The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  “What? What sickness?” she snapped defensively, stepping back inadvertently. Rowan stared at her intently, a darkness shadowing her light blue irises.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Sierra.”

  Sierra felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, and she yanked her hand back defiantly.

  “It’s nothing!” she roared with more fury than she had intended. “Shame on you for that, Rowan!” She didn’t care that she risked upsetting her best client. She felt sick to her stomach, and she snatched the money from the table, whirling to leave the stuffy apartment.

  “Sierra,” Rowan called after her, and while she did not turn, Sierra paused to listen. “It will get worse. Much, much worse.”

  Tears of anger filled her emerald eyes, and she slowly turned to stare at the high priestess balefully.

  “You don’t know that,” she choked, hearing how empty the words sounded. Of course Rowan knew. Rowan knew as well as she did.

  “Ignoring it won’t make it go away,” Rowan told her patiently. “I know you are scared, but I can help—”

  “You don’t know shit about me!” Sierra hissed, spittle flying from her mouth as she spoke. “Mind your own business, Rowan!” She didn’t permit the witch to respond, bounding down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

  Hurrying through the slummy streets, looking for a cab to bring her home, she willed herself to calm down. She wished she’d had the foresight to order a Lyft before leaving Rowan’s, but she refused to go back now. Of course, she could have just stopped speed-walking long enough to message for one, but her body seemed incapable of slowing, as though she were running from Rowan’s words.

  By the time she finally hailed a taxi, she was feeling much better, and she flopped back against the cracked vinyl seats, breathing deeply.

  “Where to, red?” the driver called, eyeing her through the rear-view mirror.

  “Hawthorne Hills,” she mumbled.

  “That’ll cost you,” he warned, eyeing her suspiciously, like he wasn’t sure she would be able to afford it.

  “I’ve got it,” Sierra reassured him, reaching into her purse for her cell phone. In her haste to leave Rowan’s, she had not bothered to count the cash, but when she looked, she noticed that Rowan had given her a nice bonus for the garnet job. Suddenly, it didn’t feel worth it, and she wished she could erase the memory of the past hour from her mind.

  Maybe you should put Rowan on ice for a while, Sierra thought, the anger bubbling to the surface again. She was fooling no one with the empty promise, though. She needed all the work she could get. And at the rate that Rowan was paying, Sierra couldn’t wave it off over hurt feelings.

  She dialed, and the phone was answered after one ring.

  “Ah. You’re alive,” Simone declared into her ear.

  “Have I ever shown up dead?” Sierra replied dryly. “How’s it going?”

  There was a slight silence.

  “It’s okay,” her friend said slowly. A pang of anxiety rocked Sierra’s body.

  “But?”

  Again, Simone was silent for a long moment, and Sierra’s heart began to race. Oh no…

  “What?” Sierra demanded, her voice rising an octave. “What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing!” Simone insisted. “But I think it’s time, Sierra. It’s not getting better.”

  Rowan’s words echoed tauntingly in her mind like a skipping record: It will get worse. Much, much worse. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.

  “I’ll be home in twenty minutes, and we’ll go,” she vowed, blinking back tears of resignation.

  If cool-as-a-cucumber Simone said it was time, it was time. How many more signs did Sierra need? She couldn’t sweep this under the rug forever. Something had to be done.

  “Sierra?”

  “I’m still here,” she mumbled. “I’ll be home soon.”

  “What are you going to tell them at the hospital?”

  It was a question that she had no answer for. After all, she couldn’t just rush a two-year-old into the emergency room with mysterious symptoms without expecting a barrage of tests. All those tests would rouse questions that Sierra had no desire or intention of answering.

  Like who the father of my child is, she thought grimly.

  4

  “Try smiling. It goes a lot further with people,” Paul whispered in his ear, and Toby suppressed the urge to deck him. Instead, he plastered his best philanthropist face on as they were led into the chief of medicine’s office. He nodded genially at people as they moved, grinning charmingly as they continued through the room.

