BINGO.
Once she popped through, honing in on Marisa and a few fellow grad students was simple. In the far corner, with the first weeks of school behind them, the relaxed vibes emanating from the group was impossible to miss. The drinks flowed and the laughter carried above the music. Samhain, especially when it fell on Halloween weekend, was one of the town’s favorite holidays.
Lisette flashed a little power, and Marisa glanced up. The grin on her friend’s lips looked forced. Curious she returned a cautious smile of her own just as Marisa’s eyes opened wide and shifted to her right. The server blocking Lisette’s view stepped away, and the man sitting next to Marisa came into view. He glanced up and Lisette’s world toppled.
Michael met her eye to eye, and her smile faltered. With a wide grin on his lips, his charismatic power held her in place. The leader of the Louisiana Acadian coven still played havoc with her emotions. More, since she knew what he was. As if conjured by magic, he could have been waiting for her in that very same spot since the night she’d told him “they” wouldn’t work.
Not like he’d cared. The fact that he’d been too damn accepting grated still.
His familiar silver-blue gaze caressed her, and the effect brought acid tears she refused to shed. The impact of seeing him hit her like a sledge hammer, wrenching her heart and shattering her soul, leaving her dumbfounded. All she could manage was a nod.
Marisa had managed to get them an invitation to the coven’s party—the perfect opportunity for Lisette to build contacts and participate in the Night of the Witch ceremony. Later, she planned to ask Michael to approve her membership. She needed the warlock’s approval to gain the coven’s trust, and she needed the coven’s protection. She just hadn’t expected to be so affected by his presence.
Damn! Not here. Not yet. Tomorrow would have been soon enough. But Michael wasn’t disappearing.
She stiffened her spine and recalled she had a soul mate to find.
Slowly, she took the last few steps and stopped in front of him, then broke eye contact and inhaled deeply. Examining everything about him, she remembered the way his muscular neck and shoulders filled out a t-shirt, how his dark shadow of a beard always needed a shave, and how his nearly black hair, perpetually in need of a trim, curled behind his ears.
She hadn’t forgotten a thing.
Why couldn’t he be the one? Then she gasped. What if the strange power she felt came from the one man she’d sworn off like a bad cold?
Lisette ignored his eyes and focused on the dark tailored shirt opened at the collar. Power whirled around him. His scent, the heat.
Staring at him made her lightheaded then a glint of metal caused a blinding reflection and forced her attention to his chest. That thick chest...
As magnificent as it was, looking wasn’t a hardship. Touching would have been even less of a chore, but she stiffened her resolve and fought the temptation.
Her head did that little swoosh thing again, so she focused on something else.
A thick silver chain with half of an intricately carved pendant hung against his skin. The lights repeatedly bounced off the metal creating a glare, so she couldn’t make out the details, but then her heart skipped several beats because something about the shape looked suspiciously familiar. And when she lifted her gaze, his attention had moved to her chest.
Lisette resisted the urge to clasp the pendant heating the skin between her breasts, and run. Half of the pentacle used to invoke the spirits of the animals represented the elemental powers. Air, water, earth, fire, spirit.
Her half hung around her neck—the other half around Michael Veret’s.
The room began to spin—slowly at first—but it was definitely turning. Did modern women swoon? All her historical research indicated there was a time when it was common, but she’d attributed that to corsets. This was a reaction to seeing the pendant…and what it meant.
Placing both hands to her face, she shook her head. She did have a soul mate, and he’d denied caring for her.
What a rotten joke fate had played on them. The man who didn’t want her was the warlock she was looking for, her destined soul mate, the power that could save her. And although he’d gained the leadership of the Louisiana group, without the other half of the pendant, he would never attain his full power.
What he didn’t know was she’d never submit to him, even if he was her other half—not if he didn’t love her. The prophecy would remain unfulfilled.
Dare she risk it? Could she sacrifice power for love? Maybe.
Michael didn’t take his eyes off the spot on her chest where her half of the pendant rested. She wouldn’t stop him from looking. His expression revealed his infatuation, but not surprise.
Funny how a man wants what he can’t have. This time he’d have to earn her love, and unless he truly desired her—the woman, not the witch with the power—she would deny him.
“Michael,” she said and extended her hand. She braced for the impending shock his touch would cause, enough to shatter her control, and more than anything, she dreaded the implication.
The bond
The Pentacle of Power.
The other half of the pendant...
He had it, and she needed it.
Chapter Four
The minute Lisette entered the club Michael recognized her familiar scent. The fragrance filled the room. And something else. Energy. Power. Hers sizzled against his own in a way he’d never experienced before. A key in a lock. The right fit. The dynamics, like a circuit connecting in all the right places, completed the charge.
Male heads turned and testosterone levels rose. Hard to miss all that sexual magnetism. Michael’s possessive instincts kicked in, and he had to garner control to force back the jealousy.
The skirt she wore barely covered her sexy ass—like a black leather napkin filled with wicked delights. Damn, the witch looked hot enough to melt ice-forged steel. He tortured himself with the image of her wearing just the pendant and the boots—thigh high, black leather cut in lacy patterns, exposing her creamy skin below.
