It had crossed her mind to blend into the herd of walk-on passengers and disappear, but by the time she spotted him, it was too late.
His gaze zeroed-in on her as she shuffled along with the gaggle of tourists between them. He smiled as if she hadn’t just abruptly ended their conversation and spent forty-five minutes hiding from him.
She stopped a few feet away. “I can walk from here.”
He glanced out over the choppy waves. “It’s raining.”
“A little water won’t hurt me.”
As if on cue, the clouds gave an ominous rumble and spewed forth a curtain of sleet.
Lucas raised his eyebrows.
Well, damn.
Bri eyed the motorcycle warily. “It’s not like that will keep us dry.”
“It will get us somewhere dry and warm much quicker.”
True. She could always wait out the rain at Astrid’s pub, right across from the ferry dock. Order warm bowl of chowder and wait for the storm to pass. But that could take all night, and she had a ritual to prepare for.
Sighing, she peeled off her coat, and tucked it into the back compartment before dutifully donning the jacket and helmet. She thought she heard a satisfied rumble in his chest as she climbed onto the chrome beast and tucked against his hard body once more.
The ride to her house was wet and cold. A cascade of hail pelted off her helmet, and tiny flecks of ice melted into every available crevice, making her shiver despite the heat pouring off Lucas. Thankfully, the ride was also short.
He pulled all the way to the back of her driveway and parked his bike under the narrow eve of the detached garage. Why was she not surprised he knew where she lived?
The dogs were nowhere to be found, probably holed up in the bedroom hiding from the thunder.
A prickle of nervousness spiked Bri’s veins when Lucas turned off the ignition. She had planned to hop off, gather her things, say a brief goodbye, and run into the house.
“Thanks. Again. You were right—that was better than walking.”
Lucas nodded, accepting the helmet and hanging it on the handlebars as she held out his coat. He dismounted and shook the rain from his head in a very wolf-like way. “Can I come in? Until the storm passes?”
Another deep rumble of thunder stopped her protest, and she sighed. “O…kay.”
He ignored the sullen tone in her voice and stayed in step with her as they jogged across the yard to the back door. They entered through the mudroom, and a telltale skitter of claws down the stairs confirmed her suspicions.
Maggie did a long downward-dog stretch before sitting on her haunches at the end of the hall to study them, her head tilted curiously, not quite sure what to make of Lucas.
Bri hung their coats and slipped off her shoes before padding through the hallway, half-forgetting about her guest until she heard Max lumber down the stairs and give a faint whine in answer to something Lucas said in a strange language.
She snagged her phone off the kitchen table, feeling anxious and fidgety having Lucas Moncrieffe—of all people—in her house. She had a text from an unknown number and opened it: I know how to use a phone. And a wink emoji.
Well, isn’t that cute.
Her cheeks felt suddenly hot, and at the same time, tears gathered behind her eyes. Was it her period? She had no idea if the timing was even right, but her emotions were definitely more erratic than usual today. Maybe she had dialed back her meds too soon. Or the full moon. Or maybe it was being alone in her house with a man she’d known intimately in her dreams yet barely spoken to.
“Maybe I’m just a mess,” she grumbled, shaking herself into action. She called out to Lucas, but turned to find him watching her silently from the doorway. She was momentarily distracted by the way his wet T-shirt clung to his chest, so it took her a beat to notice the dogs at his heel. They sat like twin statues, gazing up at him rapt with adoration.
Kean wouldn’t like that.
“Alright if I make a fire?” he asked.
She spun back to the stove and made a face to herself. How long was he planning to stay? Why did she even let him in? And why did the idea of his company not make her more uncomfortable? It was awkward, because they were basically strangers. But not. And trying to sort out how she felt or what she thought about him—apart from foreign instincts that had nothing to do with her—was agitating. “Sure. Fine. Do you want some tea?”
“I’d prefer something stronger. Scotch?”
“Whiskey?” She popped open the cabinet above the stove.
