by Abigail Owen
“Good job, Atleigh,” Persephone praised the now beautifully blooming violets.
Lachlyn rolled her eyes behind her aunt’s back. “Aunt Persephone, can we try something else now?”
Persephone ran a critical eye over Lachlyn’s single bloom. “Let’s focus on getting this spell right first. Once you master the basics, then we’ll move on.”
It didn’t get much more basic than growing a few flowers in a pot.
Rowan bit down on a laugh as Persephone turned her back on Lachlyn to help Chloe, and Lachlyn suddenly showed her true aptitude. With a wave of her hand, the girl grew a bunch of flowers at ten times the speed, resulting in a bouquet similar to her sister’s. At Atleigh’s warning glance, Lachlyn pulled a face, then reversed time and returned the plant to a single bloom.
Both girls checked the adults in the room—first Persephone and then Grey, who was busy on his laptop. Then they glanced toward Rowan, who raised her eyebrows and again struggled to not laugh out loud at the rueful expressions turned her way. In answer, she sent them a conspiratorial wink. Atleigh and Lachlyn blew out silent breaths of relief even as they exchanged a glance. Persephone chose that moment to turn back to them, and Rowan remained quietly in her assigned corner.
Twenty minutes later, torture in the guise of a lesson finally over, the group made their way out of the house. “Great job, ladies,” Persephone praised her nieces. “Lachlyn, I expect you to be able to bloom more flowers by the time I see you on Monday.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl grumbled.
Persephone turned to Rowan. “Lovely to meet you. I hope you last longer than the others.”
Yeah. Sure you do.
Before Rowan could respond in a suitably nanny-like manner, a hummingbird appeared and hovered before her.
“Look at that,” Grey commented. “I’ve never seen a hummingbird do that.”
“Oh,” Rowan gave a self-conscious giggle, which sounded forced to her ears. “It must think all this red hair is a flower.”
Of course, that wasn’t what the hummingbird thought at all.
Danger, the tiny bird whispered, and Rowan clenched her fists against a spasm of fear.
Only Rowan could understand, unless any of the others were Anevals—witches whose magic was strongest in connection to animals. She couldn’t talk to the bird though. Not here.
“Aren’t you beautiful. But no nectar here. Come back later and I’ll have some flowers for you.” She held her breath, hoping the creature understood.
Danger is coming, it whispered again before zipping away with a high-pitched hum of its beating wings.
“Do animals often come to you?” Grey asked, his dark brown gaze assessing.
Rowan hitched a shoulder. “I guess.”
Relief whooshed through her as the small frown between his eyebrows eased. “You must have a touch of Aneval in you.”
“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” Rowan hurried to say.
“Such a rare and valued gift,” Persephone murmured. “I’m sure Rowan’s right. Coincidence.”
But Grey wasn’t dropping it. “Do they ever talk to you?”
How to answer without directly lying? Ironically, Persephone’s disdain for the possibility of a nanny possessing such a skill gave her the answer. “If they did, I would be doing something else probably.” She took the sting out of the response with a cheerful smile.
At that he laughed, and Rowan sucked in a sharp breath. Normally Grey’s expression tended toward stern, unmovable. But when he smiled, like now, he showed an entirely different side—boyish, fun-loving. She had the strangest urge to laugh with him, to share the joke in their own little world.
“Let’s go,” Grey said.
After a parting kiss on his cheek from Persephone, the five of them stood in a circle in front of her house, hands clasped tightly. “Home.”
Just the one word from Grey and they disappeared. Rowan had heard of others getting violently ill from the trip. Still others indicated teleportation to be a frightening practice. But she’d always loved the sensation. Instead of nausea or terror, Rowan found the experience fascinating.
They didn’t appear to be moving, rather, the five of them stayed still while the world whooshed by in a silent blur of colors. Here in the mountains, shades of greens and browns and greys, the white of the snow, with the blue of the skies overhead streaked with white from the clouds, surrounded her.
In moments, they arrived in the front yard of Greyson’s home. The trees and tall grass around them flattened for a moment beneath the gust of wind generated by their arrival. Rowan released her grip on Chloe and Lachlyn and turned to head inside.
“Have you teleported often?” Grey asked.
“Um—” She hesitated to answer. How rare was teleportation anyway? Did most witches do it a lot? “Not often,” she hazarded. “But I do enjoy it.”
Amusement lingered in his dark eyes as he walked beside her. “Oh? Most find it disconcerting. What do you enjoy?”
Had that been the wrong answer? Too late to change it now. “It’s like the universe comes to you, and I love all the colors. I imagine setting up a room of Monet paintings and then spinning in circles might have the same effect.”
“I’ve never heard that description, but I do see what you mean.”
“Do you like it?” Curiosity always had been a weakness of hers.
As he unlocked the door, he flicked her a glance she couldn’t interpret. “I do.”
He let them inside, then promptly disappeared into his office. She frowned after his departing form. What had she said wrong this time? He’d been doing that a lot this week, ever since their kiss—spending more and more time in his office, heading the other direction when she showed up in the house. No more hot gazes or breathless moments.
