by Anna Hackett
Wind Kissed, Fire Bound
Anna Hackett
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter One
Power swelled inside Livia Cavalli, tightening her skin. Electricity tingled at her fingertips.
“You will not escape me.” Her eyes narrowed, her gaze focused on the rough waves of the Mediterranean Sea, whipped into a frenzy by the wild winds. Her prisoners were testing their powers.
As if aware of her thoughts, the winds wheeled and raced toward the beach where she stood. They tore at her clothes, ripped the band from her ponytail and tossed her blond hair out behind her. Violence was in the air, restless and searching.
As the Keeper of the Winds, it was her responsibility to keep them in control.
She raised her hands to the stormy seas and called her own wind.
It blew up around her, cool and playful, powerful and primal. Stronger than anything the wicked Venti Tempesta could produce from their jail.
The power ran through her bloodstream, leaving her calm and in control.
Once she’d been weak, powerless to stop those who’d destroyed her world and ruled her life with careless cruelty. She lifted her face to the sky, a cool smile on her lips. Now she held power beyond comprehension and used it to keep mankind safe.
“Arresto.” Her wind swept past her and swallowed the biting Tempest breeze. She heard their frenzied whispers on the wind, their curses and screams.
She motioned at the dark clouds building in the sky above. Moments later, the wind dispersed them and left only sunny blue skies hanging over the island.
It wouldn’t be long before the powers of the Tempest Winds were strong enough for them to attempt an escape. Livia glanced to the west, to the distinctive silhouette of the Stromboli volcano on the neighboring island. Its eruptions were getting stronger, its primal power feeding her prisoners.
Breathing deep, she let the smell of the sea fill her senses. She hated that the winds’ restlessness fueled her own. Her emotions were rising to the surface and each time she used her powers, it was a little harder to suppress them.
She turned, glimpsed the terracotta tile roof of her villa and her horse stables. The prison of the winds.
She would stop them. It was the duty of the Keeper.
As she caught her hair back in a ponytail, a vibration in her top pocket had her reaching for her cell phone. “Cavalli.”
When a smooth masculine voice came through the line, she smiled. “Ciao, Luca.” But as her boss continued, her smile melted away. “I don’t want that man on my island.”
She listened to the barrage of Italian on the other end of the phone. The words made her stomach knot, a sensation she wasn’t familiar with.
“Luca, you aren’t listening to me. I don’t like Donovan.” Annoyingly her stomach knotted even further. Rafe Donovan always upset her equilibrium. Having him on Isola del Vento, with her control already stretched by the winds, would only make it worse. “Now isn’t a good time. The Tempest Winds have been testing their prison. I need to focus on stopping them.”
More Italian spewed through. Luca Venti was never shy about voicing his opinions or giving orders.
“Of course I can handle them, and I realize he’s bringing your prized stallion to breed with Eos but—”
When Luca cut her off, she ran a hand through her hair. How dare he question her ability to do her duty? Both to the winds and to her horses.
She looked over the white-fenced fields before her, and the horseflesh dotting them. Luca and his brothers might own the operation, but Island of the Wind Estates was hers. Her horses were the only thing in her world that gave her some degree of true pleasure.
“Fine.” She sighed. She knew when to fight and when to conserve her strength. “When is he arriving?”
The answer had her heart rapping against her ribs. “What do you mean now?”
She swiveled, her gaze zeroing in on the whitewashed cottages clustered together at the shore a few miles away. Sure enough, the daily ferry from Sicily was pulling into the tiny harbor.
“Dio, Luca. A little more warning would have been appreciated.” She slammed her phone closed. She knew not many people had the courage to hang up on Luca Venti, Keeper of the North Wind.
Straightening her shoulders, she rose to her full five feet nine inches. There was very little she feared. As a member of the WindKeepers, she had no need to fear. Not anymore.
Except one reckless horse trainer who made her feel things she’d given up her humanity to avoid.
She banished the thought. Time to prove she could handle all six feet of Rafe Donovan.
She summoned the wind. It blew through her, unknotting the tangle in her belly, smoothing her feelings away. It left her cool, bare and clean.
As she let her body blend with the wind, her soul became as light as air. It was no longer possible to tell where her body ended and the wind began. Then she traveled with it down to the village.
Livia didn’t worry about the villagers seeing her—they knew of her powers. Generations of them had served the Keeper and kept the secrets of Isola del Vento hidden from the rest of the world. She materialized on the edge of the village piazza.
The sight that greeted her had her limbs turning liquid and warmth rising to burn away the coolness inside her.
The horse was stunning. And the man riding him even more eye-catching.
Man and beast moved like one through the cobbled street. The big chocolate-colored stallion tossed his head, willful and wanting his own way. Full of fire.
But the man controlled the horse with ease, and despite her best efforts to fight it, Livia’s eyes were drawn to him. To the powerful, jean-clad thighs gripping the horse, the muscular shoulders filling out the white T-shirt. The thin tattoo of flames banding one strong bicep, the fascinating face—all angles with a jagged scar on the jaw. The dark hair, not long, not short, teased by the morning breeze.