“Close enough,” he answered from the hall.
One drink, and then you can kick him out.
She had phone calls to make and a ritual to do.
The fire was blazing by the time she carried a tray of tea, cookies, and whisky into the living room to find both dogs stretched out at Lucas’s feet, still staring at him as if waiting for a treat. Or a command?
Bri froze. “That’s…weird.”
They were normally so rowdy and into everything when she had company.
Lucas shrugged and uncorked the whisky. “Dogs crave dominance.”
Another twinge of guilt hit her. Kean would hate that his dogs respected and maybe even liked an immortal. Especially this immortal. Instead of sitting beside him on the sofa, she added a splash of whisky to her tea and cupped the warm mug in her hands as she stood in front of the crackling fire.
Her mind drifted back to being locked in a room at the Arcanum as the council decided her future, and the jolting clash of memory and reality as Lucas had appeared before her like a ghost from a dream. Though he’d refused to help her escape, he’d stolen a kiss…
Why did you invite him into the house?
Whatever new, innocent game he was playing, she couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t trust him. Though a part of her wished she could.
Secrets were woven into her life now. Not only was she protecting a dangerous relic, but she was an Oracle. Oracles were tight-lipped and cryptic by nature. Meddling with or altering the future could have dire consequences, so one had to be careful what they revealed. Still, she longed for a confidant, a guide. And she and Lucas already shared a secret.
Bri had yet to find any mention of Skydancers in her Zyne studies. Councilor Amin had made it clear it was an off-limits topic between them. She sensed that he knew something, and maybe even wanted to tell her, but couldn’t.
Before he died, her father had told her that any known Skydancers had been hunted down and stripped of their powers centuries ago. She wasn’t sure why the council had let her keep hers. Most likely, they were waiting to see if she was a liability or an asset. Since she’d spent her entire life running from her heritage, they wouldn’t know which until she had full control of her magic. Hence their edict that she train at the Arcanum.
Lucas had to know more about Skydancers than she did. It was Vivianne who had broken Zyne law to bind them together, making her—Vivianne, Bri—what she was.
They did it for love, a voice inside reminded her, and Bri frowned.
“What troubles you so, Briana?” Her name sounded foreign on his lips. At least it was better than him calling her Ana, his pet name for Vivianne.
She focused back on the here and now, shaking away all the clinging memories. “You asked me that night at the Arcanum what else I remembered. I… remember more now.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression anticipatory. Almost hungry. The look did uncomfortable things to her she didn’t want to think about.
Bri turned her back to him, pretending to warm her other side, though she was suddenly flushed. “I still have lots of questions, too.”
“Ask me anything.”
She stared into the flames, replaying those last few minutes before Vivianne was snuffed out forever. It wasn’t the memory of choking screams and melting flesh that spiked her lashes with moisture, or even the pure injustice of the execution. It was the hope and longing of that moment that twisted her insides.
; Despite impossible odds, Vivianne had believed with the full force of her being that she and Lucas would end up together. He had sworn he would find her again, and he always kept his word. It seemed like a lot of grief, all for a really, really long shot. What did they know that she didn’t?
Her brow furrowed. “I still don’t understand what you two were thinking, what the plan was.”
She turned to find Lucas also staring into the flames, and not for the first time, she wondered if he had been there that day. Her heart ached for him, for both of them.
“You mean the binding.”
She nodded.
“The plan was to live happily together until the end of her days.”
“And then?”
He glanced up at her from under ruffled brows. “And then, when she passed, I would find her again, and we would complete the ritual.”
Chapter Three
The teacup slipped from Bri’s numb fingers, bounced on the rug, and sloshed hot tea all over her pant leg.
Max hopped up, excited for spill duty, but turned his nose up at the scent of whiskey. She was still frozen to the spot, staring at where Lucas had been sitting. He returned with a rag from the kitchen and held it out to her. When she ignored him, he knelt to dab at the tea.
