Impassion

by B. C. Burgess

  “That’s not saying much,” she dryly noted. “I’m about as powerful as a toddler.”

  Finley flashed a smile and slowly shook his head. “No you’re not. You’re more powerful than any of them. You’re an extraordinary witch, and I,” he added, holding his arms out, “am your male counterpart.”

  Several mumbles floated through the room, and Caitrin stepped forward. “It’s time to tell us who you are, Finley.”

  “I thought I was being pretty obvious,” Finley countered, keeping his eyes on Layla. “But she doesn’t seem to be getting it, does she? Guess I’ll draw her a picture.” His condescending gaze never wavered as he released his aura, filling a huge area with color.

  Nearly everyone gasped, and Layla glanced at their shocked faces before scanning the newly exposed haze.

  The biggest and brightest she’d seen, Finley’s aura was much different than the others in the room. Not only in its vastness and boldness, but in its coloring. Where her family’s auras expressed love and hope, his expressed isolation and determination. Where theirs swirled bright pink and canary yellow, his boiled dark red and steel gray. However glossy the haze appeared, it was shrouded in sad shadows and exuded an air of discontent.

  Layla looked at Quin, who had paled and let his hand slip away. She took it back. Then she found Finley’s triumphant grin.

  “You’ve never seen an aura like this, have you?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered.

  “That’s because only yours can compare,” he explained.

  Layla truly hoped her aura didn’t look like that and made a mental note to ask someone to reassure her once Finley was gone. “I’m not impressed.”

  “Maybe you don’t get it yet.”

  “Then why don’t you explain?”

  He sighed as his aura flared. “You and I are two of a kind, Layla. I was born to two bonded children who bonded with each other.”

  “Oh,” she mumbled, unsure what to say. She thought she was the only twice bonded child, but she also knew there could be others living in secret.

  “No wonder you hide your aura,” Serafin said. “This is a dangerous place for you to be, Finley. It would be in your best interest to leave Oregon immediately.”

  “I’m not concerned,” Finley replied, keeping his eyes on Layla.

  “Why?” she asked. “Do you like danger?”

  Her question went unanswered as his pride wavered. “You seem indifferent to the fact that there’s another bonded child like you. I was blown away when I first saw your aura.”

  “I’m not impressed,” she repeated. “We’re no better than anyone else.”

  She ran her fingers along Quin’s palm, but his eyes stayed on Finley and his face remained pallid. She pouted then looked at the current thorn in her side. “What exactly were you doing hanging around Cannon Beach Tuesday? Don’t you think it’s odd we were in the same place at the same time?”

  “I wouldn’t call it odd,” Finley disagreed. “I think fate would be more appropriate. When I saw your aura, I knew I was destined to be there.”

  “Hmm...” she hummed, playing with Quin’s fingers. “Or maybe you could call it orchestrated.”

  Finley smiled as he rolled his eyes. “I was meeting people, remember? They were expecting me, so it’s not like I was on the beach without a reason. You, however, were. Perhaps you’d like to explain yourself to me.”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Fine. It doesn’t matter. You can call our meeting whatever you want. It doesn’t change my point.”

  “What point? That you’re powerful? So? What does that have to do with anyone here?”

  “I believe it has everything to do with you.”

  “You can’t offer me anything I don’t already have.”

  His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “Apparently you have no idea what your potential is, or you’d understand what I have to offer. If we were to work together, the Unforgivables wouldn’t stand a chance. No one would.”

  “Are you trying to recruit me to take down Agro or something? Because I’m pretty sure my family won’t let you do that.”

  “I wouldn’t march you into a battle with the Unforgivables, but with me around, you’ll survive when they come for you. I know better than anyone else what your capabilities are, and you’re not reaching them. Give me a few days of your life and there won’t be a magician in the world who can hurt you like Farriss did. If you knew what I know, you’d hold the power in every situation you face.”

  “I don’t need a teacher,” she refused. “I have several.”

  Finley huffed and tossed his hands up.

  “Where are you staying, Finley?” Caitrin asked.

  “Here and there,” Finley answered.

  “No way,” Layla objected. “Not here.”

  “He’s in as much danger as you are,” Caitrin pointed out.

  “I’m not concerned for my safety,” Finley noted.

  “You should be,” Serafin countered. “Just because you’re more powerful than others doesn’t mean you can successfully take on an army of ruthless spellcasters.”

  “Fine,” Finley lazily surrendered, “I’m scared for my safety. Will that convince you to let me stay and help you, Layla?”

  “No,” she answered. “I don’t need your help, and apparently you don’t need ours. You’ve lived this long; I think you’ll be fine.”

  He grinned, but his eyes narrowed. “You’re stubborn.”

  Caitrin and Serafin exchanged pointed looks, and a sallow tinge of gray touched Quin’s cheeks.

  “I think he should stay,” Caitrin suggested.

  “What?” Layla blurted, ignoring the flaring pain. “Why?”

  “Because whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s a potential target, and he obviously has no one around to help him.”

  The comment clearly aggravated Finley, but he was getting his way, so he crossed his arms and smiled.

