by T. M. Cromer
Selene loved their teasing. She was certain she could listen to them go at it all night. Yet, it made her sad to think she’d never developed a closeness with her brother. Quite possibly because he was completely mad and became a sociopath when he grew to adulthood. That tended to put a damper on relationships.
Preston found Georgie Sipanil firmly ensconced in Sebastian’s study with a teapot hovering in the air in front of her and pouring steaming liquid into a cup all on its own. He grinned. Ah, the fun of magic. One could simply enchant an object to do their bidding. Sure, most of the younger crowd liked to hide what they could do, but those like Georgie and her ilk performed simple tasks without a second thought.
She hadn’t noted his presence yet, and he didn’t alert her. He enjoyed watching others. It allowed him to glimpse beyond the general surface of a person. Looking at Georgie, someone would see a woman who appeared to be in her late fifties. Her hair had turned white long ago, and she didn’t bother with a glamour spell to alter the color. She didn’t need to. She was still a striking woman. Her nose was on the long side, and her mouth was too wide for most conventional tastes, but her eyes were large and lavender, like Elizabeth Taylor. Although petite and wiry, Georgie was a powerhouse of magic and energy. The only indication she was in her late nineties was her misshapen hands. Witches didn’t escape the rigors of things like rheumatoid arthritis if it was in their genetic makeup.
Preston’s gaze dropped to the gnarled hands turning the stiff page of the grimoire. It was most probably made of some type of human skin or leathered animal hide which lent to the stiffness. Georgie didn’t appear bothered by what she held. She seemed intrigued.
“Are you going to stand there all day, boy?” she asked.
“I thought I was being stealthy.”
“You’re being creepy.” She shot him a censuring look. “Come. Sit beside me and have a cup of tea. I want to show you what I’ve found.”
When he settled next to her, she plopped the heavy spellbook in his lap. “Flip back to the page with the silk marker.”
Overcoming his aversion to the idea of human-skin pages, he did as she ordered. The entire two-page spell was in a language he had never learned to read. “I can’t make it out. What am I looking at?”
“The spell to get to the Netherworld.”
He gaped at her, and she tapped his chin as she chuckled.
Preston focused on the weathered pages again, wishing like hell he’d had the affinity for languages Spring had. “How difficult is it to carry out, and what do we need to accomplish it?”
“A teleportation disc, for one.”
“Isn’t it great Knox already snagged one from a vault.” He smiled. “What else?”
“That’s it, other than seven elementals.”
“Wait, we don’t need Lin, Victor, and the others?” Hope began to build in his chest.
“Oh, no. We do. Each elemental needs a match, and those opposites need to have enough magic to get them through the portal. But no more than that.” Her smile was triumphant.
“And to get back? Do we need those same matches?” He prayed like hell they didn’t.
Georgie’s smile faded, and she looked troubled. “There’s no return spell.”
Preston simply stared at her, convinced he’d heard wrong. “Pardon?”
“There’s no spell to return to this dimension.”
He jumped up and flung the spellbook on the sofa, swearing a blue streak as he went. Once again, the desire to break things nearly overwhelmed him. Not one prone to violence, he was bothered by his need to get physical.
“Preston, my boy, please take a seat. Your pacing is distracting.”
He shifted to glance back at her, seeing she’d already picked up the grimoire and was thumbing through it. “How the hell do we safely return home, Georgie? I can’t let my family go if there is no way back.” He didn’t try to hide his worry. If anyone would understand, it would be her.
“I know, my dear. It’s why no one is going until we have a solid plan.”
After striding to where she sat, he squatted in front of her and clasped her hands. “I love you, Ms. Georgie. You’ll never understand how much you mean to this family. To me, in particular.”
Placing her misshapen hand against his cheek, she smiled. Her lavender eyes were lit with affection. “I believe I do. I love you, too, and I intend to see you live to see your great-grandchildren running about.”
He swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat and blinked back the stinging moisture from his eyes. “I’ve no doubt if it can be done, you’ll be the one to do it,” he said huskily. “When you have it worked out, just tell me what you need, and I’ll move heaven and earth to get it for you.”
“That’s what I like. A can-do attitude.” She patted his cheek and gestured to her teacup. “Hand me that, won’t you?” After she took a sip, she sighed. “Perhaps it’s why I adore your family so much. There isn’t one Negative Nelly in the bunch. Rascals and rebels, yes. But once any of you set your mind to something, you do it.”
“We aim to please.”
“Go on. Go please that young woman of yours, and leave me to my research.”
“I’ve already done that. Multiple times.” He used his forearm to swipe at the imaginary sweat on his brow. “She’s insatiable, Ms. Georgie. Take pity on me and marry me already.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she trembled with her laughter. “You rogue!” she finally managed. “Be gone with you.”
“Fine, but it’s heartless of you to lead me on this way.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “How many men’s hearts have you crushed with your dismissal?”
“Countless.”
“Just as I thought!” Preston stole a quick kiss, causing her to blush prettily. With a wink, he strolled away, whistling a bawdy tune she was sure to recognize.
