by Tawny Weber
“But?” Because there was a clear but in her words.
“But I don’t know why you weren’t up front with me. Why didn’t you just tell me all this from the get go?”
Wow. Sam’s shoulders unclenched because she was taking this all so much better than he’d thought she would. He smiled as he continued his explanation.
“I didn’t say anything before because I came here first and foremost to help you with that game. Once you nailed the storyline, you could finish the game and quit Black Magic free and clear.”
Rose’s face slowly tightened, anger and shock dawning loud and clear.
“You expect me to quit my job? To leave Black Magic and incur my mother’s wrath to follow you to some crazy town filled with people who believe magic is real?”
“Isn’t it?”
Looking like she wanted to argue that point, Rose pushed to her feet and paced the room. Finally, she shook her head.
“It’s not that simple. The Faire family helped put me through college. They let me apprentice at Black Magic, they gave me my start. I owe them. Owed them.”
“You put that company on the map, it was your game that launched them out of obscurity. I’d say your debt is paid.”
“That’s your opinion,” she said agreeably. “But in this case, it’s my opinion that matters.”
Sam had to grind his teeth to bite back his response, but finally he was able to just shrug. Because she was right. Her choice here was the only one that mattered. The only one that’d make a difference.
“Fine. Finish this game. Then what? Are you going to stay there, working for someone like Millicent? Or are you going to finally live for yourself? If you do, where will you go? What will you do?”
He wanted to push. He wanted to beg. But all he could do was ask.
“Your grandparents want to meet you. They need to see you. For a hundred reasons, but most of all because you mean a lot to them and they’d like to be a part of your life.” Just like he would. “Are you going to give them a chance? Are you going to visit Coeur d’Alene?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. I need to figure this all out. It’s too confusing, everything is happening all of a sudden. Especially this thing. This magic or power or whatever it is going on inside me. I don’t even understand what it is.”
“It’s magic. I recognize it, even if it’s not my gift.” Sam lifted his hands in frustration. “I’m not a witch. I know witches, I’ve spent my life surrounded by power. But my gift is in words, not in magic.”
“And my grandparents?”
“They have power. And more, knowledge. They can help you understand it. They can show you how to hone it or use it or, if you choose, release it.”
Sam held his breath after sharing those last words, terrified that would be the choice she’d make. To release her magic, to refuse her family. And to walk away from him.
Rose rubbed her fingers over her forehead, wishing she could massage away the confusion throbbing there. Even as she took a long, deep breath, hoping it’d smooth the confusion, an intoxicatingly mystical fragrance filled her lungs. It stirred the energy in her belly, awakening those seeds of power again.
Having tasted it, could she walk away? Could she live the rest of her life never touching the magic again?
And Sam. Could she walk away never having him again? Never talking with him, never hearing his stories? Never feeling his body delighting hers?
But the cost was so high.
Choosing Sam, choosing this magic meant turning her back on her mother’s wishes. It meant giving up her job. It meant going back to a town she didn’t remember to meet family she didn’t know.
Could she do that?
She didn’t know. It was all so confusing.
And she was afraid.
Of the power. Of the man. And yes, even of the feelings welling inside of her. They were all too huge.
“Why did you do this?” she asked, her heart aching with the weight of all those expectations. “Why did you open this door inside of me?”
“I didn’t intend to,” he confessed with a grimace. “Why would I open you to something I can’t help with?”
“Why, indeed.” Rose didn’t know the answer to that. But she did have a lifetime of being manipulated, of being pushed into doing others bidding. Whether he’d meant to or not, Sam was making her feel just as cornered.
“Give your grandparents a chance. Give me a chance,” Sam insisted. “Now that you’ve felt the power, now that you know the truth, how can you stay here?”
“Because here I have responsibilities.”
“To who? Your mother? She’ll still be there afterward. And if you mean to Millicent, how is she worth your loyalty?”
“How are you any better?” she snapped, pushing to her feet to storm her way around the room. “How are you any different?”
“Maybe because I had your best interests at heart,” Sam shot back, on his feet now, too and filled with righteous fury.
“Funny. My mother always said that, too. That she was only thinking of me. Of what was best for our future. My future.”
“What about our future, Rose? What about this thing between us? There’s no way in hell you’re going to tell me that was just some sexual game in there. That it didn’t mean something to you. We have something between us. Something special. Something real.”
That’s what scared her.
Because what they had between them was bigger, stronger, than anything she’d ever felt before. If the magic could change her world, her feelings for Sam could destroy it.
Why should she risk either?
“Don’t stay here, Rose. Even if you aren’t willing to open your heart to your family, don’t waste your life, your talent and your loyalty on someone as evil and malicious as Millicent Faire.”
He made it sound so simple. So black and white. But Rose knew there was too much involved to simply choose. She had too much to lose to just walk away. But Sam wasn’t going to let it go. She knew he’d push and push until he’d shoved her into the corner of his choosing.