  “Mr. Sutton!” Amanda Troyer cried, almost leaping from her chair when he approached. “We’re honored to have you here.”

  Toby accepted her clammy handshake, his smile unwavering. I hope this doesn’t take long. My jaw is killing me, and I have a meeting with the pack tonight.

  “Thank you for having us, Dr. Troyer. I have to tell you, I’m a huge fan of yours,” he replied smoothly, his tone betraying none of his true thoughts. He’d been at the game since before their grandparents had been zygotes, after all. He could spare a few minutes to smooth out the mess made in his company, no matter how painful those moments might be.

  “And you must know the feeling is mutual. Please, have a seat.” Dr. Troyer extended her hand toward the boardroom table, and the men sat. They patiently waited for the head of the hospital to speak to her assistant in a low tone before turning back to them. “I understand you have a proposition for us. I hope you know that the Seattle Children’s Hospital will do anything we can to help you, but our resources are limited, and—”

  “Actually,” Paul interjected in his brash fashion. “That is exactly what we’re here about. Mr. Sutton has very generously agreed to donate five million dollars to the hospital next month, in order to update some of your equipment, add to the staff roster—essentially use for anything you see fit, Dr. Troyer.”

  Troyer’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she gaped at them in disbelief.

  “Y-you are?” she gasped, and Toby nodded in concession. He almost felt a stab of guilt, knowing that the doctor was merely a pawn in his PR scheme, but he quickly silenced his reservations, reminding himself that his donation was doing the hospital a world of good, too.

  “Of course,” Toby said. “You must know that this is my favorite cause. The children are our future, after all.”

  “Yes! Yes!” she agreed vehemently. “That is incredibly kind, Mr. Sutton.” The doctor sat back expectantly, and he could see she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She had dealt with her fair share of donors. She knew the deal.

  “There’s more,” Paul continued, and her brown eyes seemed to darken, even though Toby was sure she had been expecting more to the offer at hand. “Not only is he donating, Mr. Sutton has also graciously opened his home in Madison Park for the purpose of a full-out fundraiser. All proceeds will go directly toward the hospital. That’s proceeds, not profits. It’s a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate event, and it will be publicly televised so that all of Washington can pledge donations.”

  “I thought it was a nationally televised event,” Toby interrupted, eyeing his public relations manager warily.

  Paul shot him a look.

  “Uh… I’ll have to look into that,” he replied. “I might be able to get MSNBC on board…” There wasn’t as much conviction in his voice as Toby would have liked.

  Local isn’t good enough. This has to be national. That was the deal. He scowled at Paul.

  “Do it,” Toby ordered before turning his attention back to the chief. The doctor’s face seemed to redden and pale simultaneously, as if trying to understand which aspect of her soul she would need to part with to seal the proposition.

  “I-I don’t know what to say!” she said brightly, but Toby could see the wheels turning in her head. “Is that everything?”

  She’s not the chief because she’s dumb.

  Toby and P
aul exchanged a quick look before the PR manager smiled quickly, presumably to disarm Dr. Troyer, though the expression made Toby cringe.

  “All we require from you are a few of your finest physicians who would be comfortable being on camera and, if possible, some of the children. I don’t mean to sound crass, but it does add sympathy value to the donating crowd,” Paul explained.

  “Of course!” the chief said. “And…?”

  The men stared at her.

  “And?” Paul echoed.

  “What else would you like? Your name on a wing, Mr. Sutton?” Amanda could barely keep the exasperation out of her voice. She clearly resented having to drag out the details.

  Toby snorted and shook his head.

  “No,” he replied. “Nothing like that at all. We only came to notify you of our intent so that when the media catches wind of this, you are not blindsided. It will be a huge event, and I can promise you that it will interfere with your already busy workload.” Her wise eyes narrowed slightly, like she felt she was being tricked, but Toby shrugged nonchalantly. “I assure you, Dr. Troyer, we only want to help the children.”

