by T. M. Cromer
Ryanne’s nerves jumped when the deep baritone of Nash’s voice wrapped around her. She nodded and logged out of her computer. “Where are you taking me for dinner?”
“Are you in the mood for the best that money can buy, or do you prefer a down-home meal?”
“If I say down-home, do you plan to cook for me?”
He laughed and shook his head. “You’ve already got me as your sex slave if you so desire. Do you want me as your domestic manservant as well?”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that. Would you do all the cooking and cleaning?”
“With a simple snap of my fingers,” he agreed.
“Show-off.”
“It comes with the territory.”
He referred to his magical powers as casually as if he were referring to his morning coffee. Ryanne didn’t know if she’d ever wrap her head around what he and Liz could do, but she did admit to a wild curiosity.
“Will you tell me more about what your abilities allow?”
“Does it frighten you?”
She mentally tossed about the things she’d learned today. By rights, she should be terrified, yet she wasn’t. Her curiosity on the matter was too strong.
“No. I don’t think so. If someone told me yesterday that magic like yours existed, I’d have laughed in their face. Now, having witnessed it first-hand, I don’t know what to think. Whatever I feel, it isn’t fear of you.” She picked up her purse and walked to where he waited, his shoulder against the doorjamb. Trailing a finger along his angular jaw, she said, “I don’t think you’d ever intentionally hurt me. Mainly, I find it incredible that I’ve known you for all this time and had no clue as to what you could do.”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Because his tone sounded serious, she became guarded. “What?”
She suspected Nash’s intelligent eyes missed nothing: not her stillness, not her discomfort with personal questions, and not her hesitation to answer those questions about herself. His watchfulness made her twitchier by the second.
“The other day, at your apartment… did you feel or hear anything strange?”
“The whole thing was strange in my opinion. How fast you—wait! You teleported that morning, didn’t you? Like you did earlier. That’s how you got to my place so quickly after I sent the email, wasn’t it?”
He shrugged as if embarrassed. “I was worried. You never call in sick.”
His confession triggered Ryanne’s smile, and she let him off the hook and decided not to press the issue. “In answer to your question, yes. It started with an odd dream about goddesses and a cursed necklace. Then you showed up—suddenly, I might add. When you kissed me, it was like the ground shook.”
“Did you hear the laughter?”
“Laughter?”
“Yes, a woman’s laughter.”
“Right, you mentioned that before.” She frowned her confusion. “No. Should I have?”
“I don’t know. I’m not an expert on all things goddess related.” Some unnamed emotion flashed behind his eyes, indicating he wasn’t telling the full truth.
Ryanne shoved aside her misgivings, although she was a bit concerned he believed in gods and goddesses. She struggled to keep the skepticism from her voice when she asked, “You think the laughter was a goddess?”
“I don’t think; I know.” He sighed and rolled his eyes at her wide-eyed stare. “I descend from Isis. It’s how my family obtained their powers. I’ve been tracing your ancestry today, and I believe you descend from one of Isis’s sisters. If I’m right, you may have latent powers you had no idea you possessed.”
“How could I not know if I have magical abilities?”
“Many reasons. The top two I can think of? You may have been bound at a young age, or your family line may have been cursed or bound as a whole many years ago.”
Ryanne couldn’t wrap her mind around what he was telling her.
“Come with me.” Nash took her by the elbow and guided her toward his office. When they arrived, he locked the door behind them and strode to a wall on the far side of the room. With one final glance in her direction, he waved his hand.
A feather could’ve knocked her over when the wall shimmered and disappeared. Beyond the new opening was an extensive library filled with what looked to be rare, leather-bound books and tomes. It went on forever and brought to mind images of the Trinity College library in Dublin. She’d seen it once in a magazine and itched to visit ever since.
Nash took her hand, and they entered what appeared to be the top floor of multi-levels of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She gasped as she stopped on the balcony overlooking the room.
“What is this?” Legs frozen in place, all she could do was gape.
The twinkle in his jade gaze mocked her. “My research center.”
“I’m still dreaming, aren’t I? I never woke up the other night.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “When I do wake, I’ll find out this has all been some type of elaborate dream.”
He tilted his head and pursed his lips. Having seen that look before, she could tell he was holding back.
“What?” she asked irritably.
Nash’s brows flew skyward, and a smile played on his lips. “I’m wondering if I should kiss you again. You know, show you exactly how real all this is.”
Her knees went weak at the same time a fire started within. That damned man knew what to say and when to say it to make her a big gooey pile of mush. She might’ve even squeaked in her surprise. If she’d have known that was his “I’m wondering if I should kiss you” look, she’d have jumped all over that two years ago.
Amusement lit Nash’s handsome visage, and Ryanne swore under her breath. Yeah, he had more than just magical skills in his bag of tricks. Based on his smug attitude, he knew exactly how to use them.
“You and your sister were adopted after your parents died, if I’m not mistaken.”
The about-face threw her. “Y-yes.”
