Betrothed

by Lola White

  “Convince him to elope with me, perhaps?”

  “If need be, yes.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Silviu glanced at his sister, the sudden calmness in her voice sounding alarms in his skull. She only used that tone when she was about to challenge the archaic, patriarchal rules they were forced to live by.

  Vasile seemed unaware as he moved on to his favorite subject—intrigue. “Now, as for the meeting with the Levys, I will expect very specific things from both of you.”

  It was nearly the witching hour before they were given permission to leave their father’s presence, lectures and orders still ringing in Silviu’s ears. When he slipped out into the cold hallway, he shut the study door behind him carefully, calmly and with complete control.

  Only then did he lean back against the wall, close his eyes and let a shudder born of too many emotions to fully contain roll through him. Tension and intrigue fell from his shoulders, making him feel half his weight, now that his father’s focused gaze was no longer resting on him.

  “Now’s your chance, Silver,” Ileana whispered.

  He nodded. “And yours. We will both be bolder than we’ve ever dared before.”

  “I’ll give it everything I have,” she promised.

  Dragging in a deep breath, gathering his cracking armor of calm around him once more, Silviu set off toward his bedroom, making his own plans for Georgeanne Davenold that had nothing to do with politics, and everything to do with pleasure.

  Chapter Three

  Georgeanne

  A wave of heat coasted over her skin just as Adam Davenold leaned forward. “Ready, Georgie? It’s show time.”

  She merely lifted an eyebrow. “Even with my mind occupied elsewhere, your magic won’t kill me. Why do you still bother with these childhood games of yours?”

  “Who me?” His eyes only held innocence, but his lips twitched with amusement. “I would never try to take advantage of your mental wanderings. I’d certainly never try to kill you, honey. Not for real.”

  Her cousin settled back and took his twin sister’s hand, idly playing with her fingers as another—hotter—wave scorched Georgie’s senses. She gritted her teeth and ignored it. For a single instant, magic flashed between the twins, a golden spark that spoke volumes of their bond. Georgie doubted that anyone else would ever see it, but that was the gift she’d been given.

  A consolation prize for being Bane.

  Georgie wriggled her shoulders against the limo’s seat, glaring at Adam and Christiana. “Enough. I’m not in the mood.”

  She turned her attention to the view. Rugged mountains rose in the near distance, a breathtaking vista so different from any of the manicured lawns of her Family’s properties. This part of Romania was a place that called to her, a wild place that tempted her to throw off the constrictions of her life and simply breathe. Much like the man that lived there.

  The mountains were interspersed with long, green spaces and stands of towering pines. Small huts and sprawling country farms mingled on the slopes and plains below while above an ancient pile of gray stone rose from the land as if it had always been there.

  It practically had.

  The Lovasz Family stronghold had survived innumerable wars, including the one that divided the witching world into patriarchal and matriarchal houses. The limo’s tires crunched over the gravel drive and the building’s architectural details came into sharp focus as they drew nearer. It was more intimidating than it had seemed in the photos.

  Magic shimmered around the building like a shield. There was no need for her cousins to know she could see magic, so she held her tongue. At best it would only be confusing for them, since Georgie was without magic herself, and at worst it would make Georgie even more vulnerable to their schemes.

  The limo pulled to a stop in front of a small group waiting in the courtyard. A swarm of butterflies surged into her throat, stealing her breath for a panicked moment. Unerringly, her eyes found Silviu Lovasz and she threw everything she had into tamping down her reaction. She wasn’t ready to face him, but she had no choice.

  A young man dressed in black opened the car door and bowed low in welcome. Christiana’s pretty face split with a bright smile, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. She took the offered hand and exited the vehicle, looking around curiously as she rubbed her still-flat belly. Not even pregnancy had deterred their grandmother from sending her eldest granddaughter into the lion’s den.

  Georgie had been forced into coming, too.

