Spellbound

by Amber Carew

  "You’ll be comfortable here until I get back."

  He spun away, the long black cape he wore swirling around his legs, and strode toward the open space in front of the window.

  "I’m going with you," she said in a tight voice.

  He turned back to face her. "No, you’re not."

  She planted her hands on her hips. "I’m not going to leave you and Rand together alone. I’m coming."

  His gaze turned dark and uncompromising. "And I said you’re not."

  He swirled his arm and disappeared. She raced upstairs and dragged on her clothes, then concentrated on Rand’s living room. She summoned her energy and pushed through space.

  Or, at least, tried to. But nothing happened.

  A sinking feeling washed through her, but she tried again.

  Nothing happened.

  Her chest tightened painfully as the realization set in.

  Nyte still held her prisoner.

  * * * *

  Rand held the soapstone sculpture of a seal Lucinda had given him several years ago as a Christmas present. The cold, smooth stone sliding against his palm helped soothe his chaotic mood. She had told him the more he held it, the shinier it would become, because of the oil from his skin.

  Luce liked that kind of thing. Stones. Crystals. Natural things. Handmade things.

  She liked comfort. In her surroundings and in her clothes. She also liked things that weren’t good for her.

  Like chocolate.

  Like Nyte.

  Smooth. Seductive. Dangerous to her health.

  A surge of frustration jolted through him and he plunked the sculpture onto the mantel. Where in blazes was she?

  He’d been trying to contact her for two days. Ever since she’d been dragged from his arms. He’d tried to pull her back immediately but had failed. Of course, he knew exactly who had interfered.

  A bell rang.

  It was not the hearty sound of his doorbell, but a vibrant bong inside his head. The sound dragged him back more than a millennium into the past. It was the sound wizards had used long ago to announce their presence at another wizard’s dwelling.

  He tugged open the door and glared at the imposing figure standing on the other side.

  Nyte.

  Dressed exactly as he had been the last time Rand had seen him, before his advance into the present. When Rand had flung a fireball at him and ceased his existence. Temporarily as it turned out.

  Long black cape. Black leather armor over black breeches. High black boots. A sword slung at his hip.

  "Randalph, I have my memory back," Nyte said.

  Rand nodded. "I know."

  "We have things to discuss. May I come in?"

  Rand’s chest compressed painfully and he felt as though a massive hand clutched his throat and tightened mercilessly, choking any words he might utter. He stared at the man he both hated and loved.

  He didn’t want to let him in. He represented too much pain. Too much guilt. He wanted to shut Nyte out forever. Because facing Nyte meant facing his own worst nightmare.

  The temptation to slam the door in Nyte’s face rushed through him, but he knew it would only be putting off the inevitable. Eventually, he would have to face him.

  He sighed deeply and pushed the door open, then turned away and strode toward the fireplace on the other side of the room.

  "I’ll take that as a yes," said Nyte.

  Rand heard the door close, then a moment later, felt Nyte’s presence behind him. Strong. Overwhelming in his sense of authority.

  Well, he would not cower. He swung around to face Nyte.

  "What do you want?"

  Nyte stood tall, hands on hips, staring at him with coal black eyes, his expression the one that had shattered Rand’s composure many times in the past.

  But not today.

  "I want to know why you killed me." Nyte stated it flatly. No inflection. No accusation. Merely a request for information.

  Violent anger boiled up in Rand. How dare he come in here and ask that question as if he had no idea why?

  "You can ask that? After what you did?"

  The patience of Nyte’s expression waned. Not obviously so, but Rand noticed the slight tensing of his jaw, the small tightening of the line of his mouth. Rand had had much practice learning how to recognize the signs.

  "What exactly did I do?" Nyte demanded.

  Rand’s fists clenched and he strode across the room and back again, then slammed his fist on the fireplace mantel. The memory of Clarissa’s angelic face, her loving smile glowing warmly, fluttered through his mind, quickly replaced by the charred remains of the room in which he had last seen her.

  Another vivid image exploded into Rand’s brain, of Nyte sending a current of raw power straight at Clarissa. After she’d disintegrated, Nyte had thrust a huge fireball straight at the location she’d been standing, obliterating half the room.

  Without even thinking, Rand had summoned his own power--fired by the adrenaline rush of seeing a woman he loved so dearly murdered right before his eyes--and flung the same weapon at Nyte. Nyte had turned toward Rand just before he had let go of the ball of molten energy.

  Nyte could have shielded himself, he’d seen what Rand intended in time, but the look of total disbelief on his face showed that he had not protected himself because he could not believe Rand would do such a thing.

  Rand had been lucky to catch him off guard as he had. There was no way he would have won a fight against Nyte in any other circumstances. But later, as he’d stood staring at the charred remains of the familiar dwelling--the place he had once called home--he had been hit with overwhelming grief at having lost the two most important people in his life.