“Right. Come here.”
On wooden legs, she walked to the top of the staircase and took the hand he offered. He drew her down the stairs and into his room of books.
“I can’t believe this exists,” she whispered her awe.
“Believe it.”
“It explains why you’re protective of your old, dusty tomes,” she muttered.
“You can’t begin to understand the problems I’ve had with women drooling on my books.”
She yanked her hand from his. “You’re an ass.”
Nash laughed and hugged her from behind. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you drool on my papers anytime.”
She caught him in the ribs with her elbow.
He dropped a light kiss on the shell of her ear before he released her. “Does anything here call to you?”
You, she wanted to say. “Do you mean one of the books or objects on the shelves?”
He cast her a sharp glance. “Objects? You can see them in addition to the books?”
Her brows drew together in her bewilderment. “You can’t?”
“No, I definitely can. But you shouldn’t be able to as a non-magical human. They are spelled.”
“You’re confusing me, Nash.” Was he saying she was like him?
“This proves my theory.”
“That I should possess magical abilities?”
“Yes. Let’s see if we can do something about getting your powers back, shall we?”
Nash pulled back a carpet from the center of the room and exposed a pentagram. Next, he placed a candle on each of the five points. When Nash touched a fingertip to each of the wicks to light them, Ryanne plopped down on the nearest chair. How had she never known he could do these things? It worried her that she’d misread him.
“Are you all right?”
His concerned voice brought her head up. Unable to express exactly how overwhelmed she was, she remained mute.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, Ryanne. But bear with m
e a bit longer, okay?”
After ten heartbeats of consideration, she nodded.
“Step into the center of the pentagram with me. I need to cast a circle.”
Her curiosity got the better of her. “What does it mean to cast a circle?”
“Whenever a deeper magic is needed, such as spell casting, scrying, or the like, a protective ring needs to be created around the person using magic. It’s a little more in depth, but that’s all you need to learn right now.”
“Why am I in the circle? How can I perform magic?”
“With my help. Hold my hand.”
She gripped his hand and felt an immediate pulse of energy. Her eyes widened. “What’s that?”
His pleased smile resembled the Cheshire Cat’s. “That, my darling woman, is magic. I sent out a feeler.”
“Do it again.” When she felt the pulse a second time, she laughed. “I felt it down to my toes!”
“Do you want me to attempt an unbinding spell?”
“You’re certain I have magical abilities?”
“I am. Some non-magical humans can feel the power pulse, but not to the extreme you did.”
One thing troubled her. “You said attempt. Is there a possibility it’s irreversible?”
“Most times it requires the person who bound you to remove the spell. If it was your mother or father who cast it, then it should’ve been broken when they passed away.”
Ryanne’s heart picked up its pace. “You think someone else did this.”
“I don’t know what I believe. But your parents died when you were a small child. Unless it was a super-charged spell they cast, you should’ve regained your powers at that time. I can only assume an aunt, uncle, or grandparent cast the spell.”
“I don’t have any other relatives besides my sister, Rylee.”
* * *
Ryanne’s words bothered Nash. Someone had removed her powers. To what end was the mystery. But it meant somebody other than family had to know she was a witch.
“What I am about to do might be met with resistance if the original spell caster is living. Either way, it shouldn’t harm you. If you’re willing, I’ll try it.”
Ryanne worried her lip, and Nash fought the urge to kiss her cares away. Now wasn’t the time for distractions. If he could restore any abilities she was born with, he might be able to train her and utilize her skills to retrieve the Red Scorpion necklace from Victor.
“Okay,” she said decisively. “Let’s do this.”
He smiled his approval, relieved she was open to the experience. “Stand here.” He placed her in the center of the pentagram and strode to his grimoire. When he found the page he was looking for, he joined her in the circle. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she muttered with an apprehensive glance at the book in his hand.
“You shouldn’t feel anything but an influx of energy if this works. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not sure how I’m going to feel if it doesn’t. You’ve built up my hopes.”
“Keep in mind, I’m a warlock, not a miracle worker.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Nash laughed and gave in to his desire to kiss her. It seemed once he’d broken the hands-off rule, he couldn’t get enough of touching her. He took it as a good sign that she didn’t mind and was quick to reach for him in return.
As he read the spell from the book, he felt the slight atmospheric change that indicated the gathering energy and building power. He repeated the spell a second time and watched Ryanne closely. Except for the slight widening of her eyes, she didn’t act any differently.
Eyes closed, he conjured a thick leather strip to rest over his shoulder. Next, he concentrated and called on his familiar. Within minutes, a hawk swooped down and landed on the leather perch he’d created.
“What the hell?”
Her reaction amused him. “This is Captain. He’s what is known as a familiar. He’ll give me a magical boost for this spell.”
“Does that mean what you’ve done so far isn’t working?”
“It’s trying to. I imagine you can feel the magic building.”
“I feel something, yes.”
