by Patti Larsen
Maybe the little children needed a reminder of just who they were prodding.
I grinned at Jean Marc. “You throw like a girl.”
That hit the spot. Temper, temper, Dumont. His smirk faded immediately, eyes flaring with lavender fire. Now that he was second of his coven, chosen by his father Andre, I expected more of Jean Marc. Considering Andre’s unusual position as the new leader of the Dumonts, the first male leader in witch history, I would have thought keeping a low profile would be on the menu. After all, my friend Mia crashed and burned from the loss of the family magic, but if Andre screwed up, I had no doubt the damaged girl would be right there, ready to pounce and demand yet again the Council return her power to her.
I guess either Andre didn’t give a crap about what anyone thought or dear Johnny and Kris weren’t following orders. More responsibility hadn’t done wonders for either of them. They were still asshat bullies and always would be.
Kristophe was the worse of the two, if that was possible. The posing jerk had been pushing around other young witches all semester. I’d stepped in a time or two, but neither he nor his brother had the balls to confront me before now.
So what changed?
“Don’t think you’re unreachable, Hayle.” Jean Marc crossed his arms over his chest, wide shoulders hulking behind his thick neck as he focused his power on me.
Made me laugh out loud.
“I’m right here, Johnny,” I said, actually kind of enjoying myself. More so when his anger flared. Hoped he blew a gasket. Or better, used magic against me openly in the Yard.
His ass would be mine.
Liam went and ruined my plan for fun and revenge. “Why don’t you two just leave her alone?”
Tell me he didn’t step in front of me like I was some princess needing saving?
Facepalm.
While I adored Liam for his chivalry and kindness, he really had to understand the fact I didn’t need him to stand up for me.
Kristophe took the bait, stalking toward us, swinging his ponytail like he was on a runway. Seriously?
“Mind your own business, Gatekeeper.” Kristophe looked Liam up and down. Mostly up, since my friend had at least a head of height on him, not to mention width. “We don’t converse with lesser beings.”
What a jerk. But Liam was too smart to buy into Kristophe’s—
One long arm pulled back, flew forward and, before I could move, breathe, think, Kristophe was on the ground, blood flowing from his elegant European nose.
I stared up at Liam in total shock while Kristophe wailed in fury.
“How dare you?” The younger Dumont brother tried to scramble to his feet, but his coat was too long and the snow so thick under foot by then all he managed was a wet, flopping motion.
Like a beached sea monster failing in desperation for open water, all elegance lost in his four-limbed thrashing while Jean Marc cursed and slipped as he lunged for his brother, falling on his own sorry ass for his trouble.
A snort escaped me. Laughter broke from my lips. I bit them to try to stop the hilarity from rising, but I just couldn’t make it stop.
Howling, grasping my aching ribs, I fell into hysterics as Jean Marc pushed himself to his feet and finally managed to jerk his brother up beside him. Liam tried to step in front of me again, but I shoved him aside, finally pulling myself under control, though the occasional giggle continued to escape.
“Keep your creature away from my brother.” Jean Marc acted like Kristophe hadn’t been asking for a punch in the face. Hell, I’d have done it long ago if I’d thought it would do any good.
“Whatever,” I said, grinning so wide my cold cheeks tingled. “Keep your family away from mine.”
Kristophe mopped at the blood on his face, still flowing despite the surge of magic I felt him release to staunch the flow. “At least one of your bodyguards didn’t abandon you,” he snarled. “Careful, cher, or this one will turn coward and run off like that wolf bitch of yours.”
Jean Marc latched onto Kristophe and dragged him away, but the younger Dumont wasn’t done.
“If you see her again,” Kristophe said, fighting his brother as he slid and slipped over the accumulating snow, “tell her I miss our little lessons.”
I let them go. Forced myself to breathe, all hilarity dead at the thought of Charlotte and what Kristophe and his sick mind could have done to her all the years the Dumonts owned her.
Shudder. One more word and I would have gone after him. One more jab and he’d be dead. I think Jean Marc must have known they’d pushed me about as far as they could, because he physically dragged Kristophe out of sight around one of the dorms.
I unwound slowly, heart hammering in rage and indignation for the weregirl, even as my old sadness came rushing back.
Why did she leave me?
I turned to Liam to find him scowling at the retreating brothers while cradling his right hand.
At least his aggressive stance and expression were enough to break my mood. In fact, a small smile tried to rise, even as I mentally rolled my eyes.
Tough guy, huh? Sigh.
Liam didn’t protest when I took him by the sleeve and led him to his dorm, nor did he argue, now a little shame-faced, as I pushed him down on his bed and peeled away his mitten. Just my lightest touch to the swelling under his skin made him hiss in pain.
“Broken,” I said, grinning at him as my giggles returned. “Idiot.”
In his first show of defiance, he tried to pull his hand away, but I refused to let go. “It was time they knew who they were messing with.”
I snorted, couldn’t help it, as my power slid around his hand and knitted the bone. “My hero.”
Liam’s jaw clenched. Damn it, I’d pushed him too far, just as much as the Dumonts pushed me. Even my sweet, kind-hearted Sidhe friend was a guy first and foremost.
