The corners of his lips twitched. I hadn’t fooled him. “My mother’s family. And I’m not married. There hasn’t had much time for love. Demanding job.”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I said backpedaling as if the answer didn’t really matter. Smooth, Mirela. Way to make a first impression on your dream guy. “It’s just I didn’t recognize the name. In a town this size, even the great grandchildren are not safe from the gossip mills.”
“Our roots are old. Very few would remember my ancestors.”
“So you’ve come to Kenmare to research your family tree?” My fingers drummed on the side of my cup as I watched him.
“Something like that,” he mumbled.
“Well, Conner Delany, I wish you well on your hunt, and if you change your mind about the palm reading, I’m at the shop on the corner.”
He took a step to the side, a hint of amusement glimmering in his eyes. “Good day to you, Mirela.”
I couldn’t believe I’d had my first real conversation with the man in the dream and kept my cool. Sort of. Someone give me an Oscar, for that was my finest performance. As hard as it was to walk away, I put one foot in front of the other, my tea going cold in my hand. A part of me wanted to pull him aside and tell him to leave, that it wasn’t safe for him in Kenmare. I would sound like a lunatic, but I knew precisely where he would die, and it was a place I avoided.
The stone circle.
But it wasn’t always my right to intervene, by doing so, I could make things worse, change lives I had no business meddling in, but this wasn’t anyone. I’d dreamed of Conner Delany since coming to Kenmare at six-years-old. Our destinies were intertwined. I didn’t need my crystal ball to tell me I was attracted to Conner. What I needed was time to figure out how to save his life. And time was the very thing that was our enemy.
My little shop stood neatly on the corner, nestled between a café and a boutique. A sign of aged wood hung above the curved glass, and the letters read:
The Dreaming Gypsy
Creative, I know. The dreams of Conner had inspired the name.
Pride swelled at the little life I’d carved out for myself and all I’d overcome. I loved to surround myself with pretty things. Crystals hung in clusters from thin wires, tossing rainbows over the wood floors. Dainty little bottles filled with colorful liquids lined an antique bookshelf in one corner. Oils for aches, aromatherapy, soaps, and just about anything you could think of.
At the Dreaming Gypsy, we offered more than a palm reading or a flip of the tarot cards. It was an experience the moment you stepped foot inside. I wanted people to feel welcomed. I wanted them to remember the shop and keep coming back.
From dried herbs to healing crystals and everything in between, I liked to believe there was something for everyone, even the wariest of souls.
Within an hour, the little shop was bustling with people poking about, many to buy trinkets, or to see how a gypsy ran a small business. I didn’t hide who I was. I embraced it, capitalizing on the gifts I was given. I did not mind the whisperings or the questions. The little town was filled with lore and magick. Why shouldn’t I indulge in their curiosity? It was good for business.
The day wore on, but Conner stayed in my head. I even tried to convince myself I’d been mistaken, that he was only a guy who resembled the man in my dreams.
The theory was blown to shit the moment I finished helping a customer who was looking for a bit more va-va-voom in the bedroom. Mr. O’Keefe was in for the night of his life.
It was then I spotted him. One look had me certain he was the very image of the man in my dreams, all six-foot-three inches of pure male. A frown pulled at his full lips as he shuffled through the table of tumbled stones, knocking a lock of sandy hair over one eye.
There was no denying the quick flutter of heat in my belly. Dear God. He was even more impressive than I remembered.
Men like that broke hearts without spilling a drop of blood. And I did not plan to be one of them, no matter how fabulous his butt was. No thank you. I didn’t need that in my life. I wanted to save his life, not bear his children―or so I kept telling myself, but it was hard to deny he was a marvel to gaze at. And our babies would be beautiful.
Yep. He definitely had the ability to take my mind off what I should be concentrating on—how to save him from dying. Yet, all I could think about was that kiss. It had been a vision, so I guess that meant at some point I wouldn’t be able to resist his charm.