  Adam leaned forward, his smile dropping, suddenly serious as he touched her knee. “Georgie? You okay?”

  She grimaced before pasting a polite smile on her face. “I’ll have to be.”

  She took the offered hand without looking, and immediately froze. A golden spark exploded into existence before fading, magic humming in her ears. She refused to believe her eyes, even as heat poured over her wrist, more magic spitting and sparking, her belly liquefying as warmth spread through her body. Holding tight to her shaky smile, she looked up to meet the hypnotic, silver eyes of her betrothed.

  With only the smallest hesitation, she slid from the limo and rose to her full height, which was still only up to his shoulder, even in her heels. Locking her knees against a faint tremor, she tilted her head back and blinked. Silviu was taller than before.

  His eyes were sharp, but curiously soft. His lips were lifted in a pleased, smug smile her palms itched to smack off his face. He looked so different, and yet the same.

  She hadn’t forgotten his appearance, but memory did no justice to real life. His high cheekbones and the stubborn cast of his jaw were the same as she remembered, but his intensity had grown. He was lean, but more filled out than when they were teenagers. More confident, though his arrogance had already been incised on her brain.

  Adam cleared his throat, breaking her trance. With a soft chuckle Georgeanne knew only she could hear, he pushed past the couple and moved toward the others with a wide smile.

  “Georgie.”

  Silviu’s soft accent swept over her ears, bringing a shiver she didn’t want to think too hard on. Her chin notched higher. “Don’t call me that.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Everyone calls you Georgie.”

  She shook her head and pulled her fingers from his warm grip. “Only my family calls me that.”

  “I am your family. Georgie.”

  “No, you’re only my betrothed.” She turned and shored up her smile as a tall woman flew down the castle steps, heading straight to her at full speed. Georgie found herself suddenly enfolded in a scented embrace as Silviu’s sister squealed in her ear.

  “Georgeanne! How wonderful you could make it! Oh, I’m so excited to see you again, after all these years!”

  “Too much, Iley,” Silviu growled. “Please don’t overact.”

  Georgie pulled back with a surprised laugh and scanned the unexpectedly exuberant woman in front of her. Of all the Lovaszes, Silviu’s sister was the only one she was remotely happy to see. “Ileana, how beautiful you are! You must be so excited to meet your betrothed. I’m so happy to be here,” she lied.

  She linked her arm through the other woman’s and tugged her toward the portico, away from Silviu. He followed on her heels, and Georgie swore she felt his breath against the back of her neck. She fought to ignore him.

  “We’re not betrothed yet but, if all goes well, we will be,” Ileana prattled breezily. “Then we’ll have a massive betrothal party and I really wanted you to share in the whole experience with me. After all, you’ll be my sister, one day soon.”

  “Mmm, yes, one day.” She made no comment on the falsehood buried in Ileana’s words. The Lovasz woman had had two betrothal celebrations before, and Georgie hadn’t been required to attend either. But then, Georgie admitted, this time was different. When Vasile Lovasz had called to extend the invitation given by the Levy Family, Madeleine had had no choice but to accept. The Levys were too large a
coven to risk causing offense.

  Georgie turned her brightest smile on the man reaching for her as they ascended the two long steps at the entrance of the building. She took note of the deepening gray of his dark hair, the new lines etched around his eyes and mouth. Remembered the coldness that never left his gaze. She stilled a shudder. “How are you, Vasile?”

  “Very well, my dear. How was your flight?”

  “Just fine, thank you. Grandmother sent us in the private jet. It was very thoughtful of you to send transport for us at the airport.”

  “You’d never have found the turnoff to the castle on your own. It’s too well hidden.”

  She nodded, not telling him the truth. She’d seen the turnoff right away. It was the only place on the entire road where magic swirled in colorful arcs. She turned and acknowledged the third man. “Costel.”

  “Georgeanne. Welcome.”

