Mind Mates (Pull of the Moon Book 2)

by Mary Hughes

  “Granted, but Enforcers are trained to be unreadable, and they have amulets and talismans to back them up. Noah, you’re anxious about Sophia, and I sympathize. I’m concerned too. Tell you what. I was going to stop at my aunt’s bookstore, but I’ll go directly to where the Enforcer is staying. Talk to him and get Sophia released, which will wind you down. I’ll also see what I can discover about his real source. Okay?”

  “Fine,” Noah said. “Handle it. But if you don’t, I will.” He backed out, turning toward his truck.

  “Noah, wait. You passed us headed the other way. Where were you going?”

  He stuck his head in again. “Getting ready to handle things. That damned Enforcer wants power—Mason said he could see it in the little shit’s eyes. My wolf pendant has power, and it happens to be nearby. I was collecting it.”

  “Not your pendant.” Gabriel’s tone was shocked.

  “No worries, another power piece is coming along soon. In the spirit of there never being enough scat hitting the fan, guess what’s active again? That thrice-damned prophecy.”

  Emma peeked up from the hidey hole of Gabriel’s arms. The alpha’s golden eyes were glinting.

  “Cinnamon toast crap,” Gabriel said. “Another cryptic red clue?”

  “Just popped up. Something about giving in to the rage. I’m all for that.”

  “I hate prophecies,” Gabriel growled. “Bunch of gobbledygook. Meaningless until they’ve gone by, like a stop sign on the far corner of an intersection. Noah, forget your wolf, forget the prophecy. Our focus has to be Sophia. Go back to your beta and wait for me to talk with the Enforcer. I’ll get her released, okay?”

  “You’d better.”

  When the alpha prowled away, Gabriel released Emma. As she straightened in her seat, he put the car into gear and merged quickly with traffic.

  He’d been the ultimate of calm during the whole encounter, and his face was impassive, but she could tell from the way he held his body and the slight tension in his fingers that strong emotion gripped him—both desperately worried and furious.

  Maybe he’d only said what he had to protect her. Maybe he really thought she’d betrayed Sophia.

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Thanks,” she said in a small voice, staring at her hands. “For not turning me over to him.”

  She braced for his cutting “Doesn’t mean I trust you” or “You’re not off the hook yet”.

  “He’s an imbecile,” Gabriel snarled. “How could he possibly think you had anything to do with my sister’s arrest?”

  She straightened in stunned relief. “I-I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Thanks.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. It’s not in you. You’re loyal and true, and one of the kindest people I know.”

  She blinked back sudden tears. She’d thought his calling her an outstanding employee was high praise? This was the best, because he saw past the small, cute female to the core of who she tried to be. “That’s nice.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  Her heart melted a little for him then.

  Impulsively, she leaned over, stretched up, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  The blank look on his face struck her with cold—until the corner of his lips rose. He glanced at her, a twinkle in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to tell the truth more often, if I get that kind of reward.”

  “Guess you will.” She sat back in her seat, pleased with herself. “So, more truth. What did Noah mean when he said the prophecy is active again?”

  He twitched. “It’s complicated. Um, I’ll tell you later?”

  “Sure.” She was amused when his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Then let’s start with something easier. Why didn’t you tell me you’re a witch?”

  * * *

  Gabriel winced inside. He’d known if Emma ever found out about his mage heritage, he’d have to field this question. He should be grateful she wasn’t hurling it at him in accusation.

  He should have told her, and he knew it. Well, he’d have to treasure that soft kiss on his cheek even more. He wouldn’t be getting another anytime soon.

  Probably that was the biggest reason he hadn’t told her. Sure, witch/wolf was a huge taboo, and he had his ordinary-guy camouflage to maintain, but most of all, he hadn’t wanted to see the adoration in her eyes when she looked at him turn to indifference, or worse, disgust.

  He glanced at her to gauge her mood. What could he tell her that wouldn’t make things worse?

  She sat primly in her seat, dwarfed by the leather bucket, hands folded neatly in her lap. Not overtly disgusted. Maybe he still had a chance for those kisses.

  Shouldn’t want, but really did.

