by Regan Black
“You don’t want to wait for your cousin?”
She drummed her fingertips on the sides of her coffee cup. “I think the house is a prime example that Nick knows far more than he’s telling either one of us.” Wayne’s blue eyes turned stormy. “We can trust him,” she added quickly.
“If you’re sure of what he knows, why ask me?”
For a man so warm and golden, the way he could switch it off from one heartbeat to the next was more than a little disconcerting. “You are the beginning of this.”
“And I will be the end of it.”
She suppressed a shudder at that stark statement. “I’ve gone over everything.” Tears threatened again, as they had more than once last night. “The first I heard of the dagger it was more like a fairy tale. The first time I saw it, it captivated me, consumed my imagination. The bits and pieces aren’t adding up, Wayne. What are we missing? Why is this going down now?”
He didn’t reply. With his arms folded over his chest, his expression put up a wall designed to shut her out. That wouldn’t help either of them.
“You called that woman Morgana last night.”
“And we determined I was mistaken.”
“You knew Morgana.” She took a deep breath. “I think you knew her well.” What had they been to each other? Maybe it wasn’t her business and it shouldn’t matter, but her chest ached as she waited for his answer. She had to know.
“This is what kept you up all night?”
“Oh, I slept.” She bit out the words, irritated with him, herself, and her awful dreams. Sterling’s head was suddenly a gentle weight on her thigh. Stroking his soft ears comforted her and smoothed out the rough edges of her anxiety. “You’re a good boy,” she told him, gazing into his calm, soulful eyes. Anything to keep from looking at Wayne.
“You’ve had an important dream,” Wayne murmured from the opposite end of the table. “I’ve seen that look before.”
Aggravated, she closed her eyes tight. “You cheated, using Sterling that way.”
Wayne left his seat and came around the table in a blink, his hand warm on her chin as he tilted her face up so he could look at her directly. “Tell me, Tara.”
She couldn’t look away, didn’t really want to, he was so handsome. His touch sent flocks of butterflies winging through her belly and the part of her that was crushing on him wanted another kiss. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Dreams or not, we need to know what happened in your time.” Why wouldn’t he let go of her? “It dawned on me this - right around dawn - that we have a better chance of resolving this if we work it from both ends.” She hoped that sounded more logical than lust-struck. Or jealous. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the modern version of Morgana might really be a descendant.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
Under different circumstances, she might be impressed with his focus. “You first,” she managed. Jerking her chin out of his hand, she scrambled out of the chair, nearly tripping over Sterling as she sought a safe distance. “How, when, where did you cast that spell on Morgana?”
He eyed her with a gaze sharper than his sword. “I tracked her followers from the time I left Avalon. Fulfilling my quest was my only priority.” Sterling moved to his side, though the two didn’t touch this time. “It took months. Finally, at the winter solstice, I had her trapped. I went to kill her and disband her followers.” With his shoulders back, hands in loose fists at his sides, and his gaze slightly above her head, he looked like a man delivering bad news to a military commander. “I took many precautions and made several contingency plans anticipating I might fail.”
“Yes. We covered the blood oath last night. What happened, Wayne?”
“The lair was underground. Sterling and I entered, dispatching many until we found her, isolated her, and cast the spell. That is all there is.”
“No.” That wasn’t all of it. “If that was all, you wouldn’t be here now.” And she wouldn’t have had those dreams again.
“As we have learned, the cult survived. Peter O’Malley survived and had children. The energy of the witch who left the spyglass in your office is the same witch who attacked me on the street.” Sterling bumped his leg and Wayne’s stiff posture relaxed a fraction. “We must assume they know who I am. We must persist in our search and track down the men she sent to test us.” His chest rose and fell on a hard breath and his eyes locked onto her. “If you have dreamed, you must tell me everything. As you said, we need to work this from both ends.”
She knew he was leaving something out. If only she could find the right question. “You followed her for how long?” Somewhere she’d heard a theory that hunters often bonded with particularly elusive prey. Had something like that happened between Wayne and Morgana. “Y-you woke when the dagger was st-stolen,” she stammered. “Why build that into your spell?”
“The dagger, in the wrong hands, can be used to raise Morgana.” His gaze narrowed, he stalked her across the kitchen with long strides. A mere inch of electrified air kept them apart.
If he touched her again she wouldn’t be able to resist him. “And?”
His head fell back as he stared at the ceiling. “She is my responsibility.” The sinews and structure of his throat stood out in stark relief against his skin. “More than a vow to my king.” He met her gaze, those eyes cold and hard. “Morgana is my aunt. My mother’s sister.” His nostrils flared as if he smelled something foul. “Much to their mutual dismay,” he finished with a grim finality.
Not a lover. Her immediate relief was shadowed by sympathy and a shiver of anxiety. She had to remind herself Wayne was here to help defeat his aunt. Again. Obviously Wayne wasn’t proud of that branch on his family tree. And who could blame him? Having seen a glimpse of his capabilities, she imagined those around him would have assumed he would follow in his aunt’s footsteps and use his talent for dark purposes. He’d told her about a sister who understood him, and Avalon would have turned him out if they didn’t trust him.
