Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  *****

  Jade had taken shadow form because the vows needed to be spoken aloud. Emmett’s strength helped her withstand the crazy wind whipping at her. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him faintly. And she could hear the deep voice of Nick’s mentor.

  The last of the vows had barely passed her shadow lips when Joshua commanded, “Back to essence. Now.”

  It would have been nice to bask in the glow of recent matrimony, but, alas, eviction of evil called. Feeling wonderfully, surprisingly giddy, she obeyed.

  Quickly, Joshua urged.

  Like before, he guided her toward the warm resonance of her body. The musical vibration was a mere echo compared to the first time she’d reentered her body.

  Goodbye, Jade.

  Joshua? She resisted sinking fully into herself and held tight to the angel. There was something she needed to say.

  There is no time, my dear.

  I don’t want to forget any of this.

  Jade—

  Just promise me you’ll try to help me remember. I don’t want to forget getting married. I don’t want to forget you.

  He huffed with annoyance, but she sensed his amusement. I’ll do my best, but it is not up to me. He gave her a shove toward the weak resonance. Go.

  She went.

  *****

  It was over almost as soon as it began. One second, the shadow covered Jade like a shield. The next, there was a burst of wind and a flash of light. For a split second, Emmett glimpsed gilt wings stretching from wall to wall. When he blinked against the brightness, the sight was burned onto his retinas like the after-image of a lightning strike. Then his bedroom fell eerily quiet and there was just him, Nick, and Chiboza standing around the bed. And Jade looking so small and frail on it.

  She was utterly still. Her eyes were hazel and open. Her face was ashen. Her lips were parted as if she’d just breathed her last breath.

  He lunged for her, searching for a pulse at her neck. “Will she be okay?”

  The shaman said, “Let us hope so.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  “Jade? Honey?” Emmett pressed two fingers under her jaw, searching for a pulse. Not feeling anything, he adjusted the position of his fingers. Still nothing.

  “She doesn’t have a pulse,” he said, the words getting stuck in his throat.

  Nick swooped in and sliced his pocketknife through the twine at her wrists. “Get her on the floor. I know CPR.”

  Emmett cradled her in his arms and lowered her to the floor. She was lighter than she should have been. Much lighter. If he thought about that too hard, he’d lose it.

  Once he had her on the floor, he positioned his hands over her sternum and began compressions-he knew CPR too, and he would be the one to give it. She was his wife.

  His wife.

  He swallowed a lump of anxiety and breathed into her mouth. His breath filled her too easily, like there was no life inside to offer resistance. She was a husk.

  Tears pricked at his eyes.

  “Call 9-1-1,” he told Nick as he continued the compressions.

  Chiboza appeared beside him. He stretched a tourniquet around her upper arm and swabbed the underside of her wrist. “Fluids,” he said. “She is extremely dehydrated.” He inserted a needle and started an IV. “Despite what I said earlier, I would not involve the authorities at this point, if I were you.”

  He was more concerned about the fact her heart wasn’t beating than about her being dehydrated. “Nick. Call 9-1-1.” He didn’t give a damn about “the authorities.” This was his wife, and she was dying…or dead already.

  “God, please,” he prayed.

  Suddenly, Jade’s chest jumped under his hands. She drew in a shallow breath.

  He stopped the compressions.

  “Check her pulse now,” Chiboza said.

  He did. It was there. Barely. “It’s weak.”

  “She’ll grow stronger as the fluids hydrate her.”

  He ignored Chiboza and shot a glare at Nick. Why wasn’t he on the phone with EMS? “Nick,” he said, and he cut his eyes to the phone in his buddy’s hand. It was a warning.

  Chiboza’s hand rested warm on his shoulder. “Modern medicine cannot help her. This can.” He indicated the bag of fluids tethered to Jade’s arm. Behind the shaman was his open backpack. The medical equipment must have been inside. How often did he deal with this kind of thing? How common was possession?

  He thrust the useless questions from his mind. While they all watched, Jade’s cheeks grew pink and her skin plumped over her bones.

