Tonight and Forever Magical Romances Boxed Set

by D'Alessandro, Jacquie

  He found he wanted to protect her. Before now he’d only felt that way about the women in his family. But he had no idea how to battle the betrayals in her past or breach the expanses of their worlds, despite the bridges they’d recently crossed.

  Work was always a good distraction, something cool and unexpected with this relationship. He’d never dated a woman he could share that aspect of himself with.

  There was something too easy about recovering the scepter pieces—and he had to tell her.

  “Did you secure the cup we found?” he asked.

  “Malburn did.”

  “So, only two pieces left.”

  Her fingers clenched around his. The casual brightness of his comment obviously didn’t sit well with her. “Doubt we can find them?”

  “No, but I think the last one’s going to be tough. He knows you’re looking for—and finding—pieces of the scepter he’s hidden, right?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “So the last piece must be somewhere he feels it’s absolute secure, a place you can never reach.”

  “Because without the last piece all the other work is worthless.”

  “Not worthless. You had to go after everything, but the final piece is the ace in his royal flush.” When she frowned in confusion, he considered the enjoyment in teaching her how to play poker. “His safeguard in the event everything else goes wrong. Is there any chance you could get a message to him? Let him know you’re willing to negotiate?”

  She stiffened. “I’m not willing to negotiate.”

  “So the deal might fall apart.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, exchanging messages with him could reveal a clue.” Since she looked intrigued by this possibility, he continued. “Plus, if his messenger is careless enough, you could have your team follow him.”

  “That’s pretty sneaky.”

  “When you’re fighting to save your very existence, rules get tossed out the window.”

  “I like it.” Her green eyes flamed with heat. “A lot.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair. “Glad to be of service, Commander.”

  “Glad to have you.” She rose and paced beside the table. “This could fit perfectly with the party the Queen’s throwing tomorrow night.”

  “You’re inviting Gardiff to a party? How gracious.”

  Her lips twisted. “Funny. You’re invited. He’s not.”

  “I am? How will you explain me without telling them I’m a Crossover?”

  “We’ll tell them the truth. Partly anyway. You’re a caporal policeman who’s helping us find Gardiff. We’ve done it before.”

  “Not to anybody I know.”

  “How would they know? We nearly always erase their memories.”

  “So there’re caporals who’ve seen this.” He gestured to the glowing castle turrets. “And haven’t exposed the mystic world?”

  Abia looked amused. “Would you tell anybody what you’ve seen?”

  There’s a point. “So how does contacting Gardiff fit with the party?”

  “I’m wondering if I could get a message to him through the Judas—the mystic who told Gardiff about the scepter’s significance.”

  “We don’t know who he or she is,” he pointed out.

  “But there are a few people I suspect and arrogant diplomats I’d be happy to accuse.”

  “And they’ll be at the party.”

  “Exactly.”

  Nick considered this development. Killing two birds with one stone came to mind, though he doubted Abia would understand the reference. “So you pick the most likely suspects and tell them negotiation with Gardiff is on the table. If the information comes back, you’ll narrow your Judas list and get your message to Gardiff.”

  “So I’m hoping.” But lines were furrowed into her brow as she returned to her chair. “We’re running out of time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Malburn’s assistant couldn’t mix a simple healing potion today. His wand spark has dimmed to almost nothing.”

  “The absence of the scepter is draining magic from the city,” he said slowly, dreadfully, and didn’t need Abia to answer to know it was true. The fear in her eyes said everything. “Can it be reversed, even if we find all the scepter pieces?”