The smoke-gray eyes locked on her.
Heat tore through her, washing away her composure. Her fingers curled into her palms. No, she wanted the numbness. She forced herself to stay still, her face blank.
How? she despaired. How did he make her feel like this?
Life had taught her to be wary of men, and she’d seen men more handsome and polished than Donovan. The Venti brothers were perfect specimens of Italian virility, but none of them generated heat in her.
What raced through her bloodstream for Rafe Donovan was so hot it burned.
He brought the stallion to a stop a few feet from her and rested the reins in one hand. “Hello, Duchess.”
The amused voice, with just a hint of drawl, irritated her. “I have told you a hundred times not to call me by that ridiculous name.”
His slow smile was as arrogant as it was infuriating. “Until you stop talking to me like royalty to a peasant, I’ll keep calling you Duchess.”
Livia sucked in a breath, released it inch by slow inch. “I talk to you as I would any other colleague, Signor Donovan. And since I run the European arm of Island of the Wind Estates and you run the American one, that’s what we are—colleagues.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rafe?”
“I prefer to keep things professional.”
“Really?” He slid off the horse in an agile move she envied.
He sauntered toward her, moving with a swagger of lean hips that made her mouth go dry. His scent wrapped around her, a tantalizing mixture of male sweat and spicy cologne. He
smelled of things she didn’t want, things she feared.
“I don’t think it’s very professional the way your pulse flutters at the base of your throat when I get close to you.”
Her mouth dropped open. He couldn’t know what he did to her. Couldn’t know her confused body yearned for him.
Power prickled along her skin. His power, not hers. She sensed he was something beyond human. Sensed the power and wild anger simmering inside him. He kept it hidden under a coat of charm and devil-may-care humor, but it was there.
She had no idea what kind of supernatural being he was, nor did she want to know.
He stepped closer and she felt the heat of his body. It warmed her cool skin, made her remember what it felt like to be human.
Her stomach quivered. She didn’t want to remember. Humanity equaled emotion, and emotion equaled pain.
When he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she controlled the urge to flinch and stared over his right shoulder.
“The way your pupils dilate when I touch you—” his finger brushed over her cheek, a light caress “—that’s not very professional either.”
She slammed her mental shutters down. Donovan was a threat to her control and she needed her control to ensure the Tempest Winds remained locked away, where they couldn’t spread their evil.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She slapped his arm away and stepped around him.
“Coward,” he murmured.
She stiffened her spine. Ignore him. She reached out and stroked the stallion’s neck. “So this is Astraeus.”
Rafe was silent for a moment. “Yep. My boy here is raring to meet the lucky lady.”
Livia felt a quick tug at the thought of the stallion mating with her favorite mare. It would be a winning combination, she had no doubt. “I want this done quickly. Then I want you off my island.” Away from her and the coming confrontation with her prisoners.
When Rafe came up behind her and caged her between his hard body and the stallion, every muscle in her tensed.
“He’s excited, knowing there’s a pretty filly eager for his attention.” Rafe’s warm breath brushed her ear. “I understand how he feels.”
She closed her eyes. Arousal was like a jagged knife cutting at her insides. Painful, but edged with seductive pleasure. She pressed her hands against her thighs, hard enough to leave marks.
How did this man generate such intense feeling in her? How, when three hundred years ago, she’d embraced the power of the Keeper to lock her emotions away?
And in three centuries, no one had ever made her feel like this.
Chapter Two
“We should get Astraeus up to the stables.”
Rafe watched Livia sidestep away from him. He figured a man had to be perverse to find a woman’s frosty voice a turn-on.
Why did that snotty tone affect him so much? And why did those huge blue eyes arrow straight to his gut? His fingers tightened, the leather reins biting into his hand. “Lead the way, Duchess.”
The ice princess spun, her pale gold ponytail flying behind her. Over her shoulder, she skewered him with a glacial look. “Follow me.”
Rafe motioned to the groom who’d followed him off the ferry in the truck and horse trailer to head to the stables. Then he focused on Livia’s slim profile.
She had the body and posture of a ballerina, her back ramrod straight. The top two buttons of her fitted white shirt were undone and the shirt lay open, offering a teasing view of pale skin and delicate collarbones. Buff-colored jodhpurs hugged long legs that were tucked into knee-high black boots. Give her a whip and she’d ignite a man’s darkest fantasies.
He patted his pocket, looking for the cigarettes he’d given up a year before. She ignited his fantasies, that was for sure. He spent way too many nights dreaming of peeling those tight pants off her, leaving her naked and moaning his name.
Every time he and Livia had run into each other at races, parties and business meetings, he’d wanted to touch her. In the two years they’d been colleagues, he’d tried to charm her but had never cracked the ice around her. He studied her face again. She looked the same, but he sensed something was different about her. She was troubled.
