Bri’s fear shredded through him even as her entire being concentrated on keeping Anton from harnessing the power of the globe.
“No!” Anton screamed, as he frantically fought for control.
Jonah instantly hurled a blast of golden light at Anton’s chest, pummeling him with the force of a fireball, ripping his hands away and slamming him against the far wall. Bloody tracks streaked the stone where his body hit, stuck, then slid to the ground.
The globe flickered one last time before the light faded beneath its smooth surface. Bri slumped to the floor, her hands limp, burned. Barely conscious, her breathing shallow, her slender frame spasmed from the aftermath of that much power.
Cole shifted fast. Naked, he stumbled on shaky legs, then dropped to her side. He picked her up, cradling her trembling body close. Finding a protected space along the wall, he sank down, rocking her gently.
“I love you, Bri,” he whispered brokenly. “You can’t leave me.”
Jonah met his eyes with a quick nod of thanks, relief that Bri was safe clearly visible on his face. Crossing quickly to Anton, who lay sprawled on his ass several feet from the altar, Jonah sent the globe crashing to the floor.
In a piercing explosion, it shattered into a thousand pieces.
Bri stirred in Cole’s lap at the sound and moaned in pain.
Anton choked out a laugh, brittle and weak. “You may have won this battle, Jonah, but the war is something you will never win.”
Wordlessly Jonah and Mack focused their combined energy on the fallen mage. Streaks of white and gold flowed from their palms. Anton’s body contorted, writhed and arched in a gruesome arabesque.
As Cole watched, they stripped Anton of his life. His body shook violently and then dissipated. Black particles floated to the ground, becoming smaller and smaller until there was nothing left.
Jonah knelt over Rowan, who hadn’t moved since she’d fallen. He pulled her into his arms and sat on the floor. Cradling his daughter close to his heart, he rocked her gently back and forth, smoothing her hair away from her face, murmuring.
With his acute hearing, Cole caught Jonah’s emotional promise to his daughter. “We’re here. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. Come back to us. Please.”
Celeste crawled across the floor, tears streaming down her face. Jonah raised his head and held Cole’s stare. From the stark grief in the man’s eyes, he knew Rowan was dead.
Celeste bent over her mother’s body and sobbed, a torturous sound. Jonah stroked his granddaughter’s hair and bent to brush a kiss on her forehead. Darius, Mack, and Ash stood in a semicircle around them in silent tribute to a fallen Warrior.
Bri’s even breathing steadied Cole; her heartbeat dispelling his fear. He gazed down at her fluttering eyelids. The pearl had disappeared the moment Rowan had fallen.
There was no compulsion, only love. He couldn’t lose her, not now.
Epilogue
Seattle
Stepping inside, Cole closed the door quietly behind him, following Bri’s jasmine and lavender scent through the foyer and down the hall toward the kitchen.
Out in the backyard, bundled up against the damp, cool morning, Bri pulled weeds from one of her flowerbeds. He watched her slender form as she leaned over, impatiently pushing her hair out of the way.
When they’d left the cave two weeks earlier, Bri had been unconscious. They’d flown directly to Sedona where the best psychic healer working for the Quytel had been standing by.
The entire flight back, Cole had held her tightly in his arms. Without shame, he’d crooned to her, pleading, summoning every ounce of power he possessed to maintain their connection. He’d never been so afraid of losing anyone or anything in his life.
A few minutes before they’d landed, Bri had opened her eyes and smiled at him weakly. “Thank you,” she’d whispered before drifting off again. A miracle. She’d snuggled herself more deeply into the comfort of his arms.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. When she’d looked up at him on the plane and he knew she would live, his eyes had filled with tears. There was no magic, no pearl. And his attraction, his love for Bri had never felt stronger.
When she’d regained consciousness the following day, he’d demanded she marry him. She might have been dazed when she agreed, but he wasn’t letting her back out of the deal.
After a few days in Sedona, Bri had expressed a need to feel the comfort of her own home in Seattle, and some distance from her grieving grandfather and sister. The tension between the three of them as they recovered had become overwhelming. She promised to return to Sedona in the next couple of months to learn how to control her abilities, which had multiplied and been enhanced by her direct contact with the globe.