  “That’s complicated too.” Actually it wasn’t, not emotionally. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the fallout. But that was cowardly, and continuing to evade was even more so, and the one thing a battle mage was not, was cowardly. He opened his mouth to spill the truth.

  I want you so badly I shake with it. But we’d end up like Sophia, in jail, or worse, at the cleavy end of a headsman’s axe.

  For himself, he’d have risked it. Problem was, even if he told her the Council would come down hardest on her, he was afraid her reaction would be a brave, “I’ll be fine.” Could he risk it?

  Could he not?

  “Let me guess,” she said before he could think of words he could actually say. “You didn’t want me to get ideas above myself, you being the big witch and me a bottom-caste wolf.”

  “No! Never.” He found it vaguely offensive she’d think him capable of that. “I simply didn’t want the Witches’ Council to get the wrong idea.”

  Although she probably wouldn’t care about the Council; wolves didn’t.

  Sure enough, she replied, “You care what they think?”

  “Of course.” And you would too if you knew the powers they give their Enforcers.

  “Wow. I’d never pegged you as letting the authorities dictate his friends.”

  “I don’t, not friends. It’s not that. It’s just…don’t you know about the sex taboo?”

  “Sure.” She glanced up in an almost–eye roll. “But witches don’t slum with shifters so it’s never an issue.”

  Something twisted in his gut. “Good galloping granola. If that’s what you think of me, I don’t deserve to have you as my friend.”

  Her lashes flew up, her gaze glinting on him—anger, suspicion, or pain, he wasn’t sure. “Are we? Friends, that is?”

  “We shook on it.” He swallowed hard, trying to down his fear that their increasing trust and intimacy, all the play, banter, and working together over the past couple months had been destroyed; or worse, none of it meant as much to her as it did to him. What if her sweet arousal around him wasn’t a response to him, but only an iota’s response to an alpha, even if he was only an alpha geek?

  Her gaze continued to glitter, hard and cold like a diamond.

  His guts twisted. He’d do anything to make that angry, alienated look go away. He considered the wisdom of saying more. Of saying how he truly felt.

  Deadly dangerous if a Council drone was listening.

  He kept his mouth shut.

  She saw it. Her arms crossed and her shoulders slumped.

  Anger he could handle, but her sorrow and distress made him blurt, “Emma, I…I care about you.” Even admitting that was dangerous.

  Completely worth it when her gaze softened, her shoulders rose, and her cheeks pinked appealingly.

  “Friends?” he asked softly.

  Her expression twisted, eyes glistening with emotion. “I thought we were, but then why didn’t you tell me you’re a mage? I’m a shifter. We know about witches.”

  “I know, but…well, it was nice. You liking me for who I was, not because I was a wizard prince.”

  “A p-prince?” Her sucked breath made him wince. Apparently she hadn’t figured out the royalty part. Her eyes cut away. “I’m sorry. I apologize for what I said before. We really are in different le
agues.”

  “No.” He shook his head impatiently. “We’re not. That’s why I never brought it up. We have so much more in common. The differences are negligible, and I didn’t want them coming between us. And that’s the bottom-line truth.” He liked being friends with her and didn’t want anything to screw that up.

  She looked away. “Okay.” The word was flat.

  She didn’t believe him. His heart sank.

  As they reached the eastern outskirts of Matinsfield, and he quietly made the turn onto East Main, she pointed.

  “There’s my home.” She indicated a bungalow, second from the corner of East Second. “I mean, my mother’s house.”

  Though Bruiser kept his pack confined to the condo community, Gabriel knew that many shifters lived as humans did, each family in their own home, with a communal meeting place. That was true of Matinsfield. He tried to pull his foot off the gas.

  But he couldn’t quite manage to let Emma go. He kept driving.

  When he passed her house, she frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “You can’t go home,” he began tentatively. “Not with Noah acting so irrationally.” Before she could dispute that, before she could find out all he really wanted was a few minutes more with her, to have a chance to make it up to her or even simply to arrange it so they didn’t part angry, he blurted, “I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  “What?”