She struggled to find the words that would erase the shame and anguish from his handsome face? Momentarily speechless, Tara backed up, only to bump into Sterling.
Wayne caught her before she fell, his grip firm as he steadied her. “Now tell me your dream.”
She nodded. “There’s a woman with dark hair,” she began as goose bumps rose on her skin. “A stone altar, and blood dripping over the O’Malley dagger. I recognized the city as New York, although it’s cleaner. No trash, no crime. The people feel weak, but they all look nice.”
“Illusion.”
Tara nodded in agreement. “The woman is mayor, then not.”
“Speak clearly.”
“I’m trying. It was a dream.” She rubbed her thumb into her opposite palm. “She is not the mayor, but she still lives here and runs things. Maybe. It’s a dream,” she repeated. “It gets blurry in the transitions.” She swallowed, remembering a hot, lusty interlude with the man holding her. Keeping that to herself, she went on. “Dreams are weird, unpredictable. She uses her influence to her advantage or to eliminate those who oppose her ideas.”
“Illusion,” he murmured again. “A particular strength of Morgana’s. And mine,” he added on a whisper full of regret. “Influence and reach beyond imagining. If Arthur’s dreams were similar to yours it is no wonder he called us in.”
“Arthur? Us?” She echoed the words that struck her as most significant. “It seems you still have plenty left to share, Wayne.”
He gave her a long, hot look. “I could say the same to you. What haven’t you told me?”
She didn’t bother trying to squirm out of his grasp. The heat grounded her to this place, this man. Despite their mutual irritation at the moment, she enjoyed being close to him. He made her feel safe.
“Is that all?” he persisted.
About evil witches? Almost. “The altar I saw. It was in a circular, underground chamber. There were several arches and symbols on the floor. If that place is real, I’d recognize
it again.”
“Of course she hides underground,” he murmured to himself.
“You think my dream is of something here and now?”
He nodded slowly. His fingers tensed, biting into her arm and she winced. At her side, Sterling growled a quiet warning. She looked down, wondering what the dog expected her to do when Wayne had all the power, only to discover the dog was snarling at Wayne.
“Easy.” She used the sweet voice the dog seemed to prefer. “He’s not hurting me.” She tried to touch Wayne to prove it, but her range of motion was limited by the way he held her. Sterling growled again, louder this time. Distracted, Wayne didn’t ease up. “I’m okay.” She pushed up on her toes and planted a kiss on Wayne’s lips. “See, we’re just talk -”
Her reassurances were lost as Wayne’s mouth covered hers. He released her arms and pulled her close. One big hand drifted to her hips as the other wrapped around her shoulders. She was surrounded in the most delectable way possible. With her breasts crushed to his broad chest, her nipples peaked, and she slid her hands up the hard planes of his back. The initial spark turned into a roaring blaze, tearing through her system.
This kiss spun out, making her dizzy as his talented lips and tongue obliterated any semblance of intelligent thought. Her hands moved of their own volition, exploring every nuance, through his shirt. At last, her fingers sinking into his thick, golden hair, she felt more than an unquenchable desire. She felt a sense of rightness, of belonging pulsing under the heavy dose of lust. Kissing him back with equal ardor, she experienced the spectacular impression of being ravished and cherished in equal measure.
Sterling barked a warning and she flattened her palms against Wayne’s chest, reluctantly retreating from the pleasure. His breath was ragged and his eyes a little dazed until they heard the key in the lock at the front door.
“Nick,” she whispered, frustrated with her cousin’s lousy timing. “We can’t get caught.”
Wayne scowled at her for a long moment, then tipped his head toward the dog. Sterling trotted out of the kitchen to greet her cousin, buying her precious seconds to get herself together. By the time Nick backed into the kitchen, his arms full of grocery bags, she and Wayne were looking civilized, seated at opposite sides of the table once more.
Wayne came to his rescue a moment before she could and she watched, a little miffed at how easily he pretended nothing had happened.
“You went grocery shopping?”
“I would have,” Nick replied, “But Aunt Siobhan dumped all this on me.”
“She knows something’s up.”
“Of course she does,” Nick agreed. “She’s the wife of the last generation’s firstborn.”
“Your father told her what he knew?” Wayne asked, obviously disturbed by the idea.
Tara arched an eyebrow. “You would expect a husband and wife to keep secrets like that from each other?”
“A few wouldn’t hurt,” he said, looking to Nick for man-to-man backup. “The more people who know, the more people are at risk.”
Nick shrugged as he continued to unload the groceries. “The way things are shaking out, maybe more people should’ve known from the start.”
When Wayne scowled again, Tara felt an irrational urge to soothe him. Were his kisses so wonderful that her loyalty had already shifted to him? Well, yes, and judging by her dreams her subconscious was absolutely on his side. The notion scared her. It was one thing to be attracted, another to be changed and tugged away from all the common sense that formed the foundation of her sense of self. When they were alone again, she intended to grill Wayne about what Arthur had dreamed. She wasn’t ready to have that conversation in front of Nick.
She forced her attention back to her cousin. “Have you learned anything else?”
