by V. Vaughn
14
Kelsey
I lean back in my chair and sigh. “Dinner was amazing. You’re a good cook.”
“Years of practice,” says Val. “I got tired of eating takeout, so now I’m in the habit of making myself a good dinner most nights.”
The bottle of wine is empty, and I drink down the remaining bit in my glass. I can’t get the way Val made me feel when he touched me out of my head. His elbows are on the table, and the alcohol in my system makes me brave, so I reach over to touch his arm. The same zap happens, and I gaze into his eyes as I ask, “Do you feel that?”
He nods slowly as he places his hand over mine. The heat he transmits makes me think he might have a fever, and I ask, “Are you feeling okay? You’re so hot.”
“My body temperature runs higher than yours.”
The combination of his warmth, the weird power he’s pumping into me, and the wine makes me want to melt in my chair. I pull my hand away to regain control of myself. “I--” I take a deep breath, and even his scent seems to intoxicate me. “I might have had too much to drink.”
“Maybe.” Val gazes at me with a look that makes my insides tremble with desire. “Or maybe it’s our connection.”
I frown, because he’s acting as if the odd zing between us is normal. “What do you mean by connection?”
“Do you know anything about your father?”
“Just that he didn’t want to be a part of my life. Why?”
Val shrugs. “Curious.”
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. Although now, no matter what he says I’m going to nod deliriously, because all I can focus on is how badly I want to nibble on his lower lip. He says, “I think we feel this because of fate.”
“Fate?” I ask.
“You were attracted to me right away, weren’t you?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Was I that transparent?”
Val grins. “Kind of, but I felt it too. I’m glad you were.”
“Oh. Wait. So this is a date.”
He lifts my hand up and kisses my palm. Now I’m sure I’m about to melt into a puddle. He says, “This is a date, Kelsey. And if I have my way, it’s the beginning of us.”
Us? Oh my god. I fight the urge to swipe my arm across the table to knock everything to the floor so I can crawl across it to kiss him. All I manage to get out is another “Oh.”
I clear my throat and stand. Silverware clashes as I grab our plates to take them to the kitchen. Val joins me and says, “Just leave them. I’ll clean later.” He steps toward me and grips my arms lightly. “Am I scaring you?” he asks.
I gaze up at him as I reach for his face. His cheek is warm on my hand, and I notice he shaved for me. “No. I--” What the hell. You only live once. I lift up on my toes and kiss him. Val’s mouth is as soft as I imagined, and I taste fish, wine, and something that’s all him. When I break away, I step back and let out a whoosh of air. “Remind me to thank fate.”
Val chuckles. “I will.” He walks over to the fridge and asks, “I hope you like dessert. It’s one of my weaknesses.”
“I do.” Bright light illuminates him as he reaches in and pulls out a bowl of cut strawberries and a container of cream. I say, “But now I want to know about your other weaknesses.”
He doesn’t skip a beat and glances at me as he answers, “Redheads named Kelsey.”
“Smooth. Years of practice?”
A cabinet clicks as he opens it, and he removes an electric mixer. “Years of maturing enough for you.”
I say, “Wow. Now there’s a line.” And it’s working. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.” The beaters click into the mixer as he says, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to show up.”
Waiting for me to show up? He begins to whip the cream, and the volume of the whirl stops me from asking what he means. I think about our age difference and wonder if Val knows I’m only twenty-two, but something tells me it wouldn’t matter to him, because it sure doesn’t matter to me.
When Val is done he turns to me. I yelp in surprise when he grabs me by my hips and lifts me up to sit on the counter. He drags a strawberry through the cream and says, “Open up,” as he nudges my legs apart to step between my thighs to place the fruit in my mouth.
Val puts his finger between his lips to suck off the cream residue, and sweet juice explodes with flavor as I bite the berry. Whoa. My breathing gets shallow as he leans down to kiss me. His tongue darts in my mouth, and I let a moan of pleasure escape me as I grab his arms and kiss him back. I hold on tight as we taste each other. I could kiss him like this all night, and I sigh when he pulls away too soon.