“I owe Black Magic. And I owe Millicent,” Rose finally said, her face tight with anger. “And no matter how much you might pretend to be a hero, sweeping in to save me, I don’t need saved. So back off, Prince Charming.”
With that and a final glare, Rose grabbed her messenger bag and strode to the door. Just before she slammed it shut, she shot him a look over her shoulder to add, “I don’t need your help. And I don’t need anyone—not even you—deciding what I should do with my life.”
Chapter Eight
Rose’s furious exit was halted by a friendly voice. One whose gentleness was impossible to ignore.
“There you are, my dear. Where are you hurrying off to?” Odette called from behind the counter when Rose reached the bottom of the stairs.
The anger and pain that’d sent her flying down the steps fled, leaving Rose so dizzy that she had to grab the newel post to keep from falling to the floor. She closed her eyes for just a moment, hoping when she opened them she’d see that this had all been a dream.
A bad, confusing dream.
But she knew before she opened them what she’d see.
“Hello, Odette,” she greeted quietly, not questioning how the older woman had moved so quickly, so quietly, to stand in front of her. “I was just leaving.”
“Not yet, I think.” The woman’s smile was easy as she took Rose’s arm and, with just a little tug, pulled her behind the counter and into the kitchen.
“Your customers,” Rose protested, looking around the café at the half dozen people enjoying after-breakfast-before-lunch treats in hopes of using one of them as her excuse to escape.
“Anja, darling. Please entertain our guests.”
The exotic gypsy turned from the counter at the far end of the kitchen to give her grandmother a surprised look. She looked as if she were going to demand an explanation. As soon as her gaze landed on Rose, though, she
frowned. Her gaze darkened and her expression turned sympathetic. Still, as she wiped her hands on a cloth, she tilted her head toward the ingredients on the counter.
“I’ve just started here.”
“I’ll continue the preparation and you can finish,” Odette said after giving the array of herbs, flowers and crystals a quick glance. “A new job talisman, yes?”
“Yes, thanks.” With that and an encouraging pat on Rose’s shoulder, Anja swept out of the kitchen.
Leaving Rose in a kitchen filled with intriguing scents with a darling little old lady she was now pretty sure was a witch.
A witch.
Just thinking it made her knees wobbly. Wobbly enough that she grabbed the nearest stool and sank into it without asking Odette’s leave.
It took her three long breaths before she could meet the other woman’s eyes and face the knowledge in those dark depths. Odette didn’t say anything, though. She simply moved through the kitchen with grace and ease, gathering this, heating up that, until she set a large pottery mug heaped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate in front of Rose.
“Enjoy.”
“Cocoa?”
“My special recipe. It lightens the thoughts, eases the burdens and mends the heart.” Odette gestured for Rose to drink up. “Have a few sips, let your mind settle. Then we’ll talk.”
She should leave. Rose reached for the mug, then let her hand fall back into her lap. She was expected at the office. Now that she’d lost her story advisor she had to rethink the progress of the game and figure out how she’d finish it alone.
And then there was the rest.
“Drink.”
Rose closed her eyes and drank.
The chocolate was rich and silky, spiced gently with a hint of cinnamon and swirled through with vanilla infused cream. On the whole, it was somewhere beyond delicious.
The first sip eased the tightness in her temples. The second, the knot in her chest. By the third, her nerves were soothed and her thoughts calmed.
Rose opened her eyes, not surprised to see Odette at the counter Anja had left. She watched for a long moment while the woman gently removed petals from flowers, rubbed seeds loose from a pomegranate and sprinkled brilliant green crystals into a marble bowl where she crushed it to dust.
“There, now,” Odette said without looking her way. “You feel a little better now. Drink the rest and you’ll feel much better.”
“Thank you,” she replied, offering the older woman a tentative smile. Despite how crazy Rose felt inside—as if everything she’d ever believed was spinning on its ear—she was comforted by the cocoa. And by the woman.
“Well, I do feel partially responsible for the confusion churning inside you, so a bit of comfort and chocolate is the least I can do.”
Rose jerked, shocked at both the words and at Odette’s direct approach. But if the older woman could be forthright, so could she.
She just had to take a cup of chocolate first.
“How do you figure that you’re responsible for anything?” she asked, deciding it’d be smarter not to mention the various reasons she was upset. No matter how nice the woman, she simply wasn’t comfortable talking orgasm induced flower falls.
“I’ve known Samson since he was a child. Always, the gift of story was his. So when he mentioned coming to California to see you, I encouraged him to stay here. I knew doing so would influence certain events.”
“What do you mean?” Rose asked, the nerves dancing in her stomach clear in her voice.
“Like attracts like. There is magic here,” Odette said simply.
“You knew I had this,” Rose pressed her hand to her belly, “this power?”
Torn between delight and terror, she waited with baited breath, hoping to learn more. Desperate to know.
“Your grandmother saw it there when you were a baby. She told your mother.”
“And my mother took me away,” Rose realized, clenching her jaw. “To keep me from it.”