The tips of her long black hair brushed her narrow waist the way it had the night he watched her in the scrying mirror. His fingers twitched with the desire to trace her plunging neckline. A neckline that bared her deep cleavage and the pendant. He marveled at the way the metal settled between her pale ivory mounds, and imagined how warm the medallion grew against her soft flesh.
As she planted herself in front of him with one hip cocked defiantly and her hand outstretched, he warred with his inner needs. Michael held back to inspect each lovely inch of her and savor the moment. He couldn’t wait for the inevitable. To touch, to taste, to conquer…and to surrender. But not here. Not now.
Didn’t anyone appreciate chivalry anymore?
From the look she gave him, the answer was a firm, “No.” Pissed off didn’t cover it. Rage flashed behind her eyes despite her pleasant demeanor.
Michael sighed. Caring about Lisette’s feelings may have buried his chances with her. He’d need more than magic to charm his way back into her good graces.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Lisette.”
Her pale pink lips thinned into an angry line, and her eyes turned into narrow slits of glacial ice. “No, I have not, but apparently you don’t get your messages.” Her voice sounded like smooth, aged whisky.
“I didn’t get them.” He hadn’t and he’d take that up with Giselle later.
Tonight the young witch looked like sin, smelled like spring, and sounded deadly. He decided he couldn’t resist just a little touch. He stood up and grounded himself as he took her hand in both of his.
The earth shuddered beneath his feet, and her sexual heat intensified, hitting him straight in the groin. He let the pleasure and pain run through him, holding back the moan, but he didn’t let go.
She finally pulled her hands free, but when he released her, he stepped closer.
She backed up and through clenched teeth, asked, “You have a d
eath wish?”
He ignored her veiled threat and gripped the pendant between her breasts. We’ll see about that.
The power raged between them, and she struggled, refusing to accept the inevitability of their destiny. The power felt real.
Who was she…really? The coven was suspicious of her mysterious background. Something had changed since he saw her in the scrying mirror. He personally wanted to see her witch’s mark, up close. The final question remained.
Where had she gotten the pendant?
As he observed the emotions whirling in her eyes, the old ache tightened his gut. As badly as he wanted her and wanted to believe this evidence, unless she was truly the prophesied witch of the Acadian line, the one meant to merge the lost covens, he could not commit to her.
Even so, he couldn’t deny their connection or the power they manifested when they touched. He’d felt her power. It truly was the other half of his own. The Pentacle of Power was real, and hers was the other half of the pendant he wore.
The pendant...she had it. He needed it.
In truth, he wanted Lisette to be the one.
Chapter Five
The pleased expression on Michael’s face told Lisette he enjoyed unnerving her. When his warm skin touched hers, a bolt of electricity coursed through her. His aggravating all-knowing smile flashed, as his hand cupped the pendant and took liberties between her breasts. And from the surprise in his eyes, he’d been equally affected.
She took a deep breath and glanced from Michael to Marisa. The “I told you so grin” on her friend’s face indicated she was responsible for this set up. All the Tarot mumbo jumbo Marisa studied with the local gypsies foretold that Michael and Lisette were perfect for each other, and she predicted, despite the roadblocks, they’d both see it eventually.
“Lisette...” Her name rolled off his tongue as if he savored each syllable. She couldn’t do this, not again.
When her foster mom had presented her with the package wrapped in recycled paper, her half of the pendant sang to her. The Pentagram of Power. The note within the wrapped pendant said, “Keep this safe. Seek the source. Seek the power. Merge the spirits within the Pentagram and release the power of the elements.”
One deep breath. Two.
“Cher?” He patiently waited.
Shit. This wasn’t how she’d expected things to go, but his damn voice made her insides quake, and her reaction disgusted her. Infuriated, crazy mad and livid with Marisa, Michael, and…herself, Lisette’s resolve wavered. She struggled to contain her trembling knees, understanding what would happen next.
He indicated the chair next to his.
Be civil.
She could do civil.
She circled, looking for an alternative solution, but finally sat down next to him. Not because he offered. No, because it was the only empty chair left.
“Thank you.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue.
The band stopped playing a loud Zydeco tune, to take a break, and a thin young woman with sad eyes dropped her coins into the slot on the old fashioned jukebox. She pushed a button, and a slow, sad song began wailing from the speakers. The songstress did her best to break everyone’s heart by translating the writer’s lyrics into soulful pain—interpreting the heartbreak so well it brought tears to Lisette’s eyes.
“Would you like to dance?” Michael asked and stood, not waiting for an answer. He touched her hand and squeezed gently as if reassuring her.
No!
Damn. How could she resist?
She couldn’t, even if her life depended on it, and this time, it just might. Actually, if what she believed was true, both their lives depended on her being able to get him to admit to loving her.
She nodded without looking up at him, stood, and walked slowly to the dance floor with his hand at the small of her back. Heat poured into her.
Sure, she could do this. Allow him to hold her. Dance with him. Melt into him.