“Complete the ritual?” she echoed, her voice gone reedy.
Is that what this is all about? Something in her recoiled at the idea of Lucas manipulating her so.
He set the rag aside and rose to stand before her, forcing her to tilt her head back. His face was unreadable. So was his tone when he answered, simply, “Yes.”
“What do you mean? Complete it how?” She thought it was complete. It had seemed pretty final in her regressions. Sex and blood in a magical prism under the full moon. Vivianne had known it would work, and Bri knew that it had. She and Lucas were magically bound. She had Vivianne’s memories—some of them, anyway. They were beginning to pile up.
“The bond between a witch and Familiar isn’t complete until it is echoed in another lifetime.” He lifted his hand to caress her cheek, but she dodged his touch. He closed his fist and dropped his hand to his side as he continued. “I searched for centuries. Travelled the globe. Hunted relics and bought spells that were supposed to lead me to you. I spoke with hundreds of Oracles. Desperate, I finally infiltrated the Synod, hoping to find something in the Akashic records of your soul. That’s when I was caught and forced into service.”
Bri paced from the fireplace to the window. The movement kept her focused on what he was saying. And it meant she didn’t get snared in those storm cloud gaze that kept trying to suck her into the past. “If the bond is incomplete, does that mean…can it be undone?”
“No.” Lucas finished his whiskey in one swallow and poured another.
She paused and narrowed her eyes. “No? Just no? Why not?”
He leaned back, gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. “You know how magic works.”
Only, she didn’t. She supposedly had a lot of power, but she had virtually no training in how to use it. The only thing she’d mastered the last ten years was stuffing it down and locking it away. She had impenetrable shields, but no say over when or how her visions came.
“All magic has counter-magic,” she recited, her tone a little defensive.
“Counter-magic is not a reversal of magic. There is no reversing what was done lifetimes ago. Your soul is and forever will be bound to mine. There is no undoing it.”
Of course not. That would be too easy.
“What happens if the ritual isn’t completed in this life?”
His voice was decidedly more growly when he said. “My search would continue anew.”
“Until?”
When he didn’t reply, she paused in her pacing. The answer was written on his face: until forever.
Bri rubbed her knuckles over her tired eyes, feeling the last of the motivation she’d tackled the day with slipping away. She collapsed on the opposite end of the sofa, and Maggie hopped up between them, resting her head in Bri’s lap.
Outside, the storm had picked up. Freezing rain fell in thick sheets, and the wind tore at the delicate crabapple blooms that had dared to come so early, spraying them across the lawn and street in a pink froth. Unless she wanted to exile Lucas into a storm, he would be there a while. She sighed. “You said the ritual must be echoed. What does that entail? And what happens after?”
Lucas stroked Maggie’s silky fur absently. “In essence, the ritual must be repeated as it was performed. Once the bond is complete, not only your soul but your life force will be tied to mine. You will be stronger, immune to some magics, and impervious to poison and disease. You will not age and will heal much faster.”
She ignored the distracting thought of repeating the ritual, which she remembered in every agonizing, passionate detail, and repeated his list a few times in her head to make sure she’d heard right.
Because that couldn’t be.
“Are you saying I would become immortal?” She was a little shocked at how calm her voice sounded.
“Even immortals can be killed with the right weapon. But for you to die, I would have to die first, and I’m not in the habit of doing that.”
A chill raced down Bri’s spine. She shoved the question of whether she would even want to be immortal into a drawer in the back of her mind to examine another day. One a looooong time from now.
Put into context, what she knew of Vivianne and Lucas’s tragic, brutal story made more sense now. They’d gone all-in on a Romeo and Juliet-caliber gamble, knowing he would have lifetimes to figure it out. It would be poignant and beautiful if Bri weren’t caught smack-dab in the middle of it.
