“Yes,” Quin confirmed, “you’re an extremely special witch, but it’s not your fault things turned out the way they did.”
“I know it’s not my fault, but it’s a result of me.”
He took her chin and lifted her gaze. “Now that you’ve seen their memories, you know how much your parents loved you. They wouldn’t go back and change the fact that you were conceived for anything. They would change the way things ended for them, but you, they’d keep.”
“I know,” she whispered. “They loved like they breathed. And not just me—each other, even before they bonded. They were hooked the moment they met.”
“Some would call that fate.”
“Or a disaster waiting to happen.”
He shook his head. “Do you think Aedan and Rhosewen would have given up one second of their time together in order to live a longer life?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Me neither. Some things are worth dying for. Love is one of them, and you’re another.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’m not the only person who feels that way,” he added. “This entire coven would lay down their lives for you.”
“I would never want them to.”
“I know, but we’re protective of our family.”
“I saw how wonderful they are in the memories,” she recalled. Then her face and aura brightened. “I saw you as a baby.”
“Yeah?” he asked, grabbing a piece of fruit.
“Yes, you and your parents, on my mom and dad’s wedding day. How long did you have to stay in Alaska?”
“We came back about a year after Aedan’s death.”
“I’m sorry your family had to leave. That must have been hard on them.”
“We stayed with my mom’s family, so it’s not like we were lonely, and my parents are happy wherever they are as long as they’re together.” He waved a hand, vanishing the remaining pieces of apple. “Breakfast is in the kitchen.”
“Oh. Okay. So is it true I’m unlike anyone else?”
Quin waited for her to scoot off the bed. Then he took her hand and led her down the hallway and through the living room. “As far as we know there isn’t another like you, but there might be and we just don’t know about it. It’s not something one would shout to the world if they know what’s good for them. Not with people like Agro around.”
“So what does it mean?”
“Which part?”
“Well, I know bonded children are magically stronger, but what’s the difference between them and me?”
“Our coven has speculated about that for more than twenty-one years, but we have no way of knowing what to expect. Odds are you’re substantially more adept than other bonded children.”
“Is that what I’m called? A bonded child?”
“We’ve referred to you as a twice bonded child before, but there isn’t a title for what you are.”
He opened a swinging door, and she entered a spacious kitchen furnished with brand new, high-end appliances. The shiny counters and gadgets formed a horseshoe to her right, and to her left, illuminated by half a dozen, westward windows, stood a long, wooden table set for breakfast.
Quin pulled out a chair, and Layla took a seat in front of a plate of pancakes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he returned, taking the chair across from her.
She began eating, seemingly lost in thought, so Quin stayed quiet through his meal, trying not to stare too much.
Halfway into her pancakes, she set her fork down, drained her milk then got to her feet. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“There’s one off the hallway, one in the master bedroom, and another upstairs. Your grandma stocked the one in the master bedroom for you.”
“There are three?”
“Yes.” He stood and vanished their mess. “Would you like me to show them to you?”
“No. I’ll just use the one in the bedroom.”
“Okay,” he agreed, taking her hand. “I’ll use the one off the hall.”
When they reached the first door in the hallway, he released her hand and walked to the second. He smiled and winked before disappearing through it, and Layla’s heart fluttered as she entered the bedroom.
Opposite of the bed were two closed doors, and Layla couldn’t remember which one led to the bathroom. She tried the one on the left and ended up in a huge walk-in closet full of clothes. She wanted to look around, but needed the other door worse.
When she entered the bathroom, she halted and clutched the doorjamb, vividly picturing Rhosewen standing naked in front of the mirror. This was where she found out she was pregnant. This was where the pain began.
Layla’s chest tightened as tears stung her eyes, and she had to force her jelly legs inside. She quickly closed the door and leaned against it. Then she took a shaky breath and scurried across smooth marble.
After answering nature’s call, she walked to the vanity and washed her hands. As she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t help but visualize her mom staring back at her, and a sob burst from her chest. Heart twisting, she cringed and leaned on the vanity, rinsing her hands while trying to stem the tears, but more spilled with each shuddering breath.
“Oh god.” How was she supposed to live in a house full of memories that make her bawl? A house teeming with ghostly impressions she’d experienced firsthand. She could feel Rhosewen’s curse kicking in, pain shooting through her shins and spine, and yet, this intimate moment with her mom was invaluable, one of only a few Layla knew.
A soft knock on the door jolted her upright, and she scrambled for a tissue as Quin’s voice floated into the bathroom. “Layla?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, but her voice cracked, giving her away.
She wiped her face as she turned off the water. Then she tried to smooth her hair as she walked to the door. The moment she opened it, Quin pulled her into a hug.
“I’m okay,” she assured. “I just... I just...”
“You don’t have to explain, Layla. I know it must be hard to look around this house after what you’ve seen.”
