Beyond Bewitching

by Mellanie Szereto

  Rolling on his side to face her, Tanner kissed her shoulder. “You seemed happier with us as horses, and we wanted you to be comfortable here. I swear we never intended to deceive you.”

  Linking his fingers with hers, John brought her hand to his cheek. “We didn’t understand why you were upset until you confided in us. Comforting you was more important than revealing our true selves, but we agreed to tell you after breakfast.”

  Their reasons were honorable, and she could hardly argue with them now when she’d needed them to listen in silence to her confession last night. She’d required it to achieve what they had this morning. They hadn’t really had a choice.

  Tanner placed his palm over her free hand. “There’s more.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “More?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her skin, easing the tension that had started to build. “Together, we’ve completed the first two steps of becoming lifemates, as stated by the prophecy. John and I have pledged ourselves to you, and our physical desires have been consummated to link our minds and bodies. The last measure is solely yours, Sarah. When the time is right, you must pledge yourself to us or deny us.”

  When the time was right? How would she know?

  John levered up on his elbow to look into her eyes, and she braced herself for another revelation. “Are you aware that by bringing you to the present to escape Naga’s henchmen, we inadvertently activated your fertility cycle?”

  “My fertility cycle? You mean the call to mate?” Her chest tightened at the mention of the witch trait she didn’t possess. “I don’t have a fertility cycle. I’ve never—”

  “You do, Sarah. Right now. We’re pretty sure that’s what caused you to cry yesterday. And then when we mentioned the word ‘mate’ at breakfast, you seemed to lose control. You had a fever and passed out. We took you into the pool to cool you down, and you know what happened there.”

  “But before the trial… I thought…” Confusion flooded her brain. She’d assumed she was “broken” as a young woman. All the evidence of her recent behavior pointed to a different conclusion. Why would she suddenly have a fertility cycle now? How had she conceived her son?

  Trying to regain her composure, she closed her eyes and imagined staring up at the night sky from the stable window. The quiet serenity had done wonders for her anxiety. As she recalled the image, one tiny detail stood out. A surge of relief soothed some of the nervous tension in her shoulders. “No, it can’t be happening now. Only a tiny sliver of the moon was out last night. The witch cycle begins with the full moon and ends on the third quarter. The new moon appears soon.”

  Tanner gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “A Pennymead witch’s cycle lasts from her birthday through the next four moon phases—for a whole month. And you aren’t broken. Your mates were simply in a different century, and you couldn’t get to us. You’re here with us now, and that’s all that matters.”

  His use of the word “broken” struck a strange chord. She hadn’t used that word during her rebuttal. The stress of the conversation must have allowed the door in her mind to open again. I don’t want my hormones to control me.

  He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, pushing her heart rate higher. We’ll be right here with you. Let us help you stay strong. Trust us, Sarah.

  Trust. She’d failed to trust them several times already, yet they hadn’t given up on her. Did she even have the capacity to trust?

  John pressed his lips to her forehead. Let us slake your body’s needs, and you’ll maintain control of the rest. Only denial of sexual satisfaction can weaken you.

  If she surrendered to lust, her fertility cycle wouldn’t have as much power over her? Perhaps trusting them with her body had benefits besides intense pleasure, but one major side effect kept her from accepting John’s and Tanner’s offer—the possibility of conception. She’d never survive losing another child.

  Samuel’s lock of hair.

  Where was her skirt? She pushed John out of the way in an attempt to sit up. I have to find my skirt!

  His muscular form didn’t budge, holding her against the mattress. “Tanner, go find her skirt.”

  Tanner released her hand as he rolled out of bed, and her dismay quickly changed to panic when he jogged into the hall.

  “It’s okay, Sarah.” John grasped her cheeks between his palms, locking her in place. “He’ll be right back with your skirt. Breathe. Try to stay calm.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and a lump blocked her throat. I can’t. It’s all I have left of him.

