore!” she yelled before she so much as glanced their way. “Take your mangy fat cats and go!” Three very obese cats sat behind her, each with a very satisfied smirk covering its face.
“Bad time?” Gideon said, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb.
The witch looked stunned when she did glance their way. “Eeeek!”
With that, she slammed the door, sending Gideon backward a few feet on the porch. He merely laughed and approached the door again.
“Sassy, open the door.”
“No!”
“Maybe we should come back another time?” Gwen suggested, not sure what to do. What did one do when a door was slammed in their face? She didn’t really understand a lot about this world, it turned out.