A warning sounded in his head. He made it a habit to steer clear of personal trouble.
Moments later they reached a group of long stone stables. An elegant villa, its black iron railings contrasting with the butter-colored walls, stood in the background. Dark-haired grooms walked between buildings or worked with horses in the white-fenced yards. As he’d expected of a Venti-owned operation, everything was tidy and so clean it shone. Just like his own stables in Virginia.
Livia led him into a building. “You can stable him here until it is time for the mating.”
Rafe waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the stables. Twin rows of stalls, each built of solid wood and painted a brilliant white, lined the walls. The familiar scents of hay, feed and horse filled his senses.
“I’m sure Astraeus will be very happy, Liv.” He waited for her reaction to the shortening of her name.
The stallion snorted and pawed the ground. Absently Rafe stroked a hand down the big animal’s side and Astraeus stilled.
Livia stared at him for a moment. “I will check on Eos. Find me when you have stabled Astraeus.”
He watched her walk away, disappointed she hadn’t taken the bait. His gaze was drawn to the shapely rear end hugged by her jodhpurs. His hand clenched in Astraeus’s mane. God, the woman had a body to tempt the coolest soul, and his was far from cool.
Rafe opened the door to an empty stall and led the horse inside. The Keeper of the Winds tempted him with her slim body and challenged him with her haughty attitude. He suspected there was something buried under the ice.
He knew what she was, knew all about the WindKeepers. Luca had told him the stories of the monstrous god, Typhon, creating violent winds, and the King of the Gods, Jupiter, giving control of the winds to man to save the world from destruction.
Four brothers were each bestowed one of the powerful cardinal winds. And a final man—or in this case, woman—was assigned as the Keeper of winds so evil they had to be locked away. He had no idea how Livia had become the Keeper, but the Venti brothers spoke of her with admiration and respect.
He had power himself, was descended from a goddess, so he wasn’t shocked. Once, he’d known another woman who’d been dedicated to her powers.
Shadows shifted in his mind, angry heat spread deep in his belly. But when the stallion butted his head against Rafe’s shoulder, he forced himself to relax. “You’re right, Astraeus, it’s best to focus on the present, not the past.”
The present was Livia Cavalli. He’d subtly pumped Luca for information about her. The eldest Venti hadn’t been all that forthcoming, so apart from knowing she held the power to command the wind and kept some evil winds locked away on Isola del Vento, she was a mystery to him.
One he felt challenged to solve.
Rafe found Livia in a stall occupied by a sweet-faced mare. The Thoroughbred was lovely, with a coat caught somewhere between white and gray. Silver like the dawn.
“So this is Eos?”
Livia pressed her face to the mare’s throat. “Yes.” She turned, a small smile on her lips. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
His attention snagged on the woman, not the horse. In the two years he’d known Livia Cavalli, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smile. It lit her face with a quiet glow. He cleared his throat. “Very beautiful.”
He stroked the mare’s nose. Without conscious thought, he used his power to connect with the animal. She was a content one, happy with her easy life on Isola del Vento. The mare nudged him flirtatiously. She held great affection for her troubled mistress.
He frowned. Troubled? Eos shifted, and his hand landed on top of Livia’s.
Her skin was cold. She felt like cool, smooth marble.
Pain tore through Rafe, like a sword slashing
him open. His knees threatened to buckle and his fingers clamped on hers. Unable to control his power, he found it centered on Livia. In the back of his head, he heard the distant chant of his Celtic ancestors.
God damn it, no. His breathing turned shallow, rapid. Unlike the other times he’d touched her, he sensed pain close to the surface, triggering his power. He resisted, fought the energy overtaking him, but it came, anyway. He found a void inside her, the dark emptiness.
“Donovan?” Livia’s voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. “What’s wrong?”
He moved past the void, saw something move in the darkness. His vision blurred and through the black mist he saw flashes of jumbled images. A blonde child screaming as she was snatched from her mother’s arms. The girl—a little older—scrubbing a tile floor, her knuckles rubbed raw. The blonde—now a young woman—with a bruised face, blue eyes brimming with tears as she lay curled up on a rumpled bed.
The flames of his power licked at his insides. He groaned. Eos gave a nervous whinny and Livia snatched her hand away.
Through his blurred vision, he saw a frown marring her face. She reached out, her hand hovering for a second before she touched her cool fingers to his forehead.
“Donovan?”
Those elegant fingers brushed his hair back, the coolness of them soothed. It helped him control the power. He breathed deeply, pulled in the airy scent of her. His thundering heart echoed in his head like a jackhammer.
Damn. He hadn’t used his powers on a human in a long time. And the times he had, it had never been this strong and clear.
He’d known something simmered under Livia’s shell. He just hadn’t guessed a person could function with so much pain inside.
“Rafe?” Her tone was as close to gentle as he’d ever heard. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Goddess, this was all he needed. His neck throbbed and a pounding ache sprang to life behind his left eye. “Headache. It’s been a long day of travel.”