  “He doesn’t want our help,” Layla protested. “Why insist on giving it to him?”

  “There are other reasons,” Caitrin replied.

  “Like what?” she demanded. “I don’t want him teaching me anything, and if he’s so damn sure in his ability to defeat Agro, he should have already done it.”

  Caitrin stepped closer and sadly reached for her cheek. “We don’t want him on their side, sweetheart. If he gets caught in Agro’s snare, it could mean more danger for every last person on earth.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, slapped by understanding.

  She swallowed as she looked at Quin’s despondent profile. Then she found Finley’s boastful smile. Damn. She hated this. “Fine,” she snapped. “Stay. But when you disrespect Quin, you’re disrespecting me, so keep your distance. And if I find out you’re treating my family with anything other than kindness and gratitude, I’ll deal with you myself. Then we’ll see just how powerful you are.” She looked at Quin and squeezed his hand. “Take me home, Quin. I want to go home.”

  For the first time since Finley’s aura was revealed, Quin looked away from it. “Gladly,” he mumbled, stepping closer. “I’m going to use magic, okay?”

  “No. I want you to carry me. Or I could walk.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Layla. Just let me hover you.”

  She met his stare and set her throbbing jaw. “I want you to carry me.”

  Quin sighed over the fingers clutching his hand. “Please, Layla…”

  “No,” she snapped, trying to slide her legs off the bed.

  “I’ll carry you,” Finley offered.

  Layla and Quin shot him deadly looks then turned back to each other.

  “Are you really going to make me walk?” she asked.

  Quin rubbed his lips across her knuckles as he shook his head. “Of course not.”

  “Then pick me up and take me home.”

  He sucked in a deep breath then slid his arms under her back and knees. She couldn’t help but flex as he picked her up, but
she kept her lips sealed on a painful groan.

  Once he had her cradled against his torso, she laid her unwounded cheek to his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He kissed her head as he hovered from the floor. Then their family cleared a path as he drifted from the room.

  They both stayed silent during their trip across the lawn. Then Layla asked him to drop her off in the master bathroom.

  While washing her hands, she examined her battered reflection—the glossy swelling of dark purple flesh and the broken blood vessels branching across her right eye. Never had she dealt with facial injuries growing up, not so much as a scratch until that guitar string hit her; now she was barely recognizable.

  “Oh well,” she sighed, turning toward the door. “I’m done.”

  A second later, Quin was by her side, doing his best not to hurt her as he carried her to bed. After propping her up against the pillows, he covered her legs with a blanket. “Are you hungry? Do you want more coffee?”

  “Yes and yes,” she whispered, struggling with the simple task of breathing. “Um... Quin?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I cracked a rib on the way home.”

  He sighed as he ran a hand under her torn dress. “I wish you would have let me hover you.”

  “I wanted you to hold me,” she argued. “It was worth the pain.”

  He touched his idle fingertips to her heart. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  “That’s not what it was about,” she returned, slightly offended. “I thought I was going to die, Quin. Poof, everything gone. And when it hit me I was going to lose everything, all I could think about was you—how much I wanted to see you and hold you and kiss you. And I was so sad I’d never get that chance again. But I did get it, and I’m not going to give it up because of a little pain.”

  “I’m sorry this happened, Layla.”

  “Me, too, but I want you to stop apologizing. I hated the thought of losing time with you. Now that I have it, I don’t want to spend it hearing unnecessary apologies. This wasn’t your fault.”

  Her rib was whole once more, so Quin slid his hand from her dress and leaned close. “You were amazing, Layla. You shine during the darkest times. But I never want to see you hurting like that. Ever. And I’m never going to let it happen again.”

  “You can’t promise that, so let’s just make every moment count, okay?”

  “I’ll never take our time together for granted,” he vowed, sweeping his thumb across the tip of her nose.

  “Good,” she approved. “Now kiss me before I have to lean forward and crack another rib.”

  He obeyed, but barely pressed his lips to hers. “I’ll give you a better one once you’re healed.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, my love. I’ll give you much more than kisses, but first we have to get you into shape.” He kissed her forehead then straightened. “Do you care what you eat?”

  “No, but I can barely move my mouth, so skip the chewy stuff.”

  “Right. I need to see what’s in the kitchen, but I won’t be long. If you need something, mind search me. Don’t shout.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned to walk away, but she grabbed his hand. “Hey.”

  “Hey back,” he replied, finding her gaze.

  “I love you,” she proclaimed, and she had no problem saying it. If she didn’t love him, she’d never loved anyone.

  He leaned in for another soft kiss. “I love you, too, Layla.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “Now go fix my coffee.”

  “As you wish, my beautiful addict.”

  He headed for the door, and Layla’s heart stuttered as she watched him go. “Coffee’s no longer my only addiction, Quin. I need you more.”

  He halted, his aura expanding as the emerald river pulsed and quickened. “This is where I need to be, Layla.”

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, a smile curving her sore lips. “Good.”

  Chapter 29

  LAYLA ONLY MADE IT HALF way through her soup before giving up. The chicken and noodles wreaked havoc on her jaw, so she took a big drink of broth then set the bowl aside.