  “Maybe,” she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder in a rare show of exhaustion. “We can only hope.”

  ~~~

  Abia tugged at her scooped bodice to cover more of her eye-popping cleavage.

  Her palace stylist, Tippy, simply reversed her efforts, pulling the deep green and golden-threaded gown back into its original place. “You must conform to the new style, your grace.”

  “Pole dancer?” Abia shot back resentfully.

  Obviously not understanding the caporal reference, Tippy scowled. “There is food, drinking and conversation. No dancing.”

  “Unless there’s too much drinking.”

  “You are wise,” Tippy said as she picked at the puffed sleeves of Abia’s dress. “The lines are nearly perfect.” She angled her head. “Though the gown would conform better if you had larger breasts.” Pointing her wand at Abia, she commented, “It’s only for the night, of course, but my cousin is an excellent Healer, and he could make the enhancement permanent.”

  Abia knocked Tippy’s wand aside. “Don’t change anything.” If she even could, considering the wave of reports that spells were failing by the dozens. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine with what I have.” Though Abia was certain if she breathed too deeply, her nipples would pop out. “I’m not a courtesan. I’m a commander.”

  “You could be both,” Tippy said, ever practical.

  “No thanks.”

  “Whatever you wish, your grace.” She gathered her makeup and sewing kits. “I’m off to dress the caporal lieutenant.”

  For some reason, Abia didn’t like the idea of Tippy running her hands over Nick. “Are you going to criticize his fit, too?”

  “Certainly not.” Tippy smiled widely. “I hear his chest is perfect.”

  Annoyed as she might be picturing Tippy and Nick, Abia couldn’t argue with the truth.

  Besides, studying herself in the mirror, she acknowledged she looked way better than she usually did. Tippy had performed her specific magic with her eyes, making them seem larger and brighter than normal. She wore a delicate gold and pearl bracelet that had been her grandmother’s and her favorite crystal ring. The custom-made gown was stunning—though Abia tugged it up again—with its satin and brocade fabric and hand-stitched golden threads, she knew many witches at the party would envy its luxurious detail.

  And had her cleavage been on display privately for Nick, she would have relished seeing his eyes darken with need. But she was in a position that required respect beyond her physically attractive Quinn genes. Mystics wanted to know their security force was strong, not loose. Especially now.

  Turning from the mirror, she sat on the bed to put on her shoes. She’d directed Conrad to bring Nick to the party. She honestly didn’t care about people finding out she and Nick had spent the night together, but tonight their focus needed to be on laying their trail to Gardiff, not on becoming the latest piece of juicy gossip.

  She’d decided to narrow her suspects to three—two wizards, one witch—who might have known about the scepter’s true power. One wizard, Roderick Burgess, had been told directly. The other two were likely to have been told by their influential parents. Information often passed down to descendants, assuring their legacy and importance to the Sovereign.

  There were bound to be more with the knowledge, but Abia considered her suspects the only mystics she could possibly imagine selling or bartering such secret information.

  And, even in their cases, there had to be extreme motivation. A witch or wizard wouldn’t simply hand over the key to possibly destroying their powers.

  Money? Blackmail? A promise of superiority over other mystical creatures? Had Gardiff lied and assured the informant that whoever held the scepter a
lso held the source of magical power?

  Or did Gardiff, somehow, know a secret about the scepter the rest of them didn’t?

  Before she could add that worry to all the others, her bedroom door creaked open, and Black Magic padded inside.

  He sat at her feet, his copper eyes scanning her from head to toe.

  “Am I presentable?” she asked her feline companion.

  He laid his paw on the tip of her gold, high-heeled shoe and purred.

  She scooped him into her arms and nuzzled his silky fur. “At least I have your unconditional support.”

  As a royally bred British shorthair, who was coal-black instead of a traditional gray like his carporal counterparts, the cat wasn’t given to overt affection, but since she’d raised him from a kitten, he generously butted his head on the underside of her chin before squirming for release.

