Ethan watched in seething silence as the warlock knelt down upon the hearth of a stone-surrounded fireplace and muttered a series of words in some ancient language. A “bloody hell” escaped his lips when the warlock actually threw his spectacles right into the flames. Giving up on his glasses, Ethan’s gaze traveled the black and blue marks mottling Danielle’s skin, and it concerned him that she was still unconscious. “Did you do this to her when you struck her?”
That got the warlock’s attention. The man’s green-eyed gaze touched on Danielle before swinging his way. “I understand you’re upset, but I didn’t hit her.”
“But it looked like—”
Again, ignoring him, the warlock reached for the fire poker and began digging around in the ashes piled beneath the charred logs. “Of course it looked like that, but all I did was blow a bit of sleeping powder into her face.”
With his eyebrows angling down, Ethan studied his wife again. Her slow and steady breathing made it look like she was simply napping. His thumb found her pulse where he discovered that it was strong and normal as well. “But she could barely stand...”
“We started the enchantment during the auction.”
“What?” Confusion drew his gaze to the warlock.
“The powder, along with the words, is what does it. She’s fine, I give you my word on that. We just didn’t want to harm her if she continued to fight, which we suspected she would, so we thought it best for her and us if we sedated her for a time. I hear she’s quite skilled.”
“She is.” The backs of his knuckles grazed the purpling skin on her cheekbone. It wasn’t swollen, just discolored. Ethan felt some of the panic slipping, the knots of intense concern loosening.
“Here we are. Good as new,” said the warlock, capturing Ethan’s wrist so he could turn his palm upward. He pressed a warm object into Ethan’s hand.
Ethan’s jaw dropped. His eyes widened. The spectacles were in fact restored. “Thank you.”
The warlock left, muttering something about refreshments on the table. The door squeaked shut behind him.
Propping the frames where they belonged, Ethan bent forward, feeling grateful to see clearly. His fingers next touched the purple mark along her jawbone. She gasped and captured his fingers against her skin. Every muscle in her body tensed, and he suspected she might be disoriented enough to think she needed to defend herself. Ethan watched her warily, wondering if he was about to catch a karate chop against his nose that would snap his newly-repaired spectacles in half. “It’s me.”
“Ethan?” He felt her relax.
“I’m here, darling. I daresay you gave me quite a fright.”
Danielle giggled with a dainty and adorable little snort. She opened her big brown eyes, angling that smile that belonged to him and only him his way. His heart twisted inside his chest, but it wasn’t a painful twisting this time. “Mr. Darcy?” she asked, obviously teasing him for laying it on so thick when it really wasn’t eighteen sixty-four any longer.
Her arms shot up and around his neck. She hugged him so tight he took comfort in the fact that she wasn’t weak from injury, but she did make a pain-filled noise that concerned him. Trying not to let on to the fact the he was feeling more like Dr. Deveroux than her beloved Mr. Darcy, Ethan slid his fingers beneath her clothes and touched her ribs, searching for any fractures while pretending to caress her. Ethan found nothing irregular and became distracted with how amazing it felt to have her back into his arms.
Her fingers curled around a handful of his hair. As her nails grazed his scalp like a rousing massage, it sent ripples of recognition down the back of his neck, along his spine, where it spread awareness and need into his gut. His mouth was on hers so fast she squeaked in surprise before melting into him like she always did. The taste of her touched his tongue as he pushed it past her lips. Ethan swallowed the happy sound she made, and he kept going until they both needed air and he was forced to reluctantly release her.
Carefully snuggling Danielle into the cradle of his chest, Ethan pressed his face against her hair and drew a deep breath into his lungs, taking in her scent. Danielle didn’t smell like flowers or pumpkin pie, but like wood, bacon and smoke, like the men who’d held her captive. His soul snarled in anger. “Please tell me the other guy looks worse,” he said, hoping she’d done a great deal of damage to the cursed beasts.
