She glared at him for a moment. “You’re a real smart ass, aren’t you?”
His piercing green eyes twinkled. “I believe I might be in the presence of a master smart ass.”
She looked away and tried to act like she was mad, but when he reached out and poked her in the side, she started to laugh. How could she stay mad at a man with eyes that green?
Mango stretched out her neck and barked at Alex.
Quayk soothed the sugar glider. When she looked at Alex again, he took her breath away. When the man smiled, it was like the sun came out from behind a cloud. She quickly lowered her gaze.
Alex got to his feet and crossed the cave to the entrance. As if in response, the storm outside howled. He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Sounds like it’s still raging out there.”
He returned his attention to the sealed doorway. “But these vines are starting to creep me out. I’m claustrophobic.”
He pulled out his knife. “I’m going to cut them away a little bit and see if I can’t get some air moving in here.”
“Good luck with that.” She watched, amused, as he tried to cut a vine with his knife and it tripled in size.
“What the hell?” He tried again, with the same result.
When he looked over his shoulder at her, she shrugged.
When he’d tried twice more and failed, she spoke. “They’re magical. If they don’t want to be cut, they won’t let you do it. You’re only going to make it worse. For some reason, they want us stuck in here. You don’t seem to know much about them. I take it you’ve never traveled Witch’s Pass.”
He shook his head, “Not since I was a kid. Don’t like to give up control. And I found out pretty early on they won’t always take you where you want to go.”
She chuckled. “Tell me about it.”
Her gaze met his and held, as her stomach did a somersault. Just as she was about to start squirming, he looked away. She drew in a deep, quiet breath.
What the hell?
“So, who are you?” She might as well know more about her cavemate.
“Alexavier McCall. Alex for short.” He didn’t look up.
“Alexavier is an odd name. I’ve never heard it before. Is it a family name, or is there some meaning behind it?”
He shrugged as he came to sit next to her. “It’s an American hybrid of Alexander and Xavier. It’s supposed to mean Protector of Mankind in a Bright New House.”
She smiled. “Wow, that’s a lot to live up to.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s gonna happen.” With a look around the cave, he added, “Right now I’m not sure I’m even protector of this cave.”
She chuckled, “So, you’re a McCall?”
Alex nodded. “Yep. Oldest son of Esther and Ramsey McCall. I’ve got four brothers, and together we run McCall Enterprises.”
She’d heard of the McCall boys. They were also a royal family, although of lower status than the SpellMakers. Rumor had it the McCall boys were all cover-model material. And if Alex was an indication of what the others looked like, their reputation had fallen seriously short of the reality.
This guy looked like a Greek God with his heavily muscled arms, broad shoulders, and narrow hips, not to mention his absolutely fabulous ass. She had to keep fighting the urge to take peeks at him when he wasn’t looking.
The witch community tended to be rather segregated, in that young witches were educated within their communities and within their clan boundaries. This kept the ties within a clan tight and their secrets safe, while focusing education on the skillsets and mandates of the clan. Each clan had its own mandate, and they guarded their secrets jealously.
The young witches did socialize with the members of neighboring clans when there was a ceremony, or a major witch holiday. But the strongest emotional ties between young people were generally formed in school. So in the town of SpellMaker, your best friends were usually your relatives. You went outside the clan to find a mate.
Unfortunately, Quayk’s mate had been chosen at birth, so she’d had no reason or opportunity to look around. And once she’d realized how much she hated Hollister Firedrake, all her energy had been spent finding a way out of her engagement.
A loud crash shook the ground at the cave entrance.
They both jumped, and Alex was on his feet before the ringing in her ears had even stopped.
Quayk scrambled to her feet. “What was that?”
The vines over the opening quivered like a bowl of dark green Jell-O. New vines shot out and braided together over the opening, strengthening the gate to their prison.
Alex shook his head. “I don’t know. Probably just the storm knocking down trees. But those vines seem determined to either keep the storm out, or us in.”
She clenched her teeth as a tendril of fear poked at her heart. Could the magic behind this storm be coming from the Firedrakes? An attempt to lock her away until they could reach her? She pushed the fear back. No, it had to be her father. She had to find a way to make him believe her, to take her seriously.
He crossed the cave and tried once more to cut the vines with his knife. This time, he was able to cut a vine in half, but another quickly grew in its place.
As he sawed and hacked at the vines, Quayk noticed a tattoo on his bicep that she couldn’t quite make out. She could tell it was some sort of creature, but it looked incomplete from where she stood—like it was half of a monkey.
She knew other clans were different from the SpellMakers, in that they weren’t necessarily just witches. She’d been taught the SpellMakers were always pure, and only witches. As the designated keepers of some great treasure, their magic was the purest and strongest of all.
Of course, she wouldn’t learn the nature of the treasure they were to guard for almost another year, until the Coming-of-Age Ceremony—if there even was a treasure.
But she’d been taught that because the other clans served different purposes than the SpellMaker line, one could often find a witch who was also a shapeshifter of some kind. While their magic was weaker than the SpellMaker magic, they used their other natures to augment magic and assist them in carrying out their destinies and mandates.