  She sat back in her chair, folding her hands over her chest to study them curiously. “This is strictly a public relations stunt, then. You’re trying to save face after the blow Sutton Industries endured.”

  And there she goes, in for the jugular. Toby knew it shouldn’t bother him, not when the entire world seemed to be discussing the scandal. He still felt himself tense all the same, and he smiled tightly.

  “Does it really matter why we’re doing it?” he asked evenly. “It benefits all of us, and no one is getting hurt. On the contrary, children are being helped.”

  “Are you gentlemen in a hurry?” Troyer asked suddenly. The men again looked at one another.

  “Not particularly,” Paul lied slowly. Toby stifled a sigh and shook his head. So much for making a quick exit.

  “Come with me.” She rose from her chair and walked out of the office. Paul and Toby had little choice but to follow her through the corridors.

  “What is this? Where is she taking us?” Toby muttered to Paul, who had no answer, shrugging his shoulders in ignorance.

  Through a set of secured service doors, Dr. Troyer led them toward a bank of double-wide elevators, used for transporting gurneys. She pressed the “B” button, and the lift began to descend.

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Paul breathed quietly. Toby felt his pulse quicken in anticipation, although he couldn’t say why he felt the sudden burst of excitement.

  As they dropped lower, he felt his body relax, the pain and suffering on the upper floors diminishing greatly as the doors opened and they landed at a long, dim corridor. It was unmistakably the morgue level, a coolness touching his face as they walked.

  “I don’t want to see dead bodies!” Paul cried out, abruptly stopping.

  Amanda turned and stopped walking, surprised etched on her face.

  “Why not?” she asked. “You have no problem using unsuspecting patients to further your agenda.”

  Toby felt a familiar flame of anger lick at his belly as they stood around staring at one another.

  “I would say that in this case, we have the same agenda,” he told her firmly. “Why are you resisting?”

  Amanda shook her salt and pepper bun side to side so that strands escaped and encircled her sagging jowls.

  “I’m not resisting,” she answered evenly. “I am making sure that you’re not coming here with some ulterior motives, because people’s lives—kids’ lives—depend on the funding and donations we get. My point was to show you what happens when we are deprived of that help. I would hate to find out that people were right about you, Mr. Sutton, that you’re a cold, calculating man who cares only about himself.” She paused and sighed. “That is why I have brought you here.”

  “Oh?” Toby asked, his temper threatening to implode. “Are there rumors circulating that I dangle money and snatch it away from dying children? Because if there are, I have yet to hear them.”

  “Not verbatim,” she agreed. “But you are a cunning, ruthless businessman who cares only about his bottom line. I doubt you have ever cared about any one person in your life.”

  The words did not incense him as much as they were intended because Toby knew they were almost all true. I could have cared about Sierra Collingwood if I’d had the chance, he thought unexpectedly. His brow furrowed at the idea, wondering from where it had come.

  “Chief Troyer, you seem to think you’re the only hospital in Seattle. Just because we came to you first doesn’t mean you’re the only one we had in mind. You have just talked yourself out of our offer,” Paul snapped, his face more furious than Toby had ever seen.

  “No,” Toby spoke before the chief could respond. “She hasn’t.”

  Paul gaped at him dubiously, and Toby could almost read his thoughts, they were written so clearly on his face.

  “There are hundreds of other causes that are worthy of your money if Dr. Troyer doesn’t think it’s good enough for her,” Paul insisted. “We could—”

  “No,” Toby said again. “We are doing this—for the kids.”

  The chief locked eyes with him, and there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them. Toby admitted he had a begrudging respect for her, a strong woman who spoke her mind and put up with no intimidation. It was rare to find someone who spoke her mind so freely and without fear of repercussion.

  An unbidden memory slithered through his mind.

  “I believe that drink is mine.”

  “Can we please get the hell out of here?” Paul growled. “I feel like I’m in The Shining and those twins are going to appear at the end of the corridor.”

