by Meg Anne
Skye breathed in the spicy scent of him. It was familiar, but not. Still Lucas, and yet, more. She couldn’t put her finger on what was different, only that there was a sense of the wild about him.
Lucas finally took a drink and sighed appreciatively. “Thanks, I was needing this.”
“What time did you get up?”
“We’ve been at it since about four.”
Skye grimaced. “That’s way too fucking early,” she declared.
Lucas chuckled softly.
“You must be tired.”
“Exhausted,” Giles answered from the corner of the room.
Skye startled, not having noticed him, half-camouflaged as he was. His dark green and brown plaid sweater almost perfectly blended into the chair he was curled up in. A chair that Skye recognized from the living room. They must have had to move it in here since most of the original furniture had been left as nothing more than splinters.
“Lucas insists on doing this research in here, and frankly, it disturbs me.”
Skye’s list of grievances against the old man was quite long, but she didn’t blame him for that. She struggled just to stand in here, and it had been less than five minutes.
“Why? Because you had a hand in the carnage?” Lucas asked dryly. Irritation gave his voice a cutting edge.
Just because he was still working with the old man, didn’t mean Lucas had forgiven him. Anger smoldered in his eyes, darkening them to a shade of midnight. The sudden shift from light amusement to fury had the hair on her arms standing on end. Skye reached out and placed her hand on his arm, a reminder that he wasn’t facing this alone.
Lucas blinked and returned his attention to Skye, his eyes bright and clear once more. “How are you feeling?” Lucas asked, leaning back against the desk.
His question reminded her why she wanted to find him to begin with. “I’m okay. I had the strangest dream, though. I thought, maybe if you weren’t too busy, we could talk about it?”
She felt his attention sharpen at the request. With a look, he’d gone from being her lover inquiring about her well-being to a detective sensing all that she hadn’t said. His voice betrayed nothing as he replied, “Sure.” Pushing off the desk, he called to Giles, “I’ll be back.”
“Actually, I think he should hear this, too.”
Lucas paused. “You want to talk to Giles about your dreams? Why?” he asked, incredulous, as if he couldn’t find a connection between the two.
“He was in it.”
At that, Lucas’ eyes shuttered, a piece of him closing itself away, as if bracing himself for the next blow.
“What’ve I done now?” His voice was sarcastic, but it was all for show. Giles’ mossy green eyes stared up at her with no small bit of worry.
“You said before that a Gypsy woman from the States helped you with the spell.”
“Aye,” he said slowly.
“What was her name?”
“Janice Giovanni,” he replied quickly. So he hasn’t put the pieces together.
Skye wished she was more surprised by his admission, but the revelation hardly phased her, especially after her dream. What she found more interesting, or perhaps concerning, was that this was the second odd dream—that wasn’t quite a dream—she’d had in as many nights. While no one had died, it almost felt like one of her visions. Except it had been a memory. One she’d completely forgotten about until the imprint of the ritual trapped in the dried blood reminded her.
Skye worried at her lip, knowing that there was something she was missing. Something that had to do with these strange not-dreams.
“Wait a fucking minute.” Lucas whirled on her. “Your Gran helped them put my Pop away? You can do that?”
Skye was getting whiplash from Lucas’ mood swings. She didn’t understand why he was pissed at her; it wasn’t like she’d lied to him. She hadn’t even suspected there was a connection, until her dream.
“Yer Gran?” Giles’ eyes were wide as he rose to his feet. When he spoke again, it was almost as if he was talking to himself. “She had a granddaughter, but the lass was only a few years old back then.” He stared at her, working out the math.
“I would have only been about two or three when you locked Oliver away, but you called her again afterward, didn’t you?”
Giles nodded.
“Why?” Lucas demanded, his voice cold.
The old man swallowed, meeting Lucas’ gaze. “I wanted her help getting back to the Wasteland.”
Goosebumps erupted down her arms. Of everything he could have said, that was not what she’d expected. “You wanted to what?”
“What do you mean back?” Lucas asked, taking a step toward him.
“After the ritual, the bodies were gone. I just… I wanted…” Giles trailed off helplessly.
“Wanted what, exactly?” Lucas grit out.
“To get yer grandmother back. I wanted to bring her home to bury her.” The words were fiercely spoken, but they were underlined by his grief.
“She was dead. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Why the hell did it matter where her body ended up?”
Lucas’ outburst surprised her. He couldn’t actually mean that.
Giles’ jaw hardened, and he narrowed his eyes on Lucas, squaring his shoulders and straightening so he was as tall as possible. “Because I loved her.”
Skye’s mouth fell open. The only sound in the room was Lucas’ sharp intake of breath. He stood rigidly beside her, his hands clenching and unclenching. Skye’s eyes darted between the two men, neither one looking away from the other.
“By that point, years had passed. What could you have possibly hoped to find, even assuming you found anything at all? She would have been nothing but a bag of bones.”
Skye flinched at the depth of anger in Lucas’ callous words, but something he’d said had the pieces falling into place. “He didn’t know that,” she said softly. “You thought Oliver might have found a way to revive her.”