  There was no love lost between the two heirs. Costel wasn’t an easy man to speak with, having little in the way of social niceties. Georgie figured the best the Lovasz Family could hope for was his silence in group settings, which he was usually all too eager to give.

  They were also on opposite sides of the Schism. As the expected heir of the matriarchal Davenold Coven, Georgie was used to being above the men in power and rank. The patriarchal Lovaszes were the exact opposite, with the men wielding the authority. Costel had expectations that Georgie fully intended to disappoint.

  Silviu’s hand closed around her elbow and pulled her from his father’s side. “Come, I’ll show you to the room you’ll use tonight. Unless you’d like to spend the night in mine?”

  “I don’t think so.” Georgie tugged against his hold, but his fingers only tightened.

  “After you put your things down, I’ll take you to the dining room. I’m sure you’re starving by now.”

  “Oh, I’d hoped to speak to your sister for a moment.” Georgie kept her voice light. “Perhaps she could show me—”

  “You can talk to her over lunch.” His tone didn’t encourage argument and Georgie couldn’t find a way to protest civilly. Not in his house, with his brother and father looking on.

  She bared her teeth in a poor parody of a smile. “Of course.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before Silviu dragged her inside, towing her through dark and winding hallways. The house’s cool oppression settled over her and she wondered at the lack of light. With an unbreakable grip on her elbow, her suitcase in his other hand, he steered her up a flight of steps, giving her no chance to look around at the strangely silent space.

  “Where have you been for the past ten years?”

  She threw him a challenging look. “From what I hear, you know exactly where I’ve been, because you’ve been dogging my steps.”

  “Not close enough, apparently.” His voice hardened. “They took you from me without even letting me say goodbye.”

  “I was sent away.”

  His fingers flexed around her arm again. “I know.”

  “It was your fault.”

  “You were there, too.”

  “I was thirteen!”

  He dragged her around a corner, his speed increasing until Georgie was nearly running to keep pace with his much longer legs. “I was only a boy, myself. A fact everyone keeps forgetting.”

  “Seventeen is old enough to know better. Thirteen isn’t.”

  “Now you sound like everyone else! You’re my betrothed and my Magic Match,” he snarled. “I was a child. You expected me to have sense? Patience? To not push for more? For all?”

  “I’m not your Match,” she panted, focusing on that point and ignoring all the rest.

  “Bullshit!” Silviu threw open a door and pushed her inside. He tossed her suitcase into a chair before slamming the door closed with a violent thrust of his hand. Her back hit the wood panel while it still vibrated with the force of its closing and her eyes went wide, fiery adrenaline streaking down her spine.

  He was a strong witch, a master manipulator who had exploited her teenaged weakness. Georgie didn’t put it past him to concoct some complicated spell to fool her into thinking they had a connection far beyond a simple betrothal contract. But, no matter his magical forgeries, there was one fact that he couldn’t change. “I don’t have magic, so I have no Match.”

  He stepped close, trapping her against the wood. “You dare deny what’s between us? The connection that defies all common sense? Did it feel wrong, Georgeanne, when I held you in my arms and gave you pleasure?”

  His glare drilled into hers with an angry plea, a challenge she couldn’t meet as emotions rioted in her chest. She dropped her eyes to stare at his Adam’s apple and reminded herself of the hard lesson she’d learned on that Beltane night.

  Silviu cupped her chin and angled her face up to his. “I looked for you. Searched. Everywhere. I was always a day late.”

  His mouth came down on hers, stealing her response. Just like ten years ago, she was caught in a blaze. They’d been children then, experiencing new things, new sensations. She’d harbored childish fantasies of fairy-tale weddings and black-haired babies. She’d been wrapped up in the warm feelings stirring deep inside her body, ignorant of what they meant and only knowing that he was the one who called them forth.

  Now she was an adult and knew very well what was going on inside her. She also knew that she’d never found anyone who had made her feel half of what he had. It was a weakness she’d been determined to avoid. Ignore.