“So that’s dessert,” I say.
Val steps back, and the two bowls scrape on the counter as he grabs them. He begins to walk to the living room and glances over his shoulder at me. “For now.” My feet thud when I hop down to follow him, and he says, “But when you’re ready, that’ll be the appetizer.”
I think my knees wobble a bit as I consider his statement, and I’m relieved to sink into the couch next to him. But I’m glad he set up a boundary for me. Now I can kiss him and know that’s as far as we’ll go until I ask for more.
I recall Val asked about my father, and now that I think about it I wonder why. A berry is firm in my fingers as I grab it, and I ask, “You wanted to know about my father. Why?”
“What he is has something to do with our connection.”
My mother never talked down about my father to me. On the contrary. She told me he was the love of her life, but they weren’t meant to be. But my grandparents would bristle if I asked about him. Wait a minute. My mother didn’t want me to come here and couldn’t give me a valid reason why. The boy at the gas station who looked as if he could be my brother... Does Val know my father? I ask, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Val sighs. “I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation. We haven’t even known each other for a day yet.”
“Uh-uh. You don’t get to drop something like that on me and then tell me you can’t explain. Do you know who my father is?”
“No, Kelsey. But if that’s something you want to figure out, I’ll help you.”
I shake my head, because I’m not sure if I’m ready to open that can of worms. I’ve spent a lot of years making him out to be someone wonderful, and I don’t want to find out differently.
Val leans in and raises his eyebrows. “Moving on?”
“Moving on.” I meet him in a kiss.
Val is the one who stops us, and we begin to share stories from our past, which quickly switches to the topic of boats. I discover he’s as passionate as I am, and we have a lively discussion about the merits of different kinds of construction. Our evening ends with Val walking me to my door.
The gentle lull of waves washing on the beach is like music as the moon sparkles over the water and reflects in Val’s eyes. I say, “I had a wonderful evening. Thank you.”
“So did I.” He leans down and kisses my lips tenderly before he sighs. “I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow night, because I make a mean lasagna.”
I tilt my head up to the sky and whisper, “Thank you, fate. I always wanted a man who cooks.”
Val grins at me and leans in to kiss me again. It’s tender and sweet and leaves me deliriously happy as I say, “Good night.”
“Good night, Kelsey. Sweet dreams.”
My door clicks shut, and I think I bruise my chest with my baking dish as I squeeze it tight in a hug of excitement. Moving to Safe Harbor may have changed my life, because I think I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.
15
Tally
I couldn’t wait to get home from Isabelle and Jean Luc’s house. After Grace gave me the piece of red sea glass and I put it in my pocket, it taunted me with its vibration humming next to my leg. It’s trying to tell me something, and I’m dying to find out what.
I set the glass in the middle of my salt circle, and candles thump o
n the table as I place them in the origin spell pattern. Usually I can visit the place an item is from, and if people are there, I will attach to one. While I don’t possess the person, I do experience a mild version of their feelings as I witness the event from their perspective. And often what happens is that my clue to an event or situation I must change is revealed. My match scratches and flares. The acrid odor of sulfur fills my nose, and a girl with red hair flashes in my mind. She’s gazing out at the ocean, but the vision disappears before I get more. Whoa. I’ve never had something pop in my head without a spell, and I wonder if maybe the sea glass has more power than I thought. I take a second to memorize the girl’s face with her pert nose and dusting of freckles across it. Something tells me she’s important.
Once my candles are lit I begin my chant, and the melodic sound of the ancient words rolling off my tongue lulls me into a dream-like state.
