by Amber Carew
Spellbound
Opal Carew writing as
Amber Carew
What is Lucinda, a tenth level wizard, to do when Destiny pairs her with a man who is utterly domineering, overwhelmingly masculine, incredibly irresistible and, according to her most trusted friend, extremely dangerous?
When Lucinda receives The Call to mentor a brand new wizard, she is overjoyed. It should be impossible for her to be called, but who is she to question Destiny? Since The Call always occurs at birth, she is shocked when she goes to see the child and finds a full-grown -- and quite naked -- man. With amnesia.
Lucinda may be the stronger wizard, but somehow this man takes control of every situation. How does he manage to be so utterly domineering, so overwhelmingly masculine, and yet so incredibly irresistible?
As if this isn’t enough to shatter her usual self-assurance, her long-time friend and mentor, Randalph, appears and warns her that he knows this man, whose name is Nyte, and he is extremely dangerous.
Praise for Spellbound
5 Hearts!
"… an enchanting and entrancing story of love and forgiveness. Carew has outdone herself … a definite recommended read."
Tammy, Love Romances
5 Cupids!
"Wow! This book got me hooked right from the start. The mystery and suspense around Nyte was so thrilling… Carew has created very interesting and realistic characters… I will certainly look out for more works of this great writer."
Birka, Cupid's Library Reviews
4.5 Cupids!
"This story is full of twists and turns. Nyte's secrets entice the reader up until the final pages of the book. …as a work of fantasy it is quite interesting and unique."
Marina, Cupid's Library Reviews
4 Angels!
“… a wonderful mix of mystery and paranormal. Carew has created a story that will not soon be forgotten.”
Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
4 Angels!
“a whole new world to explore…fresh and exciting… fun to read… kept me captivated… adventure and strong characters.”
Julie, Fallen Angel Reviews
4 Cups!
"This story is quite engaging… Several plot twists and turns will surprise you and set your world on edge…"
Cindy Warner, Coffee Time Romance Reviews
“Witty and engaging… a fabulous story that I found hard to put down… will keep you on the edge of your seat… an extremely entertaining read that you’ll want to visit more than once.”
Susan Biliter, eCataRomance Reviews
"an outstanding fantasy novel... twists and turns that will keep you on your toes and a brilliant ending that will warm your heart. I encourage you to read this exceptional book, whether a fantasy reader or not. If you’re not, you will be after reading [SPELLBOUND]”
Tina Burns, The Road to Romance
“Many twists and surprises… I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
Trang Noire, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Spellbound
Copyright © 2011 by Opal Carew
Previously published in 2005 as
Darkest Nyte
Discover more books by Amber Carew at her website
www.AmberCarew.com
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Amber Carew edition: September 2011
www.AmberCarew.com
www.OpalCarew.com
Spellbound
Amber Carew
Dedication
To Mark,
with love.
Chapter 1
"Merlin, what was that?" Lucinda Divine rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then pushed herself up on her elbows. Moonlight illuminated Merlin’s slight profile, and his vivid green eyes stared into hers questioningly. Then he yawned and settled his head back down on her stomach, his eyes dropping closed again.
"I don’t know why I bother talking to you," she grumbled, as she glanced at the clock.
Three forty-seven.
The last time she’d been awakened in the wee hours like this, Randalph had been calling for help. But it wasn’t Rand this time. So who was it? Could it be work related? Three of her current cases were straightforward remove-a-curse types, but she had taken the precaution of putting monitor spells on her other two clients. Still, if it had been one of her own spells warning of trouble, she wouldn’t be in doubt as to the origin.
She pushed the covers aside, ignoring Merlin’s sharp protest at being ousted from his comfortable position.
"Oh, stop complaining. It’s not like it was my idea to get up at this time of the night."
Merlin leaped off the bed and strutted away, stiff-legged, tail held straight as a post. He jumped onto her rocking chair and curled up, his glossy black back toward her.
"Okay, be like that." Just like Merlin. He wouldn’t lose sleep over a late night caller.
She turned her attention away from the cat and took a deep breath. Stilling her thoughts, she listened for a repeat of the call that had awakened her. A moment later it rippled through her awareness, strong and insistent.
The Call!
She had received The Call?
But that didn’t make any sense. She had been born of human parents, not wizards. Only those with wizard parents could be mentors.
The Call burst through her again, transforming her confusion into resonating joy.
It was true! A new wizard had appeared in the world, and she had been called upon to be his mentor.
To guide a new wizard through the difficult time of learning to control his power--this had been a secret dream of hers for almost three centuries, even though she’d known it would never--could never--happen.
She didn’t know why she’d been chosen, but pride bubbled through her that Fate had entrusted her with such an important role. She hoped she could do as well as her own mentor, Randalph. He had taught her to look beyond herself and reach past the limitations of everyday. In so doing, he had given her a level of control over her life she’d never thought possible. She would always love him for that.