  Quin stood and sent their dishes to the kitchen, summoning a glass of water instead.

  “You should finish eating,” Layla insisted.

  “I’m not hungry,” he returned, passing her the water.

  She sipped, but her eyes stayed on his aura. “I hate seeing you like this.”

  “I’m fine,” he assured, laying a healing hand on her knee.

  “No you’re not,” she argued. “You’re miserable.”

  “I’m not the one who was nearly beaten to death today.”

  “I know you’re physically fine, but you’ve never been so quiet, and I’m not blind. I can see your aura.”

  “Would you like me to lighten it?”

  Her eyes widened, tweaking her damaged brow. “Absolutely not. The fact that you’re unafraid to let your aura be seen is something I admire about you, so don’t go changing it now.”

  “I don’t want to lighten it. I dislike the way it feels.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “What do you want me to do, Layla?”

  “I want you to get into bed with me,” she answered, setting the water aside.

  “That makes me feel better,” he approved.

  “Good,” she returned. “Hurry up. And leave the blankets off.”

  He floated over her, slowly settling himself on the bed, and she tried to scoot down, but her ribs protested the move.

  “Stop,” Quin demanded. “That does not make me feel better. If you need something, ask.”

  “I thought I could handle it.”

  “I know you can handle it, but you don’t need to. I’m here for many reasons, and helping you is one of them.” He wrapped her in magic as he rearranged the pillows. Then he carefully laid her down.

  Layla watched as he moved to the spot beside her, and she couldn’t help but smirk at how long it took him. “Tell me another one,” she demanded.

  Quin propped his head on one hand and found her bright eyes—magic pools lacking the slightest variance in color. No other shades of green, just liquid emerald. “Another what, love?”

  “Another reason why you’re here.”

  “Ahh.” He softly ran his forefinger down the bridge of her nose, over her lips, and across her chest, stopping it on her heart. “I’m here because I love the way I feel when I’m with you, and because I feel like hell when I’m away from you.” He looked to his hand and tapped his finger in time with her pulse. “I’m here because I’m dying to touch this heart in every way possible, and none of those ways can be accomplished from a distance. That’s just a few reasons,” he concluded, finding her stare. “There are more.”

  “Those are good reasons,” she approved. “You can scoot closer.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  He cautiously moved closer, but she wasn’t satisfied.

  “No, Quin. I want to feel you.”

  “There will be time for that later.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me. I’m not leaving your side. You won’t be able to force me away.”

  “I’m not going to try,” she mumbled. Then she turned her head, squarely meeting his gaze. “You’re really not going to hold me until I’m better?”

  “I’m sorry,” he refused.

  “Fine,” she huffed. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to close my eyes and think about you holding me, and you’re going to fix me. And you need to hurry, because my imagination isn’t as good as the real thing.”

  “I’ll do my best to hurry the process along,” he agreed. “I’ll need to tear your dress some more.”

  “I have a better idea,” she said, looking down, and her dress disappeared, leaving her nude aside from a simple pair of white, cotton underwear. She looked at his torso, zapping his s
hirt away. Then she closed her eyes and relaxed. “Okay, heal away.”

  Quin slowly scanned her body, which lay perfectly still—no nervous gasping, no insecure fidgeting, and her smooth skin barely blushed. “It seems you’ve come out of your shell,” he whispered, trying to calm his heart rate.

  “I guess a near death experience will do that,” she replied, peeking at him with one eye. “Does this change your mind about holding me?”

  “No,” he answered, finding her face. “You’re beyond beautiful, and I would love to hold you, but I’ll not hurt this perfect body of yours.”

  “What if I lose the underwear?”

  “No, Layla. I like the underwear, and stop trying to tempt me. It won’t work right now.” He ran his palm between her breasts, stopping it on her black and blue ribs. “When you feel better, you can try again, and I promise it will work.”

  “How well?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her mild blush intensified as she pulled his hand to her left breast, centering his palm over her nipple. “I’m ready, Quin. I see no reason to wait. I love what I’ve found in you, and I want more. I want it all.”

  He lowered his lips to her cleavage and breathed deep, filling his senses with her bare and aroused flesh. “I want you to have it all, Layla.”

  “You’re not answering my question, Quin.”

  He sighed and laid his ear to her heart, listening to its healthy beats. “Not tonight. It’s been a bad day, and you’re going to be sore for a while. I don’t want you feeling anything but pleasure when we make that move.”

  Her lungs deflated as her breath swept into his hair, followed by her graceful fingers. “You’re right. I don’t want anything ruining it. I want it to be perfect.”

  “It will be,” he vowed, sliding his hand to her ribs. Then raised his head and gave her a kiss. “Now try to relax and let me heal you.”

  She obeyed, and he worked on her for several hours, healing damaged flesh and bone. She fell asleep when he was halfway done, and her peaceful aura soothed him as he continued making her well.

  Once the bruises were gone, he floated to her feet and gently ran his hands along every inch of unveiled skin, looking for spots he might have neglected or never knew about. The process took a long time, but he didn’t mind. He’d do anything to make her feel better, and touching her body was a pleasure, not an inconvenience.