  Nick gave a nervous chuckle. “What’s in there, holy water?”

  Chiboza leveled a look at his student. “Among other things.” He met Emmett’s eyes. “Her body has been ravaged by the entity, but this will go a long way to restoring her. So will a good meal, one heavy in protein. A glass of wine would not be amiss.”

  Amazingly, she looked a lot better already, but he didn’t think she was in any shape to eat a meal.

  “Have a little faith,” Chiboza said, and then he handed the bag of fluids to Emmett and stood up. “Keep it elevated,” he instructed. Then he went downstairs.

  Nick clapped him on the back then wordlessly followed his mentor.

  He knelt beside Jade and prayed for her. He smoothed his free hand over her hair, watching it grow glossier by the minute. The bag collapsed in his hand as the mysterious fluid slid into her veins.

  Finally, she blinked and focused on him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Emmett?” Her voice was the most precious thing he’d ever heard.

  “I’m here.” He wanted to drag her into his arms but was terrified of hurting her. He settled for brushing his thumb over her smooth, pink cheek. “I’m right here.”

  Her forehead creased with confusion. “What happened?”

  “What do you remember?”

  She licked her lips again. “I was in the library with Nick and then…” She frowned. “Darkness.”

  The bag emptied. He twisted the valve on her IV and set it down. His stomach dropped as he asked, “Do you remember anything else?”

  Her eyes got a faraway look. She rocked her head on the carpet. “But I feel…bad.” She took a shuddering breath that ended in a sob. “Really bad.”

  “Oh, honey.” He pulled her into his arms and held her as she wept.

  She didn’t remember being possessed. That was good. But she also didn’t remember the vows they’d exchanged. That was enough to pull tears from him, too.

  *****

  Mercy tried to scream as wind ripped at her essence, but without a mouth, her terror was reduced to a single frantic thought. Draonius, save me!

  Is it still Draonius your soul turns to and not the Lord?

  She knew that voice. The wind abated, and she realized it was because her former fiancé was sheltering her.

  How? She asked, too weak to voice her surprise that Joshua was whole. She’d watched Draonius release him. He should have dispersed.

  It was the will of God that I continue, was his inadequate response.

  She wasn’t about to complain. She’d been about to disperse and hadn’t felt Draonius anywhere. He’d cut their bond hours ago, probably to save his strength, and no doubt after much hand-wringing over her welfare. How pleased he would be that she’d survived the ordeal. He would be disappointed that they had lost Jade, but they both knew they had attempted the near impossible. Now that it was over, they could be reunited and try again with different mortals. She just had to get away from this house and the blessing that kept Draonius from reaching her.

  She nestled into Joshua’s embrace for the safety it offered. Glancing up to find his shadow face solemn and surrounded by the blue chaos of the physical plane, she said, I’m glad you’re not dead. I missed you. Take me away from this place, please.

  So you can reject Draonius and his wickedness and turn to God?

  She refrained from scoffing with difficulty. Of course, she lied. Just take me away fr
om this blessed house, and I will worship your Lord.

  He considered her with a look bordering on pity. He’s not waiting for you. He meant Draonius, of course.

  His words were not unkind, but they made her wish she had the strength to take form and slap him. He lied. Or he was merely ignorant. Draonius was surely close by, waiting for her to make her way to him, as eager for their reunion as she.

  But God is waiting, Joshua said before she could respond. He loves you even though you have done nothing but serve his enemy for the past century.

  Ha, she spat. Enough of this charade. You have been serving Draonius too. If God favors you enough to let you continue, then he’ll favor me as well. Release me so I can find our master.

  I speak the truth. You’ll not find him waiting for you. I felt him sever your bond.

  He only cut the bond to conserve his strength. He’ll always wait for me. He loves me.

  But God—

  Your God never did anything for me. Now let me go!

  You misplace your faith, Mercy.

  No. You misplace yours. You thought you belonged to God, and yet he abandoned you to Draonius. And didn’t Draonius keep you safe for a century?

