Bewitched (Fated #1)

by Kelly Moran

  Kaida. She was here.

  He jerked his head up, and there she was, standing in front of his desk. Wearing tan leggings that molded to her toned legs and a long blue sweater that matched her eyes, she idly ran her fingers through the caramel strands of her high ponytail. She had her hand wrapped around something on her shoulder, but part of her was blocked by a yellow object, so he couldn’t tell what it was.

  With a smile of her full red lips, she reached forward and...removed a post-it note stuck to his left eyebrow. “Rough morning?”

  “Mike, I’ll talk to you later.” Eyes trained to her, he set the phone in its cradle and tried to recall the basics of oxygen exchange. Damn, but she was beautiful. Perhaps one day he’d not feel like he’d been sucker-punched in the solar plexus every time he saw her. “Hey.”

  He winced. He was so articulate he could scream.

  “Hi.” She hiked her purse higher up her shoulder. “Bad time?”

  “No.” Any second with her was a good moment. He stood and glanced down the length of her. And choked on his tongue. Knee-high black boots. God save him, that was the ultimate turn-on. “Uh, would you like something to drink? Coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve had enough caffeine to power the island.” She glanced around at his small office—the desk littered with paperwork, the shelves housing history books and island zoning codes, and his dead plant on the windowsill—then refocused on him. “You murdered that poor ivy.”

  He chuckled. “I have a black thumb.” Grabbing his coat off his chair, he shoved his arms into the sleeves as his assistant strode into the room, her nose buried in a file.

  “Mayor Bridgeport wants a call back on whether you want to do a speech at the Founders Day museum thingy, and the...” Jessica came to an abrupt halt, blinking at Kaida. “Hello. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone. There’s nothing on your calendar.”

  “Kaida, meet Jessica, my assistant. Jessica, this is Kaida Galloway.”

  Jessica shoved the file under her arm and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She straightened. “Hold the phone. Galloway? Any relation to Fiona and Ceara?”

  “I’m their sister.” Kaida shook his assistant’s hand with a warm smile. “I just arrived a few days ago.”

  “Noooo.” Jaw agape, Jessica gasped, then looked at Brady. “Three sisters and three brothers? Methinks an apocalypse is brewing.”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Someone’s been dipping in the church wine.”

  “This from the man who knows the legendary curse backward, forward, and upside down.” Jessica stared at Kaida, tilting her head. “He’s only been obsessed with it since birth.”

  Kaida slid him a smirk, her eyebrows pinged in a silent, oh, really.

  “Anyway,” Jessica waved her hand, “all joking aside, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Six Fates.”

  “Thank you. I love it so far. Brady’s been kind enough to show me around.”

  “Has he? Interesting, because he prefers chewing glass to hanging out with a Galloway. We’ll have to go for drinks sometime. I can give you all the dirt on this one here.” Jessica shot a thumb at Brady. “We went to school together.”

  He cleared his throat, unamused. “Is there a particular reason you stormed my office or are you simply wanting to add to my migraine?”

  She grinned, fluffing her short brown strands. “Annoying, my middle name. The contractors called. They’re running twenty minutes behind, but they’ll meet you at the lighthouse.”

  “Thanks. And tell Bridgeport no to the speech.” He’d rather gnaw off his arm than talk to the mayor today. Lord knew she’d have enough to say on her own at the museum plaque spiel. A few words from him wouldn’t be necessary. He glanced at Kaida as he zipped his coat. “Ready to go?”

  Since the contractors were running behind and the gray clouds on the horizon were a ways out, they opted to walk the couple blocks to the lighthouse. Ever aware of her presence, he kept glancing at her profile as she took in her surroundings. A boyish instinct to hold her hand made his fingers itch, but he ignored it, breathing damp brine-scented air instead.

  They followed a back path past posted signs and stopped at the red carriage door. The lighthouse was closed today for his meeting, but usually it was open to the public from ten to four. He waited until she read the plaque on the sign stating the year of erection and brief history before pulling out his keys.