Collecting myself, I headed in his direction, the vibrant flowing skirt moving with the sway of my hips. Half-dozen gold bracelets clanged at my wrists as I picked up a droplet of amethyst. “Do you seek clarity?”
He idly fingered the moonstone. “Is that what this does?”
“Ah, among other things. I’m partial to amethyst myself.” I opened my hand, rings flashing on my fingers and held the purple stone in my palm.
“And what does the amethyst do?”
“Its mystical powers are said to open the mind.” I leaned a hip up against the table. “Are you in need of crystals? Or let me guess, you changed your mind and have come to have your palm read?”
He grinned, turning those hypnotic eyes on my face. “Actually, I was thinking of dinner.”
My impulse was to refuse automatically. I studied him. He hadn’t come to Kenmare looking for love, so what was it Conner wanted with me? There was more than one way to find out, but I decided to give the traditional way a shot. “Are you asking me out?”
“That I am, Mirela.”
I should say no. A smart girl would, but after dreaming of Conner most of my life, I was interested in everything about the man―who he was, why the wolf wanted his life, and what was so different about Conner Delany, other than his intense eyes. And hearing him say my name stirred up a little unexpected storm of lust inside me. “You’re going to be trouble.”
He flashed me a single dimple on his left cheek. “Not the first time I’ve been told.”
“Why are you really here, Conner Delany?”
A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow. “You keep asking me that. Have dinner with me and find out.”
I lifted a hand to my hair, the waves falling carelessly down my back. The big hoops at my ears peeked out of my raven hair. “Why not? Tomorrow night. Six o’clock, then?”
“Do you recommend a restaurant?”
“I’ll meet you at the pub. There’s only one in town. You should be able to find it easy enough.”
“Until tomorrow, Mirela.” He gave me one last look before strolling out of the little shop.
I sighed, turning the amethyst over in my hand. One thing was certain…
Conner Delany was going to be bad for business.
Chapter 2
The little cottage in the woods gleamed under moonlight and had been my home for the last two years. The covered porch wrapped around the side, perfect for lazy mornings in the swing or stargazing in the quiet evenings. Moving out of Nan’s had been difficult, but we both knew the time had come for me to venture out on my own.
Slipping my key into the lock, I opened the front door, letting the warmth of home welcome me. I kicked off my heels and hung my handbag on the hook inside the entryway. Just last year I’d spent a weekend painting the interior a color of toasted wheat. The warm walls were framed in dark wood and lined with enchanting artwork.
As in the shop, I surrounded myself at home in bold colors, but simple furnishings. Decorative rugs were scattered on the polished wood floors.
Following my nightly ritual, I tidied up, brewed a cup of chamomile tea, and switched off the lights as I moved upstairs. Drawing hot water from the clawfoot tub, I lit a candle and indulged in a bubble bath, sinking into the fragrant water with a sigh and a book.
No cards or enchantments tonight, just a romance novel with a happily ever after ending. Sometimes it was good to leave the magick at the shop and just be a woman at home.
When the bubbles had fizzled and the water turned tepid, I cli
mbed out and slipped into my comfiest pair of pajamas. Twisting my hair into a loose braid, I caught a glimpse of myself in the steamy mirror.
My eyes, tired from the restless nights, were a deep, bright purple, long lidded and tilted at the corners. Gypsy eyes, my father often said when I was little. It was one of the few memories I had of him. And thinking of that, I felt tears well up.
It was the lack of sleep. I wasn’t a crier, but some days, when my defenses were down, I felt emotions too deeply, part of the gift.
The run-in with Conner had caught me off guard, and knowing tomorrow night I’d see him again, my whole life felt out of balance. There was a part of me that always knew he would come. What other explanation could there be for the constant reoccurring dream? But I thought I’d have more time.
Wasn’t that always the case?