She could hardly wait to get started with her own student.
Trying to quell her mounting excitement, she reminded herself that The Call occurred upon birth of a new wizard. She smiled, thinking of the new baby born into the world, the child she would guide to the fulfillment of his wizardly powers. But over a decade would pass before she took an active part in his life. Right now, he was just an infant in his human mother’s arms.
She imagined a tiny, naked baby staring up at her, a smug expression on his little face, and an irresistible impulse to go see him tugged at her.
No, this was silly. She could take a peek at him tomorrow, after she’d had a good night’s sleep. After all, she would not play a significant role in his life until he reached puberty.
She remembered that period in her own life, when her changing hormonal balance had triggered the ability to control magic. It had been a frightening, confusing time and she didn’t envy her new charge the ordeal ahead.
An insistent, yet indefinable, urge coursed through her. She wanted--no, she needed--to find this wizard. Right now. She absolutely had to see him.
That’s odd, she thought. She’d never had any particular inclination to stare at babies before. Could it be The Call affecting her like this? She frowned. From everythi
ng Rand had told her during her insistent questioning, she’d imagined a slight niggling feeling connecting her to this new person, not an overwhelming urge.
It dragged steadily at her senses now. Alarm spiked through her at a new sense of urgency that fueled the pull. As if he might be in trouble. Could this baby have been abandoned? Could he be alone and frightened?
Merlin’s sharp mewing cut through her mounting apprehension. His bright green eyes stared at her and his ears perked straight up.
"Merlin, I’ve got to go to him. He needs me."
Merlin made an insistent warbling sound and she planted her hands on her hips. "Well, I know I don’t know anything about babies." She wagged her finger at her furry friend. "But I won’t allow any wizard I’m responsible for to wind up in an orphanage. If I need to, I’ll bring him here and take care of him myself!"
Merlin bleated rudely, leaped from the chair, and strutted away.
"What do you mean you feel sorry for the poor kid?" She glared at his retreating back, wondering what she’d done to deserve such a rotten cat.
Pushing aside her irritation, she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to zero in on her subject. She visualized the incoming thread of anxiety-triggering energy and grasped it, tracing it backward, letting it draw her toward the source. She fluttered through space, her body light as chiffon billowing on a summer breeze. Time and matter quivered around her, meaningless in the process of transporting through the Earth.
Finally, a heaviness settled in her feet, then drew upon the rest of her rematerializing body. She squinted against the bright sunshine that invaded her slightly disoriented brain. The aroma of something too delicious to be good for her dragged her attention to the shop door in front of her. The sign printed across the large glass window read "Patisserie." A large platter of croissants and what had to be pains au chocolat, judging from the dark brown smudges on the sides, stood under a glass dome on the counter inside. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. Reflected in the glass, a world-renowned landmark loomed behind her.
The Eiffel Tower.
April in Paris. Charming. Why did she always wind up in these wonderful places when she didn’t have time to enjoy them? Last time, she'd been searching for Death at Club Med. She smiled. Of course, once she’d found him and gotten their business out of the way, they’d had a good time. A date with Death was quite an experience.
A couple of teenagers skated past her on roller blades and giggled. Lucinda shifted her focus to her own reflection and flushed. Here she stood in the middle of Paris wearing only a mauve camisole and matching boyleg briefs--and bare feet. She groaned. Well, she’d never pretended to be good at these middle of the night adventures. She had trouble being organized at the best of times let alone with less than a good night’s sleep.
Pretending great interest in the view behind the glass, she checked her peripheral vision on each side, wondering how best to avoid notice.
Right, like that would happen. Almost everyone who passed by glanced in her direction. Some quickly glanced away again, some grinned, some twittered. Some ogled. She dragged in a deep breath, deciding on brashness as her best course of action. Drawing her shoulders back, she turned away from the window. She smiled and nodded at each person who glanced in her direction, then turned down the first alleyway she came across.
Good heavens. She would have to choose the mid-morning rush hour to appear in a world-class city in a state of undress. Of course, most nights she slept in an oversized grey sweatshirt, but yesterday, of all days, she’d given in to temptation and bought the feminine camisole set in the window of a lingerie store near her office--and she’d had to wear it to bed.
She padded down the alley, searching for a hidden corner where she could materialize some clothes, but a groan from up ahead interrupted her mission. She crinkled her forehead. Had it been an actual sound? Good heavens, could it have been the baby? Had he been left alone somewhere in this alley?
But a baby didn’t groan.
She closed her eyes and listened. Fragmented questions tumbled through her mind. Where am I? Who am I? The strong sense of disorientation threw off her balance, sending her careening into a brick wall. Her shoulder pressed against it and she flattened one hand against the side of her head, trying to control the dizziness. The person was disoriented. And uncomfortable.