  I was a prisoner. So were you. You were just too blind to see it.

  She laughed. I was never a prisoner. I am his favored essence. He loves me. He needs me, and I need him.

  You need the Lord, he pleaded, and she realized just how pathetic he was, how pathetic he’d always been. Can’t you see? If I let you go, you will be sorry. I promise, you will be sorry. Let me help you. Have faith in the Lord of Hosts.

  No. Let me go. I want Draonius. Struggling in his shadow arms, she called, Draonius! I’m here. Come for me! With the last of her strength, she wrenched out of Joshua’s embrace and lunged for the prickly barrier of the blessing. It was just there, only barely out of reach. Just a little farther.

  She’d made it! She held herself together long enough to leave the place where Draonius could not get to her. She cried his name, urging him to hurry and gather her to him before the wind ripped her apart. She forced herself to take form long enough to scan her surroundings for the blackbird.

  There! She spotted him on the roof. Why was he prone? Was he too weak to stand? Was he injured?

  She pushed toward him, wondering why his familiar warmth wasn’t reeling her in. Draonius! Draonius, I’m coming! Bits of her essence tore away and flew into the storm. No matter. Draonius would restore her. He would find a way for them to feed. All would be well once they were together again.

  With a final lunge, she reached him and stretched her tendrils to touch his welcoming core of power. But the body of the blackbird was cold. Dead. An empty shell. Draonius was not inside.

  Draonius! Where are you?

  More bits of her essence tore free. Then more. She was dispersing. She was dying.

  Suddenly, a dome of stillness settled over her.

  Pitiful creature. A cruel voice punctured her thoughts. You think he would wait for you when you failed him so miserably?

  Despite the harsh words, her essence began to rapidly rebuild itself. Someone was feeding her. Someone who was not Draonius.

  Who are you? she asked as she took form enough to see brown wings engulfing her and a blood-red iris watching her with unblinking intensity.

  Your new master, said the voice, and then pain drew her tight as a wire. You should have listened to the angel. You’ve had your last taste of…Mercy. A laugh like scorpions on glass drove her to the edge of insanity, and then beyond.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Jade clung to Emmett as terror pulsed through her like a residual echo. It gradually receded as he stroked her hair and murmured, “We’re okay, now. Everything’s going to be okay.” She might have believed him if he hadn’t been trembling.

  It took her two tries to speak past her tight throat. “What…what happened? How did I get here?” The last thing she remembered was the library. She’d been reading about Mercy Birmingham and her fiancé, Joshua Harrison. She’d been so excited to tell Nick about the deaths on her property. Now she was on the floor of Emmett’s room feeling like she’d been doused in ice water and run over by a Mack truck.

  “Oh, baby.” He cupped her face and gazed down at her. He looked like someone had ripped his heart out. “So much,” he choked out. “So much has happened. I’ll tell you, but we need to get some food in you. Do you feel like eating?”

  She nodded like a bobble head. She was starved.

  Emmett stood up and scooped her off the floor. After setting her on the edge of the bed, he grabbed a zippered Herald and Son hoodie out of his closet.

  “Why do I have an IV in my arm?” she asked as he threaded her non-IV arm through one sleeve and tucked the soft fabric around her other shoulder. “And why was I on your bedroom floor in my underwear?” The hoodie settled around her with the comforting scents of cut grass and Emmett.

  “It’s a long story,” he said. He knelt on the floor to help her into a pair of her jeans. Then he took her hands in his. “How do you feel?”

  He asked with such sincerity she took a few seconds to think about it. “Like hell,” she said. That summed up the nausea clenching her tummy, the raging headache, the foul taste in her mouth, and the shakiness making her feel like someone had flipped her switch to “Martini mixer.” There was also a dark weight of fear covering her. But she couldn’t think why she was afraid, so she tried to ignore it.

  Emmett wrapped her in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why?” She pushed away to look into his eyes. They were beyond sad. She’d never seen cheerful, flirty Emmett look so down in the dumps.