He tugged off his gloves and stuffed them in his coat pockets. “I hauled some documents out of the family archives.” He made a production out of hanging his coat on the peg by the back door. She knew the moves O’Malley men made when they didn’t want to share bad news.
It shouldn’t shock her that they had archives she didn’t know about. “Something happened.” She peered past him, checking the window. “Were you followed?”
“I wouldn’t have led anyone here,” he shot back. “You guys were here all night, right?”
She didn’t care for his tone. “You were here with us.”
“I heard a call and went to check it out.” Nick aimed a glance at Wayne. “Two bodies washed up under the Brooklyn Bridge early this morning. One has a black horse tattoo, the other matches your description of the thief to a T.” He rested his hands on his belt, his feet planted. “Know anything about it?”
Wayne shook his head, never taking his eyes off Nick. “I am only here to stop the witch.”
The men were too still, the voices deadly calm. “Everyone relax.” Tara suddenly wanted something stronger than coffee, despite the early hour. “Nick knows you weren’t involved.” She eyed her cousin. “Don’t you?”
“I had to ask.”
“Asked and answered,” she said brightly. “Can we move on?”
“Sure.” Nick reached behind his back and her breath caught, but it wasn’t a gun or taser, or even handcuffs. He held up a large, yellowed envelope. “I brought maps of leylines, city development, that kind of thing.” Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and added a hefty spoonful of sugar.
“Did you bring anything to show us what is under the city?” Wayne refilled his coffee cup once Nick had moved well out of the way. “Tara dreamed that the witch has an underground chamber.”
“Yes, actually.” Nick arched that condescending eyebrow at her. “You didn’t mention your dream to me.”
“I was trying to forget it,” she said in her defense. “Wayne is taking it too seriously anyway.” They were both stuck on differing segments of her dream for wildly different reasons.
Nick put a hand on the envelope, preventing Wayne from taking a look. “Hang on a minute. We may need to take this upstairs.” He faced Tara again. “You had the dream?”
She nodded reluctantly. “With more detail this time around.” Now that she understood what Nick did when he wasn’t being a cop, it came as no surprise that he’d remember the vivid dreams and nightmares she’d wrestled with in childhood.
“Tara had nightmares about being trapped underground,” he said to Wayne. “They started right after she saw the dagger for the first time. My aunt and uncle logged the details with my dad just in case something happened.”
Tara pursed her lips and stared into the dark pit of her coffee. She didn’t appreciate him blurting out all of her crazy kid stuff in front of Wayne. Why not break out the baby pictures or junior high yearbook? The absurdity of the reactions ping-ponging through her mind added to her mounting exasperation. “Something happened all right. A group delusion.” She was caught between the sexy madman from the past and the crazy branch of the family tree. Too bad for her she knew they were both perfectly sane.
“Any new details?” Nick asked eagerly.
“No,” Wayne answered before she could. “Tara and I have been talking.” He cleared his throat. “I believe her idea to work both sides of the timeline to find the dagger and the witch is essential to our success.”
“The first time around Wayne confronted Morgana at the winter solstice.”
“It might have been the critical mistake,” Wayne added.
She wondered when he would forgive himself. Personally, she was glad for whatever forces gave her a chance to meet him. To kiss him.
“The solstice is only three days away.” Nick set his coffee mug on the counter. “Let’s take this upstairs,” he ordered, leading the way. He walked into one of the bedrooms and she immediately sensed something was off. The room was smaller than it should’ve been. Nick pressed a corner of the bookcase near the closet and with an audible click, the bookcase swung out, revealing a hidden passage.
“Seriously?” She planted her hands on her hips.
“I’m not going in there.”
“We can’t talk about this out here,” Nick said.
“The house is a safe zone. Your words,” she reminded him. Sterling leaned into her again. How did the dog always know just when she needed a boost of courage?
“I’m not taking any chances,” Nick explained. “If we’re found and come under attack, you need to know every available option. Come on.”
Even without the urging from the greyhound, her curiosity would’ve won out. Knowing her, Nick moved with certainty that her fascination with the myths and legends that had hovered in her dreams all her life would propel her forward. It only supported his cause that a legend from those very myths was walking up the hidden staircase behind her.
Chapter Ten
Wayne watched a soft glow illuminate the hidden space and when he stepped inside, he was relieved to see stairs leading both up and down. More relieved that Nick was leading them up. When they were all inside, Nick paused and did something that brought the bookcase closed behind them.
“Impressive,” Wayne admitted. He’d seen his fair share of secret passageways, but this was cleaner and warmer than most. “How did you find this place?”
“We didn’t find it, we built it to our particular needs,” Nick replied. “Don’t worry, it was a family job and the details were need-to-know.”
“Guess all those cousins weren’t so superfluous after all,” Tara quipped.
“I am thankful,” Wayne admitted. “Your ancestors honor me with their comprehensive efforts.”
He rubbed at his breastbone, still warm and sensitive from when he’d embraced her in the kitchen. He tried to tell himself the effect was solely about their conversation at the time, a signal of sorts from the fire nymph’s touch. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice laughed at his determined ignorance.