Wood creaks and shudders around me, and I glance about to discover I’m in the galley of a boat. A steamer trunk screeches across the floor as the ship heaves to the right, and something overhead shatters. The sound makes me think it’s glass. I watch a young woman with red hair as she stumbles to the floor with the wild rocking of the boat. A man’s voice carries to us from the deck as he lets out a string of profanity that rises above the howl of the wind. I follow the girl as she races up the ladder. The port lantern is broken on the deck, and the oil that has spilled from it is on fire. Red glass shards glisten in the light. Water slaps at the woman’s face, and I experience the sting as if it’s my skin as she drags a strand of hair out of her mouth. The ship jerks wildly to the left, and she loses her balance as my stomach rolls in empathy with the movement. Her ribs and hip bones thud hard against wood when she lands on her stomach, and I scream with her in panic as she begins to slide toward the water. The sharp pain of wood splinters jamming under my fingernails must be excruciating for the girl as she scratches at the deck in an attempt to gain traction, but she’s moving too fast and falls into the sea. The icy temperature of the ocean sucks the air out of my lungs as the water saturates her clothes. She tries to swim, but the wool garments are like deadweight, and they tug at her as if someone is trying to pull her to the ocean floor. A wave crashes into her face as she gasps for air.
I snap out of my trance, because I don’t need to experience another person’s death. I say, “Well, that had to have sucked.” Poor girl. I shake my head to throw off my despair, because I can’t change the past. It’s the future I can affect. I search my mind for what I know. I recall I saw the girl I visited before my trance, and I think she has to be the key. I have a sinking feeling I don’t have enough information and will have to try again. I stand and blow out the candles to begin cleaning up. When I remove the sea glass from the bowl I notice it has lost its glow, and the vibration is gone. My heart sinks. The vessel delivered its message and that’s all I’m going to get, but I have no idea what it means.
Magical signs are not easy to read, and sometimes I ask the wrong question. I fear that’s what just happened, but I memorize the details of my trance in case a clue is hidden in the depths. I wander over to the window, and the glass is silky under my finger as I rub it. I decide to set the treasure on my windowsill, where the light can shine through it. Even though the sea glass is inanimate, I imagine the decades it spent on the ocean floor, tumbled by waves instead of glowing from a warm flame, like the girl who lost her life. I think they both deserve a bit of sunshine.
I sigh as I leave my work room and enter the main part of my house. I have to figure out what my message means, because I have a strong feeling it’s tied to the hunter problem. One of the best ways I know to do that is sleep. I often find my dreams process information for me, and I wake with what I need to know. I go about getting ready for bed and crawl under my covers with a book and a plan to get the answer I need.
The next morning I don’t get what I wanted, because a banging on my door followed by Izzy’s voice is my alarm. “Tally, I’m here to make you a warrior!” I groan as I yank my covers over my head. “Tally?” Izzy’s footsteps pound, and I wonder if I pretend to be asleep if she’d leave me alone.
Cold air on my legs makes me squeal as Izzy whips the covers off of me. “Hey! What if I was naked?”
“Then I’d be proud of you,” says Izzy. “Clothes are so overrated.”
I give her my best attempt at a growl, but it must not be menacing, because she laughs at me as I sit up. I ask, “What are you doing here?”
Izzy gets up to pace my room. “Last night I was thinking about what I can do to help keep you safe, and it came to me I can teach you to be a warrior.”
I glance down at my thick thighs and round belly. “Me. You’re going to make me a warrior?” I laugh. “You know, best friends bring me donuts.”
“Noted,” says Isabelle. “Later you can have one. But only if you complete your training to my satisfaction.”
“Hang on a minute. You’re acting like I’ve agreed to this.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Izzy grins at me. “Does Marcel know?”
I roll my eyes at her. “Leave him out of this.”
“Come on. I don’t have all day,” says Izzy. “Get out of bed, and I’ll make you breakfast.”
I sigh, “Breakfast I can do.” I shoo her with my hand. “Git. And don’t forget my tea.”
