by Ann Macela
“Turn him this way, Tamara!” Francie yelled and wound up for another go.
“Holy hell!” Clay swore with disgust as he watched the women attack Brenner. Now he had to rescue the asshole. He plucked Tamara off Kevin and held her back with one arm. He used the other to pull Francie from the man, who crumpled to the floor groaning and bleeding.
Tamara kicked and screamed, “Let me go! I’ll kill him!”
Francie drew back her foot and shouted, “Rot in hell, you bastard!”
Just what he needed, a redheaded berserker in one hand and a blond amazon in the other. “Ladies! ” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Panting, the two women subsided.
“Francie, call the cops,” he ordered and gave her a little shake. “And tell them to alert Bill Childress.” He let her go.
Francie took a deep breath, shook herself, nodded at him, and went for the phone in the kitchen.
“Tamara, don’t move, just stand here,” Clay said. “Are you all right?”
“Almost.” She made a move toward Brenner, but Clay pulled her back.
“He’s not going to get up. Now, stay put, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed grudgingly and, glaring at Brenner, crossed her arms over her chest. Her body remained stiff with anger.
Clay let her go and bent to pick up the gun. Brenner for once had the good sense to say nothing; all he did was turn over on his back and groan again.
Francie came back in with some paper towels in her hand. “The police are on the way. Here, Kevin, use these.” She dropped the towels by his head.
“Go on and sit up, Brenner,” Clay said, “but don’t do more than that.”
Kevin gingerly sat up and pressed the towels against his nose. Clay was pleased to see the moron didn’t try anything else. He himself was still angry enough to let Tamara finish the job of beating the jackass to a pulp—and he wouldn’t mind getting in a few licks of his own.
“I hear sirens,” Clay said. “What did you say to get them here so fast?”
“A man with a gun forced his way into the place and was threatening to kill us.”
“What did you do to Kevin that he started yelling and pushed me away?” Tamara asked. “I was looking at Clay because I was thinking I should faint or something and give him an opening to attack Kevin.”
“I don’t know,” Francie said. An expression of wonder spread across her face, and she said again, “I don’t know.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The police arrived in a cacophony of sirens that brought out the neighbors, and a pool of spectators formed at the bottom of the stairs. The officers took charge of Brenner, who demanded to be taken to a hospital. He claimed his nose was both broken and burned. They sat him in a squad car instead and told him to shut up.
Clay, Francie, and Tamara were sitting in Francie’s living room when Bill Childress walked in. As the police lieutenant went straight to Tamara, Francie exchanged an eyebrows-lifted glance with Clay.
“Is everybody all right?” Bill asked, his eyes on Tamara.
Tamara nodded, and Clay said, “Everybody but Brenner.”
“Good. What happened?”
“Before we start again, I’m thirsty,” Francie announced. “Would anyone like some coffee or a soft drink?”
“Coffee for me,” Clay said. Several officers nodded.
“Tamara?” Francie asked and couldn’t help grinning when she had to ask again. Tamara’s attention had been totally on Bill.
Francie excused herself to make the coffee as the redhead said, “I had just come home from the shop, and Kevin came up behind me as I opened the door.” She then launched into her tale.
Clay followed Francie into the kitchen and took some cups from the cabinet while she fixed the coffee. “So what did you do to Brenner?” he asked in a low voice. “I was thinking about popping a light ball in his face, but then his nose seemed to catch fire. I know that wasn’t my spell.”
“I’m not sure what happened,” Francie replied in a whisper. “I was so furious with him, and my anger made me feel hot. Then I started thinking about the spell you tried to teach me, and my center began to tingle, and then it got hot, really hot, and it felt like something inside me was trying to get out. So I said, ‘Flamma! ’ and pointed at his nose. And this flame appeared! I don’t think I’ve ever been so shocked in my life.” Her center itched, and she rubbed it. “Now it’s bothering me again.”
Clay stared at her with a speculative look. “Darlin’, we have to get you tested. I think you may just have become a practitioner.”
“What? From the First Mating? But I thought it was impossible.”
“No, it’s probably just never been recorded as happening before. We’ll talk to Daria and my mother. They’ll know what to do.”
Francie looked at him helplessly. She was flabbergasted. One minute she didn’t believe in magic, the next, she could make it happen. As if to punctuate that thought, her center vibrated, and happiness seemed to spread throughout her body. All she could do was shake her head.
“Come on, the coffee’s done,” Clay prompted her. “We’ll talk it through later.”
Francie nodded and busied herself with the mugs.
The police finally took Brenner off to the hospital, and Bill walked Tamara back to her apartment. The neighbors who had come out to investigate the hullabaloo also departed.
Francie shut the door and turned into Clay’s arms. They hugged for a long moment, until Francie took a deep breath and leaned away from him. “Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For being here when we needed you.”
“Francie, you and Tamara didn’t need me.” He started laughing. “I thought she was going to kill the son of a bitch, and that was a mean body blow you gave him, not to mention setting his nose on fire. He’s lucky I was here to save him.”
Francie had to join in his laughter at that last claim.