The hand on her bare back sent a bank of flames through her body like a match touched to dry kindling. Nothing had changed about the way they reacted to one another, except time. Since they’d first made eye contact, that memorable moment when the sparks between them smoldered to a blaze, the attraction was still as strong.
Yet, distrust still loomed between them. The pain of rejection still smarted. He never believed in her...or them. And now, no matter what, there was no denying they were connected.
“Relax, enjoy the moment.” Michael took her in his arms, and she accepted his touch, as familiar as his aura.
Right. The moment. That’s what she’d settled for. But she was tired of settling.
“Test the water. See if it suits.”
“I have no experience.”
“You have the pendant and the birthmark. Tonight, we’ll complete the mark of the witch with the witch’s tattoo.”
“What does it all mean?” She wanted more. She wanted it all, the moment and the consequences, the love, the anger, the highs, and the lows.
“There is a prophecy that’s meant to be fulfilled, but many would prevent it.”
“Yeah, well, heaven forbid my feelings should stand in the way of a prophecy.”
“You cared for me once. Are those feelings dead and buried?”
She ignored his question. “You never cared for me—”
“I knew about my destiny. I cared enough about you not to sacrifice your feelings knowing I couldn’t make you promises—”
“Really? Because it hurt while you played ping-pong with my heart, promises or no promises.”
“I didn’t sleep with you—”
“Is that your criteria for chivalry?” she spat out the question, so angry she shuddered in his embrace. “Should I forgive you because you didn’t take advantage of a poor undergrad?”
“It’s this impossible overwhelming attraction we have to each other. I didn’t know how to fight it, and I didn’t want to hurt you. How could you not know about your heredity?”
“A warlock from Louisiana joined my parent’s coven in Maine. He made wild accusations, claiming my family used black magic. All lies. We were cast out until someone decided that wasn’t enough. They burned us out. I was six when my foster mother hid me away. Apparently, my presence threatened someone’s power. I never knew until now.”
With a single finger, he touched her pendant. “They almost turned us into star crossed lovers. We’ll find a way through this, Lisette.”
“How can we be soul mates?” She stared intently up at him. “It’s impossible.”
Pausing, perhaps waiting for an answer to come to him, his eyes skimmed her face, and then he cupped her chin, seriously studying her. “Yet, it seems we are.”
The energy from his conviction shot through her.
“Maybe. History and romance are fraught with love stories that end badly. Like Romeo and Juliette...”
He chuckled. “Not the happily ever after ending I had in mind for us. The star crossed lover stories are almost as bad as those horror movies…the ones when you want to scream at the characters, ‘Don’t go down in the basement.’”
His teasing lightened the moment for Lisette, and without expecting it, a giggle escaped. “The romantic tragedies are just as predictable as a train wreck. It’s like watching water get sucked out of the bay before a tsunami, and the people stand paralyzed on the beach waiting for the wave to hit and wash over them.” Lisette gazed off as if she could see the catastrophe.
“Listen, cher. The conflicts keep building, and from the outside we can see the solution is for the couple to talk, admit their feelings for each other—”
“But do they?” Lisette asked and answered her own question. “Never.”
“Sad isn’t it. We’ll be different. We’ll discover the truth and admit our feelings.” He drew her closer into his embrace and breathed his words softly against her neck as chills raced down her spine.
The words stamped a brand on her heart. Fear. A shiver of foreboding ran through h
er. She held onto him tightly, hoping against hope to prevent the inevitable. The coven would not want to accept her. And the most difficult part was she’d never know if he cared for her because of the power, or because he had to accept his soul mate.
The music played on, and his hand dropped to her lower back, rubbing circles over her birthmark. The sensation released heat where their bodies touched. He may as well have been caressing every intimate spot on her body for the way her body reacted.
Damn! Her body was a traitor!
Chapter Six
Lisette leaned into Michael, doing as he suggested, enjoying the moment one more time.
She rested her head on Michael’s chest, listening to the heavy beat of his heart. Questions, so many questions. “You watched me the night I discovered my powers. They were your eyes.”
She felt the blush heat her cheeks.
“Yes. I’ll never forget watching the beauty of your naked power circling you, your aura shooting off colors like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Very impressive. The moment you turned and faced me, I saw you, and my heart clicked into place. I felt…relieved it was you.”
“I tried joining the coven.”
“No one said anything—” Giselle? He wondered. He stared, scowling, and stiffened. “I’ve been gone a lot.”
“I was afraid to face you. I needed to work through all this and learn more about my power.”
“I could have helped,” he said. “The coven—”
“Really? No one trusted me enough to tell you I’d asked for you. They don’t believe who I am. To prove myself, I needed to develop my power on my own.”
“I looked for you at all the places where you used to hang out. Finally, I found out where you moved. I stopped by one night, but…there was a man with you.”
Her stomach flipped as a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Were you jealous?”
“No. Worse.” Michael cut off her question and contemplated before he answered, “Worried.”
“Worried? About what?”
“Hell, everything. That I’d blown it with you. That you’d never forgive me. That I’d been stupid to care about the ridiculous prophecy, that—”
Hauntings in the Garden, Volume One Page 3