I let go of his hand and took his face between mine, forcing him to meet my eyes. He did, sullen anger at war with embarrassment written all over his face.
“Thank you,” I said. Kissed him.
“You’re welcome,” he said. Kissed me back.
The rumble of our joining power came back, stronger than ever.
“You really are my hero,” I said, the heat of our moment in the Yard returning. And in that instant, sitting there on his bed, looking into hazel eyes glittering with green sparks, I made a decision.
Liam. Okay then.
I slid into his lap and pushed him back, the sigh of his puffy coat between us. “Let me show you how much I appreciate being rescued.”
***
Chapter Three
“Did you want more cream for your coffee?” Liam’s big hand hovered over my steaming cup, already full to the brim thanks to his attentions. I felt my smile wavering despite my efforts to keep it in place.
I’d been smiling all morning, ever since I woke up next to him, warm and comfortable, the humming thrum of earth magic between us so powerful the bed vibrated ever so slightly. Wrapped in the scent of fresh turned soil and his amazing fabric softener, I opened my eyes to find him watching me with a soft, sweet expression on his face.
Only problem was, my smile felt more fake as time passed. Not because I had any regrets—not in the least. Though I had to admit I was a little shocked to find out I was the only one with experience. Still, Liam was attentive and gentle when he needed to be and more than eager when I asked for more.
It was a long, fun night. One I was more than happy to repeat.
At least, that’s what I told myself as he leaned in and kissed me when I woke, the morning sun shining on his blonde hair, red cast glowing softly in the light.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Choke. “I love you, too.” Oh. My. Swearword. Did I really hesitate?
He didn’t take it as an issue, fingers stroking over the bare skin of my shoulder before sliding into my hair. “I know you have to marry soon,” he said, voice soft, deep, each word thudding inside my heart, “and I want you t
o marry me.”
Gasp, splutter. EEK.
I’d just managed to push the future out of my head and he brought it crashing back around me. Perfect.
I sat up abruptly, pulling away from him, still smiling. “Thanks,” I said, breathless as I slid from his bed and fought panic as I flailed around for my clothes.
Thanks? Holy hell, Syd. Really?
I had to get a grip.
Liam’s face fell, as he watched me thrash around like an idiot for a minute.
“Syd,” he said.
I froze, turned with my underwear in hand, bra half on. Looked into the deer in the headlights that were his sad eyes.
“I didn’t mean today,” he said.
Breathe.
Just. Freaking. Breathe.
I sank to the edge of the bed, forcing out a deep breath, knees shaking, hands shaking, all of me one big shake-shake-shake.
Liam’s hand settled on my thigh as he slid across to me, pressing his cheek to my shoulder, hair tickling my back.
“Are you okay?”
I swallowed hard, sagged. “I’m sorry,” I said, tears welling in my eyes, prickling the back of my throat. “I didn’t mean to wig out. It’s just…”
“I get it.” Liam pulled away, shifted again until he sat beside me, the top sheet draped modestly across his lap. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”
I turned and hugged him, the underwire of my bra poking me as it swung sideways, but I didn’t care. He felt solid, real. Comfortable.
So why was I so freaked out?
“Let’s go to breakfast.” He slid on his boxers, stood and offered me the underwear I’d dropped. So weird seeing my pink hot lips undies hanging from his fingers.
It took a lot not to snatch them back.
Liam didn’t say much while we dressed, though he was so gently attentive I wanted to scream. Why did it bother me he loaded his toothbrush for me to use? Or held my coat for me to put on? Opened the door, all gallant. Offered his arm as we entered the Yard.
My head buzzed, smile cemented on my face as I fought to understand what the hell was wrong with me. I loved Liam, didn’t I? Of course I did. And we were clearly physically compatible if last night was any indication. So why was I gritting my teeth as he hovered close, practically cutting my pancakes for me?
Oh. My. Swearword.
Not practically. Did he really just butter my freaking toast?
Breathe. Remember breathing. It’s necessary.
“You’re so amazing.” Liam leaned in, pressed his lips to my temple while my heart tightened, my chest compressing the life out of me. “I had no idea it could be so incredible between us.”
I looked up into his eyes, ready to push him away and froze.
Dead in my tracks.
Because I recognized the look on his face. The same one I’d seen in the mirror the morning after I’d first slept with Quaid.
Adoration. Infatuation. Love.
Reality check. The way I was feeling didn’t match, not even a little. Was this how Quaid felt about me that same morning? Was I now somehow going to do to Liam what Quaid did to me?
Gram’s face flashed in my mind, her scowl, her words. How Liam was weak, not strong enough for me. And in that moment, staring into his dreamy, adoring eyes, I believed her.
Then snapped the hell out of it.
No way was I going to break his heart like Quaid broke mine. No. Way.
I reached up and touched his cheek with my fingertips. “I love you, too,” I said, meant it. Put everything I had into it. “But I can butter my own damned toast.”
Liam laughed. Nodded. Backed off.
Phew.
I let my rock-hard smile collapse, shuddered gently. Got a freaking grip.