Her body cringed in what he perceived was repulsion. Against his shoulder she responded with, “Does dead count?”
Lucas. A sense of horror drew him backward so he could look into her face. Catching the edge of her jaw into the V of his hand, his thumb found the little notch beneath her chin so he could angle his eyes into hers. “You killed him?”
“Not really on purpose.” Fear flickered in the depths of her dark eyes. “He really is dead, right?”
Ethan nodded. “They found his body.”
“Who did?”
“The other vampires did when they checked the werewolves’ home while we traveled to the auction.”
“How did you find me?”
Ethan swallowed. He licked his lips, the terror he’d felt then surging back. “Nadia found us first.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.”
The pads of his fingers brushed hair from her face, but his eyes were locked on the discoloration painted along her cheekbone and around her eye. His teeth clenched. His nostrils flared. “A small witch found us next. Her coven of red-headed witches brought us to the auction.” His forehead dropped against hers, and Ethan found he just couldn’t stop touching her. She was really here in his arms. It felt like it had been forever.
“The witch who tried to help cure the werewolves?”
“Apparently she had regrets.” Ethan hadn’t trusted the petite redhead at first, but now he was grateful to her.
Danielle drew back, locking her eyes with his, and so much was exchanged with just that look. Their love for each other, the recognition they shared from a life neither of them remembered, even their shared hope for a normal future. At that idea, he had to ask, “The baby?”
“Is fine.” Her eyebrows lowered. “I think.”
Ethan swallowed. He really needed to get her to a hospital, but he also knew she’d resist that and he didn’t want to cause her more distress after all she’d been through. “Did they hurt you?” Ethan asked, imagining his pregnant wife performing karate against full-grown men, full-grown cursed men. The idea made his knees weaken even though he’d secretly wanted her to cause a lot of trouble for them. But if it meant they’d injure her in return. There could be injuries he couldn’t see, and that terrified him.
“Besides tying me up too tight, no, they didn’t ... and I gave them plenty of reasons to retaliate.”
Ethan reached back and drew her arm forward so he could see the red slashes of rope-burned skin encircling her wrist. “You shouldn’t have pushed them.” He touched the wounded skin with a kiss.
“I had no choice,” she snapped, while sounding breathless, as though she’d liked what he’d just done, but she was annoyed with his comment.
“Did Lucas hurt you?” Ethan knew the question might upset her further, and while he didn’t want that, he had to know. In his mind, he was picturing Phoebe’s broken state, and just the thought of Lucas breaking Danielle in the same way opened a fissure in his heart.
“He told me what he’d done, and said he planned to do the same to me.”
Danielle valiantly tried to hide the fear in her eyes, but he’d seen it anyway. Ethan felt his mouth tighten, his fingers curl into fists. “That bloody miscreant! I’m sorry I never told you.”
“No,” she said. Her fingers touched his chest. His hand came up and kept the caress pressed to his heart as little shocks of pleasure rode his fury, soothing it. “Don’t be. I’m glad you didn’t tell me. And, thank you.”
“For what?” He didn’t deserve her gratitude when this might not have ever happened if he’d handled Lucas differently, killed him
before he’d become a vampire.
“For not telling me. You knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t want to know. And for being so incredibly possessive and overprotective you wouldn’t believe me, or let me leave you when the witches made us lie.”
A low sound of amusement rumbled in his chest at the odd comment. “You’re thanking me for that?” he asked in utter disbelief.
Her expression turned serious. “It gave me hope.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say to that, so he again steered the conversation to things still worrying him. “You fought with Lucas, then.” She hadn’t explained how she’d been bruised up, and he needed to know if he was going to correctly determine her medical needs without letting her see Dr. Deveroux. “He’s the one who did this to you.” Carefully holding her chin between his fingers, he turned her face, letting his gaze travel over the damage on both sides even though it made him want to dig up the already dead Lucas and murder him again.
“He attacked. I defended myself.”
That still wasn’t enough information, so he more narrowly focused his query. “Where did he hit you, Danielle? I need to know.”
