by T. M. Cromer
Copyright © 2019 by T.M. Cromer
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All rights reserved.
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ISBN: 978-1-7338198-0-0 (Digital)
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover art: Deranged Doctor Designs
Editor: Trusted Accomplice
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
From the Author…
1
Today, like every day for the last month, Aurora Fennell-Thorne stared out over the thick cluster of trees surrounding her prison. She probably shouldn’t consider the place her prison. Her jailor had offered her freedom since the day she woke from her coma six weeks ago. But where could she go?
The door opened behind her, and the air contracted.
It was always such when Alastair Thorne entered the room—blond and bold, ready to take on any challenge.
“I’ve brought you breakfast.”
His voice was rich and deep with a heavy dose of arrogance. It curled around her and tickled something in the farthest reaches of her memory. Some long-lost glimmer of… what? Love? Already it was gone. She was no more than an empty shell with fragmented images dancing about her broken mind.
“Aurora, you must eat.” The tone brooked no argument, and yet, she refused to give in to his demands. With a flick of her bony wrist, she used the small bit of magic at her disposal to knock the tray from his hands.
A ripple of anger tore at the fabric of the space around her. Hers? His?
“I’m quickly becoming tired of your tantrums, my love. Don’t make me…” He trailed off.
She studied his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. His tortured, longing gaze struck another chord. His eyes connected with hers in the glass, and his already sapphire gaze darkened to midnight blue.
“Your daughters want to visit today. Would you care to see them? Holly would like to show you your new granddaughter.”
She broke the hold by tearing her gaze away and resuming her study of the endless forest beyond the windowpane.
“Aurora, I asked you a question.”
She gave a negative shake of her head and went back to ignoring him.
“If you don’t allow them to visit, they’ll believe I’m keeping you against your will.”
“You are,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from disuse. Twenty years in stasis did that to a voice box.
“Do you not remember what we shared? Why you’re here?”
“Go away,” she croaked harshly.
She heard the heaviness of his sigh and the soft tread of his soles on the wood floor as he moved toward the exit.
His fingers snapped, and she jumped at the thundering sound it made in the silent room. From the corner of her eye, she spied the destroyed breakfast tray disappear along with the mess of food. Alastair used magic for most things, and cleaning the spills she created in her rage had no drain on his power. She wished it did so he could feel what it was like to be helpless.
Before he left, he cleared his throat. “I only want to help you, my love.”
She whirled the wheelchair around and sneered in his direction. “Help me?” Anger gave her the energy and ability to spin the wheels in short bursts. It was enough to propel her to where he stood. She waved at her thin frame. “You did this to me, Alastair.”
“No!” The very walls shook with the fury of his denial. With concerted effort, he calmed. “No, Aurora. I’m done taking the blame. If anything, I—”
“I hate you,” she spat.
He reeled back at her vehement response. The expression on his face shifted from shock to bleak to resigned then to blank. “Very well. I’ll hire a nurse for your care. You need not see me again.”
With great dignity, he closed the door behind him. For several heartbeats, she stared, waiting for him to return and plead his case as he had nearly every day since she first rejected him. Her pulse hammered in her ears and made her deaf to any other sound.
Only this time, he didn’t return.
She frowned and spun back around. Pausing, she took in the space as a whole. Goddess, she hated this damned room. Light and airy in direct contrast with her dark, heavy thoughts. Her eyes fell to the empty nightstand. Alastair had stopped refreshing the flowers and removed the vase on the day she could finally voice her complaint about the cloying smell of the roses.
He’d brought her calla lilies that same afternoon. She’d insisted he remove those as well. Insisted he remove the book of poems and anything else of a romantic nature from her presence.
She didn’t want to be surrounded by lively, loving things when she was dead inside.
Alastair sank into the plush leather upholstered chair before the fire, Cognac in hand. He took a long sip of the liquid without removing his gaze from the dancing flames.
Christ, what had his life become? Nursemaid to a woman who hated him. Before that, a pathetic excuse for a man. One who had believed, in the end, love would conquer all. One who’d moved heaven and earth to bring his mate back from the brink of death. One who did things any other human being with a conscience would cringe at doing. One who hated himself most days.
With another heavy sigh, he rested his head back against the chair.
Now, he had the Witches’ Council on his ass, ready to strip his powers. Or at least attempt to. He snorted. He’d like to see them try. No one was as powerful as a Thorne warlock.
Except Knox Carlyle and Quentin Buchanan, a little voice whispered.
