Witches Can't Fly (Otherworld Crime Unit Book 3)
Page 21
Lyra shivered remembering the mistress’s alien yellow slitted eyes glaring down at her. She was going to have nightmares for a long while.
Councilmen of Necropolis were already looking for a new mayor. Lyra shook her head, knowing that Laal had already tossed in his hat for the election. Funny thing was, she’d probably vote for him. He had come through the OCU in the end, and she realized that he really did have the lab’s best interests at heart. And it wasn’t like he could be worse than the mistress. At least they all knew that Laal was definitely a vampire and not anything else foreign and malevolent like a demon.
He was a pompous ass but at least he wouldn’t murder a bunch of people to open a gateway to hell.
Everything was getting back to normal after almost a year of turbulence in the lab, and murder and mayhem on the streets. The main lab was being rebuilt. Gwen was up and about, already complaining about the job the construction workers were doing with her space. Rick, her human devotee, was running after her, doting on her like a love-sick puppy.
Jace and Tala had even been by earlier to tell her that they were expecting a baby. And that they wanted Lyra to be the spiritual guardian. She’d been touched and ended up sobbing into Tala’s shoulder. Tala had just patted Lyra’s back, likely suspecting that her tears were from more than just their pregnancy. Once they left—Jace in a hurry after Lyra’s display—Lyra wiped her eyes dry and promised herself she wouldn’t cry again...at least for the rest of the day.
But when she stood up, brushed again at her pants, and turned toward the patio deck, she suspected she wasn’t going to be able to keep that promise.
“Bonjour, Lyra.”
She nearly sighed at the sight of him. In khaki pants and dark green polo shirt, his hair unbound and rustling in the breeze, he looked damn sexy standing on her deck with a box of small plants in his arms. Heart racing, she walked toward him, wiping at the dirt she was certain was streaked all over her face.
“I brought you some herbs that I knew you didn’t have.” He set the box on top of the picnic table. “I brought some wormwood, motherwort, hawthorn and a few others from my own garden. A talented witch should have these things.”
He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously, as she moved to stand in front of him. She took in everything about him, afraid that he would disappear; as if he were an illusion conjured up from her unconscious mind.
He met her gaze and she could see the nerves zinging through the stormy gray depths. “You look better. How are you feeling?”
She showed him her hands and arms. “Almost healed.”
“Bon.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I heard everyone received their just rewards.”
She nodded. “Ankara is dead. Nadja too. Everyone else is stewing in a jail cell.”
“The captain found the bomber, oui?”
“Yeah. It ended up being one of Gwen’s assistants. A vampiress heavily under Nadja’s influence. She’d only been working with us for eight months.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Gwen’s taking it the hardest. She thought she should’ve known of the girl’s intentions.”
He nodded. “Yes, well we cannot always know people’s intentions.”
“No we can’t.” Lyra struggled not to cry. All she wanted to do was wrap herself in the warmth and security of Theron’s arms. But at this point she couldn’t really be sure of that security.
He must’ve heard the inflection in her voice because he put his hand up to stop her from saying anything further. “Let me talk before you yell at me, slap me or walk away from me. Or maybe you want to do all three.”
“Theron—“
“Please, Lyra, let me finish.”
“Okay.” she sat at the picnic table, realizing her knees were wobbling and wouldn’t support her for long anyway.
“D’accord.” He started to pace in front of her, wringing his fingers together. “Firstly, I apologize for leaving suddenly without word, but you were unconscious and I had to return home to see about my father. After what the mistress inferred about him, I had to make sure he wasn’t involved with any of this.”
“And was he?”
“No. He may be an immoral highly irreproachable man but he’s not psychotic with delusions of god-hood.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Secondly, I was scared of my feelings for you, so I needed some distance to reconcile them, figure them out, put them into perspective.”
“And are they reconciled?”
“Oui, very much so.” He stopped pacing and stood gazing down at her intently. Nerves suddenly gripped her and she started to quiver. “And lastly, I had to return home for this.”
He held out his hand, palm up. Craning her neck she looked into it. There was nothing there. Keeping her gaze, he waved his other hand over his palm, and when she looked again, a small circular piece of silver sat in his hand.
It was a ring. The most beautiful ring she’d ever seen in her entire life. It was the ring from Theron’s collection. The one she wished a man would give to her one day. This man.
Tears brimming in her eyes, she reached for it, but it disappeared before she could touch it.
“Where did it go?” she asked, panic grasping her tight.
Reaching down, Theron took her left hand and held it in his. “Right where it should be.”
She looked down at her hand and saw the ring on her finger. It warmed her skin where it touched.
“Mon cuer entier. My whole heart and more. I’ve never wanted anything in my whole life as much as I want you, ma petite sociere. Will you do the honor of being my wife?”
She nodded, unable to form words. “You had me at ‘I brought you some herbs’.”
Grinning, Theron stood and wrapped her in his arms, pressing her so close she could hear the thumping of his heart. A sound she gloried in hearing again. It sounded pure and perfect, and she vowed never to mistrust it again.
Cupping her cheeks with his hands, he said, “I am completely and utterly in love with you, Lyra Magice. Everything about you is magical.”
Sighing, she fisted her hands in his hair and brought his mouth to hers. She kissed him with everything she had, and everything she was. Here was her soul mate, and she finally felt complete.
Destiny, darling. Destiny.
They both pulled away and Theron said, “Eleanore is a very wise woman.”
Wide-eyed, Lyra stared at Theron. “You can hear her?”
“Yes.” Smiling, Theron swept her up into his arms and carried her across the deck to the balcony doors. “But I’m hoping she’ll give us some privacy for let’s say four hours. There are many things I need to show you.”
“Like what?”
Nuzzling her ear, he whispered into it.
The blush rose from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “Are you sure that’s even possible?” she stuttered, sweat already starting to trickle down her back at the prospect of what he proposed.
He nibbled on her chin. “Trust me. We’ll figure it out.”
She did trust him. Mind, body and soul.
Sliding open the glass door with his foot, Theron carried her across the threshold and into the house.
THE END
Want another story of the Otherworld Crime Unit? Look for BLOOD TO SPILL, where Kellen Falcon travels from Necropolis to Nouveau Monde to find a cure for his rare blood disease...
OTHERWORLD CRIME UNIT: Necropolis
Blood Doesn’t Lie – October 30, 2017
Wolves Don’t Cry – November 20, 2017
Witches Can’t Fly – December 11, 2017
OTHERWORLD CRIME UNIT: Nouveau Monde
Blood to Spill – January 11, 2018
Magic to Thrill – February 11, 2018
Time to Kill – March 11, 2018
About the Author
Nova Archer writes paranormal suspense books and lives in Canada with her daughter and two cats. You can sign up for her newsletter to learn about new releases, sales, and other i
nteresting tidbits about the Otherworld Crime Unit. You can also follow Nova on Facebook.