She sighed, and he understood that she’d recognized his intent, but she didn’t say anything about it. Touching each location, her cheekbone, jaw, ribs, hip and left thigh, she said, “I feel fine, I promise.” When he just blinked at her, a muscle along his jaw jumping as his lips thinned, she added, “You’re worried about internal damage, aren’t you?”
The fact that she knew him so well never surprised him. “I—I know what he’s capable of.”
A tension-drenched quiet saturated the room. Ethan knew she absolutely hated doctors, but he had to get her the medical attention she needed. He couldn’t risk losing another baby. Raising an eyebrow, he offered a concession. “An x-ray and an ultrasound, and then I’ll drop it.”
Danielle deflated, but surprised him when she said, “Okay.”
Ethan blinked. “What?”
“I don’t want to lose this baby either.”
“How sure are you that you’re pregnant?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Can we get you to a hospital now?” he asked.
“Right now?”
Hearing the nervousness in her question, Ethan exhaled. She was still terrified of doctors and hospitals, but he could also see that she was trying very hard to be brave for him. “Very well. But not much later.”
Her eyes widened with sudden excitement. “Are there vampires outside?”
“Uh, yes.” He thought of Cedric, Richard, and Merrick, but couldn’t figure out why she wanted them.
“Do you remember when Sophia listened to our baby last time? And how she’d been able to hear the baby’s heartbeat even during the day?”
Ethan gasped. “Right! Even when the curse was weak, and you weren’t far along.” Lunging to his feet, Ethan ran for the door and wrenched it open. His eyes landed on Merrick first. “You! Come here!”
“What is it?” Merrick asked, clearly worried by Ethan’s actions as he moved forward.
Ethan grabbed a handful of the vampire’s shirt and tugged him toward his wife.
“Is something wrong?” Merrick asked, following without resistance.
Pointing at Danielle’s stomach, Ethan snapped, “Listen!”
“Huh?”
“To the baby, you dimwit!”
Danielle leaned up and reached for the Highland knight’s hand. When Merrick’s gaze touched hers, the annoyance at Ethan’s overzealous behavior softened in his expression. “Oh.” Still letting her hold his hand, he dropped to his knees. “The wee baerin?”
As Richard and Cedric joined them, Ethan realized they’d guarded Danielle so closely when she’d been pregnant the first time that they had probably grown attached to the idea of the baby, and felt the same sense of loss when she’d been stabbed by Dorin. “Can we all listen?” asked Richard, proving his theory.
The three men took turns listening to her belly and each one confirmed that the he or she had a perfectly healthy heartbeat. Sitting down on the bed quickly, Ethan managed to hide the fact he was about to collapse in relief.
As the vampires again left them alone, Ethan caught a hint of what he perceived as jealousy for his mortal life that he’d never witnessed before. There were definite advantages to being mortal, and perhaps deep down the big bad vampires recognized it. Setting that aside, Ethan took Danielle back into his arms as gratitude filled him, and he silently thanked God for taking care of her, for taking care of their baby, for blessing him with this precious thing that could only come to mortal men.
Her breath brushed against his neck when she asked, “Do your dreams have volume now too?”
He jerked backward to catch her gaze with his. “You can hear what we’re saying?”
“You can’t?”
He shook his head, a little jealous and definitely confused. The fact that he’d eaten the cherries first must have added volume to her dreams and not his. The fairies had said something about them both needing to consume them. He shoved a hand into his pocket, hoping the fruits hadn’t been squashed. Relief swamped him when he found they were only bruised a bit, but still whole. “The fairies gave me these. I ate mine, so I suppose this is what added volume to your dreams.”
With eyes widening at the way she snatched them up, plucked the plump purple fruit free of the stems and leaves, and devoured them, he asked, “I take it they didn’t feed you well?”
“Only breakfast,” she answered around a mouthful of fruit.
Feeling his teeth clench in anger, he scanned the room for something else to sustain her.