  “Tanner’s bringing your skirt. Everything will be okay. I promise.” He wiped her cheekbone, spreading a drop of moisture across her skin. “Just focus on me, Sarah.”

  His face cleared as she stared up at him, the tears draining from her eyes to her face. The intensity of his gaze brought the overwhelming anxiety down to a manageable level.

  Hurried footsteps slapped on the stone floor. Tanner stopped at the side of the bed, holding out a crumpled pile of moss-green fabric. “Got it.”

  John moved aside, and she grabbed at the skirt. Her heart pounded as she sifted through the material to find the pocket and check for her belongings.

  It has to be here. Please let it be here.

  Her fingers caught in a fold as she skimmed the waistband, and her hand closed around the package. Withdrawing it, she spread the contents in front of her on the blanket. The hank of black curls was still tied up with a thread of the same color. She picked it up, holding it to her lips and closing her eyes. She’d kissed the top of her son’s head every chance she’d gotten to lose herself in the feel of his baby-fine hair.

  I remember, sweet Samuel. I remember.

  Suddenly aware of John and Tanner watching her, she blinked away the memory and gathered the other mementoes to return them to the bag for safekeeping. The lock of hair fit in the sack with the locket and the bloodstone, her priceless treasures once again in her possession. Unfortunately, the men had witnessed her breakdown and had seen the most private of her secrets as a result.

  Tanner spoke first. “Are you all right, Sarah?”

  She shrugged. “My son is dead, and everyone believed I killed him. Should I be all right?”

  Enclosing her in his arms from behind, John held her close. “We’ll help you heal from those wounds. The woman destined to bear the heirs of the Xanthus clan would never harm her own flesh and blood.”

  “Bear the heirs?” She jerked away, his words slashing across her soul. “You mean to use my body as a vessel to renew your clan? I’m nothing but a broodmare to you. I won’t carry a child under my heart to have it taken from me again!”

  The searing pain in her chest had nothing to do with Tanner and John fucking her for no other reason than to create their precious herd. She’d never entertained the idea that they might actually care for her. Their passion and loyalty came strictly from a need to fulfill a prophecy the Fates had chosen for them—one in which she would be the victim again.

  Neither man denied her assertion or sought to explain, their lack of action confirming her accusation. Not only was she expected to carry their babies, after each birth, their clan would claim her son or daughter.

  Slamming the door closed on her mind, she shut off her emotions and focused on reverting to her Patience Wyndham persona. Patience wouldn’t allow herself to become anyone’s victim. She was strong, intelligent, and unflappable. No one would dare tell her what to do, how to behave, or who to screw. Certainly, no man would ever dictate to her whether she bore his offspring. Patience lived her life on her own terms, and she wouldn’t tolerate being used or abused.

  She straightened her spine and lifted her chin as she climbed from the bed, determined to put as much distance between her and the stallions as possible. The linen pouch in her hand showed her one weakness, but it was knotted again—sealed up tight, like her regard for the human race.

  Ulterior motives rule the world.

  Walking to her
suitcase, she pulled out clean clothes, not caring about her state of undress. The bounty hunters had seen all there was to see—the ink markings, the lashing scars, the stretch marks, and each of her womanly attributes. Hiding her body would imply she was ashamed or embarrassed of it and her behavior.

  Disgust roiled in her stomach. She’d become Sarah the weak and pitiful again, nothing more. Why hadn’t she listened to her own words? Sarah Pennymead was dead.

  On her way to the bathroom, she didn’t bother to look back, unconcerned what John and Tanner thought of her. More than likely, they were busy trying to concoct another method to seduce her, in hopes of impregnating her. Now that they’d revealed why they wanted to have sex with her, nothing would lure her down that road again.

  No amount of pleasure was worth the self-deprecation.

  Chapter 11

  One step forward. Three steps back.

  Tanner massaged his temples and sighed as he sprawled across the couch. “It isn’t supposed to be this hard.”