“Your mother took you away to keep you with her,” Odette corrected gently, her gnarled fingers sprinkling the crushed crystals into a simmering pot of water. “She had her reasons, only some of which I can see.”
Rose watched as the older woman’s gaze turned opaque, as power rose in those dark eyes so deep that she could almost see the visions swirling there.
“She took you for love, for fear and for safety. She loves you deeply, never doubt. Her fear of magic is just as strong, and her vow to keep you safe goes deeper than you know.”
Rose felt the tight ball of anger toward her mother loosen a little in her heart, but she still shook her head.
“Safe, how?” Because working for Millicent didn’t have that comfy, cozy safe feeling in the least.
“Magic asks a price. By keeping you away from choosing that path, she gave you time to find your strength.”
What strength, Rose wanted to shout. She worked for a megalomaniac who’d done her best to crush Rose’s spirit, to keep her confidence so low it was practically comatose.
“Are you afraid to stand up for yourself?” Odette asked wisely.
“Of course not,” Rose snapped. But even as she bit off the words, she wondered. Was she?
“Do you fear pushing your own ideas forth, standing for your beliefs or speaking up when you feel you’re right?”
Rose opened her mouth to explain that none of that were the point. But they were, she realized, slowly clamping her lips together.
Odette nodded.
“Then you have strength,” she said simply. “Whether she meant this or something else to be the outcome, your mother served you well. Because it’ll take the ability to do all of that to be in power. The path of magic is rarely easy.”
“And if I don’t want to walk that path?”
“The choice is yours. But either way, you have questions to answer within yourself.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
She really wanted to know. With all her heart, Rose wished the wise woman would spell it out, tell her exactly what to do.
“I’ll read for you,” Odette said, coming around the counter to take Rose’s hand. She lifted it, palm up, and traced one finger over the lines and valleys. A warm current tingled from Rose’s palm all the way to her toes. Odette didn’t look at her hand, though. She simply stared into her eyes.
“Your magic lies in your heart. Open to your emotions and hear their truth. Family is key. You must open your heart and let each person sit there in emotional safety and feel the energy. Once you do, you’ll easily see the path for you.”
A part of her, the part reveling in the delightful energy she’d recently awakened, wanted to rush down that path. To embrace the possibilities with Sam and explore her heritage. To get to know her grandparents and enjoy their store.
But the cost was so high, just thinking about it made her stomach churn.
Before she could ask how she was supposed to get people to sit in energy—whatever the hell that meant—Odette continued.
“One path offers wealth and acclaim, approval and eventual acceptance. Another requires sacrifice though the rewards are beyond your imaginings. That’s the path that ends in marriage, with your prince offering his hand and heart. Both are right for you, but you can only choose one.”
Marriage? She’d called Sam Prince Charming. Did that mean he’d propose? Her heart jumped into her throat, so all Rose could do was cough.
“You will only find true happiness, true peace if you accept who you are,” Odette continued, the hand holding Rose’s beginning to tremble. “If you choose to embrace what you are, you will have to stand firm. Do not let anyone take it away. Not those who love you. Not even yourself.”
“How do I do that?” Rose whispered, wishing it were as simple as saying sure, give me a magic wand and let’s rock.
“You need to choose,” was all Odette said, folding Rose’s fingers over her palm then holding her hand closed. “Only you.”
Rose had no choi
ce but to nod.
She’d faced the truth about her heritage this week.
She’d discovered magic and power.
She’d experienced a sexual nirvana beyond anything she’d dreamed, and opened her heart to a man who stirred and fascinated.
But choosing her own path?
Deciding what to do with the rest of her life? Choosing between the mundane and the magical? Her past and her present?
That scared the hell out of her.
* * *
Sam lay in the hanging wicker basket that Anja called a couch and stared at the smoke dancing around the coffered ceiling.
He’d blown it.
He hadn’t meant to dump everything on Rose like that.
Sam ground his teeth in frustration, so pissed at himself that he barely bit back a curse.
He’d had a plan.
A damned good plan. Carefully thought out, plotted and revised and polished to perfection.
Now, fogged in lust and emotions he barely understood, he’d blown it.
Worse, he’d let Leah and Stephen down.
All he could do was save as much as he could.
“Do you plan on hiding in here for long?”
His only reaction to Anja’s question was to slide her a single look before he returned his gaze to the ceiling.
“It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company,” Anja continued as if he’d offered a chatty response. “But I tend to get lectured when I play hooky from work. I never mind a lecture, but I’d prefer my playtime be fun enough to justify it.”
Sam sighed. He pushed into a sitting position, and despite the swinging couch’s wobbliness, managed to sit with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest.
“I screwed up.”
“You screwed—”
Before she could finish what he knew would be a crude response, Sam shoved to his feet. The basket couch slammed into the wall behind him, ricocheted to hit him in the back of the legs, then bounced off the wall once more.
He never blinked. He was too busy glaring his outrage.
“Up,” Anja finally said, her expression saying that’s what she’d meant all along. “You screwed up. Why don’t you tell me how. Then we can find a way to fix it.”