  Her shock made him wince. “Well, Noah knows where your mother lives. I thought maybe it would be better to keep you with me, at least until I get Sophia released. I know an EU Enforcer and he’s very reasonable; I’m sure this jailer will be too. With her safe, Noah won’t tear the town apart—or you.”

  The shocked expression eased from her face, and she nodded thoughtfully. “All right. We can also get to the bottom of who actually informed on her.”

  “Yes.” He liked that she was talking “we”.

  “Where is this jailer?”

  “Council Enforcers are required by law to stay near their jail portal until the witch’s trial. One minute, and I’ll get the details.” He pulled to the side of the road. “Connect phone. Call Pan.”

  The in-dash Bluetooth connected. A moment later, his familiar growled, “Yeah?”

  “You okay buddy? That wobble work itself out?”

  “No, it’s worse. But I’m nearly to Matinsfield. I’ll drop the van at the garage before meeting you.”

  “Good. Listen, did you find out where the Enforcer is holding Sophia?”

  “Who am I?” From his tone, the familiar was rolling his golden eyes. “Of course I found out. Matinsfield Bed and Breakfast on Pine.”

  “Great. Thanks. Call end.” Pine was one block north of Main Street, the B-and-B on the corner of West Second. Pulling out, he said, “We’ll be there in a moment.”

  “I’ll be glad to meet the jackass who’s accusing me.” She paused. “Um…are you sure you want me there? It’s witches’ business, and I’m only a shifter. An iota at that.” She added it so hesitantly it almost broke his heart.

  “Absolutely.”

  She nodded again, but slowly, doubtfully.

  “Emma…” He wasn’t quite sure how to convince her he meant it. “Frankly, I’ll feel better if you’re there for support, as aggravated as I am.”

  “Well… Anything I can do to help.” She snaked a shy hand toward his on the steering wheel.

  Her fingers alighted on the back of his hand like a butterfly’s kiss. A whisper of skin on skin, yet it sent shock waves reverberating through him, juicing his veins, singing straight to his cock, shocking it to erectness.

  “Thanks.” His tone was strangled, courtesy of a throat so tight he couldn’t have swallowed a knitting needle.

  But hell. All his reassurances about their friendship meant nothing to her, yet the instant he needed her, she was still there for him.

  He’d take it.

  Circling the block, he stopped the car on Pine in front of the B-and-B. He wasn’t lying, having Emma there would help—as long as his cock’s tendency to go inflatable-lifeboat on him at her least little unintentional provocation didn’t give him away.

  He took a deep breath and willed his contrary penis to soften. It took three breaths, but he was finally able to get out of the car without The Erection Visible From Space telling the whole world how he really felt about her.

  Because of his gallant response, he missed his opportunity to be truly gallant, to open her door and give her a hand out. She was already on the sidewalk.

  He rushed ahead to open the B-and-B door for her then stepped aside let her go in first.

  Sliding through after her, he kept close. The place was probably warded to the hilt. Council Enforcers were cautious that way.

  The inside was semi-dark, a few wall-mounted electric candles at their dimmest barely lighting the red-flocked paper. Her superior sight, plus having been inside a couple seconds longer than him, meant she saw the Enforcer first. She turned slightly to speak to a skinny, shadowy form leaning against a big white blob. “Hello.”

  A man answered. “Well, well. Who have we here?” The voice was high, the accent snooty.

  Gabriel couldn’t see the face, but that snooty tone, as if the owner’s nose was stuck in the stars, plucked a half-forgotten memory. A bad memory. He frowned as his eyes adjusted and the speaker resolved into an unfamiliar face—with beady eyes zeroed in on him.

  “Hello, prince.”

  Unfamiliar face, but the lank corn-silk hair and mocking grin was all too well-remembered.

  That grin haunted his worst nightmares.

  This was the boy who’d ignored warnings, whose magic had fritzed the delicate electronics of a trans-Atlantic airplane. The jet had reacted badly, falling from the sky.

  “Fuck, Ryder? What the hell are you doing here?”

  This was the boy responsible for his parents’ death.

  Chapter Nine

  Gabriel took a step toward the blob that was Ryder and heard a distinct crunch.