She gave herself a shake. As long as he believed her story, his feelings about her, one way or another, made no difference. The more important question at this moment was how she was going to find time to get away today. She needed to talk to the hummingbird.
Normally, she’d take her Sunday to disappear for a bit, but this weekend, the triplets were staying home for once. Grey’d already asked her to stick around, saying he’d give her both Saturday and Sunday off the following weekend. She couldn’t wait that long.
Danger was coming, the hummingbird said. Had the witches discovered her, and Grey played it cool? Or did a different danger lurk in the woods?
CHAPTER 10
Rowan wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself the rest of the day. On Saturdays, they took the girls out. And Sundays, she occupied herself while Grey took to the girls to visit one or the other of their grandparents. During the week, while the girls were at school, she’d taken to doing odd jobs around the house or going into town, especially because when she did settle down to read or watch TV, Grey had made a habit of joining her, bringing his laptop with him.
Sometimes they talked—about the girls, about magic. He’d even told her a few humorous stories of witch hunting. But most of the time, they just sat in companionable silence, both doing their own thing. She was starting to find that time together addictive, which scared the hell out of her.
But today was different. Hanging out in the house with the girls around but nothing for them to do was weird. Now the girls were up in their rooms, leaving her alone with their father. She and Grey sat at opposite ends of the family room—he binge watching a favorite show on TV, and her reading a book with Cleopatra curled up in the crook of her bent legs, snoring softly.
“What the hell?”
Rowan peeked over the top of her book to find Grey staring at his phone.
Uh-oh. Slowly, she ducked back below her book. Was he only just now figuring out his phone had an issue? Three weeks had passed since that spell. No way was she that good. He had to have noticed the issue sooner, right?
Another hiss of frustration followed by mutterings. “No wonder.”
“What?”
“I kn
ew there was something wrong with my phone. I thought I’d missed a few calls. People have said they left messages, which I didn’t get. Well, I guess they all just showed up, thirty missed messages.
A quick peek revealed his disgruntled expression as, one after the other, he listened to each voicemail. Laughter burbled up from a wicked place inside her. She couldn’t stop the small snigger that escaped.
“Did you say something?”
Rats. With effort, she composed her expression into something she hoped was suitably innocent. “Did you leave it on silent accidentally?” Not laughing at his offended expression ended up being harder than she’d thought, or she might’ve kept her mouth shut.
“No,” he snapped.
With a shrug, she raised her book again.
“Rowan?” Chloe’s voice preceded her into the room as she tromped down the wooden stairs with all the finesse of a twelve-year-old girl.
“In here,” Rowan called. She set her book in her lap. Clearly reading was not happening today. She wasn’t into the book on basic spells anyway.
Chloe appeared in the doorway. “Can I ask you something?”
“What do you need, Chloe?” Grey asked.
Rowan had to give the man props. His question wasn’t brusque or condescending. He truly wanted to help.
“Um. This is something I need Rowan’s help with. Thanks, Dad.”
“Okay.” He let it go.
Curious, Rowan tossed her book on the coffee table and hopped up, following when Chloe beckoned her into the kitchen.
“What’s up?”
Chloe checked behind Rowan first. “I started my period,” she whispered, cheeks turning red.
Oh. “Oh.” Rowan mentally winced at her lame response. Time to rally. “Well, welcome to womanhood, sweetie. You’ll find out quickly enough that periods are a pain in the rear, but it’s exciting to start. Now…when I started, I was horribly embarrassed. But my friend Maureen was thrilled. Which one are you?”
Chloe wrinkled her nose. “Embarrassed.”
“Got it. In that case, I’ll save the banner and cake, and no announcements at dinner.” Rowan winked, and Chloe relaxed enough to giggle.
A small glow of pride and happiness sparked in her heart. She’d been helpful in a big moment in Chloe’s life. Suddenly, that glow snuffed out, to be replaced by a bleak thought. She was going to miss this family when the time came to leave. She hadn’t expected to connect with them in such a short amount of time, but she loved Atleigh’s need to be the peacemaker, and Chloe’s shy side, and Lachlyn’s sass.
And Grey.
Giving a mental shake of her head, she focused on Chloe. “Okay. Have either of your sisters started?”
Chloe shook her head.
“You don’t have products? Tampons? Pads?”
If anything, the poor girl’s cheeks reddened further, the color climbing down her neck and over her chest. “No.”
Rowan held up her hand. “No problem. We’ll just go to the grocery store in town and get some.”
“Do I have to go, too?” Mortification laced every syllable.
Rowan considered their options. “How about this…we’ll go together, because I want to point out some different options and let you choose. Then you can go wait in the car while I pay for them. Sound good?”
Chloe considered that for a moment. “Okay.”
“I’ll go grab my purse, tell your dad you’re helping me get stuff for dinner, and meet you at the truck. Right?”
To her shock, Chloe flung her skinny arms around her neck and squeezed tightly. “Thanks, Rowan. I knew you’d help.”
And there goes my heart.
After grabbing her purse, Rowan popped her head in the family room. “I’m running to the grocery store for some stuff for dinner. Chloe’s going to come with me. Lachlyn and Atleigh are upstairs.”