  The look on Nyte’s face--the riveting pain at Rand’s betrayal--had haunted the darkness behind his eyes ever since that day.

  Nyte had suffered the pain for less than a week of his time. Rand had endured it for almost thirteen centuries.

  He stared at his own reflection in one of the shiny silver tankards on the mantel. His features had grown old again. It seemed he couldn’t maintain his youth under the weight of his pain.

  Beside his face Rand saw Nyte’s as he quietly awaited an answer. But the cold look in his eyes sent familiar tremors through Rand.

  Could it be that Nyte did not know he had seen him kill Clarissa? Anger blazed through him and his hands clenched around the oak edge of the mantel.

  He should tell him. He must tell him.

  It would do him good to finally purge the violent emotions. To finally confront Clarissa’s murderer.

  To finally ask why Nyte had done it.

  But a blinding wave of panic washed through him at the thought.

  "Randalph, I need you to tell me--"

  The feel of Nyte’s hand brushing his shoulder acted like a live wire, jolting Rand a few steps sideways.

  His hand brushed against the soapstone sculpture and concern arced within him for another person who sparked deep feelings in his soul. Would Nyte steal her, too?

  He swung around to face his nemesis.

  "Where is Lucinda?"

  "That has nothing to do with our discussion."

  "I have been trying to contact her for two days," Rand roared. "I know very well you stole her away. What have you done with her?" He summoned his most authoritative presence and strode toward Nyte. "If you’ve hurt her--"

  Nyte raised a hand. "Your protectiveness is admirable, but she is safe."

  "Then where is she?" He flung his hands out at his sides. "I can’t sense her at all."

  Nyte folded his arms across his chest. "I have protected her from you and your prying."

  Protected? An alarming thought sliced through him. "You know, Lucinda isn’t like the women you’re used to dealing with. She’s very independent. And determined. If you’ve done anything foolish like--"

  "Foolish!" Nyte’s voice boomed through the room. His arms fell to his sides, fists clenched tightly.

  "--locked her aw
ay somewhere, she won’t stand for it."

  The tight balls of his fists loosened fractionally. "I felt it necessary to confine her, otherwise she would have followed me here and we would not have been able to discuss these matters freely."

  "You’ve locked her up somewhere? Don’t you realize she’ll do whatever it takes to get loose?" He paused, letting the effect of his words sink in. "Even if escape is impossible."

  Nyte stared at Randalph, the words nudging him in the gut. His little one was determined, he knew that, but surely if she felt it necessary to escape, she would make a few attempts, then give up and wait for him to return. She was sensible. Surely she would realize that continuous attempts to fight the protective shield would drain her energy. When she’d tried the first night, she’d tired and gone to sleep.

  Of course, now she’d had a full night’s sleep. And she had a large stake in what happened between him and Randalph.

  Memories of her fierce determination to escape last night blazed through him. Did he actually believe she’d sit in a docile fashion awaiting his return?

  He remembered the fire in her eyes when he’d left to come here.

  He turned his inner senses to the house on the ocean, where he had held Lucinda in his arms and lost himself in her love. What he felt set his stomach churning. Apprehension gnawed at his gut.

  * * * *

  Lucinda had tried every method of escape she could think of. Every doorway, window, and any other passage that led outdoors. Doing a reverse Santa Claus up the chimney left her sooty and frustrated. Doing an imitation of a genie by turning into smoke to escape through the dryer air exchange vent didn’t work. Nor did changing into an ant and trying to squeeze through a crack in the outer wall.

  She tapped her foot as she glanced around the living room searching for some new idea. Outside the large picture window, the spectacular view of the ocean glittering beyond an expanse of white sand captured her attention. Such a beautiful prison, but a prison all the same.

  Tears threatened. It frightened her that anyone had so much power over her, let alone Nyte, who loved her, yet refused to respect her right to free will.

  She could not stand being helpless.

  Helpless? Wake up, girl. You’re only as helpless as you allow yourself to be.

  Stiffening her back, she stood up straighter. She was not helpless. Nyte might be strong, but she was a powerful wizard in her own right. All she needed to do was believe in herself enough. Over the past half hour she had allowed her self-confidence to falter. She had allowed herself to doubt her abilities. That’s why she was having problems. All she had to do was believe she could escape. Believe it with her very being.

  He might have a very effective barrier spell surrounding this dwelling, but she had determination and a wealth of magical skill at her disposal. Her gaze settled on a purple sphere sitting on a stand in a light oak bookshelf across the room. She strode toward it.

  An amethyst crystal ball about the size of her fist.

  She ran her hands across the surface. Cold. Smooth. Emanating power.

  This would help boost her magic so she could escape this place. Using this crystal to augment her power, she would use brute force to break through the bonds of energy Nyte had erected around the house.

  She grasped the ball in her hands and lifted it from the stand.

  * * * *

  Nyte transported to the living room of his house and his heart beat frantically as he saw Lucinda drop to her knees. He could feel energy surge from her in a torrent of ineffective waves, sucked into the energy barrier like lightning to the ground.