  “Damn it, Light,” came a thin chirp from the floor. “Watch where you’re putting those tennis rackets you call feet. Illumination to high.”

  Gabriel rocked onto his heels as the electric lights came up, revealing an old-fashioned parlor decorated in the style of the 60s—the 1860s. Flocked red paper and deep mahogany furniture complemented gold curtains and upholstery.

  On the gold carpet before him lay a squashed black bug, Ryder’s cricket familiar. The cricket vibrated violently for a second then popped whole as Gabriel took refuge beside a marble fireplace that dominated the right side of the room. He caught his own grim, pale reflection briefly in the mirror above the mantelpiece before turning to face the inevitable.

  Lounging against a white piano opposite was a swizzle stick of a man wearing a leather jacket apparently held together by zippers, more fashion than sense. Beyond him was a doorway, the edge of the front desk visible, a staircase winging up beside it.

  “Prince Gabriel Light. Long time no see.” Ryder didn’t offer his hand. Gabriel wouldn’t have taken it.

  The cricket chirped, “I heard Light couldn’t hack the mage’s life and retired to the mundy world.”

  “I heard that too, Jimmy. How’s that going for you, Light?” Ryder flicked a beady glance at Emma. “Oh wait, I see. You’re slumming, then.”

  Fury seared Gabriel’s veins. A growl ripped low from his throat, and he took an involuntary step forward. The cricket scuttled toward his swizzle-stick witch, whose beady eyes brightened.

  Emma touched Gabriel’s arm, a quiet caution. Fisting his hands, he reined himself back.

  “Well, well.” Ryder’s gaze hopped between them. “Interesting reaction. Who is this?”

  “And who is she to you?” the cricket chirped.

  Gabriel snarled, “Mind your own business, Jiminy.”

  “It’s Jimmy,” the cricket rasped like rubbing sticks.

  “Can’t you make your familiar shut up, Ryder?”


  “I would, but I want to know as well. Who are you, sweetheart?” Ryder’s drawl dripped condescension…and since his nose was in the air, dripped a little condensation too.

  “Emma. Emma Singer Sharpclaw. Who are you?” The challenge in her tone was plain.

  Gabriel enjoyed a momentary surge of pride. His Emma wasn’t cowed by anyone.

  “Twelve inches of rock-hard male.” Ryder smirked.

  “His name is Ryder Shootingstar,” Gabriel said. “He’s a Council lackey.”

  “I got a promotion, prince. I’m an Enforcer now.”

  And giving the profession a bad name. “You always did like making others follow rules you were too lazy to obey.”

  Ryder’s slouch disappeared with an arrowed glare. “Watch your mouth, Light. Your sister is in my jail.” Slyly, he added, “I’d hate to lose the key.”

  Ice crowded out Gabriel’s rage. He clenched his jaw on a retort, so hard he nearly cracked enamel.

  Witches couldn’t be held in normal prisons, so each was restrained in a pocket universe, with the key to the jail’s doorway or wormhole or whatever the hell you wanted to call the only fucking way out in the hands of the jailer.

  He fought to ease the grimace from his face. He couldn’t afford to piss off Ryder, not until the Enforcer opened Sophia’s bubble and his sister was safely released.

  Damn, he’d hoped for a quick, painless resolution. But here was Ryder, fucking up his life again.

  Affecting a control he didn’t feel, Gabriel drawled in return, “Lose the key? That’d be singularly careless of a Council Enforcer. Let’s be reasonable. What would it take to get Sophia released? A promise of public service? Money?”

  Ryder licked his lips at the word money, but his stupid crunchy-even-in-milk familiar had to chirp up.

  “Don’t be an ass, Light.” The cricket leaned forward, all buggy attitude. “She was having relations with a wolf. That’s headsman territory.”

  “Right.” Ryder’s own ass-itude snapped back. “She stays where she is until a trial can be held.”

  Damn that cricket. Gabriel’s fists tightened, nails biting into his palms. He didn’t believe a witch’s worth was reflected in the shape of his familiar, except where Ryder was concerned. “Intermagical relations is a pretty serious accusation.” He hid his clenching fists behind his back and spoke in the most offhand tone he could muster. “Do you have proof?”