  “It wouldn’t be if Sarah hadn’t gone traipsing around the bedroom naked.” Leaning back in the chair, John scraped his hands through his hair. “Why the hell would she think she’s nothing but a broodmare to us? Have we initiated sex with her? No. We waited for her to make the first move.”

  “But was she really the one starting something, or did the lunar cycle make her do it?” Ripples in the spring-fed pool drew Tanner’s attention, the concentric circles moving outward to the stone ledge. “She was unconscious and burning up when we put her in the water. Then a few seconds later, she was kissing you. What if she didn’t have control over what she was doing?”

  “Aren’t we under the influence of hormones too? I think we’ve been pretty damn restrained under the circumstances. On and off, then hot and cold. She’s giving me whiplash with all this changing her mind.”

  Remembering the chill of Sarah’s withdrawal sent a shiver up Tanner’s spine. “I thought telling her about shifting last night and her fertility cycle would get her to trust us. She practically accused us of wanting her to repopulate the clan singlehandedly. And why would she think we were going to take our children away from her?”

  “I don’t know. Women are impossible enough to understand when they aren’t in heat. Sarah’s cycle has only been going on for a few days. We have another four weeks of mood swings, and—”

  “And what, John Grey?” Sarah’s icy question had Tanner whirling around toward the hall to the bedroom.

  His stomach dropped to his knees at her harsh expression. Her gray-green eyes were hidden behind a veil of darkness, and the soft lines of her face had given way to a stern jaw and pursed lips. The false female elder of the Black Triad stood before him. Truly evil or not, she wasn’t the same woman who’d made love to him only a few hours earlier.

  John stood. “Sarah.”

  Her jaw tensed even more. “My name is Patience Wyndham. Sarah Pennymead is dead.”

  “Goddess, I thought we’d gotten past that nonsense.” He propped his hands on his hips, warning Tanner that John was about to dig in his heels for an argument—exactly what they didn’t need. Of course, it probably couldn’t make the situation much worse, either. “You are Sarah Pennymead, and I’ve had it with you judging our motives based on your past. I don’t pussyfoot around. If you want to know why I had sex with you, ask me. I’m more than happy to tell you that I get hard watching you sleep, listening to your sexy voice, and knowing you’re every bit as strong as I am. Oh, and to answer your question, Sarah—we have another four weeks of your mood swings, and I wish you’d trust us to help you through them already.”

  Nothing in her posture or demeanor suggested she believed a word he said. In fact, the lack of response reminded Tanner of her clinical view of the lashing scars he’d noticed in the woods.

  Clearly impatient with her silence, John strode toward her, stopping within a foot of her. She didn’t even flinch as he crowded her personal space. “Bearing our children does not make you a broodmare to us. It makes you our mate, for life. And another thing—why in the Goddess’s name would you think anyone in the clan would take our children from you?”

  She blinked at the last statement. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, one closing around an object in her skirt pocket—probably the linen pouch containing the lock of coal-black hair, the oval pendant, and the bloodstone. Those keepsakes were the single chink in her armor.

  Following John’s lead, Tanner paced over to stand beside him. “We’ll raise our children together, Sarah, and the Fates will protect them from the illness that took your son from you. Do you doubt our pledge of loyalty to you? Your safety and happiness come before all else.”

  She turned her gaze away from them, an obvious attempt to hide the lightening of her eyes. “Happiness is relative, and I don’t need protection or loyalty.”

  “But you want them, don’t you?” Tanner reached out to grasp her hand, unable to keep from touching her, and John did the same. “Let us face Naga with you and fight your demons. Allow us to worship your body and bring you pleasure as we create a new generation of Xanthus witches and warlocks. You’re worthy of happiness, Sarah. More deserving than most.”

  Every promise seemed to have no effect on her—until she closed her eyes. Then the floor disappeared from beneath their feet and the stone walls around them blurred. She let out a wail as the room rematerialized.

  Tanner shook his head. Escape had been her answer again. How many more times would she try to transport herself away from them before she succeeded? Did he have the will to wait out her attempts to run away?