“I couldnae be sure, and the thought of her suffering in that place with such a monster—” His voice cracked, and he shook his head. “‘Twas nearly too much to bear.”
“When the hell did you figure this out?” Lucas pinned her with that icy blue gaze.
Skye stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “I had a dream about it last night. Or a memory, I guess. I remember sitting at my Gran’s table, and her stepping away to answer the phone. She called the man on the other end of the line ‘Giles’.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it before now?” His voice was low. If it had been anyone else, Skye would have said he sounded calm. But a storm raged in his eyes and a vein throbbed in his neck. These revelations about his family were taking their toll. Lucas had reached the limit of what he could handle.
While she could understand the emotional turmoil he was in, she wasn’t going to put up with being his punching bag. She’d done nothing to deserve it. Skye’s eyes narrowed, and her voice was just as chilly as his when she replied, “Just what exactly are you accusing me of, Detective? I was seven. It was a weird phone call. How could I have possibly guessed at the connection?”
Lucas' face softened, and he let out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Skye.”
“It’s fine,” she responded curtly and turned to leave. “I’ll see you later.”
She needed to get away from him, away from the power that had the Gypsy in her shouting with warning. Every single part of her mind was screaming to get away, even as her heart insisted everything was fine.
“Skye, wait up,” Lucas called.
She turned around as he approached.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have reacted that way. Not with you.”
“I told you it’s fine.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I may be shit at relationships, but even I know when your girl tells you something’s fine, it never is.”
Skye pressed her lips together, her temper not appreciating his assessment. Even if it was true.
<
br /> Lucas sighed. “If we’re fine, then why the hell doesn’t it feel like it?”
She blew out a breath, her eyes staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at him. “There’s just a lot going on.”
“What does that mean?”
Even though she wasn’t looking directly at him, she could feel that shift in intensity. The laser-like focus of his eyes as he studied her.
“Don’t you feel like we’ve been pushed together on purpose? Like this whole thing is entirely outside of our control? Your Pop and Nan. My Gran. Giles. My ancestor who was cursed by a Druid. Doesn’t whatever this is between us all feel a little ‘written in the stars’ to you?”
Finally, she let herself look at him. His hair was a mess, as if he’d run his hands through it as he chased after her. His eyes narrowed with concern while his mouth pulled down in a frown. “Does it matter if it was?”
Skye couldn’t help the note of hysteria that entered her voice as she replied, “Look how they all ended up!” She threw her hands in the air. “What makes you think we’ll be any different?”
Lucas cupped her face, his voice soft and his eyes earnest as they searched hers. “Because we’re you and me.” He kissed her, just a featherlight press of his lips against hers. “Loomis and Twyla aren’t doomed, Giovanni.” She couldn’t help but laugh, and Lucas grinned in response, his relief palpable. “We’re the real deal, Skye.”
Heat ran through her at the promise in his words, at the conviction. More than anything else, Lucas believed what he was saying. There wasn’t a shred of doubt. Skye envied him. She wanted to be as sure as he was, to ignore the niggling fear that they were on a collision course with fate, and neither of them had any say in the outcome.
“No matter what happened to the others, we’re going to kick his ass for good this time.”
There was no need to ask which ‘he’ Lucas referred to. “What then?” she whispered, her voice warm.
“Then I plan on keeping you naked for at least a week while I do all kinds of things to that sexy body of yours.” He winked, his dimples flashing, and Skye's blood roared in response.
Lucas kissed her again, this time long and slow. When he released her, she grasped at his shirt to keep herself upright. Holy hell.
He brushed a finger under her chin, tipping her face up. “No more thoughts of destiny or dying, Giovanni. All that matters is the here and now.”
“I’ll work on it,” she responded, her voice breathless.
“I’ll help you,” he promised, brushing a final kiss to her forehead. “For now, I should get back in there and do some more digging.”
Skye nodded, her body still on fire from his words and his kisses. Mutely, she watched him walk back down the hall, her mind already racing.
Thoughts of death were all she’d ever known. Until Lucas. Since meeting him, something had changed. Now she was having visions of the past as well as previews of death. Why?
As much as Lucas changing concerned her, Skye was starting to think he wasn’t the only one who was different. At least he had an excuse; he’d just inherited his power.
What the hell was going on with her?
Chapter 27
Lucas
The smell of rosemary and roasted chicken made his mouth water, and his stomach rumbled loudly. Lucas glanced at his watch. Half-past six. He’d been going at these books all day. Definitely time for a break, and some food.
Giles had left hours ago, citing a need to run some errands in the village. Lucas hadn’t put up much of a fight. He could hardly stand to look at the man. Between his lies and his reluctant confession, Lucas couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch him or forgive him.
He stood and stretched, his back and neck loudly cracking. He had been sitting in that same chair for hours. After Skye’s appearance that morning, no one else had bothered to come check on him. Glancing around the room, Lucas couldn’t blame them. The majority of the blood might be covered, but nothing about this room was particularly welcoming.
