He continued to move inside of her, the intensity of the moment shining in his eyes.
“I love the way you look when I’m inside of you,” he murmured. “I’m going to come soon, sweet Anya.”
She smiled as her own climax shuddered and gripped his cock. That was all he needed, and he let out a roar as he filled her with his glorious seed. She sighed against his ear and he kissed her gently before lowering her to the floor.
Anya was just where she’d always been meant to be. She was with her Damien and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
* * * * *
“Anya, wake up,” a woman’s voice sounding suspiciously like her mother’s called her out of dreamland.
Her eyes opened wide and she turned her head to stare at an apparition that had floated in on the moonbeams shining through the balcony.
“Ebony?” she asked as her vision focused.
The ghostly woman floating a few feet away from her was the spitting image of her. Same black hair and same almond-shaped dark eyes.
“Yes, Anya.” The blank expression on her face softened and her lips curved into a soft smile. “I’ve come to warn you that this night will bring danger to you—a great peril that will end in tragedy if your and Damien’s love doesn’t emerge triumphant.”
The night was deathly quiet and she looked to the clock—it was quarter to midnight. The witching hour—if any trouble was coming it would come their way after midnight, of that she was certain.
She needed to know what kind of trouble was coming her way in order to fight it. She doubted more witch hunters would come for her unless a contract of Damien’s hadn’t been fulfilled, in which case they were both in trouble.
“I am here to also put your heart at ease, I know how much my death has troubled both you and your mother—and I know the burden you carry because you feel as if your heart betrayed you. Fear not, Anya, your heart is true, as is Damien’s… Damien is not responsible for the sins of his grandfather. His heart is true when it comes to you, dearest granddaughter. So embrace his love and cherish it for the rest of your lives.”
Urgent footsteps approached the bedroom door. Anya was just about to ask another question of Ebony when the bedroom door flew open and in entered Damien, levitating a tray of food in front of him.
He grimaced. “It feels like a bloody freezer in here,” he said, making a chattering noise through his teeth; he moved to the doors leading out to the balcony and shut them. “For being late October it’s awfully chilly out there, maybe I should light the fire,” he murmured, moving toward the fireplace.
“Why don’t you just come back over here, climb into bed and we can warm each other up?” she asked, her skin prickling with gooseflesh. “The rush of cold air is probably just from Ebony’s ghost; she paid me a visit while you were down in the kitchen.”
His face went ashen. “Is this some kind of a joke, Anya?” he asked, his voice trembling.
She’d never seen him look so apprehensive before. Nothing in the physical world might shake him, but the spiritual world was another thing entirely it seemed.
“No.” She shook her head solemnly. “My grandmother was here in her ethereal form. She told me to trust you and to trust the love we share.”
His face went brilliant with a beaming smile. “Well, then I’m not too spooked by having a spook in the house after all. Now I wish I’d been around when she made herself known.”
“I think that was the point—she only wanted to appear before me. I wouldn’t take offense at it, Damien. She is my grandmother, after all,” Anya said softly. Rushes of love kept spiraling through her. Tonight was going to be her undoing, she’d never felt so full of love in her entire life.
He set the large tray between them. Mrs. Beetle had baked potatoes and grilled steak. PurpleVanguard asparagus and red wine accompanied the meal.
“I hope that’s a wine from Earth, I can’t stand wine here on Vanguard. And I pray that the coffee is decaf,” she said pointing to the coffee percolator on the tray.
“I considered brewing us some caffeinated coffee to keep us awake so we could continue through the night but you look exhausted. I guess I never thought about how much sleep you’d lose while trying to be one step ahead of the agents from the Triple Hexed Agency. They must have put you through your paces. Even after the night of sleep you got last night.”
“Darling husband, if you think I had much sleep with you around, you are sorely mistaken. Besides, those you sent after me, well, I wouldn’t exactly call them agents,” she snorted. “They were hacks, the lot of them. The only one who really had a modicum of talent was Oliver White and he ended up all dolled up like those before him. I guess none of them could handle the magical hotness of moi,” she said, giving him a cheeky smile.
“Oliver and I went to the Academy together. He isn’t that bad of a warlock. Why, he bested me on various occasions,” Damien said.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“There didn’t seem to be a need to tell you all about my past at the Academy of Sorcery and Enchantment here on Vanguard. You already knew I was a warlock—but I was surprised you got the upper hand against Oliver. He used to best me in sword duels quite frequently and no one could best me save for him.
“Come to think of it, he was the one who directed me to the auction where I bought Ebony’s portrait. He also used to frequently ask me about the Ross Amulet. I thought he was just interested in the items my family had stolen from yours, but now that I think about it, I wonder if there was more to it.”
“Maybe he was either fascinated with your family or with mine—although a man like him being in the position of training to become a witch hunter well, I’d warrant he was obsessed with your family, not mine. Men like him ruined my family.”
He quirked his eyebrow and set his mouth in a thin line. “I don’t know, Anya.”
“What about the amulet, what did you do with it after I threw it in your face?”