  Abia settled him on the bed and kissed the top his head, where his royal purple marking displayed his status. He, in turn, twitched his tail and stared balefully at her.

  An unfamiliar sensation invaded Abia. Guilt, possibly? “Yes, I know I left you with Aunt Esme last night, and I know she has those yappy new pups, but I had a very important meeting that I knew would run late, and I didn’t want you to be disturbed.”

  Plus, I was having some really hot, enthusiastic sex, and I definitely didn’t want to disturb that.

  Magic stared at her.

  “Okay, fine, you can meet him. First Crossover in nearly three hundred years. He’s actually...extraordinary.”

  Magic’s glare didn’t budge.

  “And I’ll speak to Her Majesty about the yapping.” Abia expelled a sigh. “Honestly, you think they’re going to do that forever?”

  Magic cocked his head, the unspoken confusion for understanding lesser beings, which, in his mind, dogs most certainly were.

  “Okay, I’m off. I hope they have some decent food at this thing, since—”

  She broke off as Magic jumped onto her dressing table. After one, slow blink of his copper eyes the lid of her jewelry box lifted. Her emerald tiara floated out and settled onto her head. She barely suppressed a groan. “I look ridiculous.”

  Magic tapped his paw impatiently.

  “I know it’s a formal occasion, and I’m supposed to wear it, but I don’t want to. In fact, it would be incredibly convenient if the Queen would marry and produce a female heir, who I could then give all these tiaras to. A gift a day. Don’t you think that’s—”

  She stopped as the tiara lifted from her head and floated to the bed, where it dropped next to Magic, who immediately began batting it around with his paws.

  Abia winced. The damn thing was probably priceless. Rimmed in gold, there were at least ten three-carat emeralds scattered around the frame, and she’d never even counted all the diamonds…

  “Fine.” She reached for the jewelry. “I’ll wear it.”

  Looking annoyed, Magic laid his paw over the tiara.

  “Oh, Great Merlin.” With a flick of her wand, she lifted the treat jar resting in the window and sent one sailing over Magic’s head. He leapt for it; she snatched the headpiece.

  Plopping the tiara on her head, she raced for the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Standing next to a marble pillar in the ballroom, Nick tugged at the black and charcoal pinstriped vest that the palace’s touchy-feely stylist had demanded he wear.

  Dozens of witches and wizards milled around, holding gold-rimmed cocktail and wine glasses. Other than the Victorian-type attire, the only difference he noticed between this party and the ones in his world was that the tiny glass plates of artful hors d’oeuvres weren’t held by each guest, but hovered beside them, even following them around the room when they moved from one conversational pack to the next.

  Handy.

  Nick stood in the shadows, not sure who to interact with, though he knew he’d been noticed and talked about. One of Abia’s lieutenants was a guest, so he assumed his cover story was being spread along with curious rumors.

  He expected his presence might not be entirely welcome. With spells failing, tension in the palace was high, and he could imagine many mystics thinking they could handle the Gardiff crisis on their own, without caporal help.

  Holding a tumbler of exceptionally smooth whiskey that Conrad had handed him before he’d vanished, and a bit lost without Abia, Nick was content to wait and watch.

  Based on Abia’s description, he’d easily spotted palace diplomat Roderick Burgess. He was—no joke—wearing a peacock blue suit with a lime green vest and pale yellow shirt.

  Was the dude colorblind?

  He didn’t see how he could be vain, since he looked like a peacock, not a man. Hey, maybe wizards could turn themselves into various animals…

  His fanciful thought trailed away as Abia slipped through a door on the opposite side of the room.

  All the breath was sucked from his body.

  Dressed as he’d never seen her in a form-fitting gown with an elaborate flared skirt, her hair curled around her gorgeous face and an ornate crown on her head, she crossed the wooden floor, the glowing chandeliers above casting golden light around her, seeming to follow her movements. She spoke to a few people as she passed, accepted a kiss on her cheek from Burgess, which tensed Nick’s jaw to the point he wondered why his teeth didn’t crack.