  The doctor and Toby shifted their gazes away, and Dr. Troyer led the way back to the elevators. Paul raced ahead as if trying to outrun them, but Toby suddenly had the desire to wander around. His previous need to be in and out of the hospital was all but forgotten.

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Dr. Troyer. I will have my secretary send over everything you need. Paul, I’ll meet you by the car,” Toby called, disappearing into the stairwell before either could respond, though he could feel their surprised looks at his back as he moved.

  He likely didn’t have clearance to be wandering about, but when had he ever been one to follow the rules? They were made to be broken and were set by mere mortals most of the time, anyway.

  I just need some time to clear my head a bit, he thought. Why his mind was so abruptly jumbled, he couldn’t say. He felt like the hospital had some magnetic hold on him, and he wouldn’t breathe well until he got to the bottom of the sensation in his gut. What is that? Nervousness? Anxiety? Excitement? Possibly a combination of all three, but they still made no sense to him.

  It was as if something had crept under his skin, making him unexpectedly anxious. The memories of Sierra were sentimental and unwarranted for the occasion. It was as if Dr. Troyer had triggered something in him, like his instincts were trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t place it. A foreign light-headedness had overcome him as he climbed the main floor, and he let his body guide itself without thinking.

  What is it? Toby was beginning to feel like a bloodhound on a scent, his body moving like he was on autopilot. His hands opened the fire door, and he wandered through the lonely halls, passing a doctor or nurse every so often. He didn’t pay them much mind, his thoughts elsewhere.

  “Are you lost, sir?” someone asked, but the voice did not shatter his trance-like state, and Toby did not acknowledge him, pushing his way through another set of metal doors.

  Even though his cell phone chimed repeatedly in his pocket, there was a new resolve to his gait. Whatever it was that was calling him was closer than ever, he was sure. Anyway, he was certain it was only Paul trying to locate him, and Toby had no qualms about leaving him to wait.

  Instantly, he froze in his tracks. Not because he had seen something, but because he was overcome
with an understanding. He knew what he was going to come upon, even before it happened. He was not prone to bouts of telepathy, but this was something far beyond an ability to see the future. This was a psychic connection, one he had only experienced once before in his immortal life.

  Another anamnesis flooded his mind. Sierra was entwined with his body, her silken legs wrapped along the curve of his calves, her breathing slow and even. He couldn’t sleep as he lay there watching her, fingertips gently tracing over the lines of her shoulders.

  His phone chimed, and Toby grunted reluctantly, wishing he had thought to put it on silent. There was always something, wasn’t there? He had been so caught up in the moments of passion with Sierra that he had forgotten about his cell and his business—legal and otherwise. With a grunt, he carefully untangled himself from the sweet embrace of his lover’s arms and reached into his discarded pants’ pocket before another notification woke Sierra from her near-angelic slumber.

  But the serene moment was shattered when Toby read the words on the screen.

  Come for me! I killed him, Toby! You must come!

  Dammit. What stupidity did this idiot get himself into this time? Toby wondered, but his question was interrupted as Sierra’s voice filtered into his ears.

  “What are you doing?” she mumbled, sleep thick in her voice. For a fleeting moment, he considered turning off the phone and crawling back into the warm yet uncomfortable bed with Sierra, but he knew he couldn’t. The aftermath would only get worse before it got better, and Toby knew when he was on damage control.

  “I have to go,” he told her, the words causing him physical pain. “But I’ll be back soon.”

  She gave him a fuzzy smile, and he had to wonder if she was talking in her sleep, if she was even aware of what was going on in those moments.

  “You better be,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. Sierra was asleep before she even felt the gentle kiss on her forehead.

  Fucking Marius. He’s got a worse temper than me. Now who has he killed this time?

  It wouldn’t be the first time he had cleaned up after his cousin. How could Toby have known that leaving that night would set off a chain of events which he would never be able to undo?