“I don’t know if it will ever get better.”
“I think it will.”
“I hope so.” She took a deep breath and made sure her face was dry. “I’m okay now. It just came out of nowhere. One second I had control; the next it broke.”
He leaned back and found her eyes. “That’s okay, you know?”
“It’s going to have to be. I have no choice.”
“That’s not true. You don’t have to be here.”
“What else would I do? Return to Oklahoma like the average girl next door?”
“I beg that you don’t, but we could leave for a while if you’d like. Go to the beach or something.”
Layla was tempted, but she’d buried her head in the sand long enough. People were waiting for her to pull it together, and she already felt guilty for making them wait so long. “That wouldn’t be fair to my grandparents.”
“They’ll wait,” he assured.
“No,” she refused. “They’ve waited long enough. Did they even sleep last night?”
“They got some rest when you did.”
“Good,” she approved, speculating about the reunion. “I’m kind of scared to meet them. I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“Stop analyzing yourself,” he suggested, “and just do what comes natural. Emotions will be running thick when you meet, and everyone in the room will have to deal with them.”
“They’ll drown in mine,” she mumbled. “But I guess it’s time to stop being a wuss and meet the family who’s sacrificed so much for me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t feel that way. The sacrifices your grandparents made are the last things on their minds right now.”
“Maybe, but they’re very fresh in mine.”
“I guess they are. And I can see why that might make this difficult, but your grandparents will understand as well. They won’t hold your te
ars against you, and they’ll do whatever they can to make you feel better.”
“I know,” she whispered, recalling the way they’d held her in the memories—gently and ardently, like they never wanted to let go. “I’d like to shower and change before meeting them, but after that, no more putting it off. I swear.”
“You don’t have to promise me anything, Layla.”
“I’m promising myself.”
“I see.” He kissed her head then let go. “Where would you like to meet them?”
“Hmm...” She imagined him marching her across the lawn in broad daylight to meet her long lost family, and her stomach churned. “Would they mind coming here?”
“Not at all. How do you want to meet them?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to meet them all at once or one at a time? Should they let themselves in or should they knock? Or I could let them in and introduce you. You pick.”
Layla raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You’re a very thorough person, Quin. You’ve amazed me with your attention to detail several times.” And cue the dimples.
He didn’t disappoint, grinning as he touched her lips. “Thank you.”
She blushed and reached up, taking his finger from her twitching smile. Then she led him to the coffee table. “That’s a lot of decisions to make. Would you like to help me?”
“I would love to,” he answered, sitting in one of the cushy armchairs.
Before Layla could sit beside him, he spun her around and pulled her onto his lap. One of his arms encased her stiff shoulders as the other encircled her waist. Then he softly squeezed, urging her to loosen up. Layla took a calming breath then forced herself to relax, quickly realizing his lap was a fantastic place to be.
He grinned then buried his face in her hair, his aura flaring bright yellow and emerald green. “If this is the kind of help you need, count me in.”
His breath swept across sensitive flesh, and she giggled as she tilted her head. “This wasn’t what I meant by help, but it’s nice.”
He pressed closer, finding tingling skin with his lips, and she quivered from head to toe. “You’re a good distraction,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut.
He took a deep breath then pulled away. “Sorry. What can I help you with?”
Layla blinked and cleared her throat. “Right. Decisions. Can I get another cup of coffee first?”
“Let me see if Cinnia’s home,” he said, closing his eyes, and for the next several seconds, Layla watched his lids roll over pupils. When they opened, he lifted his right hand, catching a summoned cup of coffee.
“Amazing,” Layla marveled, taking the mug. “You’re thorough and expedient.” She sipped a few times then set the coffee aside. “Is mind searching as easy as you make it look?”
“Not always,” he answered. “Depending on the mind, it can be impossible, but Cinnia and I trust each other enough to let our guard down. She knew it was me knocking, so she opened up, but we don’t let just anyone in.”
“How do you block it?”
“You don’t have to keep it blocked. That would be exhausting. You’ll know if someone’s trying to connect. Then you protect yourself. Remember how I mentioned we’re good at compartmentalizing?”
“Yes.” That had been right after she found out she was a witch. How could a person forget a conversation like that?
“Well,” he continued, “it’s along those lines. You can’t erase what you know, but as magicians, we possess enough concentration to redirect thoughts from the forefront of our minds into hidden compartments. Once your secrets are concealed, create a new compartment filled with nonsense, then place it front and center for the intruder to find. We can also shield our skulls, which can prevent the intrusion altogether, but it’s wise to remember shields can be broken. Am I making sense?”
“Yes, and it sounds hard.”
“It is hard, but blocking is easier than searching, which helps protect our privacy.”
“Privacy,” she smirked, reaching for her coffee. The brew had already cooled, so she tried using magic to heat it up. The ceramic mug warmed, and she smiled as she sipped.