  But she was clearly heading for him, and Nick forced himself to be satisfied with that. Abia was counting on his police academy-trained observations and his Crossover abilities to focus on the goal at hand—Gardiff’s downfall.

  Even now, while they appeared to enjoy the party, Evan was leading an IPSF team in the recovery of the next to last piece of the scepter. By morning they’d be down to one.

  She reached Nick’s side, and he’d have given anything to glide his fingers over her collarbone, her cheek, any inch of her skin...but a horn, followed by a series of whimsical chimes, reverberated through the ballroom.

  “Her Majesty, Queen Esmerelda Quinn!”

  The pronouncement urged everyone to bow, but Nick remained frozen. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from Abia.

  The Queen entered, which Nick sensed from his right side, but he didn’t turn, didn’t think anything or anyone could have forced him to.

  “Bow,” Abia whispered as she lowered her head.

  His heart vaulted to his throat. He was lost without Abia.

  She was his mate. The reason he’d never been satisfied with other relationships. The reason the allure of the magical world was so strong. The reason his focus was completely for her.

  “Bow!” she whispered forcefully, grabbing his hand.

  He bowed, but not because of her physical urging or her wand’s spell hitting him full-force. He could have stopped the magic compulsion, he realized with some pride, but not her touch.

  Oh, hell. I love her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked as the chimes fell silent.

  Nick said nothing. He couldn’t feel his feet, and an odd buzzing had entered his brain. A waiter handed the Queen a glass of champagne. Party attendees returned to their conversations.

  Abia, however, was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Fine,” he said, though he felt anything but. He sensed his revelation wouldn’t please Abia. “You’re beautiful.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I’d be more comfortable in my regular clothes.”

  His gaze drifted to the crown on her head, then to the enticing slope of her cleavage. “This suits you, too.”

  “You can’t keep Nick to yourself all night,” the Queen said, approaching them.

  “I’ve been here three minutes,” Abia said, not releasing his hand.

  Esmerelda simply looped her arm around Nick’s on his opposite side. “There are some guests I want him to meet.” And without seeming to put any visible pressure on him, Nick found himself being led away. “You look lovely tonight, by the way,” she called sweetly over her shoulder to her niece.

&nb
sp; The Queen guided him across the ballroom. “You look positively mystical, Lieutenant.”

  Nick suppressed a wince. “Tippy dressed me.”

  “She’s crazy, I know, but all artistes are, aren’t they?”

  “The clothes are a little fussy for me.”

  “No wonder you and Abia get along so well.” She paused before adding, “Though I imagine fashion isn’t high on the list of discussion topics.”

  Well, he had enjoyed the satin lingerie Abia had worn last night. “No, Your Majesty, it isn’t.”

  “Still, I’m glad you work well together, because once we’re able to reveal your Crossover abilities to the city, I’d like you to serve as a consultant for the IPSF.”

  “You’re offering me a job?”

  “Yes, and though I imagine your first loyalty will always be to the caporal police department, I’d like you to consider New Mystic City your second home. You’ll be paid a salary and provided an apartment in the palace.”

  “That’s generous.”

  “We take special care of our security personnel.” She raised her inky eyebrows. “Your city could learn something there.”

  “I have a pension,” Nick said, compelled to defend his world.

  “I should hope so. I’ve seen the damage those little metal missiles do to humans.” Esmerelda squeezed his arm. “No need to answer me now, but I wanted you to know while we had a private moment.”

  “Thank you.”

  Despite his calm response, Nick’s pulse was racing. To be around Abia, to live near her, to work with her...indefinitely. How could he say no?

  The Queen stopped beside toward a trio of women to chat, then moved to a pair of couples and finally to the group Roderick Burgess was talking to. Naturally, knowing about the plan to uncover the betrayer of the scepter’s secret power, this was her true destination.

  The short, sandy-haired diplomat smiled broadly as he shook Nick’s hand, but the shake was as weak as his dark brown eyes were hard. “We haven’t had a visit from a caporal in rather a while,” he said in a heavy English accent.

  “Roderick is one of our few imports from across the pond,” the Queen explained.