  “I saw it from the ferry coming in. The place is remarkably preserved for being two-hundred years old. Is the fieldstone original?”

  Pride filled his chest. “Mostly. There’s been a few repairs here and there.”

  He unlocked the door and strode to the circuit box. A flip of a switch, and wall sconces lit the interior.

  The main floor was no more than two-hundred square feet, so when he’d taken over the society, they’d utilized wall space to hang pictures and factual points on his request. Something for tourists to look at besides an empty, dank interior. Most of the cool artifacts were in Six Fates Museum, but a few benches lined the circular room and in the center was the original lighthouse oil lantern that had once drawn sailors home.

  “There’s a gift shop through here.” He unlocked the adjoining door, which had once been a caretaker’s cabin. The buzz and whir of florescent overheads hummed, revealing shelves of coffee table books, t-shirt racks, and poster bins. Postcards and plastic models of the lighthouse were beside the register. “Someone from town mans this Monday through Saturday.”

  She nodded, her gaze everywhere at once. “Very neat. I’ve never been in a lighthouse before.”

  Car doors closed outside, followed by muted voices.

  “I think the contractors are here.” He strode toward the entrance. “Will you be okay for about thirty minutes? After that, I’m yours.”

  Her grin depleted his brain cells. “Of course. I’ll look around. Pretend I’m not here.”

  Not likely, but he tried hard as he could to listen during his meeting and the tour. Good thing the contractors had drawn up a proposal ahead of time or else he would’ve been scrambling to remember what they’d discussed. His focus kept drifting back to Kaida as she stopped from plaque to plaque, reading, brushing her fingers over the signs and illustrations.

  While he walked the two men out, he rolled the proposal packet, anxious to be alone with her. “I’ll take a look at this and discuss it with the Galloways. You should hear from me by Monday.”

  He locked the door and faced her, but she seemed unaware of his presence while she gazed at the long list of previous caretakers and their dates of service. Stopping beside her, the smell of damp wood, age, and saltwater disappeared, only to be replaced by her rosemary scent.

  “What a wonderful thing to do,” she said quietly, her voice like a ghost brushing his skin. “A nice homage to those who once lived here.”

  It had taken a lot of research to hunt up the names, but he was glad he’d extended the effort when he’d taken over the historical society. “I agree. Ready for a private tour?”

  He unlatched the gate to the iron circular staircase leading above and held out his hand. “Watch your step. The railing needs replacing.”

  Setting her warm palm against his, she followed his lead, her gaze on her feet. “Good thing I don’t have a fear of heights.”

  He laughed, but her touch had his heart rate racing and his skin charged. It was all he could do to focus on the tight climb without falling. At the top, he reluctantly slipped his hand from hers and waited while she took in her surroundings.

  In the middle of the room, a single stationary lamp framed by lenses sat on a steel skeleton tower. Solar-powered, it would illuminate at dusk. A three-hundred sixty degree panoramic view lay before them from four stories high. To the west was the mainland, shrouded in fog and hugged by the Atlantic. To the east was the island, resembling a replica model due to the elevation.

  Kaida was the better view. Tenfold.

  “Wow.”
She strode to the northern glass wall and set her purse by her feet. As if he weren’t there, she crossed her arms and kept her back to him, her sole focus the endless expanse of ocean. “Amazing.”

  Yes, she was. Removing his coat, he took a seat on a bench a few feet behind her and looked his fill.

  She had a regal, noble slope to her neck and posture that echoed a dancer. Though slender, hourglass curves detracted from making her fragile in appearance. He was six feet tall, and the top of her head nearly came to his mouth, putting her close to five-nine.

  Every characteristic, from her long, wavy strands to her oval face to her cerulean eyes, was familiar. However, it was her presence he’d recognize in pitch blackness. An innate awareness or aura that surrounded her. Color him crazy, but she always felt like a remote extension of himself.

  Not bothering to fight the déjà vu sensation, he smiled. “Watching you standing there, it reminds me of all the times I crested the hill to our meadow and found you in the same position by the cliffs.”

  She hummed, an adorable sound she made when in agreement, but was too deep in thought to respond.