Quin grinned as he watched her drink. Then he inched back into her hair. “So,” he whispered, “do you need help with something else? Or should I go back to distracting you?”
Layla closed her eyes as she leaned into him, unable to stop herself. “Mmm... that’s a tough one, but we should probably get back to the point.”
“Did we have a point?” he asked, drifting his nose across her neck.
And that’s when Layla forgot she held hot coffee. “Damn.”
“What?” he asked, pulling away.
“You distracted me,” she accused, holding up wet fingers.
He took her hand and examined it. “Did it burn?”
“No, but it made a mess of things.”
“Nothing a little magic can’t fix,” he assured, cleaning her up. “So, what decisions do you need my help with? I think that was our point when we sat down.”
“Was it?” she asked, staring at her dry fingers.
“Yes,” he answered, taking her mug and floating it to the table, “but we can find a new point if you don’t like that one anymore.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows. “What about how incredible you smell?”
Her cheeks burned, but she somehow maintained eye contact. “I’m not sure that would make for stimulating conversation.”
“Who said anything about conversation?”
Layla laughed, but her insides flipped with a mixture of nerves and desire. “You are a good distraction, Quinlan Kavanagh, but you’re making me break my promise.”
“Well, Layla Love Callaway, we can’t have that. What can I do to help with your decisions?”
His use of her middle name caught Layla off guard. Only two other people had ever used it—her dad and Katherine. “What’s yours?”
“My what?”
“Your middle name.”
“Now who’s distracting?” he teased.
“It’s only fair,” she countered. “You know mine.”
“I love your middle name. It’s very appropriate.”
“You’re stalling,” she accused.
He laughed as he swept a curl across her nose. “Am not. It’s Farrel.”
“Hmm... Quinlan Farrel Kavanagh. I like it.”
He dropped her hair and touched a forefinger to her bottom lip. “Are you stalling?”
“No.”
She leaned into him, trying to decide which way would be the best way to meet her grandparents. “I think it would be weird to meet them one at a time, so I guess the four of them should come together. I also think it would be weird to answer the door to them, or for them to just walk in, so it would be nice if maybe you could warn me then let them in. It will still be awkward, but there’s no escaping that. What do you think?”
“What did you need me for?”
“Input. So you don’t mind letting them in? Or have a better idea?”
“Of course I don’t mind, and no, I don’t have a better idea of what you want than you do.”
“I guess that’s it then. Time to climb the ladder to the high dive.”
“That’s the scariest part.”
“So they say,” she mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder.
After a long moment of bliss, she leaned back and found his eyes. “Are you going to let me go so I can shower?”
“I have a choice?”
“Well I doubt I could successfully fight my way free.”
“Do you want to try?” he asked, dimples deepening.
“Maybe some other time,” she smirked.
“I look forward to it,” he replied, slipping one arm under her knees. He stood, picking her up with him. Then he lowered her feet to the floor. “There’s something I need before giving you your freedom.”
“Of course there is.”
He leaned in, stealing her breath with an intense kiss. Then he straighte
ned and released her. “Okay, off you go.”
She grasped his shoulder, trying to steady her balance and clear her head. “You make it hard for a girl to accept her freedom, Quin. Was that your goal?”
“Nope. I was hoping I could convince you to willingly return.”
“Clever,” she commended, taking a step back. If she stayed close to him, she’d never make it to the shower. “What are you going to do?”
He stiffened as the color and pace of his aura shifted. “I’m going to go tell your grandparents what’s going on, then go home and get cleaned up. I’ll come back to make sure you’re ready before having them come over.” He took a few steps toward the door then turned. “Sound okay?”
Though he was looking at her, waiting for her reply, Layla could tell he was distracted. “Sure,” she answered.
He resumed his trek to the door, but when she called his name, he paused once more. “Yeah?”
“What’s the dark green?” she asked. “Like forest green, but murkier.”
He flinched then squarely faced her. “It represents concern.”
“Hmm…” she hummed, watching the dark green eclipse the other colors in his aura. Only the emerald green could compete. “Would you like to tell me why you’re so concerned?”
He hesitated, looking at the ceiling as he rubbed his tense jaw, and after ten seconds of silence, Layla grew concerned. She hadn’t seen him this way since he revealed she was a witch. “What’s going on, Quin?”
He released a heavy sigh and met her stare. “Your grandparents might not be too happy with the way I’ve handled the situation.”
“Why?” she blurted, shocked by the explanation.
“They might find my behavior inappropriate,” he answered, “considering the circumstances.”
“I don’t understand,” she pressed, so he elaborated.
“I doubt they would approve of me sitting here kissing you while you’re going through something so difficult.”
“Oh,” she breathed, feeling like a fist had thumped her in the chest.
“I don’t want you worrying about this,” Quin insisted. “It’s my problem, not yours.”
Impassion Page 3