Her burst of laughter made him grin.
Goddess, he adored that woman!
Chapter 26
“Preston, it’s time to wake up.” Selene brushed his thick auburn hair back from his forehead. “Wake up, agápi mou. We have work to do.”
His lashes fluttered, and when he turned his sleep-heavy gaze her way, Selene’s heart stuttered in her chest. This morning, his expressive eyes were golden and filled with love. They smoldered and told her exactly where his mind went first thing.
“You wore me out last night and again this morning, my love. Surely I deserve a bit of rest?” he teased.
He shifted more fully on his side, and his erection brushed the flat plane of her stomach.
“Your words say one thing, but your actions say another.” Although heat curled low in her belly and her breasts grew heavy with want, she gave him a brisk kiss and a no-nonsense glare. “We don’t have time for this right now.”
“I say we do.” He rolled on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows and pressing his penis against her already wet core. “They can’t start the party without us.”
“True.” She reached down and stroked him. His moan brought a satisfied smile to her lips. “In that case, I’m up for anything.”
His eyes flared wide. “Anything?”
“Anything you can do within a fifteen-minute window of time.”
“Challenge accepted!”
She meeped when he forcefully plunged into her, and he paused to ask, “Too hard?”
Wrapping her legs around his hips and crossing her ankles, she locked him in place. “Not at all. I was merely surprised you went straight for the prize.” She thrust up so he was fully embedded inside, and she contracted the walls of her vagina, tightening around him. “I don’t mind it hard. I prefer a hard man.”
He barked out a laugh that morphed into a groan as she shifted her hips and thrust again. “Fuck! You’re going to kill me, but I’m going to die a happy man this time around.”
She stilled. “Don’t joke about dying.”
His gaze seared into hers. “I’m sorry, Selene. I’ll not leave you if I can
help it.”
“Same,” she whispered past her suddenly aching throat. She suspected the tightness was due to the thick emotion she was experiencing at the possible loss of Preston, but she wouldn’t explore that line of thought.
Their next kiss was tender but packed with the love they shared. Once they broke apart for air, they began to make love in earnest. Neither could get enough of the other, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on Selene’s part. Nor Preston’s, based on the fierce thrusts and mind-drugging kisses.
When she came, light burst behind her eyes and she screamed his name. With a few murmured words of endearment and a hoarse “fuck, yes!” he finished shortly after her.
Too spent to do more than flop her arms and legs on the mattress, she smiled her happiness. “That wasn’t even close to fifteen minutes. I feel cheated.”
He nipped her shoulder and rolled onto his back in an imitation of her pose. “You’re such a demanding wench. I don’t know why I bother.”
She giggled and stretched. “Maybe because I give great head.”
“Mmm, true enough.” He rolled on his side and propped his cheek in his hand, using the other to toy with the tight bud of her nipple. “I’d say it’s one of my favorite things about you.”
With a light punch to his shoulder followed by a feather-light kiss to his lips, she sat up. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re a silver-tongued devil the rest of the time. You’re a bit of an idiot in the mornings.”
He laughed and tackled her back against the pillows. “I said one of my favorite things. I have about a million of them.”
“Nice save.”
“I thought so.” His grin faded, and he grew serious as he gazed down at her. “I don’t know when I’ll have another chance to say it, but these moments spent with you have been the happiest of my life, Selene.”
The icy fingers of premonition danced along her skin. “Don’t talk like this is goodbye, Preston. Please, don’t.”
“It’s not my intent, but we certainly need to say what we feel, so there are no regrets on either side.”
She sandwiched his beloved face between her palms. “Then I’ll tell you the same. These moments spent with you have been the happiest of my life, both the one before and again this time around.” She kissed him with a fervor that stole the breath from them both. Panting, she locked eyes with him. “I love you so much, and I intend to hang onto this forever. Fuck the Nether, and fuck the Evil, too.”
His wide, radiant smile was brighter than the sun and warmed her chilled heart. “Well, with that kind of fierceness, I’ve no doubt you will.”
She laughed and hugged him close.
“Is now a bad time to tell you I’m turned on again?”
“Really? This soon?”
“It’s those incredible breasts. Anytime they press against my chest like that…” He sighed as if he was put out. “I really have no choice.”
“I think we still have four minutes of our allotted fifteen. What can you do with it?”
“Oh, my love. Did you just throw down the gauntlet? If so, I’m about to rock your world.”
“You’ve already done it, but I’m not opposed to a repeat performance.”
Selene was radiant when she and Preston joined their group for breakfast, and Alex swallowed a bitter pill of regret. Not that she didn’t deserve to be happy, but he was distraught that he wasn’t the one to cause her glowing smile.
He dropped his gaze and concentrated on the hot inky liquid in his mug. Everyone believed he was lighthearted and carefree, but he wasn’t. He was weighed down with a life full of disappointments and a whole host of sadness.
Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the high edge of the parson chair he was sitting in.
“Castor?”
Alex lifted his lids to find Preston standing over him, understanding and compassion on his face.
“I wanted to thank you,” Preston said in a low voice.