  After a beat, she turned and walked toward him, sitting sideways on the bench to face him. “Water is a lullaby for me. Unless I was dreaming, the closest I’ve been to an ocean is Lake Michigan, which looks remarkably like the Atlantic. I always intended to travel, but never got around to it. Well, until I arrived here, anyway. In dreams, the roaring sound and the waves drew me, a balm to my nerves. Restless and wild, it should’ve had the opposite effect. Instead, I was captivated. I suppose that makes sense, though, considering my element is water.”

  “In total honesty, I’ve Googled the whole witchcraft thing for two nights straight, but I still don’t have much of a grasp, nor do I know what’s folklore versus fact.” Mercy, he wanted to touch her again. Having her within inches of him was wreaking havoc on his control. “If I understand correctly, each witch gets power from an element?”

  “My sisters believe we get a lot of our powers from the moon or can draw energy from it.” She rested her elbow on the back of the bench, setting her chin in her palm. “Any person born with magick is tied to an element, however. A bond, of sorts. We also have some kind of premonition gift. Mine’s steeped in the present.”

  He grinned. “So, if I ask you what my brothers are doing right now, you could tell me?”

  Her musical laugh echoed off the glass and penetrated his chest. “It doesn’t work that way. For starters, I can’t call upon it at will, and I tend to get visions while asleep.”

  “More dream potency.” He sobered, wondering if he was but a chess piece in Fate’s game. How else was he to explain how he’d appeared in her dreams? Not even Mara could seem to offer a guess. Studying Kaida’s face, he almost didn’t care if he was a pawn. It had brought her to him. “How is it going with your sisters?”

  “Good.” She huffed a laugh. “Fiona has a talent for potions. The other night, she dropped a six-hundred page hardcover manual on botany off in my room. Told me to study it. I gleaned more from watching her blend herbs than the book, though. Luckily, she didn’t mind the audience. I’m learning.” She shrugged. “Ceara’s a master spell-caster. She’s great with words and can whip up a spell off the top of her head while doing three other things at once.”

  That’s not exactly what he’d meant. Her birth family had sent her away in an open adoption to distant relatives who were supposed to teach her about her gifts, yet hadn’t. She’d had no clue she had sisters, never mind powers. In under a week, she’d been forced to adapt to siblings, destinies, and answers about her past, which had to have hurt her to hear. The way he saw it, they’d treated her like she was dispensable.

  Fiona and Ceara had been mere toddlers back then and had no say in the decision thrust at Kaida, but she had to resent them on some level. Any option to form a bond with them had been stolen from her. Hell, if it were him, he’d be pissed off to no end. He couldn’t fathom a life without his brothers. They were each others’ rock and safe landing pad. Who was Kaida’s? Who did she have to turn to in times of need?

  Melancholy coagulated with anger in his gut. Gently, he took her forearm and turned it over, cradling her hand in his. Brushing his thumb over her trinity knot, he stared at the mark, trying to conjure a diplomatic response. “Are they good to you?”

  “Yes,” she offered quietly. The catch in her breath told him she wasn’t unaffected by the contact. “Fiona’s not as patient as Ceara, but they’re teaching me a lot.”

  “No, sweetheart.” He lifted his gaze to hers, held it as emotions he couldn’t handle churned inside him. “I want to know if they’re good to you. Are they nice? Do they include you?” Would they have her back no matter what like his brothers did for him?

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “They ask about my life all the time, are trying to know me. In turn, they’ve told me stories about our ancestors.” She paused. “Trust doesn’t happen overnight. We were all but strangers a week ago. They’re trying. We spend a lot of time together...”

  He sensed a but coming and squeezed her hand to encourage more.

  Closing her eyes, she drew a breath before opening them. “I sense they’re using magick to form a connection between us. Not a spell or anything nefarious, but my lessons and us being at the shop are the only instances where we’re together. I think they feel the timeline for this curse is forcing them to rush, putting everything I should’ve known about the craft into my head at once.”