The moment I unclenched, I immediately felt better. I was not Quaid. I would not make Liam’s first time a mess of grief and heartbreak. Whether I married my Sidhe boyfriend or not, he would only ever know I loved him.
Breakfast over, we crossed back to the Yard, heading for his dorm. I really needed—wanted—to go home and be alone for a few hours, but the pleading look on his face told me he was expecting something else. We both grabbed a quick wash in his shower and, I have to admit, his height made things interesting, not to mention how fun water could make our little party. The only frustrating part was the fact he couldn’t seem to tolerate the temperature I loved, so despite the giggling and sighing part of our joint shower, I left his bathroom feeling vaguely cheated.
When we came up for air hours later, the late afternoon sun leaving a rim of red on the horizon, I took him to my room with me, grateful to be back in my own space.
When Liam tried to follow me into the shower, I gently pressed my hand to his chest and gave him a little shove before closing the bathroom door behind me. Maybe I should have let him join me, but frankly, I was tired, craving heat after being out in the cold. And a girl just needed some privacy now and then.
Steam poured out of the stall as I cranked up the temperature, stepping in with a sigh of happiness. I let it cascade over me for a solid minute before getting down to business.
I was part way through shaving my left leg when Sunny’s voice spoke in my mind.
Syd.
A little meep escaped my lips, followed by a hiss of pain as the razor sliced through my skin, a thin line of red instantly running from my shin. I healed it as I stood up, reached back to the queen of the Wilhelm clan even as I winced and blocked my location from her mind.
Hi, Sunny. I set the razor aside, hugging myself under the stream of hot water, resisting the urge to grab a towel and feeling very awkward about the whole situation.
Did I get you at a bad time? No humor in her voice, just mild curiosity.
What’s up? Not going there.
I was wondering if you were coming to visit this evening. I felt her walking, caught flashes of the stone halls of the Austrian castle she called home, felt the brush of Uncle Frank’s mind next to hers.
Panicked at his touch, I reached for the shower curtain, wrapping it tightly around me though I knew neither of them could see where I was.
Didn’t matter. Ew. Just ew.
Um… my mind went to Liam. Not sure.
Is everything all right? Sunny’s focus tightened. Are you in trouble?
No. I sighed. Just… Liam’s here.
Sunny’s startled surge turned to wicked understanding in a flash.
I see. Sorry to interrupt. Why did she have to sound so sultry just then?
Not here, here. I felt my skin heat from the inside, forget the hot water pouring over me. Just piss off.
Sunny’s laughter actually made me grin.
We’ll talk later, she sent.
I have no idea what prompted me to pull her mind back to mine, but for some reason, talking to Sunny made me think of Charlotte. And what Kristophe said the night before.
Can you do me a favor? I bit my lower lip, knowing I was crossing a line, but unable to help myself any longer. I had to know if the weregirl was all right.
Anything, you know that. Sunny’s mind hugged me.
I need to find Charlotte. She’d kill me for not minding my own business. But I don’t want her to know I’m looking. Yeah, like anyone poking around asking about her wouldn’t lead back to me.
And my vampires may be able to find her unobtrusively. Sunny’s forward motion halted. I caught a glimpse of her throne room, the rustling sound of her dress as she sat. Consider it done.
I know you’re not exactly friends. Werewolves and vampires did not get along.
While our two races may not be allies, Sunny sent, that fact is only thanks to the sorcery which created them. Our spirit magic and their sorcerous core repel each other like oil and water.
Well now. I’d never made that connection before.
It makes complete sense, my vampire said in her dry, cool voice. I’m surprised you never considered it.
Smartass alter ego.
I’ve grown very fond
of Charlotte, Sunny sent. And I, too, have wondered how she’s doing. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything.
Thanks. Relief washed over me, the wave so powerful I actually felt a little weak. I had no idea my worry for the weregirl was affecting me so much until the weight of it lifted.
Love you, Sunny sent. Giggled. Have fun with Liam.
Groan.
I’d never hear the end of it, now.
The wet fabric curtain peeled from my skin as I let it go, cranking the water hotter, letting it fall over me as I relaxed into the heat. Pride or no pride, Charlotte was my friend and, in many ways, family. I’d done my best to keep from interfering in her life, but the least she could have done was let me know, at some point, she was okay.
Six months was as long as I could take. Like it or not, Charlotte had to understand she couldn’t just cut off the people who loved her and not expect us to go looking for her.
***
Chapter Four
My initial knee-jerk, irritated reaction to Liam’s star-struck lover boy routine faded as the weekend passed. In fact, by the time I languidly rose from his bed late Sunday afternoon, the smile I found on my face, reflected back to me from his bathroom mirror, was real and rather comical.
I’d never been one to accept being catered to. In fact, I was usually the one taking matters into my own hands. But having Liam wait on me hand and foot was becoming rather addictive.
His shower was smaller than mine, his shampoo all wrong for my hair, but whatever. I’d adapt. And make sure I stocked his bathroom with my stuff in the future. For now, I enjoyed more steam, more hot water, hugging myself with happiness and wondering what all my earlier fuss was about.
This could really go somewhere after all. It really could. I pictured myself walking down the aisle, looking up through demurely fluttering lashes, meeting chocolate eyes—