When my friend leaves I wander over to my bureau and search for a pair of yoga pants and a loose T-shirt. I know better than to think I can convince Izzy to drop this plan. Polar bear are tenacious, and she’s not giving up. I lift my arm to flex and squeeze where my bicep should be. The consistency of my muscle is like a ball of dough. I have a sinking feeling my complete lack of fitness will only be more of a challenge for Izzy, and that doesn’t bode well for me.
After I use the bathroom I shuffle my way out to the kitchen and my new trainer. Izzy sets my tea on the table, and I frown at the machine she has on my countertop for a second before I realize she unearthed my blender. “Goodness, where did you find that? And did the tequila smell knock you over when you took off the lid?”
“That explains the stickiness.” A button clicks as Izzy presses it, and the motor whirls. When it stops, she pours a thick green liquid into two glasses and joins me at the table. “Here,” she says as she thumps the drink down before me. “Nutrition and energy in a glass.”
I grimace as I look at it. “Looks more like the Wicked Witch of the West lost a body part.” I chuckle at my joke as Isabelle frowns at me in confusion. I say, “Wizard of Oz? Witch joke?” When she still doesn’t get it I say, “Never mind,” and lift the glass to my lips. The joke is on me, because I almost gag as I taste the slimy concoction. The least offensive flavor is like grass. I sputter. “What the hell is that?” I hack as if I’m trying to unearth a hairball.
“You get used to it,” says Izzy as she licks green foam off her lips.
“That is the nastiest thing I’ve ever tasted, and trust me, we witches drink some funky stuff.” I shudder. And when I glance at my friend I see she’s got the look. The one that tells me I’m consuming this breakfast no matter how gross it is. I glare at her as I lift my glass. “Remind me why we’re friends.”
She says, “Drink it fast.”
I plug my nose and guzzle the shake. I almost fall off my chair with the shudder that racks my body when I’m finished. I slam the cup down with a satisfying thud. “Done. Now what?”
“We see what you’ve got.”
“You’re looking at it. My idea of exercise is brushing my teeth.”
“Then I guess we’ve got a lot of work to do,” says Izzy. “Grab your coat.”
“Wait. We’re not going to a gym, are we?”
“We are.” My coat flies toward me as she tosses it, and I windmill my arms to capture it before it hits the floor.
The fabric of my jacket sleeve is soft on my arm as I slide it in and ask, “You’re really going to bring a weak human to a were
bear gym?” I probably can’t even pull the door open. The image of shirtless hulking men flashes in my mind, and I smile. Maybe I can get over it.
Izzy grabs my hand and tugs me along as we leave my house. She says, “You’re not a weak human. You’re a powerful witch who packs an amazing magic punch. And when I’m through with you, you’ll throw a mean physical punch too.”
I don’t bother to object, and I think about the doughnut I’ll get later instead.
16
Izzy
I’m hoping the fear of embarrassment forces Tally to try to learn to fight. I know she has a thing for werebear men, so I decide the best way to get her to sweat is to bring her someplace where a few fine examples of my species will be. Heavy weights clash, and grunts sound as I glance around the gym. I’m one of the trainers for the Ouellette clan warriors, and this place is like a second home to me.
“Hey Izzy.” I turn to Juergen as he asks, “Want to spar later?” He’s one of the gym rats and has an oversized set of muscles to show for it. He glances from me to Tally, and he winks at her before I can answer. His voice lowers to what I think is a supposed to be a sexy tone. “Well, well, what have we got here?” Tally giggles as he asks, “Don’t tell me Izzy is going to turn you into another one of her warriors?”
My friend shrugs in a bashful way that is pure flirting. She says, “That’s the plan.” She steps forward and gives him an appreciative body scan with her gaze as she asks, “Are you really as solid as you look?”
I roll my eyes as Juergen flexes his chest and sticks it out. He says, “Go ahead. Give me your best shot.”
Tally’s grin covers her face before she throws a half-hearted punch, and it slaps against his bare skin. “Oh my,” she says. “You’re like a brick house.”