Circle of Dreams (The Quytel Series Book 1)

by Jane S. Morrissey

  Despite his better judgment, Cole gave her the full rundown about his investigation into the murder of psychics, focusing on the last two they had followed to the warehouse. He was careful to leave out any information that might compromise his team or their case.

  When he got to the part where he’d touched the dead woman and been catapulted into their shared vision, Bri’s entire body tensed, lines furrowed her brow, and she listened to every detail of his description with a shocking intensity. His wolf’s senses could discern the quickening of her breath and the sudden heat in her body when he told her about the compulsion, the pearl planted deep in his core that had driven him to find her.

  Bri started pacing again. “So we somehow shared the same nightmare, or vision, and you got a compulsion to find me—which you accomplished rather quickly.”

  “Thank you.” He wondered at her game as she traced a path across the small room.

  “And this all happened when you touched one of the latest victims,” she repeated, piecing the details together.

  “Yes.” Touching the dead woman’s body had definitely plunged him into the vision and apparently her nightmare.

  “I wrote a story for the Seattle Times about a similar case. The description of the bodies you discovered sounds quite similar to the ones found here. Talk on the street is it’s a serial killer.”

  “I read part of your story,” he said. “It was good.”

  “Part?” She eyed him with a hint of haughty disdain.

  He smiled at the defensiveness in her tone. “I was on my way to your place and got rudely interrupted.”

  She gave him a small smile that went straight to his groin. Already laid out like a bug under glass, he had no hope of hiding his body’s reaction to her.

  “So you’re the psychic. What does all this mean?” she asked with a flare of humor.

  He nearly laughed. “I’m trying to figure that out.”

  “How’s it going?” There it was again, earnest curiosity mixed with a hint of playfulness. If they’d met on the street, they might have had a chance.

  “Considering my current situation, I’d say I’ve hit a snag.” He grimaced, reigning in his errant thoughts. Bri was a pretty woman, right up there at the top of his list. The damn pearl, the vision. Too much about the intensity of his attraction didn’t fit. He couldn’t trust anything he felt for her.

  His troubled eyes met hers, and humor faded. In its place desire ran between them. An electrical current. He cursed his heightened animal sense. Her musky scent filled the air and her breath quickened.

  “I should go.” She inhaled sharply, a horrified flash of accusation crossed her face. “Did you do this to me? Make me so attracted to you that I’d forget myself?”

  “No,” he protested, his body pulsing with need and no way to stop her from leaving. “I didn’t do this, Bri. Damn it.” Cole strained ineffectually against the cuffs, something in the metal making him weak.

  “You’re not natural,” she whispered. Turning, she ran out of the room.

  Damn it! The wolf whined sympathetically. Cole pressed his head into the mattress and closed his eyes in utter frustration.

  Chapter 9

  Mack stood over the large gas stove, with two pans going and the beginnings of a pile of French toast on the counter next to him. Bri’s stomach grumbled at the thick aroma of fried bread hanging in the air. Comforting morning sunlight warmed the earth-tone Spanish tiles on the floor. The large kitchen had been remodeled since she’d last been here, with updated appliances and a modern flare.

  Taking a deep breath, Bri prepared to face Mack and what her life had become overnight.

  “I always forget what a good cook you are.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her dark green corduroys.

  Mack tossed her a smile over his shoulder. “Your favorite.”

  “French toast.” Her mouth already watered in anticipation. “Guilt-cooking?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

  “Never mind.” Some of the tension left her. This felt more normal, like old times. “Coffee?”

  “Over there.” He pointed with the spatula to a coffeepot on the counter, steaming with black liquid.

  Bri poured herself a cup and carried it to the farm-style table. She glanced out the large picture window, taking solace in the majesty of the mountains. This view never changed. She turned at the sound of sizzling toast and watched as Mack dipped large slices of whole-wheat bread into his famous batter and laid them out two at a time in the frying pan. The man she’d always considered a beloved uncle was centuries old and looked her age. He’d seen more in his life than she could imagine.

  They could never return to normal, not now.

  “How long have you been doing magic?” she asked. “Is that what you’d call it? Or psychic ability?”

  Mack removed the French toast from the pan and laid two more batter-soaked pieces of bread side by side before he turned to face her. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and leaned on the counter.

  “You can call it whatever you want. The terms don’t matter much. Psychic ability and magic are intertwined. Some have more affinity for spells, potions, and the occult than others.” He gestured with the spatula. “It is essentially all the same in the end.”

  This morning she’d been determined to keep an open mind about otherworldly phenomena. If these things existed, which she could no longer really deny, she needed to learn as much as she could about it.

  “Were you born with the ability?” she questioned, taking a grateful sip of hot coffee.

  “In a manner of speaking. There are many people in the world who have psychic abilities of varying strength, and many more who have latent abilities only triggered under the right set of circumstances. A handful of the most powerful of those with natural ability have a genetic marker, meaning they could become Quytel.”

  “How did you know you had this marker? And what does it mean to be Quytel?”