“Now,” Clay said, “let’s get this place cleaned up and decide what we’re going to do about dinner. I’m starved, and it looks like Tamara has other plans.”
Francie mopped the entryway tiles, washing away the smears left by Kevin’s bloody nose, while Clay put the coffee cups in the dishwasher and rinsed out the pot. When she had replaced the cleaning utensils in the closet, she turned to him. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I agree. Throw what you need for tonight in a bag. We’ll go to my place and order pizza.”
Within ten minutes, they were on their way.
At Clay’s they ate and then called Daria and Bent. Both couples switched on their speakerphones. Clay explained what had happened, including the multicolored light show, his attempt to teach Francie the spell, and her successful casting of it against Brenner.
“Lights?” Daria said.
“A rainbow?” Bent asked.
“Yeah,” Clay replied. “Around us when we kiss.”
“I don’t remember lights, do you, Bent?”
“Neither do I,” Bent said, “but I do remember ‘internal fireworks,’ so to speak. Remember the first time we touched each other’s magic center?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Daria said. “Have you two tried it yet?”
“Yeah, but it was internal and external fireworks for us.” Clay grinned at a blushing Francie.
“This is embarrassing,” Francie whispered to him. She hoped he wouldn’t go into any more details.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispered back and kissed the back of her hand he was holding. “You know,” he continued in a normal voice, “that particular instance may be the moment when Francie actually became a practitioner, when she received the true enhancement from the First Mating. She couldn’t cast flamma before it. I know because I tried to teach her the spell. Her ability to see my spell aura—like you, Bent, can see Daria’s—could be just a secondary enhancement.”
“Man,” Bent said with a wistful note in his voice, “I’d really have liked to have seen Brenn
er’s nose go up in flames.”
“Clay,” Daria interjected in a worried tone, “you tried to teach her the spell by yourself ?”
“Yeah, well, I thought we’d see if she had gained the ability. Wishful thinking at that point, but it paid off later.” He shrugged at Francie.
She thought he looked very smug and sure of himself, but she had nothing to add to his statement. He was correct.
“Whatever else, Francie, you must be tested and quickly,” Daria said. “When I was undergoing all my magic studies, and the master teachers were trying to help me cast flamma, the one thing they all impressed on me was that an untrained practitioner is dangerous, both to herself and others. Don’t try to cast it again by yourself, or even with Clay. I saw novices with the power to burn down a building.”
Remembering Clay’s nonchalance about her attempt on his deck, Francie looked at him with consternation. “A building? Clay, we could have set fire to your house.”
He just shrugged. “I have a fire extinguisher.”
“So, what should I do next?” Francie asked after rolling her eyes at him. “I’m not even sure I can cast it again. And the thought I have become a practitioner is throwing me for a loop.”
“I’m going to take her to the HeatherRidge here,” Clay told Daria and Bent. “Francie, that’s a center for practitioners where we study and there are master teachers who can test and train you. We have them all over the country.”
“Clay, we’ve got to tell Mother and Daddy,” Daria said. “You both are going to need them. Think of what will happen when you march into the HeatherRidge and announce that a nonpractitioner has become one of us with a First Mating.”
“What?” Francie asked. “What will happen?”
“Oh, holy hell,” Clay said. “It will be a three-ring circus.”
“What? ” Francie said, her voice climbing.
“Don’t worry, Francie,” Daria said. “Practitioners all demand privacy. Mother will run interference with anybody who tries to invade yours. But I’d tell our parents soon.”
“Francie has the week off, so we’ll probably go see them in a couple of days.”
Francie opened her mouth to protest all these plans being decided for her, but Clay stopped her words with a kiss.
“It will be all right,” he murmured. Turning to the phone, he spoke into the microphone. “Listen, you two, thanks for the help. We’ll keep you apprised of events.”
“You’d better, big brother,” Daria said. “And Francie? We’re glad you’re Clay’s soul mate.”
“Thanks,” Francie said faintly. “I am, too.”
“Bye,” Clay said and punched the button to hang up the phone. He rose and held out his hand. “Let’s go to bed, darlin’. We can worry about all this in the morning.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Francie was probably exhausted, Clay thought as they walked into the bedroom. She looked a little shell-shocked, and he certainly couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t in the greatest shape himself.
He wondered if she accepted the fact that she had become a practitioner. Probably not, given her resistance to the whole idea of magic at first. She had, however, evidently accepted that they were soul mates. Thank God.
He took her into his arms. He wanted nothing more right this minute than to make love with her, renew their bond, cement their seal. He looked into her eyes and saw the smoke turn to flame. “Ah, Francie,” he murmured, “let’s set off some fireworks.” And he kissed her.
They undressed each other slowly, taking the time to linger with a touch, a rub, a slide of the hand or body. She lay down on the bed, and he joined her, propping himself up on an elbow and running his hand over her shoulder, around to cup a breast briefly, then down over her hip and thigh and back up to her breast again. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he flicked the nipple with his thumb and slid his top leg between hers.