  But now his lips were moving on hers, hard and certain, demanding a response. Helplessly, she fell before his assault and opened her mouth. A bliss-filled moment passed before anger and pride rose to the rescue, provoking her into taking control. Into dominating the kiss.

  She twined her tongue with his until he fell back, surprising her by easing the hard set of his lips. She stroked into his mouth, licked and sucked. She scraped her teeth against his lower lip, the taste of him exploding across her tongue, the scent of him sinking into her brain.

  Hard and fast and deep, the kiss was a powerful force on its own. It was a claim staked and a promise given. It lifted her emotions and sent them crashing, buffeted by the need she felt rolling from him and rising inside herself. He caught her tongue and sucked, sending sheer lust striking into her belly with every soft pull of his lips. The hard edge of his teeth sent heat skittering through her.

  He pushed closer, and she widened her stance, rising to her toes until her belly was pressed tight to the thick bulge between his legs. His hands swept down her sides, sparking flame. For a breath of time, there were no thoughts, no protests, no doubts. There was only him, his strength and the magic roaring through them both, biting into her body with delicious, stinging snaps.

  Gold magic.

  It was unthinkable. To Match a Bane, Silviu would have to be enormously powerful. It was something she’d spent the last ten years ignoring, telling herself she’d been wrong, simply too young to understand the pleasure he’d given her. But now, in his arms, nerves flickering under the heat of his magic, a thrumming vitality lighting all her senses, she had trouble lying to herself.

  His hand pressed between them, sliding down the soft curve of her belly until he cupped her through her thin pants. He rotated the heel of his palm against her mound, stealing her breath and pouring memories over her. Her thoughts focused on the last time he’d touched her, remembered heat and sensation, lust and pleasure sinking her beneath pounding waves, threatening to drown her. Below that was a cold sea of fear and an icy vulnerability swirling with confusion.

  She ripped her mouth from his and pushed ineffectually against his shoulders. “Stop.”

  “You’re mine to do with as I please.”

  Arrogant patriarchal dominance. His fingers jerked between her legs. Georgie had to bite back a moan.

  With her thoughts frayed and tangled, she had no choice but to fall back on a half-truth and pray that he wouldn’t use her vulnerability against her. “I’m not ready, Si
lver.” She used his sister’s pet name for him, hoping to reach some spot within him that would give way. “Please.”

  She was surprised by the struggle in his eyes. The silver churned, darkening and paling as he fought his own lust to give her what she needed. The power he handed over to her was a heady thing. Part of her cataloged every nuance of his shifting expression, seeing his weakness and plotting how to use it.

  Part of her melted at his honor.

  He stepped back, his lips swollen and damp, flushed skin pulled taut over his cheekbones. Georgie tried not to regret her protests. He ran a long-fingered hand through his black hair and gave a sharp nod. “For now, Georgie, but not too much longer. Your days of running are over.”

  She acknowledged his truth with a nod and reached for the doorknob. He stopped her with a hand against the door, his body leaning over hers as his eyes traveled her entire length. One hand rose to cup her skull, his fingers ruffling her short hair.

  “You cut it all off.”

  Georgie pushed at the chin-length mass of mahogany curls self-consciously. “It was too heavy to keep long. I felt like my neck was breaking.”

  “It suits you.” A slow smile, genuine, without a trace of smugness, spread across his lips. “You have a delicate face, my love. I didn’t realize your hair was this curly.”

  “The curls got tighter when the length was taken off.”

  The smile dropped from his mouth. “I missed you, Georgie.”

  “Did you?” Her words were breathless. She couldn’t comprehend how he just kept putting his weakness out there, knowing full well that she’d use it to her advantage if she could.

  “Those black eyes of yours have haunted my dreams. I remember when they held laughter, but now they are too sad. What happened?”

  Georgie sighed and tried to remind herself to keep her guard up around Silviu. He’d always had a way of breaking through to her heart, and the way he put his on the line confused her. It wasn’t rational.