Shapeshifter witches were identified by a tattoo that appeared somewhere on their body during a Destiny Determination Ceremony, which took place sometime before they turned ten. Supposedly, the tattoo foretold what kind of shapeshifter they would be—cat, bird, horse, gargoyle—the list was almost endless.
She’d heard some pretty funny stories about weird tattoos that appeared in some very awkward places.
She wondered what Alex’s tatt represented. What sort of creature was he?
Alex gave up hacking at the vines. For every one he managed to cut, two more grew in its place. The effort was exhausting, and he was losing ground.
When he turned back toward Quayk, he found her staring at him and his breath caught. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful woman, and he could feel parts of his body stiffen as he wondered what she would look like naked. He quickly turned back toward the doorway.
Whoa…down, boy. You’re gonna go straight to hell for that.
When he’d regained control, he returned to sit near her, careful not to make eye contact. He was here to do a job, not to chase a girl, no matter how beautiful she was and how much she made his blood boil.
Quayk sniffed and he shifted his gaze to make sure she was okay. She watched him, but quickly averted her gaze. “What’s the tattoo on your arm?”
He ground his teeth before responding, “It’s a gargoyle.”
She turned to look, interest clear in her eyes. He froze as she leaned closer and his heartbeat picked up.
“Why is it only half a gargoyle?” She reached out and traced it with her finger.
He propped his arms on his knees, willing his heart rate to slow. “I have no clue.”
“So, do gargoyles really eat people?” Her eyes stretched wide and she leaned away from him.
> “No. That’s an old wives’ tale.” He hated that the public was so misinformed about gargoyles. “Sometimes when we protect people, we wrap our wings around them and turn to stone, so they are cocooned and protected within our wings. Unfortunately, the rumor got started that we ate people, so uninformed people use the lie to scare little children into doing what they are told—like stay out of the woods after dark or the Boogie Man will get you.”
She nodded and he saw her visibly relax again as she rolled her shoulders.
She leaned forward and pointed. “I can see how that might be misconstrued. Is that a cowboy hat on its head?” When she smiled, her eyes sparkled.
He grinned back at her. “Yep.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why is it wearing a hat?”
He shrugged. “I guess because I generally wear a cowboy hat. When I shift, it shifts with me.”
She thought a moment. “Is that normal? Do others have the same thing?”
He shook his head. “Nope. As far as I know, I’m the only one. I tell everyone it’s because a cowboy’s hat is part of who he is. But in reality, I have no damn clue why it shifts with me.”
She looked at his profile as she asked, “So, did you wear a cowboy hat when the tattoo appeared? Or did you start wearing a hat because of the tattoo?”
He chuckled. “I started wearing a cowboy hat when I was two. My mom said I even slept in it.” He met her gaze briefly before looking away again. “When the tattoo appeared, I stopped wearing the hats for a short while, thinking it might change things. But I didn’t feel right without the hat, so I put it back on and sort of looked at it as a badge of courage. My way of thumbing my nose at destiny.”
Her voice softened as she asked, “Why is the foot on your tatt so faded when the rest of it is so clear?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “Don’t know that either. It was that way from the beginning.”
When Quayk looked up and met his gaze, he smiled and winked as he teased, “I guess we’re both defective.”
The sound of her laughter enveloped him like a warm blanket, and her eyes glittered with mischief as she replied, “A witch with a broken love gene, and a gargoyle with no feet. Now that’s a pair to draw to.”
He smiled. It had been a long time since he’d laughed with a woman. The only woman he’d ever been with had been a gargoyle also. She’d moved into this area from another state, so she knew nothing about his past. When she found out he couldn’t shift completely, she flipped out and shrieked at him, calling him an ass. She’d accused him of making her look bad in the community by dating a cripple. It had hurt him so badly, he never tried to get close to a woman again after that.
Alex couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run his hands through Quayk’s long, silky hair and pull her body against his.
“So, only the one tattoo? Got any others?”
The sound of her voice brought him back to reality. He twisted his torso around to show her the other arm. “Nope, just the one.”
“Huh.” She reached out and touched his tattoo.
As goosebumps skittered down his back, he straightened and rolled his shoulders to cover the slight shiver that coursed through his body.
She watched him intently. “So, no one else has the same kind of tattoo you have?”
He shook his head. “Nope. As far as I know, it’s just me.”
“That’s kinda cool. Makes you unique.”
He smiled at the spin she put on it. “Yeah, it’s unique all right.” He hesitated a moment before he decided to share more. “When I was a kid, I was embarrassed and always kept it covered.”
“Why?”
At first he thought she might be teasing him, but she was sincere.
“Because I was a skinny kid, and the tatt looked more like a monkey than a gargoyle. So everyone teased me about being a skinny monkey shifter in a hat, with no feet and only half a body. I was only seven when the tatt appeared. For years, I was terrified it meant my feet would disappear.” He grinned at her. “I didn’t even want to think about what half a tattoo meant.”