Yes, but he doubted either would take up arms against him. They were mild-mannered men who only lived to love their women. Thorne women. They wouldn’t rock the boat.
A flicker of light appeared in the center of the room—an indication of an incoming witch. Only two knew what the interior of his study looked like and, as a result, could teleport in without harm.
A blonde woman appeared, beautiful and slightly rumpled, with color high on her cheeks. Her eyes, bright blue and questioning, sought him out.
Summer.
“Father.”
“Daughter,” he said with a slight twist of his lips at her formal tone. She’d grown up believing Alastair’s brother, Preston, was her real father. Since learning the truth, the poor dear was still trying to figure him out.
Her gaze fell to the tumbler in his hand, and a pained look crossed her features. “She still being difficult?”
“How ever did you guess?” he mocked as he lifted the glass.
“What can I do to help?”
“I don’t know if there is anything you can do. She’s bitter because her powers didn’t fully return when she woke.” His mouth curled in a self-disgusted grimace. “I’m sure she only wants them in order to be away from me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Becaus
e she actually sounded as if she meant it, he said, “Thank you, child.”
“I’m assuming she doesn’t want to meet any of us? See the women we’ve grown into?”
He started to shake his head and paused. An idea formed and brought with it a smile. Summer might be able to spend time with her mother after all.
“Uh, oh. I’m starting to recognize that look,” she said as she moved closer. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
“Only one other person knows—knew—me so well. You’re like her. Or at least the her that she used to be.” He rose and moved to the sideboard to pour himself another drink. With a side glance, he held up an empty glass. When she shook her head, he put the stopper back in the bottle and took a slow sip of his Cognac.
“It must be bad if she’s caused you to drink first thing in the morning,” Summer said wryly.
Her touch on his forearm was gentle and caring. It warmed him as the alcohol hadn’t.
Alastair lifted her hand and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “Yes. She blames me for her condition and apparently despises me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Unexpected emotion stirred in his chest. “We were so in love.” He looked up and met the compassion in her warm gaze. “Not unlike you and your young man.”
She blinked away the tears forming, and he had the sense she understood his feelings.
“You’ll get it back, Dad.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He drained his drink and set it on the sideboard. “I want you to pose as a nurse.”
Her jaw dropped.
With a chuckle, he tapped it closed and explained. “I told her earlier I would hire someone to help her. Discounting the night we woke her in the clearing, she hasn’t seen you since you were a young child. I doubt she would recognize you. It would be the perfect opportunity for you to help her recover mentally and be around her in the process.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he forestalled her. “You have medical knowledge, and what you don’t know, you can consult about with Winnie and my sister. Both are skilled with magical medicine.”
Summer studied him thoughtfully. “We should bring in GiGi or Winnie. They’d be better at this, and I have my practice to run.”
“We both know Holly can run the day-to-day care of your veterinary office. You can pop over in the event of an emergency. As for the sanctuary, I can pay for someone to care for the animals in the interim.” He shrugged. “Besides, she knows GiGi, and Winnie is heavily pregnant with triplets. It might be hard for her to get around. Even if she could, your sister looks too much like your mother did in her youth. Rorie would recognize her in a minute.”
“What about the fact I look just like you?”
Alastair grimaced. She had a point.
“We’ll create a glamour spell. Make you appear different to her.”
Straight, white teeth nibbled the corner of her lower lip as she studied the flames in the massive stone fireplace. “Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not?” She shrugged and smiled. “You have all the bases covered.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, child.”
“It’s no big deal. But I do want to spend evenings with Coop. What arrangements can be made for that?”
“I can fix up a room for the two of you. Now that he’s developed his magic, he can teleport here.”
“I’ll run it by him, but I don’t think he’ll have a problem.”
“I’ll owe you.”
“No, you won’t. You’ve orchestrated enough for the benefit of me and my sisters.”
His head reeled in shock. “How did you know?”
“Let’s just say, for a man who is supposed to be self-serving and uncaring, you’ve stepped in one too many times for the benefit of all of us.” She laughed softly. “Don’t look so stunned. None of us think the worse of you for it. In fact, we are all exceedingly grateful.”
“Yes, well…” He had no words. Clearly, he wasn’t as reserved and off-putting as he believed. “Come, I’ll introduce you to your mother. Try not to appear affected when you see her. It will be a dead giveaway.”
“I can do that. Should I glam first?” she asked as they walked toward the door.
“Just a slight altering of your hair color and eyes should do it.”