  Taking another step closer to Sarah, John kissed her cheek. “If you really wanted to leave us behind, you’d be long gone. We couldn’t have stopped you or tagged along. Tell us why you want to stay. Let us see that part of you so we have some idea how to help you heal.”

  Her eyes flew open, so full of uncertainty Tanner longed to hold and reassure her.

  You can’t fix me.

  Those whispers of her thoughts slipped through the door she’d closed earlier, and he finally understood her reluctance to accept them as mates. The revelation fueled his determination to see the prophecy come to fruition.

  Giving her fingers a firm but gentle squeeze, Tanner pressed the palm of his other hand above her left breast. “What happened to Samuel isn’t your fault, and having more children won’t mean forgetting or replacing him. He’ll always remain in your heart. You have the capacity to love another child. Our children.”

  John laid his hand over Tanner’s. “And in time, us. Just as we’ll grow to love you.”

  “We’ll love and protect you and our children. That’s a promise.”

  A flood of emotion rushed through the splintering door to her thoughts, setting Tanner’s mind afloat with her confusion, wariness, and a dozen other feelings. Cradling her head against his chest, he waited for the tears—healing tears—to start. One thing he’d learned from living in a household of mostly women was the cathartic benefit of a good cry, even if the process was a bit messier than kicking the hell out of a bale of straw in the stable.

  John wrapped himself around Sarah’s back, encasing her between them, and within seconds, she was sniffling. Every shaky breath sent vibrations through Tanner’s body, but she didn’t weep or sob like he’d expected. Instead, she seemed to absorb the warmth from him and John. Energy flowed back and forth in waves as they huddled together, as if she was drawing strength and healing directly from them. Had they finally convinced her to trust them?

  The faint humming they’d heard in the wake of her time jumps returned as quiet notes resonating off the cavern walls, and Tanner surrendered to a smile. Their connection had achieved a new level. Although he’d been tutored in recognizing his mate by the music her soul played, no one had told him the song would continue when the bond deepened. Each note carried a chord of joy.

  He opened his mind to welcome her inside, hoping she’d do the same. Do you hear that, Sar
ah? Your heart is singing to John’s and mine. It knows we’re your mates. It’s ready to love if you’ll let it.

  Would she give her heart consent to care for another person again? The loss of her son had wounded her beyond what anyone should have to endure, and time hadn’t dulled the pain, only buried it. Could the promise of love lure her out of hiding?

  She stilled, as if listening for the subtle melody. My mother sang this lullaby to me when I was a little girl. I sang it to Samuel.

  Tanner stroked her hair. And you’ll sing it to our children.

  Teach us the words, and we’ll sing it with you while you carry our sons and daughters inside you. For all his bluntness, John had a soft spot for kids—and their mate, without a doubt.

  Dampness seeped through Tanner’s shirt, and Sarah trembled in his arms. Sorrow, regret, and a tiny spark of hope filtered through their connection. I still miss him.

  The simple statement of truth seemed to break the last of her control, her shoulders shaking as she wept. Had she ever truly mourned the death of the one bright spot in her life so long ago?

  Tanner tightened his hold on her, hoping his presence comforted her. Nothing he could say would ease her pain any more than the cleansing tears. Maybe if she came to terms with her past, she’d finally be able to move forward with her life, without having to hide behind Patience Wyndham’s indifference to cope.

  I couldn’t save him. I tried everything my mother taught me, but it wasn’t enough. Her heartbreak became his.

  You did all you could. He knows that. Tanner kissed the top of her head, giving her every ounce of support he could dredge up.

  Bending closer, John nuzzled her hair. You were a good mother, Sarah, and he’d want you to share that gift with other children.

  Tanner half expected her withdrawal at his friend’s not-so-subtle push, but she didn’t stiffen or pull away. Her muscles relaxed where she leaned against him, sending a wave of relief through him. We’ll help you protect our sons and daughters.

  But can I have another child? The tattoo. It changed me. What if…