“Oh,” she groaned in pleasure, “these are so good. Are there more?” Her fingers were instantly searching his pocket.
“I’m sorry, love, that’s all they gave me.”
Her shoulders slumped as her tongue slid along her bottom lip, seeking any residual juice. He had to fix this, but first, he had to know. “Tell me why? Why were you crying in the dreams?”
She swallowed and blinked. “We knew that we’d be born into this life more than a century apart.”
An enormous sigh of relief left his lungs, puffing against her face, moving the hair hanging across her forehead. Her distress hadn’t been his fault. “Why hadn’t I thought of that?” It was so simple, actually. Because that was what had happened—they’d been born into different eras and feared they’d never make it back to one another.
Redirecting his thoughts to Danielle’s hunger, Ethan’s eyes landed on a tray lying on a small table in the center of the room, and he realized the warlock had mentioned it before he’d left them alone. Ethan had been so concerned for Danielle, he really hadn’t taken the time to study his surroundings, or listen to the man’s words. As he moved to collect the offering of tea and biscuits for Danielle, he let his gaze pass over the small room. From the dried bunches of herbs and flowers hung from the rafters, and the glass bottles filled with odd-looking things, Ethan gathered that this was a witches’ dwelling—a basic one, without electricity or convenience. From an iron rack near the fire hung a variety of different pots and pans. Clearly the fire was the only available stove. It was hard to believe they chose to live so simply in such a modern world. The other witches hadn’t lived like this at all in that enormous mansion they had.
Listening to Danielle crunch at the biscuits, he prepared a cup of tea for her. It wasn’t her favorite peach, but a simple chamomile. Even so, he knew she was probably hungry enough to not complain about it. Stirring in about four lumps of sugar because he knew she liked it sweet, he watched her. His heart swelled with how great it was to finally have her back, and safe, but his smile wilted when he remembered that even though they had escaped, they hadn’t exactly stopped all of the things hunting her. Pixies would still want to turn her into one of them. Some witches would still want to take something from her, and mermaids could still have some dark purpose he didn’t know about yet. Ethan suspected he never would know, unl
ess they managed to get their wet fingers on her again. What were they going to do now?
Seeing that the sugar was sufficiently dissolved, Ethan handed her the teacup.
Watching her lift the edge of the teacup to her mouth, Ethan realized with a start, that Danielle was watching him even more closely than he’d been watching her.
Her eyes touched on the tears in his clothing and the cut on his cheek. “Did the pixies hurt you?”
“The wretched little things dumped us in the trees.”
It was her turn to gasp.
“It’s all right, we got down without injury.”
“They’re still going to hunt me, aren’t they?” Danielle shuddered. “I hate pixies.”
Before he could answer, the door opened and Little Red entered. Her rounded hips swayed as she moved forward. She fiddled nervously with a strand of her long red locks like she had something important to say, but feared his reaction to whatever it might be. “We might be able to help you with that.”
She’d been right; he didn’t want to hear that. There was no bloody way he was moving here for safety. “Thanks, but the fairies couldn’t—”
“You’ll be able to stay in your own home this time. We’ll join our magic with the fairies’ and Lilith’s. We do know Lilith, in case you were wondering. No one will be able to take her again.”
“How can you promise that?”
Her light-green eyes rounded with excitement as she began searching the bottled ingredients as though looking for something she needed for the potion she was referring to. “Can’t you imagine how impenetrable the magic of three would be?” Not looking at him, she lifted one jar and peered at the contents. “This is just the thing to help.” Holding the clear-glass bottle out for him to see the slimy-looking, blue contents, she announced with a wicked smirk curving her pouty pink mouth. “Pixie guts.” At that moment she looked more like a witch to him than before.
Danielle gagged, the sound drawing his gaze. She spied the pixie gore with two hands covering her mouth. Ethan shifted his position to block her view.
Forever (Book #3 in the Fateful Series) Page 27