“I’m not seeing the happily ever after. How do you get Vivianne back? The ritual must change me somehow?” How was he expecting her to fall in love with him unless magic compelled it? Even if she eventually had all of Vivianne’s memories, she was still her own person. “What if I had been born a man?”
“I would have let you go. The echo must be exact. You are a woman, an Oracle, and a Gemini. Even the same bloodline. This is fated.” He finished the last sip of his second whiskey and poured a third. Apparently, half-demons had a high alcohol tolerance. Or maybe this conversation had him on edge.
At least I’m not the only one.
He must have read something in her expression, because he poured a splash into the second glass and handed it to her. She slammed it back, instantly steeled as warmth coated her belly. “You didn’t answer my first question.”
Lucas set his glass down and shifted to face her. In a smooth tone, he said something in that odd language again—was it demonish? Maggie hopped off the couch and curled into a ball near his feet.
Bri felt cold and exposed without Maggie’s warmth, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. The wind still howled outside. The sky was darkening. The glowing ring around Lucas’s pupils had grown larger, swallowing the stormy grey. His stubbled jaw ticked as she stared him down waiting for an answer.
“I do not know if anything else happens as a side effect of completing the Familiar bond. I only know what Vivianne told me of it and a few scraps of information I was able to track down.” He scooted closer, and though she knew she should scoot away, she found herself leaning in. Drawn to his heat. His scent. He was solid and real, and her body ached so hard–on a primal level–to be held. She couldn’t tell if that was her or an echo of the memories, so she didn’t try.
“There is no getting her back. But there is you. There is this.” He slid his hand from the back of the sofa and began tracing a hypnotic, calming pattern across her shoulder. Some of the tension in her body instantly unfurled. In her mind, she knew she should be disturbed by how easily he touched her, by how good it felt. Maybe he was putting some demon spell on her like he had with the dogs.
But there was no denying the threads of magic that jumped to life whenever they touched. His nostrils flared, and so did the ring of golden fire in his ey
es, turning them to quicksilver. “I do not think the same way about it that you do. In Khaos, I take a different form than this. Even here on Earth, I take two. You are still the same soul underneath. That is all that matters.”
Bri swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned out of his reach. She was still growing accustomed to the idea of being a soul that traversed through many lives. It meant giving up ownership, and she didn’t like that. She was her own person, yet she—Briana Celene Spurrier, daughter of Danielle and Aldric—was only a tiny sliver of who, of what she was. This was only one miniscule human life. Everything that made her uniquely herself, even her music, was just a collection of thoughts and memories that would cease to exist when this body died. It was all so fleeting. Temporary.
Lucas was right. He was bound to the only eternal part of her.
Bitter ash filled her mouth at the unfairness of it, that she had no choice in the matter.
“I’m just a vessel to you, then,” she said with more bite than he deserved. “Tell me, do you approve of my new packaging?”
***
Lucas relaxed into the sofa, buying time by taking a thoughtful sip of whisky while he studied Briana. She stared back at him, a challenge clear in the set of her shoulders and the defiant jut of her chin. The glint in her eye warned tread carefully, and that lit a happy spark in his whiskey-warmed belly.
He was tempted to give her a more thorough perusal, since he’d been invited to, but he kept his gaze locked on her face. A faint blush colored her smooth, freckled cheeks. Where Vivianne had been small and dark, Briana’s skin was the color of cream, and she was tall for a woman. Slender, but soft curves instead of jagged edges. Delicate, yet beneath was tempered steel. Her wild curls sparkled like garnet in the firelight, and her eyes endlessly fascinated him. Their color ranged anywhere from deep pine green to frosty sea glass, and appeared to shift with her mood, not just her magic.
“It would not matter to me either way, but I cannot deny that the Fates have been quite kind. Your packaging pleases me greatly.”
Enough that he dreamt of her almost every night. In truth, she dominated his waking thoughts as well. Hers was a rare, arresting beauty. And her scent—ah, gods, her scent. She was a treasure.
Veil of Thorns Page 3