The echoes of the power that had been used here clung to the walls and few remaining pieces of furniture. It was unsettling, to say the least. He’d felt on edge all day. Although, that might not just be due to the room itself.
Wiping a hand over his bleary eyes, he moved through the room and back out into the brightly lit hall. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light.
Sounds of laughter and quiet chatter reached him as he neared the living room. Lucas smiled, drawn to the sound. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear those small signs of life. It was a reminder of what he was fighting for. And that he wasn’t alone.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted, making his way toward the delicious smell of Lizzie’s cooking. “What’s for dinner?”
Lizzie slapped his hand with a wooden spoon as he went to lift a lid off of one of the simmering pots. “Don’t fuck with my sauce, Lucas.”
He chuckled. Such a normal, Lizzie thing to say. They could have been home on any random weekday. More of his tension ebbed.
“Feed me,” he replied, still smiling.
Lizzie smirked, her eyes briefly catching his. There were still dark smudges beneath her eyes, but they were the only outward sign of what she was going through. No doubt she was still trying to process everything, just like he was, but she’d found her familiar outlet in the kitchen, a place that still made sense when everything else went to shit.
He eyed the cooling pies and freshly baked rolls. “You’ve been busy.”
Lizzie shrugged. “I wanted to feel useful.”
Lucas wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You are useful.”
“Yeah, well. We all have parts to play. Mine is to keep your fat ass fed.”
Lucas pulled away, faking outrage. “Hey, now, my ass is perfect, thank you. Just ask Skye.”
Skye looked up from the table where she’d been sketching, her cheeks flushed with color. Lucas felt a pang as he looked at her. She’d pulled her hair up in another of those sloppy buns, more strands falling down her back than contained by the pencils she’d shoved in it. Her eyes were bright beneath the dark fringe of her lashes. His hands itched to touch her.
“No comment.”
Matthews chuckled, offering Lucas a beer.
“Traitor,” Lucas said lightly, accepting the beer and taking a deep pull.
Skye shrugged and blew him a kiss.
Normal. Everything felt so fucking normal that Lucas almost pinched himself, just to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep back at that desk.
“Skye find Sparkles yet?” Matthews asked, his voice deceptively casual.
Lucas choked on the beer. “You fucking asshole.”
Skye set down her pencil. “I’m sorry, what?”
Matthews’ grin was sly as he looked from Lucas to Skye. “Guessing that’s a no. Seems I gave you two a bit too much credit based on the sounds that were coming out of that room.”
“James!” Lizzie snorted, attention still focused on the stove. “Let’s keep my brother’s sex life out of the kitchen, hmm? You’re going to ruin my appetite.”
Lucas punched him in the arm as Matthews laughed and barely kept his beer from falling.
“Watch the beer, man!” he said, slurping the liquid that spilled out.
“What’s he talking about?” Skye asked, looking at him with furrowed brows.
Lucas closed his eyes and groaned. There was no way around it. She was going to find out eventually. “He’s talking about my tattoo.”
Skye blinked. “You don’t have a tattoo.” Her cheeks turned crimson. “I would have seen it.”
“You must not have been looking very hard,” Matthews murmured, taking another swig.
Skye looked at his partner and then back at him. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she tried to figure out where it could be hidden.
Her eyes widened. “Drop your pants,” she demanded.
Matthews
sputtered, and Lizzie groaned. “Not you, too.”
“Here?” Lucas asked warily.
Skye crossed her arms, her smile a challenge. “Not like the sight of your bare ass is going to be a new one to anyone in this room, Detective.”
“Just you,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Just show her and get it over with so I can go back to pretending I’ve never seen my brother’s butt.”
Lucas groaned again, making a show of downing his beer before moving toward her. He was silent as he undid his belt and slowly unbuttoned the top of his jeans. Skye swallowed, her eyes tracking every movement. If not for the scraping of the spoon against a pan, Lucas would have forgotten they weren’t the only two in the room.
His hands moved to his zipper, and she licked her lips.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispered, her voice husky.
“Just giving you a good show.”
“He’s trying to maintain his dignity and masculinity for as long as possible,” Matthews cut in, shattering the moment.
Skye blinked, her lips quirking. “Man, it must be awful.”
Lucas nodded sadly. “It really is.”
“Would it help if I promise not to laugh?”
Lucas sighed. “It would be a promise you couldn’t keep.” With that, he tugged down his zipper, and shifted, so that his right ass cheek was almost eye level. “You might as well do the honors.”
Skye’s fingers brushed the bare skin of his side, and he shivered in response. He was suddenly glad his hands covered his crotch. No need for everyone to see how just the smallest touch from her set him on fire.
She ran a finger along the edge of the elastic waistband, and his skin jumped beneath her touch. Lucas swallowed a groan. She was toying with him. He was just about to beg her to put him out of his misery when she pulled the cotton material down.
There was a soft gasp, and then a sharply indrawn breath.
Lucas closed his eyes and winced, knowing what she was looking at.
Lizzie and Matthews both laughed behind their hands as they waited for Skye’s reaction.