“For what? Brewing the coffee?” Sure, Alex was being a flippant ass, but he wasn’t a damned saint.
“I think you know. But in case you don’t, thank you for freeing Selene to be with me. Thank you for sacrificing your relationship so we could be happy.”
Those damned shrewd eyes saw everything Alex was trying to hide, and to cover his feelings, he ever-so-casually focused on the task of drinking his coffee. Preston wasn’t going away without a response, so Alex finally said, “Think nothing of it.”
“I owe you a debt.”
He slammed the mug down, not caring if he cracked the ceramic cup, dinged the wood of the table, or captured the attention of everyone present. “No, you don’t. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for her. Now shut the fuck up about it already, all right?”
A slight smile twisted Preston’s mouth. “Sure.”
“Good.” Shoving back his chair, Alex teleported from the room to the gateway of the secret garden. He needed to see Evie, even if she couldn’t talk to him. She’d been the one woman who treated him like one of her own. The one woman who’d loved him unconditionally when his own mother took off for parts unknown. Goddess, he missed her.
When he rounded the corner, he stopped short.
A lone figure dressed all in black sat on a bench at the center of the enclosed grounds.
“Where does a guy gotta go to find alone time around here?” he called out.
“I wouldn’t know. Everyone’s been up my ass, lately,” Damian called back. “You might as well join me. We can be miserable together.”
Alex had only taken one step before his friend said, “But don’t come without fortification. I need a scotch.”
“It’s not even nine in the morning.”
“I don’t care about the time.”
“You wouldn’t. Hell, I wouldn’t either if I was as ancient as you.” Alex desperately wanted a drink, and he was seriously considering going back for the booze when he had a thought. “You’re the fucking Aether. You can’t conjure that shit?”
Damian snorted a laugh then held his hand about eighteen inches above the stone-slab bench where he was sitting. As Alex approached, he saw a crystal decanter materialize and fill with scotch.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he said approvingly. “Are we drinking straight from the bottle, or are you going to whip up a couple of tumblers to go with it.”
“You’re not demanding in the least, are you?”
If he were in the mood to be open and honest, he’d tell Damian how much he’d missed his dry-as-dirt humor, but Alex was trying to run from his feelings, not explore them. “Nope. I’m a fucking delight to be around.”
“Pfft. Keep telling yourself that.”
“So, about this kid of yours, I heard Mackenzie singing her praises.” He took the proffered glass of alcohol from his friend. “She must take after your wife.”
Damian grinned. “One hundred percent. Except in looks.”
“Damn shame, that.”
“We are agreed.” They clinked their tumblers and, like the synchronized drinking buddies they used to be, downed their scotch in one swallow.
Ignoring the burning of his esophagus, Alex gestured to their surroundings with his glass. “This place is depressing. Why are you haunting these digs?” He cleared the hoarseness from his throat and nodded his thanks when Damian refilled his drink.
“This was where my mother was entombed.”
“Huh. Well that’s a bummer. I mean, unless you like the cloying scent of roses.”
Damian laughed as Alex had intended. “At the time, there was only one magical plant with black roses and blood-sucking thorns.”
“Let’s not discuss blood-sucking Thornes. I’ve had my fill already.”
His friend paused in taking a sip and shot him a side glance. “The relationship between Preston and Selene is killing you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Next subject.”
“I believe you’re the one who brought it up,” Damian pointed out lightly.
“Then I’m ending it. Next subject,” Alex growled.
“You should slow down, my friend. Glenfiddich sneaks up on you if you aren’t careful.”
“I’m immune to its charms. Too many years spent guzzling the stuff.”
“I see.”
And Alex figured perhaps he did. The Aether could read his thoughts and emotions if he so chose, but it wasn’t as if Alex was trying to hide the fact he was salty as fuck over the dissolution of his relationship with Selene.
“When do we head to Stonehenge? I’m sick of standing around and doing nothing but talking.”
“I’m waiting for Isis and my mother to arrive. We need to discuss the details of our trip to the Netherworld.”
Alex nodded and rose to his feet, too keyed up to sit for long. “Georgie Sipanil found a few interesting things in the Heavenly Grimoire.” He glanced over his shoulder at Damian and made a face. “Alastair’s name for it.”
“Not his. That’s actually the name of the first grimoire in existence, so it must be the one she has.”
“Yeah, well, apparently there’s a way into the Nether, but no way out.”
Damian scrubbed his hands up and down his face. “Right. Lovely.”
“I’ll be honest, man. I’ve no interest in dying for a lost cause.”
“Me either, but it’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
Rising to his feet, Damian crossed to his mother’s grave marker. “Allowing me to roam free after consuming the Evil,” he said grimly.
It took a second for the words to sink in, but when they did, Alex lost his shit. “No! Fuck. No! Why wasn’t I informed of that little nugget of information?” All he got for an answer was a tight-lipped look. “You are not doing that, Dethridge.” He pointed his finger in Damian’s face. “Not in a million years. Get that thought right out of your head. Leave that fucking plague in the Otherworld and let the souls be obliterated, but you are not consuming the Evil.”