But now, two weeks ran into three, and they still hadn’t talked about his proposal. He’d tried to give her space without pressing her for an answer. He’d even left at midnight last night and headed for the deep forest, needing to let the wolf run free.
Since the ordeal in the cave, Cole’s psychic abilities had also increased and become stronger. His wolf was larger and faster, his senses even more highly developed than ever. Controlling the beast and the joining of his two halves was smoother. He’d never felt more united within himself.
When he ran as the wolf, bare pads on dirt and grass, the earth called to him with each step, a mere thought away, awaiting his command. He’d tried small things like convincing each tree to sway and creating focused little quakes that could move individual rocks. Instinctively, he knew he was only scratching the surface, tapping into a vast wealth of power that could destroy a city if he wasn’t careful.
Cole opened the door to the backyard, and Bri turned at the sound. When she saw him, a wide smile lit her face. She dropped the weeds she held in one hand and took off her gloves as she stood to greet him, an attractive pink staining her cheeks.
He crossed the expanse of lawn and cupped her face in his hand. “What is it?”
“You didn’t come home last night.”
He brushed a kiss across her upturned lips. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“No.” Bri stopped him. “I should apologize for being distant since we got here. So much has changed in my life.”
Cole stroked her cheek. “But not all of it is bad.”
She exhaled, and when she looked into his eyes, he saw love reflected there. “I know. I have a sister now, and I have you.”
“You’ll always have me, Bri.”
She laid her hand on his wrist and smiled. “I was thinking,” she began, but hesitated.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, the heat of her body warming his soul. “You were thinking,” he prompted.
She picked imaginary lint off the places where his dark shirt showed beneath his leather jacket. “About what you said when we got back to Sedona.”
His heart leapt, but he kept a straight face. “And what was that?”
She glared up at him with narrowed eyes and smacked him lightly on the chest. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t.” He fought against grinning like a fool.
“You’re going to make me say it?” she countered.
“I think that’s only fair for keeping me waiting for weeks,” he intoned innocently.
Bri let out an exasperated breath, her sparkling green eyes locked on him. “You asked me to marry you, you dolt.”
“Oh I did, did I?” he joked, raising an eyebrow to stop the wide grin he couldn’t control any longer.
Bri squirmed in his arms, her pale cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “Oh, let me go.”
“Not a chance,” he said softly, and she relaxed against him.
“Do you still want to marry me
?”
“You better believe it.”
He pulled her up hard against him, kissing her long and deep, his heart near bursting.
Thanks for reading Circle of Dreams! The Quytel Series continues in Book Two, Circle of Flames:
Immortal Quytel Warrior, Darius, returns to his homeland to hunt for missing psychic children. When Emma, a human with the elemental power of fire, crosses his path, they must wrestle their inner demons and fight for their lives, as they discover there is love beneath their steamy chemistry.
Please enjoy this excerpt from Circle of Flames, Book Two of The Quytel Series.
Motta, Northern Ethiopia
The pair of Quytel Warriors strode down the deserted main street of the small village. Thatched huts and brick-and-mortar buildings dotted the wide road. Scrawny Wanza trees scratched the distant skyline, which stretched all the way to the horizon on a tide of bronze soil.
Despite their many centuries of life, the two men appeared ageless, their muscles well-chiseled, their striking faces unmarred by time. Darius’ bronze complexion, black hair, and dark brown eyes spoke of his northern African roots, while his fellow Warrior, Ash, had the European features of his English heritage. They wore jeans, boots, and utility vests holding mostly concealed weapons, yet they moved easily under the mercilessly hot afternoon sun.
They had cloaked their presence, allowing them to walk unseen through the village, although the energy field probably wasn’t necessary. No one was out this time of day. However, few foreigners visited this desolate town, and the pair's lighter skin and tall statures would garner unwanted attention if seen. The risk wasn’t great, but they were on an important mission. Zakir’s Circle required their assistance. And by order of Jonah, their own Circle Commander in North America, they now found themselves on African soil.
Darius had last set foot here on his home continent almost two hundred years ago, when he had suddenly been transferred out of the African Circle under Zakir’s orders. Now Darius’ assistance had specifically been requested by the African Commander, making the Warrior uncomfortably curious.
