by Bast, Anya
“I want to be alone right now. Can you leave, please?” she asked gently, while still staring at the talismans. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings—if Broder’s feelings could actually be hurt.
“No.”
She sighed.
Frowning, he studied each of the talismans in turn. “What do these spells do?”
“Don’t worry, they’re all innocuous. One blows pink and blue bubbles into the air. I think it’s meant as a party favor. Another makes the talisman sing like a bird, also a party favor. The last paints stars on your ceiling for the night.”
He nodded. “You picked spells that won’t cause harm.”
“Well, yeah.” She cast him an irritated glance. “What charms did you think I’d pick for my first time out, brain surgery by magick? Have a little faith in me.”
“Okay, so pick one.”
She frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t remember which one is which.”
Broder grunted. “So just pick one. They’re all fluffy, so no worries. We’ll be surprised.”
She winced. “Yeah, we might really be surprised.”
He looked at her. “You mixed them the right way, didn’t you?”
“I was very careful, but I’m flying blind here. Remember, I have no formal training.”
“Then invoke one.”
“Easy for you to say; you’re immortal.”
“Just do it, Jessa.”
Hesitating with her hand over the three objects, she chose the silver locket and held it up. “I really don’t feel like crying, so I guess tears are out of the question.”
Broder handed her a small knife.
She used it to prick the top of her index finger, then squeezed out a drop of blood. It welled, then dripped onto the open top of the charm. Immediately the magick within her chest pulsed, flared, and then exploded, sending a ripple of near-sexual pleasure coursing through her.
She gasped and Broder looked at her sidelong.
Clearing her throat—and her mind of a whole host of carnal imagery—she looked down at the talisman. It was glowing a soft blue. “Do you see that?”
Broder stared at it. “See what?”
“The locket is glowing blue.”
“Not for me.”
Then the blue intensified and was gone. Immediately, the room darkened and a night sky spread across the ceiling. “Oh … wow,” she breathed.
She rested back on her hands, face raised to the ceiling where a vast constellation spread from the farthest reaches of the room and back to the center. It was like being outside on a cloudless night, away from the city. “It’s beautiful.”
Broder gazed into the sky spread across the ceiling in silence.
“I always planned to put up little glow-in-the-dark stars in my children’s bedrooms. You know the kind?”
“No.”
She shook her head. “Of course you don’t. Anyway, there are these plastic stars you can buy that simulate stars at night. I had no idea I could do this.”
They stared at the ceiling for a while in silence.
Finally Broder spoke. “So, you want to have kids someday?”
“Yes. I can, right? I mean, my parents were seidhr, but they had me, so I guess it’s possible.”
“It’s possible, although the fertility rates for the seidhr aren’t high.”
“I guess the Brotherhood …”
“Cannot sire children or contract STDs. Not as long as we carry a sliver.”
“Ah. That’s right.” She swallowed hard, her cheeks growing warm. “You mentioned that before. I guess that’s a perk.”
“If you’re one of the brothers who can have sex, sure. Hasn’t done me much good until now.”
“Right.” She could hear the note of bitterness in his voice. She was the first in a thousand years, but it was nice they didn’t need condoms when they made love.
Made love. How stupid. It hadn’t been that at all. How could it be love when they had no hope of a future? She loved him, but what they were having was just sex. She needed to remember that—it would ease her hurt in the end.
“Broder, what’s the last thing you remember from your life … before?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, then his reply rang out chillingly in the peaceful air with its star-filled sky. “Blood. Lots of blood.”
Without another word, he got up and left the room, leaving Jessa with goose bumps all over her arms and legs.
TWENTY
“I think it’s wrong what they’re doing.” Molly’s voice sounded thready and tired. “If they were doing this to me, I’d be furious. Once she finds out the truth, she will be, too.”
Roan watched as Molly hugged herself while she gazed out the second-story stained-glass window. He knew what she saw: The blue tint made the front lawn look dreary.
Roan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t let Thorgest or Carolyn hear you say that.”
Sam tipped his chair back away from the table and rested his black boots on the top. Roan grimaced at him, but Sam ignored it. “I want to get the fuck out of this place, go back home. Everyone here is crazy.”
Sam was a three-hundred-year-old shaman and “home” was actually here in Scotland, but he’d spent the last hundred years in the seidhr enclave located in Baltimore, Maryland. He’d rejected this place a long time ago because of the way Thorgest ruled it. Roan was tempted to leave at times, too. It was his loyalty that kept him here. Sam didn’t have that trouble.