“I always wanted purple eyes, like Elizabeth Taylor.” She grinned and snapped her fingers. A halo of twinkling lights swirled about her head, and when they cleared, her hair was an asymmetrical bob and nearly black in color. Her eyes had taken on the exact shade of purple as the actress she admired.
“Lovely,” he murmured.
“Thanks,” she grinned cheekily and preceded him out of the room with a little hop to her step.
Alastair allowed the broad grin he rarely showed the outside world. He’d never say it aloud, but his daughter made him proud as punch.
As they strolled down the corridor of his sprawling mansion, he realized the place had none of the warmth of his childhood home, Thorne Manor. He’d tried to replicate some of his favorite parts, but in the end, he’d been saddened by the loss of family and friends. In a morose moment, he’d modernized his mountain estate.
“What name shall we call you, child?”
Summer thought for a second and smiled widely. “Liz.”
Alastair chuckled and gestured to Aurora’s bedroom door. “I’ll let you introduce yourself. If you need anything, feel free to use the phone in the hall to dial Alfred. He’ll see to whatever it is you need.”
“Alfred? Your overseer’s name is Alfred?” Her merry laughter echoed around them.
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand what was hilarious about a manservant named Alfred. “Why are you surprised by his name? You’ve met him before.”
“I’ve only met him in passing. We were never formally introduced.”
He struggled to recall the past two times she’d visited him at his estate. “I don’t understand what you find so funny.”
“You’re Batman!” she crowed.
With a grimace and a roll of his eyes, he made a mental note to do an online search of Batman. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner. Be sure to invite Cooper. We dine at seven sharp.”
“Is Alfred strict about the household rules, Bruce?”
“Bruce?”
“Batman’s alter ego—Bruce Wayne. Rich, big mansion, lived alone, and had cool toys. Not to mention Alfred.”
“You have too much time on your hands, Liz.” He compressed his lips to hide his grin. Her humor was contagious. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
As he strode away, Alastair felt a small grain of hope sprout up inside. Perhaps Summer’s sunny disposition would help Aurora return to her former self. He sent up a tiny prayer to the Goddess to make it so.
2
“She wants to speak to you,” Summer informed him twenty minutes later.
Alastair didn’t bother to glance up from the computer screen. “Too bad.”
“Dad.”
He looked up from the monitor and removed his glasses. “What do you suggest I do? Less than an hour ago, Aurora said she hated me and never wanted to see me again. Should I continue to be her verbal punching bag?”
Frustration flitted across his daughter’s face. “I get it, okay? But think about it from her perspective. After twenty years, she’s returned to a world that has essentially moved on without her. Her kids are grown, technology has taken over… and maybe she thinks you’re still here out of obligation.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Summer wasn’t wrong. Everything she said had already occurred to him. Yet, Aurora refused to open up to him. Refused to discuss what was going on in that overactive brain of hers.
“And still no one thinks about it from my side,” he countered with a harsh edge to his tone. “She took a bullet for me, Summer. For twenty years, she lay in a vegetative state because of me. Everything I’ve tried to do to make it up to her, she’s rejected.�
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“Do you love her?”
He stood with such abruptness as to send the chair flying and cause Summer to blink. “What kind of asinine question is that?”
“An honest one that requires an honest answer.”
“Thornes only love once. Who else would I love?”
“She’s different from the woman she was. No one would blame you for moving on.”
“I’m not having this discussion with you or anyone. We’re done here.”
The ice coating his words left little doubt to his seriousness, and yet, she ignored the warning in his tone, moving farther into the room.
“No, we aren’t. You cannot pry into everyone’s lives and expect that we won’t do the same to you.”
“Is that what this is? Tit for tat?”
“No. I want to help.”
“You can help by caring for her until she has her feet under her again and is ready to leave my home.”
A hoarse cry sounded from the open doorway and drew their attention.
Aurora sat, pale-faced and shaken, a look of betrayal upon her classical features. Alfred stood behind the wheelchair, a guilty expression firmly affixed to his weathered face.
Alastair closed his eyes to shut out the sight. He wanted to kill Alfred for not alerting him to her presence.
“Mo—uh, Aurora, he didn’t mean it,” Summer gushed in an attempt to rectify the situation.
“I did,” he said roughly. “I’m tired of this whole damned mess.” Alastair sneezed and quickly clenched his hand with an uneasy look at the window. The last thing he needed was to attract locusts to the forest around them. With a tired sigh, he faced mother and daughter. “She hates me and doesn’t want to be here. Am I mistaken?” he directed the question to Aurora.