  Her gaze dropped to his throat, distant and sad. “It’s having the opposite effect. Figuring out our tasks and breaking the spell is important. I get that. So is me learning all I can to catch up.” A sheen formed in her eyes. “But is it wrong of me to want to be a part of the family and not just a placeholder in destiny? Is that selfish?”

  “Not selfish at all.” He scooted closer until they were nearly on top of one another. He cupped the side of her head, wishing he could replace her longing with fulfillment. But bonding with her sisters wasn’t a demon he could slay for her. “You should talk to them about it. Tell them how you’re feeling.”

  In a display of complete surrender, she rested her forehead against his. “I know. It’s just...different with them. I can talk to you. In a twisted way, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Them, not so much.”

  “Someone has to take the first step.” Idly, he skimmed his fingers up and down her inner forearm, their faces still close as they shared air. Except it didn’t matter how close they were. He was beginning to wonder if it would ever be enough. “You’re the bravest person I know. It took courage to get on that plane based off a letter from a birth mother you’d never met, and even more courage to board that ferry. Talk to them. You’ll feel better.”

  A smile, and she nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

  She went to ease away, but he slid his hand behind her neck to hold her to him. Her cerulean eyes widened a fraction, interest swirling in their depths. She drew the slightest inhale, unnoticeable had she not been in his orbit, forcing him to dip his gaze to her pouty, sexy-as-hell mouth. Rosemary swirled around him, invaded his lungs, and he had to know if she tasted like the herb. Had to know if his world would begin or end when he gave in to the urge.

  “You don’t ever have to thank me, Kaida.” Holding his breath, he brushed his nose against hers. Anticipation tightened his windpipe. “This might be taking advantage of the situation, or moving too fast, but I want to kiss you.”

  Her lids lowered seductively and a swallow worked her throat. “Are you asking permission?”

  “Are you giving it?”

  In answer, she erased the meager distance and pressed her lips to his. A feather-light meeting, and she trembled in response. Oxygen backed up in his lungs, his heart thundering toward detonation, while she offered tentative brushes and cautious nips. Body humming, he perched on the edge of restraint, dying to plunge. With his eyes open, he watched hers fall closed, and he tested the waters of s
anity by tilting his head for a tighter fit.

  And he’d been wrong moments ago. On every cosmic level possible, he’d been wrong. His world didn’t begin or end with a kiss. It wasn’t as basic or mundane. Fragments of their shared timeline reformed into one, no longer divided, and seeped into his consciousness like an outer bank fog.

  There was no her. No him. Never had been. They’d always been a them.

  Pinching his lids shut on a groan, he sucked air through his nostrils and increased the pressure. Parting her lips with his, he wove his tongue against hers, velvet soft and hotter than the surface of the sun.

  A mewl purred from her throat, jacking his pulse higher. She shoved her fingers in his hair, threaded the strands, and rose onto her knees, thrusting his head back. He wrapped an arm around her waist, crushing her to him, and gripped her ponytail with the other.

  Memory slithered around in his skull. They’d done this before. Kissed. Held one another. Collided. Yet their dream world hadn’t been in the same realm as this one. No muted sense of touch or a celestial force to yank them away. No barriers or limits.

  And the potency plowed over him, through him, until he was clay in her hands for her alone to mold. Synapses misfired. Interest merged with desire, went from a feral need to he’d die without. He deepened the connection, went at her with more urgency, to which she matched him beat for beat.

  Her clever mind had forever been a fascination to him, but he hadn’t expected her kiss to mirror her thoughts or words. Like a book, he read her. The way she explored as if curious, charted a path and left her mark behind. The breadcrumbs were revealing, and yet nothing he hadn’t known about her to date.

  Seductive. Inquisitive. Compassionate. Sweet with a side of sass, if she felt the urge. But desperation and loneliness lay quietly underneath, hovering for someone to yank the chord and relieve her of the burden.

  He gave in. To whatever the hell this was between them, he just gave in. Waved a white flag and surrendered. Caved to whatever spell the universe had woven. He was delusional to think otherwise, that he had any say in the matter.