There was nothing I could do tonight, but maybe in my dreams I’d learn something worthwhile, for things were changing. His presence was bound to have an effect—good or bad.
Swiping at my eyes, I padded into the bedroom and crawled under the pinched-pleated white duvet. As I lay down for the night, I waited for the dream to come, the sole reason I put off going to bed for so long, but only minutes after my head hit the pillow I was sucked under.
I dreamed of Conner, of the wolf, and of the stone circle.
Through the fog, at the edge of the circle, the wolf watched me from the trees. He was pure black with eyes like gold coins. There was nothing friendly about his stance or the way he pawed the dirt.
He growled, and I reached for the amulet hanging at my neck for protection, but it wasn’t there. Panic snaked inside me as I backed up, and I swore the wolf grinned.
We’ve been waiting for you, the wolf’s voice sounded in my head. Dark. Seedy. And cunning.
I never took the amulet off. This had to be a trick. “I won’t let you kill him,” I swore.
The wolf laughed, a sound that sent ice running through my veins. There is nothing you can do, little dove. It’s spirit you have, but it won’t serve you here. Come then, stop me from taking his heart.
I circled the stones, trying to think, the fog rising and clouding more than my feet, my path, my mind. In all the dreams, not once had I come face-to-face with the wolf. Before, I’d been an outsider looking down, never a participant in the dream. This, I wasn’t prepared for.
Through the mist, a man emerged. Conner.
With powerful strides, he went to the center of the circle, putting himself between the wolf and me, aqua eyes darkening with power and fury. There, , surrounded by the stones, where the moon glistened full and white. Magick called to him—to the night—to the sea—to his blood.
It sang in his veins, filling him with a power as natural as breathing. The winds whispered something dark was coming. Endings. Beginnings. Destiny.
“Run,” Conner told me.
I tilted my chin up. “I will not run from him. I will not give him what he wants.” The chase. He wanted to hunt me, hunt us both. And I refused.
The wolf showed its teeth in a terrible growl. Listen to him, little dove.
Conner frowned. It was evident he wasn’t happy with me being here. “Take my hand, and whatever happens, don’t let go.”
No hesitation, I put my hand in his. A zing of electricity had me hissing through my teeth.
His scowl deepened.
The wolf came on a howl that echoed over the trees and beyond the sea, pacing the outer edge of the stones.
Conner, arms lifted high, face turned to the sky and my fingers twined with his. “In air, in earth, in flame, in sea. As I will, so mote it be.”
The wind spun, twisting up into the darkness and howled like a wolf on the hunt. The earth shook, trembling like a quake. The fire roared to life in wild red and gold, smoke disappearing with the wind. And the water in the ocean crashed in violent waves against the rocky shore.
All the elements present and accounted for.
I stared up at the man beside me. Conner was more than just a man. He had magick.
A flare of white light erupted, so bright it blinded me for a few moments. And then the wind stilled and the fog died, leaving just a man. The wolf was gone.
Conner’s shoulders dropped, his face white and eyes glowing with power.
“What are you?” I whispered. I sensed no freedom or booze could quell the restlessness that lived in him. I could sense it all, the thoughts that ran through his head. It felt invasive, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop myself.
He released my hand, and I caught a quick shadow of something dark in his eyes. And then his voice was in my head. You must leave here, Mirela. My world isn’t safe for you.
In the dark, with moonlight spilling through the sheer curtains, I woke with a jolt. The cool evening wind of spring blew through my tousled hair. It carried the scent of pine and sea, reminding me of Conner. I buried my head into the pillow, and my heart raced at the sound of a wolf calling to the night.
I moved through the archway and into the sun-drenched room. Clusters of crystals dangled from a shelf, glinting in rainbows. The windowsill was lined with fresh herbs and charming figures of faeries.
There was a deep cushioned couch in blueberry that would welcome an afternoon nap, daintily white sheer curtains dancing in the breeze that teased the open window, and the smell of books mixed with the airy fragrance of flowers. In the corner was a fireplace, perfect for those cold winter nights to snuggle up to and read one of the many books.