“I have one other ace up my sleeve, but I don’t want to use that yet if I don’t have to.”
She nodded and clasped his hand again. “I’m ready when you are.”
This time when Nash spoke the words, a crack rent the air and energy sizzled around them. The resistance concerned him. It was as if someone was working on the other side in an attempt to prevent him from succeeding.
“It’s not going to work, is it?” Ryanne asked.
“Not this way.” He stroked Captain’s chest and gave him a silent nod in thanks. “You can go, boy. I appreciate your help.”
After the bird had flown from the room, he pulled out his smartphone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the one number he always refused to call. Torn, he stared at the screen. If he called his father, Nash would feel indebted to him. All the years spent trying to become independent would be null and void.
Ryanne touched his arm and startled him from his tortured thoughts. She glanced down at the screen and immediately understood his dilemma. “Nash, you don’t have to do this.”
“You deserve to regain your gifts.”
“We can find another way.”
“Alastair knows more about this type of thing than anyone else alive. He’s helped others throughout the years.”
“Would it be better if I’m the one to ask him for the favor?” She spoke the question hesitantly as if she, too, were scared to be indebted to Alastair.
That she was willing to take the burden from him encouraged Nash to press the send button and call his father.
“Son.”
“Sperm Donor.”
“Probably not the best way to start the conversation,” Ryanne muttered.
Nash heard Alastair’s heavy sigh. “It must be dire if you’re calling, especially so soon after my visit. What do you need?”
“Can you come to my office?”
The connection ended.
Within seconds, Alastair appeared in the doorway of the secret study. His father didn’t enter without an invitation, but his eyes missed nothing from where he rested against the doorjamb. “Interesting place you have here. Is that a fifteenth-century conjuring stone?”
“It is.”
“Nice. I haven’t seen one of those in about thirty-five years or more.”
“I didn’t call you here to discuss artifacts,” Nash snapped.
Alastair’s blue gaze narrowed on him. “Then why don’t you tell me why I’m here.”
“I think Ryanne’s a witch whose powers were bound. I can’t seem to lift the binding.”
His father straightened and dropped his folded arms to his sides. “May I?”
Nash granted permission to enter with a single nod.
Alastair came downstairs and approached Ryanne as if she were a new type of species that had yet to be discovered. His curiosity blazed brightly. When he reached her side, he held out his hand.
She tentatively placed her palm in his.
Alastair turned her hand over and arched a red light from between them. Nash assumed it was to test the strength of her magic, similar to what he’d done earlier.
“She’s definitely a witch. This is eerily similar to the Carlyles.” To Ryanne, Alastair explained. “My future son-in-law, Cooper, had his powers bound when he and his brother were toddlers. It leaves a subtle echo of the original magic that another witch or warlock can detect. You have that echo.”
“That means she had powers once, correct?”
Alastair spared a quick glance for Nash. “I believe so.”
Ryanne shifted her attention nervously between the two of them. “How do we unlock them?”
“That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Alastair dropped her hand and strode to the table with the scrying mirror. A simple hand gesture, and he was lost to whatever he wa
s witnessing.
“What’s he doing?” Ryanne asked.
“Scrying,” Nash replied. “It’s a way to divine the truth of the past and see the present.”
“But I thought you said he needed a circle.”
“He’s Alastair Thorne. He does what he wants.”
“I’m not sure, but I think that terrifies me.”
He squeezed her hand. “You aren’t the only one.”
They waited in silence as Alastair searched the mirror for the mysterious images he was looking for. Finally, it seemed he’d seen enough. When he turned in their direction, his expression was dark.
Ryanne shifted beside Nash, her nervous energy palpable. She, too, had picked up on Alastair’s grimness.
“What did you see?” Nash asked.
“Nothing good.” Alastair stared hard at Ryanne. “Are you sure you wish to know?”
Nash searched her face for the slightest indication she might not be agreeable to hearing the truth. “Ryanne?”
“Yes. Yes, I want to know,” she answered after a long pause.
Chapter 5
Alastair Thorne had made it a point to study the interactions between his son and Ryanne Caldwell for some time. Nash needed a strong partner who would keep him in check, and his sassy assistant might be the woman to do it.
Of course, there was the fact that throughout history, Thornes fell in love only once in their lifetime. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but there had been times when a Thorne’s significant other had not been the most stellar character on the planet. Alastair doubted Ryanne fell into that category. Her relatives, on the other hand, defined said category.
He had met Ryanne’s mother and father once, and a worse pair of role models would’ve been difficult to find. Because she’d been a small child at the time, Ryanne’s memory might be vague. In addition to being horrific parents, it seemed Paul and Marsha Caldwell had been con artists intent on using their twin girls in their larcenous pursuits.
Yes, it had been a blessed day for Ryanne and Rylee when their parents died. But how did one reveal such a thing? They didn’t. The other problem, as Alastair saw it, was explaining that sometimes the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He only hoped Nash moved forward in his relationship with caution and common sense.