He chuckled. “You pelted the damn thing at me and it bloody well smarts when it makes contact, you know. It’s not a small gemstone.” He looked over to the jewel case sitting on the dressing table he’d bought for her. “I placed it in there for safekeeping, secretly hoping you’d always return to me.”
She smiled. “Thank you, but I doubt there will ever be a day when I will be able to pick it up without seeing Ebony with flames licking around her, suffocating and then burning her… I can’t wear it. I’ve woken up too many nights sweating and screaming. In fact, I’m not ashamed to tell you that was how I got the upper hand against Oliver. He must have stolen into my hotel room in the dead of night, bypassing my magical charms that should have told me an intruder was near.
“When I woke up screaming, he was sitting in the chair next to my bedside. My screams affected him deeply and when everything fragile in the room started exploding it really scared the hell out of him. At that point I don’t know who was screaming louder, me or him. I managed to regain my composure and threw the first hex at him. It immobilized him long enough for me to recite the spell that transformed him from six-foot-three witch hunter into a tiny little doll.”
“I’m sorry my gift caused you such pain. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could make your nightmares disappear,” Damien bemoaned, pain dripping through his voice.
“I know,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “We’ll get through it somehow, lots of people get night terrors and manage to cope. I’ll do the same…but you might want to remove anything in the room that I could possibly damage…”
“Anything that you damage can be fixed…either with magic or with some good old-fashioned glue.”
She laughed. Trust Damien to think of things that way. He didn’t mention that he could just buy another one to replace the one she broke. He hadn’t flaunted his wealth in her face since they’d reunited. Of course, he didn’t need to. His staff of servants talked for themselves.
“Why did you send the witch hunters
after me in the first place when you could have pursued me yourself?” she asked softly.
She fancied she already knew the answer given the way her husband thought—but she wanted it confirmed for herself.
“And miss the fun of you thinking you were one step ahead of me? I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. I knew you’d be drawn back to me or at least I hoped I had predicted your proper reaction to doing such a hasty thing as leaving me at our wedding reception. Aunt Blanche told me to sit and wait and you’d return to me—in the interim I had to give you some distractions to occupy your time gallivanting around the solar system. After all I know you hate being bored.”
She jumped at the sound of a firecracker exploding outside of their mansion. It took only seconds for the chaos to run through the house, and she could hear servants woken from their nightly slumber dashing around the place half-dressed.
Loud rapping at their door made her jump out of bed and run over to the large wardrobe to see if she could find something suitable to wear. She reached for a white satin nightgown and dressing gown with matching slippers.
It seemed as if Damien had everything figured out. He’d fully stocked Silver Gables, getting it ready for the time when they could live together under its roof and make plans for their future together.
Still, heaviness lodged in her throat and in her heart. Ebony’s visit seemed more like a forewarning to her. It was as if she wanted to dispel her worries about Damien so the two of them could be a united front when danger stole in to ruin their happiness.
Her mother had existed much the same way. She’d constantly been on the lookout for malice intent in strangers and now Anya knew why. She’d always been distressed that somehow, someway a dark force would ruin their tranquil paradise by destroying it much like her own happiness had been gutted as a young teenager.
Anya never fully appreciated her mother’s stalwart resolve to protect her family at all costs and often wondered why she’d never been allowed to wander far from Angelica’s mystical sight of protection. Angelica had gone through a hell she’d never wanted visited upon Anya and that was what drove her to be so overly protective.
Once Anya was suitably covered, Damien opened the bedroom door. Reeves stood with a flashlight in hand, shaking visibly.
“Sir, we have some uninvited guests on the grounds…they are wearing the blood-red cloaks and skull and crossbones mark of your grandfather’s coven of witch hunters, The Bloodbaynes. They are burning effigies on stakes on the South Lawn. Kildare, the groundskeeper, thought they were actual humans at first until he inspected the horror further and found them to be dummies. He was able to call back to the house with an update before they captured and restrained him.”
“I will deal with this outrage,” Damien said. Shock, horror and fury shone back at her when he turned to meet her gaze. “You must stay here, Anya. I can’t risk their acrimony being directed at you and you getting hurt in the crossfire.”
“What about you? I won’t let you go out there alone, they are madmen!”
“They will not view me in the same light as you, as much as I loathe admitting it. I have Asher blood in my veins.”
“Your father denounced that blood, and you know you are more a Forsythe than an Asher,” she pointed out, exasperation tingeing her voice.
“They will not recognize that. As a Ross you will be the focus of their antipathy. Please, I implore you to stay here.”
“I will stay in the house to guard it against any intruders but mark my words, Damien, I will defend what is mine—and I have had more practice at engaging these upstarts in battle. You haven’t fought a real magical duel in over a decade.”
“My skills might be a bit rusty, Anya, but they are still there. Trust me, darling, I’m no pushover.”
“I do trust you.” Her heart raced so fast in her chest she felt like it would burst out of it.