“Awww.” The sympathy in her expression was genuine. “How sad. Kids can be so mean.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” He winked. “I’ve still got my feet.”
Quayk couldn’t help but be moved by his story. This man was so big, so tough, and virile, and yet there was this incredibly vulnerable streak in him. The thought of him being teased as a kid made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She hated bullies.
Alex turned his head to meet her gaze. “So, can I ask you something personal?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“Why are you so dead-set not to marry Hollister?”
Her stomach turned over at the reminder. “Have you met the jackass?”
He smiled. “Yes, I have. But you must know the mission of the SpellMaker clan depends on everyone following their destiny. Why buck the system?”
Anger flared inside her at the injustice. “Because the system is broken. Everyone thinks magic is infallible and it will make everything okay, that I just have to be open to it. Well, it’s bullshit. If I were intended to fall in love with Hollister, he would have been born a nicer person.”
She took a breath to steady herself before she continued. “The man is horrid, and I’m appalled that my father and people who profess to love me all think I should go quietly into this marriage, like a lamb to the slaughter.”
She was on a tear now and had more to say. “I have a younger brother. Why can’t the responsibility fall to him? He can find some nice girl and settle down and have twenty kids. Why does it have to be me? If I were dead, that’s what would happen. They would look to Quyrk to be the royal bearer. So there is no real reason why it has to be me. No reason why I have to live my life in misery just to make magic happy.”
She ended her rant with a declaration. “I won’t do it!”
She could feel Alex’s eyes on her, but she refused to look up. She’d had enough of people telling her what she should do. What about what she wanted? Did being the oldest SpellMaker kid strip her of the right to make her own choices? It wasn’t fair.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Alex lay down, so she shifted her gaze. “What are you doing?”
He lifted one arm and tucked it under his head as he closed his eyes. “Going to sleep.”
She looked around the cave. “But we’re still stuck here.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So…you have to get us out of here.” She cleared her throat, hoping he didn’t notice the whine.
“How?”
“I don’t know, but you can’t just go to sleep.”
“I can, and I will.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. “I suggest you sleep too. We won’t be released from here until either magic is good and ready, or my team figures out where we are and they find a way to blow a hole in that vine.”
He settled back and closed his eyes again. “It’s after midnight. My team will find us in the morning. Hell, my communication device will probably start to work again as soon as this damn electrical storm lets up. Get some sleep. When we get out of here tomorrow, all hell’s gonna break loose. You’re gonna need your wits about you.”
She stared at him long enough that she noticed when his breathing slowed.
Hell, the man’s even gorgeous when he’s asleep.
She might as well sleep too. He was right—tomorrow would be a real bitch, regardless whether they got out of here or not.
She rolled onto her side, careful to keep Mango close, and cradled her head on her arm as she whispered and made a hand movement, “Heidy-ho, lights down low.”
The lights in the cave grew dim.
Alex chuckled in the dark. “Seriously?”
She huffed, “Give me a break. We were little girls when we set that spell.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t use Pig-Latin.”
She smiled. “Don’t be sil
ly.” They had initially, but had changed it, afraid their friends might happen on the cave and figure it out. She’d never tell him that.
Quayk wished she had a blanket because it was getting chilly in the cave. Unfortunately, with the door to the cave sealed by the vines, she couldn’t magic one up. She and her sisters had learned long ago that the power of the vines trumped theirs. The vines always got their way.
So she waved her hand in a tiny circle and whispered low enough that she hoped Alex wouldn’t hear, “Throw the stones and pick up sticks, warm the air to seventy-six”.
Alex’s low chuckle made her grind her teeth.
The man’s got hearing like a flippin’ bat.
She didn’t drift off to sleep immediately, so she opened her eyes and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she watched Alex sleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, steadily. With him asleep, it gave her the chance to look him over good, to explore the strong forearms and muscled shoulders, the broad chest that rose and fell. The way his jeans fit snug to his thighs hinted at muscled legs.
When she glanced back to his face, his eyes were open. She jumped. “Whoa!” Taking a deep breath, she pitched flat onto her back. “I thought you were asleep. You scared me half to death.”
He smiled. “I guess you were pretty engrossed.”
She felt her face flame as her heart did double-time. She cradled a hissing Mango as she flipped over on her other side to hide from Alex’s probing eyes. “I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking, that’s all.”
“Uh huh.”.
Damn smug man.
Her chest constricted.
Why can’t I be marrying him instead of Hollister? I can deal with smug, sarcastic and gorgeous a lot better than ugly, condescending, and evil.
She rolled her eyes.
Where the hell did that come from?
When Alex didn’t say anything more, she closed her eyes and mouthed the words so low she was certain he’d never hear, “Grow a tail, grow a snout, little piggy, lights out.” Then she closed her eyes and wondered what tomorrow would hold.
For one thing, I’m going to change those damn chants.
CHAPTER SIX
BodyGuard (Butterscotch Martini Shots Book 2) Page 32