  And with it, her life force.

  She should have collapsed in exhaustion by now, but she held his power sphere in her hands. With that crystal, she would be able to withstand the drain for longer than would be good for her. She could seriously injure herself, maybe even lose enough energy so she could no longer maintain her physical shape. If that happened, she would disappear from the physical realm, rolling on the waves of time like a cork on the ocean, bounced to who-knew-where. Eventually, her body would regenerate--unless her mind became too fragmented. It was not technically death, but it might as well be.

  "Lucinda, stop this at once. You’ll do yourself harm."

  She glanced at him, her eyes glazed. Barely a spark of fire burned in their depths.

  "I... will not... be... held... against my... will."

  She closed her eyes and her eyelids crinkled. He knew she was pouring a last valiant effort of will into her escape attempt. She continued to sink to the ground, until she lay curled on the white carpet, her hands clutching the crystal ball.

  His heart compressed at the sight of her throwing everything she had into escaping him. No, not him. His overpowering hold on her.

  "Lucinda, stop." He knelt beside her and slid his arm under her, drawing her across his lap. "Please."

  Her fingers still hooked around the crystal sphere, but he gently, and easily, drew it from her fingers. She had little physical strength left, and once the crystal left her hands, her magical energy waned until it was barely a trickle. It would take her a long time convalescing to recharge and regain her full strength.

  Her eyes opened. The brilliant blue of her irises had faded alarmingly, but in the depths of those eyes he could see an iron strength of will. Admiration welled up in him.

  "How could you do this to me?" Her voice was barely audible. "How can you truly care for me and take away my power of choice?"

  "But, I do, Lucinda. I love you with all my heart. You cannot doubt that after--"

  She shook her head and started speaking again. He had to strain to hear the words.

  "If you love someone you help expand their choices, not diminish them." She drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, as if the effort of talking had become too much for her. "And you respect them enough to let them make their own choices, even if they don’t match your own."

  His chest tightened around his aching heart. He drew her into his arms. "You’re right, my love. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

  He stroked back a tangle of hair that lay across her forehead. "I will remove the protective spell. You will be free to go anywhere you wish." Of course, she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in her current state, at least, not under her own power, so he added in a softened voice, "I’ll take you anywhere you want to go."

  "You’ll free me?"

  His heart toppled sideways at her words. She asked to be freed from the prison of his spell, but he could see in her eyes that if she thought it possible, she would ask to be freed from their Love Bond, too.

  "I will remove the spell."

  "And you’ll promise never to overpower me again?"

  He took her hand in his and gazed tenderly into her eyes.

  "Yes. I promise."

  He felt her muscles relax and she tucked her head onto his chest. He cherished the feel of her body pressed trustingly against his.

  He concentrated and the barrier of energy around them melted away.

  "You are free now, Lucinda. Free to make your own choices. Free to go wherever you’d like."

  The dimness of her eyes brightened a little and the shadow of a smile formed on her lips.

  Then she disappeared.

  Chapter 15

  Nyte’s heart wrenched at the emptiness in his arms. Lucinda was gone. Despite his sincere promise, she had left.

  But that didn’t make any sense. She’d been too weak to teleport on her own.

  That meant Randalph must be behind this. Anger flared inside him. Randalph had tricked Nyte into lowering the protective barrier, then stolen her away.

  Nyte bolted to his feet and flung himself through space. Randalph’s living room appeared around him. He saw Randalph standing by the window staring out at the woods beyond.

  "Where the hell is she?" Nyte demanded.

  Randalph swung around. His eyes narrowed and his bushy eyebrows slanted downward. "Lucinda? Why are you asking me? You
’re the one who spirited her away."

  Nyte folded his arms across his chest and glared at Randalph. "As soon as I canceled the spell, she disappeared."

  "So why do you blame me? Obviously, she wanted to get away from you."

  The words struck like an arrow straight through his heart. He turned and paced across the room. "She couldn’t have gone on her own. She was too weak." The image of her pale face and lackluster eyes tore at his insides. "She fought the restraints with no regard to her own safety." He scowled in Randalph’s direction. "Didn’t you teach her caution and restraint while you were training her as a wizard?"

  Randalph bristled. "Like you taught me? No, I taught her to extend herself. To push herself to the limit. I taught her to allow no obstacle to block her way to success. That’s why she’s as strong as she is."

  Randalph’s words stirred something in him. Had Randalph resented Nyte’s demanding method of instruction? His tough counseling?

  He pushed aside the stirrings of emotion that thought triggered and flared at Randalph. "And that’s why she’s in trouble now."

  Randalph’s forehead furrowed, concern etching his features. "If she disappeared, and she was unable to go on her own, that means someone must have taken advantage of her weakened state."

  Nyte glared at him. Did the man think him stupid? "Yes. You. Now where is she?"