“So are you.” She pressed one hand to his center and used the other to pull his head down for a kiss.
Lights began to play around them as he deepened the kiss and pressed into her magic center with his thumb while the rest of his hand held her breast. He could feel himself hardening, his muscles heating, his cock reaching for her. The desire, the need, the all-encompassing satisfaction running through him when she was in his arms made him want to shout with joy. His, she was his.
They still had to talk, settle some issues, like when she was going to move in, but it could wait. He knew his self-confidence drove her crazy, and he vowed to try to be a little more humble. How could he not in the face of their overwhelming feelings and need for each other? But that could wait also. He had another task at the moment: making love to his soul mate. He turned her to face him, pulled her top leg over his, and slid into her hot, wet, tight sheath—right where he was meant to be.
Francie let out the breath she had been holding when he thrust all the way in. Everything, the mess with Kevin, her own transformation into a practitioner, the need to talk with Clay about their future, every serious subject floated away as she filled with a rainbow of lights, overarching delight, a distinct easing in her heart—was it possible to have peace of heart as well as mind?—and him. He possessed her, all of her, as she possessed him. It was glorious, utterly glorious, and she gave herself over to him.
With arms wrapped tightly around each other and their centers touching, chest to chest, they made slow, enthralling love to each other.
She felt her body tightening as his thrusts reached her womb and he pressed tightly, further stimulating the nub of nerve endings at the entrance to her core. He wouldn’t be hurried, though, and he grasped her hips when she tried, holding her to an excruciatingly deliberate pace.
“Easy, darlin’,” he said against her lips, his voice deep and low. “We’ll get there.” And he resumed their kiss and his thrusts.
Just as Francie thought she’d burst from the internal pressure, her center seemed to catch fire. A corresponding blaze emanated from Clay’s chest, and it spread through their bodies, finally engulfing them in a dazzling incandescence echoed in the sparkling rainbow around them.
Minutes passed as they held each other afterward, waiting for their hearts and lungs to return to a normal pace. Eventually they were able to pull back enough to see each other’s eyes.
Francie couldn’t hold it in any longer. She looked in his eyes and said, “I love you, Clay.”
He grinned and gave her a small kiss. “Of course, you do. We’re soul mates.”
“Well?” she raised her eyebrows at him. He was still an overconfident, arrogant male, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time.
“Well, what?” He was still grinning.
“Do you love me?” She poked him in the ribs with a finger to emphasize the you.
“Of course, I love you. We’re soul mates.” He kept grinning. “We just proved it. I know,” he said in the face of her frown, “I need to say it more often. Daria gave me hell for not saying the words when I told you about practitioners.”
“At least one of the Morgans has good sense,” she stated, punctuating the comment with another poke to his rib cage.
He started laughing and captured her hand before she could do any more damage. “Francie, I promise I’ll say it to you every day of our lives. At least once. Probably more. I love you.” He kissed her tenderly.
“I love you, too,” she responded and kissed him back. “And if you don’t fulfill your promise, I’ll set your nose on fire.”
“Oh, darlin’, didn’t I tell you? Soul mates can’t affect each other with spells, except for healing and defense.”
“Your sisters said something about that, but I’d forgotten. How disappointing,” she pouted, then slitted her eyes at him in warning. “But I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will. That you can cast flamma reminds me of something else. What do you think about being a practitioner?”
She looked at him blankly for a moment as she tried
to force her mind around the concept. “I don’t know. It’s not real to me yet. I don’t know how I put a spark on the end of Kevin’s nose. I don’t know if I can do it again. Whatever I did could have been caused by the stress of the moment. I do feel different from the way I felt before I came over here yesterday, but my being somewhat ‘unsettled’ could all be caused by our being soul mates.”
“That’s my Francie, still needing to experience the proof with your own eyes. We’ll have you tested. I think you did become one of us, and I’m really looking forward to telling my parents. They’d love you anyway, but this will be the star on the top of the wizard’s hat.” He gave her a big grin and a hug.
Then he grew serious. “Now, the way I see it, we have some decisions to make. First, when you’re moving in here with me. Second, when we’re getting married. And third . . .” He was silent for a few seconds, “ . . . I can’t think of a third.”
She contemplated the earnest expression on his face. He’d made statements, not asked questions. He was going to have to realize she’d only put up with so much of that, and now was a good time to convince him of it. “Wait just a minute, Clay. First, I haven’t been asked to do either. Second, you shouldn’t assume you can always have your way.”
His face had fallen with her words, but he rallied quickly. “Francie, will you marry me?”
“Yes, I will.”
“When?”
“After I meet your parents and you meet mine and I take these tests you mentioned.”
“But that’ll take several weeks,” he complained.
“It will also give us time to plan the wedding. I know Tamara will want to help with my gown, and she’ll be my maid of honor, and we have to find a place, and send out invitations, and . . .”
“Enough! I give in! We’ll do all of it, and I’ll be patient—somehow—and stop making assumptions. Just do one thing for me, will you? Move in with me now. Or I’ll move in with you. Whatever, as long as we’re not apart.”