Roan walked over to stand beside Molly. She wore a glittery black tutu today, paired with a ruffled blouse with tiny pearl buttons and thigh-high platform boots. “I know his methods can seem cruel sometimes,” Roan answered, feeling a bit like the older brother and voice of reason, “but everything he does is for the good of the enclave.”
Sam grunted. “I’ll take Baltimore over this place any day of the week. I pity both of you.”
Roan glanced at him. “You know the Baltimore enclave will lose its protection if Thorgest dies without a successor. You depend on him. We all do. That’s why he needs our support, even if his methods are a little Machiavellian.”
“A little?” Molly snorted softly beside him. “Please.”
“Yeah, can hardly wait until they draw this poor unsuspecting woman into the enclave and chain her to the juggernaut. That will be a proud day for us.” Sam grinned.
Roan closed his eyes and marshaled his patience. He didn’t like it any more than anyone else. “Maybe she’ll want to take on the responsibility. Maybe she’s more like Thorgest than Abigail. After all, she’s never known her biological family; maybe she’s yearning for inclusion.”
Sam snorted. “Up until the day she meets her dear old great-grandpa, maybe.”
“They will convince her to come. You know they’ll make her, somehow, someway.” Molly turned and looked. “This witch without a drop of training could be our next leader. Doesn’t that bother either of you?”
“She’s got Egilson blood. She doesn’t need any training. Once she’s here all that power will rise to the surface and shine like a star. You’ll see. She doesn’t know it, but all the power is inside her; she just has to trust it. All she needs is a little guidance.”
Molly said nothing. She only crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw. Then she pushed away from the window and started pacing. “I think Carolyn should just suck it up and take the reins.”
Carolyn didn’t want to stay trapped in Scotland. She was strong enough to travel the world, live away from the seidhr. She was going to do all she could to manipulate Jessa into coming here for her own selfish reasons, because if Jessa didn’t take up the reins, she’d be forced to do it. Her freedom would come to an end.
“Keep dreaming.” Sam took a handful of small silver balls from his pocket and rolled them around in his hand. Every last one of them was a charm, separate from the powerful layered talisman he wore on a black cord around his neck. Sam had chosen a pewter
wolf for his personal sigil. It was a fitting symbol for him, as long as the wolf was a lone one.
“You’ve never liked Carolyn,” Molly shot at him. “What lies between you two that creates so much friction?”
“Carolyn is a selfish bitch,” Sam drawled, coming to his feet. “And my reasons for not trusting her are my own.”
Of course, Sam didn’t trust anyone. It was the result of his rather unstable upbringing. He and Jessa had a few things in common, although the difference lay in love. Jessa might not have been raised by her biological parents, but she’d had love in abundance. Sam hadn’t.
Once they’d obtained her name, they’d done the research. Abigail had made good provision for her daughter in the event of her death. By all accounts, Margaret Hamilton had raised Jessamine well.
“I’m out of here.” Sam, now standing, stretched out his impressive height and threw one of the silver balls he held onto the floor. The rune charm exploded into silvery sparks. Light twisted, along with the viewers’ minds and Sam shifted into wolf form. It was serious shaman juju and Sam did it well, even if one did need to forgive the showmanship.
The huge gray wolf shook his black mane and glared at both of them in turn, then he turned and leapt out the open window, gone.
“Show-off,” groused Molly, her arms crossed over her chest and the toe of one platform boot tapping. They watched him bound into the nearby stand of trees, looking deadly and beautiful all at once.
Roan narrowed his eyes at the swaying branches left in Sam’s wake. “He’s sold more magick, hasn’t he?” Sam had a history of acting as a sort of magickal mercenary. It was against the rules, but Thorgest looked the other way.
She shrugged a shoulder. “How should I know?”
He looked at her. “Come on, I know you’re sleeping with him.”
Molly gave him a look so cold, he swore his balls frosted a little. “What did you say?”
Bollocks, maybe he was wrong. “Molly—”
She rounded on him, one hand on her hip. “Just because every other witch in the enclave has slept with that whore doesn’t mean I have.”
“It’s just that—”
“Oh, I know what it is. You look at me, look at my clothes, and—”
“Molly …”
“And you think I’m a wild child, sleeping around.” She flung her arm wide.
“Molly, I’m sorry.” He held up a hand. “Really. I was an idiot to presume.”
“Yes, you were. And, yes, of course Sam has sold more magick. Everyone knows he’s a mercenary, for sale to the highest bidder.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be sleeping with him to know that.” The last part was spoken in a tone that clearly revealed her opinion of Roan’s level of intelligence.
She was probably right.
With a final huff of annoyed breath, Molly flounced out the room, tutu bouncing.
“This is for you.”