  “We are an ancient order, sworn to maintain the balance of power on earth. There are seven Circles whose territories roughly correlate to the current continents. Each Circle is made up of fourteen Quytel. One Commander, seven Warriors, three Judges, and three Seekers. It’s the Seekers’ duty to find, protect, and train young psychics. There are only a handful who can become Quytel, and only Seekers can determine who they are.”

  “So a Seeker found you when you were how old?” She’d become captivated by the fantastic tale.

  He shrugged again. “Maybe fourteen or fifteen. The training is arduous and the initiation deadly. Every decade there are only a handful of people with psychic abilities who are also born with the marker. It is rare that one actually survives to become Quytel.”

  “Sounds barbaric.” She held back a shiver as she imagined what he’d been through as a teenager. It made her think of her father. Jonah would have been through the same thing at some point. “Why did he keep it from me all these years?” she asked, not bothering to cover the hurt and accusation in her voice.

  “The time wasn’t right.”

  “And now it is?”

  “Clearly. And now you are a target. Jonah will be here shortly and will tell you all you need to know.”

  Bri took another long swallow of hot coffee, watching him over the rim of the brown mug. She couldn’t imagine the notoriously tight-lipped Jonah telling her everything.

  Mack poured a mixture of scrambled eggs into a pan and turned the heat on medium. “Watch this while I go get the prisoner.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest. “What do you mean, get him?”

  “He has to eat, Bri,” Mack replied impatiently, heading for the door.

  “With us?” she squeaked. Hastily she amended, “I could bring him food later.”

 
He stopped and crossed the room to her, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He won’t be able to hurt you, Bri.”

  She swallowed the lump lodged in her throat. Her cheeks burned, and she stared into her coffee cup to avoid looking at him.

  “Mind the eggs while I go grab him,” he reminded her, pointing to the stove.

  Bri nodded absently, her stomach churning as her mind drifted to last night and the way it felt to be with Cole. Confusion topped the list. She was too embarrassed to ask Mack if she might be under a compulsion or spell like Cole. It disturbed her to be drawn to him so intensely.

  When she’d finally managed to drift off to sleep, her dreams had been erotic and terrifying. She’d felt the touch of his lips on hers and heat building like an inferno in her belly, her body one long aching need for this man, and he’d morphed into a snarling wolf.

  She wasn’t worried about him hurting her, as much as fretting about how much she wanted him. She’d never been this attracted to anyone in her life. And what she’d said to him last night? He didn’t deserve that. Even as “You’re not natural” had passed her lips, she knew she didn’t believe it. She wanted to apologize or explain, but not in front of Mack. He’d have a fit if he knew she’d visited Cole last night.

  Bri spun at the sound of footsteps a few minutes later. Mack came into the kitchen with Cole in tow, handcuffed with his arms in front of him. In the light of day he was breathtakingly handsome with strong, masculine features and tanned skin that held a perfect amount of roughness. His broad shoulders made him seem taller than she remembered.

  His gray eyes heated, scanning her body, sending a shiver down her spine. Her mouth went dry. Tingles of desire spread from low in her stomach to her core. How could he do that to her with just one glance?

  The smell of burning eggs suddenly tickled her nostrils.

  “Damn it, Bri!” Mack growled. He shoved Cole toward the table by the window. “Sit,” he ordered, brushing Bri aside and pulling the pan off the burner.

  “Luckily this is salvageable.” He glared at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, grabbing three plates from the cupboard and crossing quickly to the table. What is wrong with me? She felt like a teenager with a helpless crush. Fumbling with the plates, her body flushed with an awkward combination of desire and shame. She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

  Mack glanced at Cole, his hard eyes unyielding. “And I don’t want to hear anything else from you unless it’s an answer to my goddamn questions.”

  Cole met Mack’s glower and then stared pointedly at his arm, where a wound from the wolf’s attack last night should have been. Bri saw him take in that surprising detail and raise a questioning eyebrow, but he didn’t look at her.

  Mack’s expression shifted, and his body tensed.

  Cole must have noticed immediately because he tightened up, suddenly on alert. Two powerful, dangerous men.

  Bri’s chest thumped loudly as her gaze ping-ponged between them. And then a man walked through the door unannounced, silent and cold, an arctic wind blowing in off the sea.

  “Jonah!” Bri stood quickly, nearly knocking over her chair.

  Her adopted father exuded power, filling the room with a commanding presence. His light brown hair was cropped close to his head, and Bri caught the same ageless quality about him she hadn’t really noticed before.

  She and her father looked nearly the same age. A stab of bitter betrayal shot through her.

  Ignoring the men, Jonah crossed to her and pulled her into a brief hug.

  Bri was so startled she didn’t have time to return his embrace. He pulled away almost as fast and caressed her face lovingly.

  “You’re okay.” He made it a statement and said it with a confidence that meant there could be no other answer.

  She nodded tentatively, a thousand questions spinning through her mind.

  “I know we have a lot to talk about, especially after today, and we will,” he told her firmly. He didn’t wait for her response before he turned to the men in the room and zeroed in on Cole. His piercing blue eyes, coolly assessing, took in every detail. “Mr. Courtland, I see you found my daughter.”