“It’s way too hot,” Ash complained and squinted against the brightness of the midday sun reflecting off every surface. Ash had accompanied Darius on this mission because Jonah wanted another Warrior to keep an eye on him. He was also one of Darius’ few friends.
Darius nearly rolled his eyes. As Quytel Warriors, their body temperature remained unaffected by external conditions. Besides, their headquarters, located in the mountains of Arizona, meant they were no strangers to blazing, dry heat. Darius embraced it, tasting the warmth surrounding him; even the hot air as it burned through his lungs, and the unrelenting sun on the high plateau beat at his exposed skin. He’d been born in the high desert of Egypt, and all of Africa had been his training ground as a young Warrior.
“Remind me why we’re here again?” Ash rubbed a hand over his short blond hair, until it stood up in places.
Darius gave him a sidelong glance. “Missing children.”
“Right.” Ash smacked his forehead dramatically. “A worthy cause if ever there was one.”
Darius tried not to smile. Ash most likely guessed how hard it must be for Darius to return to his homeland after what had happened, and joking around was meant to distract him. It wasn’t Darius’s preferred coping style, although having worked with Ash so closely over the last few centuries, Darius appreciated the man’s levity.
Ash was irreverent, a playboy, with his sense of duty hidden firmly behind a mask of nonchalance. Darius suspected it came from his upbringing. Ash had been born into England’s wealthy aristocracy over three hundred years ago. He had been third in line to become a Duke when Jonah found him and convinced him to join his Circle in the New World, tying his fate to the Quytel. A twinge of a British accent remained in his voice when he wasn’t paying attention, even after all this time in North America.
Darius’s family, on the other hand, had been poor, one step above slaves; escaping from that life had been a blessing. At least he used to believe it had been.
He’d been a fool to accept this mission. Psychic children were being taken from their homes and families with no trace, and the African Quytel Circle needed their help. That was all Jonah had told them. If Darius had any sense of humor left, the irony would have struck him as humorous.
Darius had long ago chosen to close himself off to humans, psychic or not. He made his contempt for them clear from the cold, hard expression-now an integral part of his carefully cultivated demeanor. He found it easier to drive people away than to care, and in that time he’d forgotten how to be open, had convinced himself there was no place for any relationships outside of those forged in battle. He had no tolerance for emotion, his or anyone else’s.
“This way.” Darius gestured that they should veer right off the main road. “We’re nearly there.”
“Finally!” Ash held a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.
Darius raised a dark eyebrow at his friend.
“I’m from the northern climes, man, you forget. My body was built for rain and fog.” Ash slapped him on the back. “So, you know this guy we’re meeting? Firhan?”
“I know him.” Darius compressed his lips into a firm line, which he knew people read as a dark scowl. The expression kept most everyone except for Ash from engaging him further.
“How well?”
Firhan was one of the Seekers under Zakir’s Command. Seekers had been tasked with finding and monitoring the rare children of psychic and elemental ability. They were particularly focused on children with elite psychic talents and those who bore the genetic marker meaning they could one day become Quytel. African Seekers scoured local villages, towns, and cities in search of these gifted children. Much of their territory was rural, spread out, and not easily monitored with the aid of modern technology.
Now, with a rash of missing children and increasing tension and conflict in the Middle East, their resources were stretched even more than usual. Seekers would arrive at villages only hours after a child they sought had been taken. Warriors would pursue them, only to be led off the trail and away from the next victim.
Firhan had been a friend and mentor. He’d also saved Darius’ life when he’d been on the cusp of adulthood, struggling to become a man and a Warrior.
“We were bound together for nearly two hundred years.”
Ash frowned and squinted. “Any clue why you got an engraved invitation to return? Every Circle is stretched too thin as it is.”
Darius shrugged. The Quytel and their rivals—more numerous than he cared to count—had had a role to play in any major war or conflict since the dawn of time. He found it strange that humans hadn’t figured it out by now, especially with the technological advances in this century. However, they only saw what was consistent with their reality. The number of skirmishes around the world had been increasing over the last twenty years, which divided the Quytel forces across each continent. This mission was important enough to pull two of Jonah’s Warriors away from their home territory, although their Commander had been tight-lipped about why Darius had been specifically assigned to the case.
“I suspect we’ll find out soon enough,” Darius replied.
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