But he wasn’t in danger.
She tried to catch her breath as a stunning certainty ricocheted through her. These thoughts were too coherent for an infant. And yet they definitely came from her intended student. She slumped back against the wall, barely holding herself upright as disturbing questions pelted her consciousness like hailstones.
If this wizard she’d been called upon to teach was not a baby, why hadn’t she received The Call over a decade ago? The lad seemed to be suffering from some kind of accident. Could a blow to the head have triggered wizardly potential in him?
She didn’t know. Drat. Many of her friends loved mysteries, but not her. Why hadn’t one of them gotten this one? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Lucinda felt a fierce protectiveness jolt through her. No way. This guy was hers. Lucinda had longed to be a mentor for centuries.
A good thing, a little voice whispered inside her head. Because a seventh sense told her he was ready. She could feel the magical potential shimmering from him. Damn. She felt like a pregnant woman who’d just given birth, been handed a full-grown child, and told, "Here you go. You’re a mother now." In fact, it occurred to her that in that particular analogy, not only had she not realized she was pregnant, but she’d thought she could never even conceive!
This isn’t fair! I need more time. I’m not ready for this!
She could almost see Merlin’s sardonic green gaze. Yeah, like life is always fair.
Lucinda shook her head. Okay, she’d manage. Somehow. In fact, the thought that she could start the teaching process right away held some appeal. She’d never been a patient person. Waiting twelve or thirteen years would have driven her nuts. And a teenager would be much easier to take care of than a baby. In fact, didn’t they usually want to do everything on their own?
Sure. This would be just fine. Ever since she’d decided she might have to care for a tiny baby, a heavy sense of responsibility had dropped on her shoulders. Now it lifted. She straightened up and pushed herself away from the cold wall.
Time to find this guy.
Creeping further into the alley, she scanned the edges of the clutter lining the path. Garbage cans. Cardboard boxes. Wooden crates.
The glint of tanned skin caught her gaze and she focused on a figure slumped on the ground behind a box. She hurried toward him and stopped about a yard away. What should she do now? This was definitely the person she’d been seeking. She sensed confused thoughts skimming the surface of his mind. Not quite conscious. She stepped forward and touched his shoulder.
A fierce growl startled her and she leaped backward. He bolted to his feet as he swung around to face her. Her gaze followed his piercing eyes as he reached full height. In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand shoot to his hip. He tried to grasp something. A sword? That’s what his surface thoughts revealed. How odd. A slightly puzzled expression flickered across his face, then disappeared. Hidden behind a shield of keen intelligence.
Her breathing slowed as they stared at one another. She could almost believe he was an ancient warrior displaced in time. He emanated a strong aura of power. His hair, dark and untamed, swept back from his face and tumbled over strong, broad--and very naked--shoulders.
Naked?
She allowed her gaze to continue down his firmly muscled chest past his waist. She quickly became cognizant of two startling facts. One, he was a fully mature adult male. Two, he was completely naked.
Good heavens, how did she get into these predicaments?
As her skin pebbled, she realized his gaze had started to wander, too. The edges of his mouth quirked up in a smile and a glimmer softened his granite eyes. Lucinda sudden
ly remembered her attire--or lack thereof. A scrap of satin and lace.
He took a step forward and she jerked backwards, losing any facade of coolness she’d managed to present up to now. He stopped and studied her thoughtfully.
Her gaze kept drifting down his chest, along the lightly furred arrow that conveniently pointed to the more interesting feature of the male anatomy. Especially in this man’s case.
Yipes, don’t look there, she told herself. Yeah, right. That’s like telling yourself not to look at the Eiffel Tower when it’s standing right in front of you. And, right at this moment, the object of her discomfort stood as tall as that landmark.
Forcing her gaze to meet his, she felt herself drawn into some strange, dark depths. Something about him frightened her--but intrigued her even more. She stepped back, but he reached out and clasped her hand. His body pulsed with suppressed energy, yet his touch felt gentle, coaxing.
What’s going on? I’m a full-fledged, tenth level wizard. I should be in control here.
She tugged her hand free, folded her arms over her chest, and scowled at him. What was it about this guy that threw her off so badly?
"Who are you?" she demanded.
He shook his head and said something she didn’t understand.
Of course, that shouldn’t surprise her. The fact she had transported to France should have tipped her off that he probably didn’t speak English. Since her French was rusty at best--so rusty she hadn’t understood a word he’d said--she decided to use a spell to help them break the communication barrier.
She held up one finger to indicate he should wait a moment, then she visualized him talking to her in her own language, comfortably and naturally, as if he’d been speaking it for years. Then she pointed her finger at him and spoke a quick incantation.