She had no choice in the matter, she had to allow Damien to go out there and feel like a big bad boss. If she didn’t, she risked emasculating him and that was something she didn’t want to do in front of a crowd of people comprised mostly of men.
Dashing over to him, she kissed him long and hard. “Don’t come back here with a mark on you or I’ll hunt down that warlock, turn him into wax and throw him on a fire. I’ll dance around it merrily while he burns.”
He grimaced. “I don’t think you’d take it that far, my love. You are not a practitioner of the dark arts.”
“Sometimes—when faced with this kind of evil, I almost feel like fighting the same way they fight. But then I realize I’d be climbing down into the gutter with them, and I don’t want to go that low.”
“You are my dark angel. You could never do the heinous acts they commit. Your heart isn’t blackened like theirs.” He kissed her again and left with Reeves.
As they walked down the long hallway, she watched him place his hand comfortingly on Reeves’ shoulder, and that slight gesture of encouragement did the job for Reeves relaxed visibly. She’d never thought to ask if any of the servants employed at Silver Gables were gifted with magic. She should have, for she now prayed that some of them had a touch of magic so they could help defend the house against the witch hunters.
Anya shut the door carefully and turned back to survey an empty room. She wished that Ebony would return and keep her company. The sound of the door clicking as it opened caused her to turn back around and the sight she saw made her blood run cold.
Oliver White stood resolutely in front of the door. She never should have transformed him back. Her eyes went to the item of jewelry he wore around his neck.
“I thought your husband was never going to leave…he’ll have a rough time of it out there with my father’s raucous crowd. They don’t play nice, Anya.”
“What do you want and however did you come into possessing my family’s amulet?” she demanded angrily.
He stole her breath away with his reply.
“Your family is my family.”
Chapter Seven
“Impossible,” Anya whispered, backing away from him so she stood closer to the door that led to the expansive balcony.
“It’s quite possible. In fact, you can see the evidence before you. If I wasn’t a Ross this amulet would not allow me to do this.”
He touched it and a willowy, wispy scene of the past unfolded between them. She saw her mother in a bed looking as if she had just given birth. She was sweaty and looked exhausted not to mention that Anya could hear a baby crying in the background.
Her mother was begging to see the child and a man’s voice ordered the doctor and nurse to take it away. Her mother still wore her collar of captivity, making Anya’s stomach lurch with revulsion.
“I’ve seen enough. I don’t want to see any more,” Anya whispered, pain clawing at her insides.
“That bastard you hear in the background is my father—the baby was me.”
Her heart froze in her chest. “My mother always told me I wasn’t her first child, I just assumed…”
“That her first child had died?” he asked in a soft whisper. “I survived. I also bet you always thought our mother’s firstborn was with your father.”
She closed her eyes against the searing pain soaring through her. She had been on an emotional roller coaster for the last few months and her body was exhausted by the toll it was wreaking on her.
“How did you get the amulet?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She reached her arm out and rested her hand against the wall so she could maintain her balance.
“Before Damien hired me, I knew who you were. I was at your wedding lurking in the shadows. When I saw the amulet, a chord struck inside of me and I had to have it. After I saw you throw it away I waited and followed Damien. He was so overcome by losing you that he never noticed me on his trail. Once I knew where he stashed it, I returned in the dead of the night and crept past the security alarms into the house and helped myself to my birthright.”
Haltingl
y, she walked over to the nearest chair and sat.
“The amulet is not yours. It doesn’t belong to either one of us. It belonged to Ebony Ross.” Her voice was still strained. She closed her eyes and prayed for the ability to get through this latest trial.
“My grandmother and yours,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“If what you say is true then yes, she’s our grandmother, but we can’t claim the amulet as our own, as it would rightly belong to our mother…who is unaccounted for at the moment.”
“Where is she?” he asked, worry creasing his brow.
“With my father, so don’t worry. I’m sure she’s perfectly safe. She got lost in the Badlands.”
His face mottled with red fury. “And you haven’t gone looking for her?”
“I told you, my mother is always safe with my father and he is always safe with her—she is in full possession of her powers. I trust her. She told me long ago if she ever went missing with my father that I was not to follow. I always obey her and besides, I know her far better than you do so stop questioning me.” Her voice rose to a fevered pitch; she wasn’t exactly appreciating his near interrogation of her.
“Why should I trust your father? Our mother would want to finally see me. I want to know her…I want her to know that I am not the monster that terrorized her for so many years.”
“My mother is a frighteningly forgiving woman, and if you are the baby she had taken from her, there is nothing for her to forgive when it comes to you. I’m just surprised, as I knew she grieved for you—she wouldn’t talk about it, the pain was too much and I know she believed you to be dead. If she knew you were alive, she would have returned for you.”
Men shouting out on the grounds caught her attention followed by a woman’s horrified scream.
Adrenaline pumping through her, Anya ran past Oliver and out into the grand hall. Moving over to the stairwell’s banister, she stared down into the foyer below and saw one of their maids standing with blood dripping from a gash on her forehead. Activating her powers, she leaped over the railing and floated the long distance to the ground.
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