  Cole nodded and leaned back in his chair with deceptive casualness, cuffed hands resting lightly in his lap, his long legs crossed under the table.

  Jonah held Cole’s attention; neither man blinking or turning away. Bri stiffened. Jonah was intimidating to almost anyone she’d ever met, and that was on a good day when he wasn’t particularly disturbed by anything. Today he appeared menacing, truly powerful, and she had no idea of what he was capable.

  “Tell me how you found out about her.” A not-so-subtle warning underscored the question Jonah posed to Cole.

  Cole remained restrained by more than bonds. Mack had infused them with a spell of some kind. If he shifted, the wolf would be worse off than he was in human form. Plus, he couldn’t look away from the man standing in front of him. Bri’s father appeared to be a lot more than a wealthy businessman, judging by the power crackling in the air around them.

  “Mr. Courtland,” Jonah said quietly. “I must insist on an answer.”

  Cole suddenly experienced the unpleasant sensation of a sharp mental probe. Like a long, thin needle slipping into his mind, it wormed past every barrier he tried to erect, a warning and exercise of power. He didn’t know what the man searched for, but Cole doubted he would be able to hide anything from one of the most powerful psychics he’d ever encountered.

  Words started pouring out of his mouth, filling the kitchen with vivid images of his vision; how he found Bri with the help of his sister and the strange compulsion the witch had planted in him. He was appalled he could so easily divulge every secret, even the wolf, to this man. The magic probe prodded him on.

  “Mr. Courtland.” Jonah raised an eyebrow when he had finished. “This is indeed a wild story.”

  Cole shrugged and glanced over at Bri, watching him closely. She was beautiful to be sure, and the fact she thought him unnatural wasn’t altogether unexpected. He’d likely never know if the damn pearl was responsible for their chemistry or if it really was that explosive. Perhaps it was best to leave well enough alone.

  “Mack, release him,” Jonah ordered.

  Cole eyed him, but could get no reading on what was in the man’s mind.

  Mack gave Jonah a long, hard stare, but complied, pulling the key out of his pocket. His golden eyes flicked over Cole’s face in a brief warning before he unsnapped the cuffs, clearly not happy about the decision.

  Let the man think what he wants. He didn’t trust Bri’s father, Mack, or the situation. The wolf crouched low, ready for a fight, feeling edgy and caged. At least for the moment, the beast agreed with him. They needed to be cautious and cunning, bide their time, wait for the moment to escape.

  Bri watched him with a worried expression, gripping her hands together in a tight knot in front of her. His attachment to this woman couldn’t be normal, yet seemed to be growing. He didn’t want to be drawn in by her vulnerability, her beauty, or her strength.

  Jonah’s power claimed Cole’s attention. Thought disappeared, and he felt the invasive probe bleed into every part of him. His mind. His body. His soul. No secrets left. Jonah saw his early childhood—a frightened pup cowering in the corner, bloody from his father’s brutality. Their near-starving trek across the country to escape such abuse. Even his desire for Bri. Everything Cole was, laid bare and open to this man.

  Though Cole did his best to block the invasion, Jonah ruthlessly searched, gathering data, anything and everything about who he was, every deep dark place inside him exposed to the harsh light of day. He couldn’t hide from the devastation and elation, heartbreaking and freeing, all at the same time.

  “Jonah!” Cole heard Bri’s protest, sharp with concern.
She sounded oddly far away. “Jonah, what are you doing? Stop.”

  “Bri.” He identified Mack’s voice. Was he trying to comfort her or pull her away? He couldn’t tell, couldn’t move or speak. Numbness ate away at caring, and even the wolf remained strangely silent, enthralled.

  Jonah released him so suddenly he nearly toppled out of his chair, but managed to stand up quickly.

  “What the hell was that?” Cole demanded, breathing heavily. He glanced between Jonah and Mack, feeling more exposed than he ever had in his life.

  Bri glared at Jonah and then crossed to stand in front of Cole, almost protectively. The move was unexpected, to say the least.

  “What did you do to him?” she demanded.

  Jonah shrugged with a casual power, showing a general disinterest in her distress. “I had to be sure,” was all he said, and Cole tried not to flinch as the man’s attention settled on him again. “And now I am.”

  “Sure about what?” he bit out through clenched teeth, reeling from the exposure of every detail of his tortured past and every dark part of his soul.

  Jonah’s cool gaze gave nothing away. He was a man used to being obeyed. “I’m deciding to trust you not only with my daughter’s protection, but also with the secrets of our kind,” he said. “I do neither lightly.”

  Cole clenched and unclenched his fist. The men in Bri’s life tried his patience. It felt as natural as breathing to be her protector and champion, and his urge to protect her even from them rode him hard. The pearl throbbed in agreement, and he flinched internally.

  This supernatural enchantment had brought them together, and it seemed he was helpless against it, even as the better part of his brain flashed a big red danger sign at the thought.

  “I would protect her with my life,” Cole found himself admitting, meeting the intensity of Jonah’s gaze head-on, the weight of truth in his statement.