Nan’s house was home, filled with childhood memories, most of which brought a smile to my lips; however, there had also been tears. Nan dried those tears, held me during the visions of a confused child. Her house had been mine since the night of the fire when I’d lost everything, and Nan became my world. It was she who taught me to hone my gifts, embrace the visions instead of fight them.
And it was here I came when I needed the comfort of someone who understood me and the struggle of possessing such a gift. If anyone understood, it was Nan.
My mother hadn’t had any abilities other than being a caring woman, but Nan, she was like me. Well, I wasn’t sure anyone was really like me. Although I did receive visions of others, mine were mostly centered on Conner.
“I made tea,” Nan said, as I meandered my way slowly to her kitchen, dragging butt.
“I may need something stronger this morning,” I replied, sinking into the wooden chair.
“You’re pale, mo chroí.” Concern lined a face that defied her age. “The dream again?”
I cupped the mug, letting the steam warm my chilled hands and nodded. “Things are changing, and I don’t know what it means. The wolf. The man. Death.”
“All things reveal themselves in time. You know the craft cannot be rushed or pushed. You must accept it in whole, the good, the bad, and the unknown. Are you wearing the amulet?”
“Always.” My hand fiddled with the charm hanging around my neck. It hadn’t been there last night when I needed it. I kept that little tidbit to myself, not wanting to worry Nan any more than I already did.
“The amulet was passed to you, but not to your mother. She wasn’t the one, mo chroí. You are. It chose you to be its guardian, and the legacy of our blood was passed to you.”
My gaze moved from her worried face to my cup of tea. “I don’t know how much time he has. I’m a part of this, but I don’t know what my part is. Am I to warn him? Am I supposed to prevent his death? What is the purpose of this gift if I can’t change his destiny?”
She placed her hand gently over mine, a surprising strength for such a small woman. But that was Nan. Petite and fierce. “The answers are never clear. The sight is neither black nor white. But the choices forever remain yours.”
I sighed. “Sometimes choices suck. And what if I make the wrong one?”
“Life’s a gamble. There are no right or wrong choices.”
Only those that got Conner killed. I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I need to prepare, get ready for
tonight. Thank you for the tea and the chat.” I had needed both.
“A hot date?” she asked with a wink.
I rinsed my empty cup and put it into the sink. “Me or you?”
“I’ve had more dates this month than you’ve had in a lifetime.”
“Ugh, Nan. That is information I don’t want to know.”
”Mirela, a night out might be what you need. A glass of wine, a meal with a nice gentleman…”
I could see her soft green eyes twinkling and the mischief behind them. If I let her, Nan would set me up with every eligible bachelor in Ireland. “Don’t think about it. You know how I feel about being set up. I can find my own dates, Nan.”
She folded her hands neatly on the table. “Of course you can. Look at you. Any man would have to be out of his mind to not want to date my granddaughter.”
“That we can agree on. And actually, I’m going out tonight.”
“The man in the dream?”
I didn’t ask how she knew. She was gifted. I learned long ago, hiding things from Nan was impossible…so was lying.
Had I been waiting for him? This whole time? Casually dating, but never taking things past a few dates. I’d never been in a serious relationship. And at twenty-two, Nan was itching for me to settle down. She wanted to see her great granbabies before she left this Earth, and according to her, death was always looming around the corner.
But Conner Delany made me think of things passed first date kisses, and I didn’t know if it was the dream or something more. There was no denying he could make my heart skip.
His warning from the dream echoed in my head as I stared out the window. What had he meant, his world? I couldn’t shake the feeling this was just the beginning of something big…and dangerous.
Chapter 3
A fire snapped in the hearth of the pub, chasing the chill of the rain. The room was cozy with its worn wood floors and the comfort of voices around me.
Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 10