Jessa looked down into her lap and found an expensive-looking burgundy jeweler’s box. She touched the top and looked up at Broder. “What is this?”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “Just a little something for your magick.”
“Something for my magick?”
“A sigil, if you choose it. It might also be your talisman. Every witch and shaman has a focus object, something they layer their spells on. As long as they have this object on them, touching their skin, specifically, they have access to all the spells the talisman holds. They generally choose an animal or insect as a sigil. Then they find a talisman, a physical thing, like jewelry, that holds the sigil’s image or shape.”
Jessa opened the box and found a gorgeous sapphire, emerald, ruby, and gold dragonfly pendant on a chain. She gasped. “This is gorgeous.”
“A witch’s or shaman’s sigil is her or his personal symbol of power. You should not feel obligated to take the dragonfly as your sigil just because I gave it to you. It’s just temporary, until you can choose your own.”
She touched one of the delicate-looking filigreed wings that were tipped with yellow citrine and emerald. It appeared fragile, but she could tell it was actually very strong. “Why a dragonfly?”
“The first thing I thought of when I thought of you was a Jujyfruit.” He grinned at her. “But I also think of the dragonfly. It’s a symbol of transformation and self-realization.”
Jessa rose from the couch and walked over to him. She went up on her tiptoes and gave him a slow kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Broder. It’s probably the best, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”
His body tensed and hers responded, but she forced herself to ease away from him. She slipped the pendant into his hand. “Will you please put it on me?”
The pendant looked extra fragile in his large, rough hand. She doubted his big fingers would even be able to work the clasp, but he managed to open the tiny lobster claw. She turned, pulling her hair up and allowing him to drape the cool chain against the warm flesh of her neck. His fingers brushed her nape and sent shivers down her spine.
She turned, looking down at the dragonfly that lay just above her breasts. “I choose the dragonfly as my sigil. As soon as I know how to layer spells on this talisman, I’ll start working on it.”
She remained there, standing just in front of him. She simply didn’t want to move away. The heat of his body and the scent of him, all of it comforted her. A swell of emotion swamped her for a moment.
How she wanted to keep this man.
Reaching out slowly, she laid her palm against his chest, right over the place where his cold, soul-stealing demon sliver lay. “I know this relationship is doomed. I know that Loki will pull you from me. I want to hold myself away from you, to protect both of us from the future.” She raised her gaze to his. “But I’m having trouble with that.”
Broder cupped her nape and pulled her face flush against his, holding his mouth a breath’s space from hers. “I want you to stay with me.”
“I want that, too.” Her breath warmed his lips. “I would. Always, if I could.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. She could tell that he was fighting the urge to bite her, to mark her. She wanted him to do it. “You make me insane with need for you.”
Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Likewise, I’m sure.” Her hips pressed into his pelvis and she knew he would have her there, right now, up against the couch.
His mouth hovered over hers. “There’s no going back from this. You touch me, I want you. There’s a point when I have trouble stopping and I’m at it. Are you sure?”
She bit her lower lip. “I want you. I want you forever, Broder, but barring that … I want you right now.”
His hands moved to the small of her back and pulled her shirt over her head. He dropped it to the floor, leaving her clad from the waist up in only her bra, and cupped the back of her head, fisting his fingers in her hair hard, just shy of bringing her pain, and brought his mouth down on hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth and her body tingled, electrified from his touch and what she knew was about to happen.
She pushed his shirt up, revealing his hard, muscled stomach and the amazing sculpted plane of his chest. His skin was warm to her touch, hard steel covered by soft satin. Once his shirt was removed, her fingers went to the button and zipper of his jeans at the same time his fingers went to hers. They fumbled together, both eager to feel bare skin against bare skin. They unclothed each other.
Soon her smooth body slid against his. It nearly made her purr. Then she jolted, remembering something. “Erik isn’t going to walk in on us, is he?”
Broder’s full lips curved in a smile. He pushed her back, so she tumbled onto the couch. “He’s gone for the morning.”
“Good thing.” She relaxed back into the pillows.
He stood, his gaze traveling from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes and not missing an inch of bare skin in between. All she wore was the dragonfly pendant. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re gorgeous?”
&
nbsp; She smiled, her cheeks heating. “A few times.”
“Then let me show you.” He came down over her body. “With my hands and my tongue and my—”
She gasped as his fingers moved between her legs. “Yes, please show me,” she breathed. “I want to be shown.”
His lips brushed against hers with gentleness surprising from a man like him. She fought through the fog in her mind, trying to grasp some thread of sanity. It kept slipping away like the memory of a dream in the morning. It didn’t help that he was stroking her nipple, making her squirm. Molten pleasure warmed her once more. He touched her as if her body were completely owned by him.