He looked up from his phone, apparently still fiddling with the thing. “Do I want to know?”
She glanced over her shoulder, sensitive to Chloe’s feelings. “Chloe started her period,” she whispered.
Grey dropped his phone. “Oh.”
The total panic in his eyes pulled a giggle from her. “No big deal. I got this.
Rather than pressing her for details or demanding to be in the know, Grey nodded. “I’m sure you can handle it.”
Again, that glow of pride and happiness ignited. Grey trusted her with his children. Completely.
“You okay?”
He cleared his throat as he picked up the phone. “I’ll let you know when I get over the shock.”
Rowan chuckled, even as guilt pricked at her. How was she going to leave them? Betray them? One more person to disappoint them? “It’s under control.”
Keys jangling, she hustled out of the house before she did something stupid like confess everything. Something about his broad shoulders demanded total trust. A seductive idea, and one she couldn’t give into. Ever.
CHAPTER 11
Greyson hung up the phone and swore under his breath. When he’d dropped by Castor Dioskouri’s office last week, he’d expected to set a meeting date for that week, but they’d claimed to be too busy with work. You’d think the plane manufacturing industry would slow in the winter, but apparently not. Consequently, they’d set the meeting date for today over a week later.
Only Lyleia, or Leia as she’d asked him to call her, had just called to say Tala and Marrok Banes, the werewolf Alphas joining them, couldn’t make it to the Covens’ Denver office. Something to do with another meeting with other werewolf alphas going too long. No way was he letting them reschedule again. He’d lost so much time that the trail was growing colder and colder with each day that passed.
“Where are the alphas meeting?” he asked Leia.
“At the Banes camp, on the eastern side of Rocky Mountain National Park.”
“That works out. I happen to live nearby. If you and Castor don’t mind driving up from Denver, why don’t we all meet at my house after they’ve finished their meeting?”
“Oh…we couldn’t put you out.”
Greyson gave a grim smile. They were definitely avoiding him. He had yet to figure out how they’d manipulated his phone, but that had to be the only explanation for the darn thing not working. “No bother at all. In fact, I’d say you could stay here, but it’s a smaller house, one of the original structures built before the park boundaries were even established. I’ll put you up at the Stanley. It’s a gorgeous hotel. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“We’ve stayed there before.” A smile came through in her voice. “Let me check with the others, but that sounds lovely.”
They set a time, and Leia promised to contact him only if a problem arose before they hung up the phone.
“Rowan!” Greyson grimaced at the frustration he’d allowed to leak into his voice. As he strode through the house in search of his nanny, he tempered the emotion. “Row—”
“I heard you the first time you bellowed.”
He spun around in the kitchen to find her standing in the doorway which led down to her basement rooms.
And promptly lost all thought of what he was going to say.
Rowan’s glorious red hair had changed color—turned raven-wing black with a streak of purple through the bangs. Straight as a broomstick, it hung in a glossy curtain to her waist. Meanwhile, her skin had turned an interesting shade of light pink. Her eyes had changed color as well—one emerald green, and one an eerie turquoise.
“What in the?”
She plopped her hands on her hips, her pointed little chin tipping up as she stared him down. “I was practicing some of the magic the girls are learning.”
She’d probably smack him in the head, or worse, if he laughed, but, damn, she made it hard not to sometimes. “So this is…on purpose?”
She lifted a single eyebrow, daring even one snigger to escape his lips. “What do you think?”
Greyson recognized dangerous ground, feeling the metaphorical quicksand sinking a
way under his feet. He couldn’t offer help and risk offending her, but what if she needed it?
“What did you want?” she asked.
It took him a moment to pull his wits together, still distracted by her bizarre appearance. “Instead of going to Denver for my meeting, they are going to come to the house tonight around five.”
She leaned a hip against the island counter. “Okay. I’ll be at Persephone’s with the girls, as we already arranged, when they arrive. Do you need me to feed everyone?”
“That would be good. As well as having appetizers and drinks ready when they arrive.”
She nodded.
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Mages? Or something else?”
Now why would she ask that? “Why?”
“In case they have any special dietary needs or preferences. I’d like to plan ahead if I can.”
Suspicion drained out of him. “I see. A demigod, a nymph, and two werewolves.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s quite a crowd. Sounds like a bad joke.”
“Have you dealt with their kind before? You don’t have to be nervous.”
“Oh. Good.” She turned away to open the pantry. “I don’t think that means anything different, but I’ll look it up, just in case. Maybe red meat for the werewolves would be appropriate. Or fish for the nymph. Or perhaps she’d be offended by that.” She was muttering more to herself then talking to him. Now she glanced over her shoulder. “Are nymphs friends with fish? Or do they eat them?”
Twice in less than five minutes he’d had to bite back a laugh. “I have no idea.”
“You’re no help then. I’ll look it up,” she repeated. “Anything else? Where are they staying?”
“I’m putting them up at the Stanley Hotel in Estes.”
“So no need to move the girls around,” she commented.
“No.”
“What time should I plan to serve dinner?”
How long would it take him to get all the details and discern the truth? “Let’s have it around seven. That should be plenty of time to wrap up our meeting.”