  “Because it’s all my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?” She hated to see him beating himself up, especially when she didn’t know what it was over.

  He stood up. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs. There’s someone you’re going to want to meet.”

  She did not want to meet anyone. She wanted to crawl under the blankets and never come out, preferably with a leg of chicken and a milkshake. And some mashed potatoes. And buttered green beans. And a slice of Grandma Nina’s homemade pumpkin pie. But Emmett tugged her off the bed and was leading her from the room before she could protest.

  He had his arm around her waist and was holding her tight enough to support most of her weight. The IV bag rested in the crook of his arm. He was being so careful with her. “Easy does it,” he said as they stepped down the stairs together. She felt ridiculously safe and cared for, and the feeling made her bristle. No one treated her this good unless they wanted something from her.

  But this was Emmett, she reminded herself. He was one of the good guys. If Emmett acted like he cared, it was because he genuinely cared. She hadn’t known him long, but she knew that much.

  Then why was her instinct to run so close to the surface? Why did she feel like an invisible trap was on the verge of snapping closed around her?

  Shaking off the uneasy feeling, she let Emmett lead her into the kitchen. The sun was streaming through the windows with the happy yellow glow of morning. The microwave clock said it was 8:25. She blinked, disoriented. Her internal clock said it was somewhere around dinner time since it had been lunch time when she’d gone to find Nick in the library. It had to be the next morning. What had happened to her recollection of the last twenty hours?

  Speaking of Nick, he was sitting at the table, texting on his phone. He had a glass of orange juice at his elbow and a network of crisscrossing cuts all over his head. A particularly thick cut streaked in front of his ear. Butterfly stitches held it shut.

  “Jeez, what happened to you?” she blurted.

  He looked up and smiled a huge, jolly smile. “Jade!” He scraped back his chair and came to give her a hug. It was suffocating, mainly because Emmett didn’t let go of her, so she was sandwiched between the two men.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a final right now?” she said into Nick’s shoulder.


  Nick chuckled. “Yeah. Guess I’ll have to try and reschedule it.”

  Someone who wasn’t Nick or Emmett cleared his throat.

  She patted Nick’s arm, the universal gesture for, “Okay, good hug, let go now.”

  Nick stepped back, and a short black man came into view. He was wearing a pink shirt and khaki pants and his eyes were bloodshot. He was holding a mug of steaming coffee and looked like he’d need a heck of a lot more than one cup to rejoin the land of the living.

  “This is Dr. Chiboza Owusu,” Nick said. “My mentor.”

  She stared. What was this man doing here? Wasn’t Nick’s mentor some kind of demon expert? “Did you find out something about my house?” she asked. “And seriously, what happened to you?” She motioned toward Nick’s head. “Did the roof fall on you while you were at the house last night?” She turned to Emmett. “Why don’t I remember last night?”

  “She doesn’t remember?” Nick asked. His expression changed from happy go lucky to concerned.

  Emmett shook his head infinitesimally. “Maybe you should sit down,” he told her, guiding her to the seat beside Chiboza.

  The professor looked her in the eye, and an expression of subdued satisfaction transformed his face from weary to beatific.

  While she wondered at that, the man removed her IV. For some reason, the touch of this stranger didn’t bother her. In fact, Chiboza made her feel safe the way a good father should make his kids feel safe. Okay, that was weird.

  Looking paler than usual, Nick piled eggs, bacon, and French toast on a plate.

  When he set it in front of her, she stopped wondering about the stranger beside her and fell on it like a beast. “Why am I so hungry?” she asked between mouthfuls, grateful to have the needle out of her arm.

  Emmett sat on her other side. He looked back and forth between Nick and Chiboza.

  “Tell her,” Chiboza said in a deep, accented voice.

  Nick said, “Rip off the Band-Aid, man.”

  No one was answering her questions. And they were all so damn somber, it was starting to freak her out. She put down her fork. “What Band-Aid? What’s going on?”