Impassion (Mystic)

by B. C. Burgess

  “The woman he’s been dating,” Maeveen explained. “She’s a member of my coven.”

  Layla felt sick and wondered if she looked it. “I didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

  “He’s not now. Yesterday afternoon Caitlyn got home from a weekend trip to find Quin on her porch. She knew it was over the moment she saw his aura. Now I know why.”

  “That’s horrible,” Layla whispered. “Were they close?”

  Maeveen harrumphed as she leaned back, letting the rain hit her face. “Sure. They were about as close as Quin gets to any woman, but that’s not saying much.”

  Layla needed to know more, but didn’t want to add fuel to the gossip session by asking.

  As it turned out, she didn’t have to. Maeveen was more than willing to throw gas on the fire. “I think it was about a month ago that he finally asked her out, but they’ve only gotten together two or three times since. I can say with certainty he wasn’t committed, but Caitlyn has liked him for a while, and he knew that, so his interest was genuine if not long-term. I told Caitlyn it would be that way, but she already knew and wanted to give it a try. Some women never heed the warnings, you know? I wasn’t the only witch warning her about Quin, but she remained hopeful.”

  Layla nearly gagged, barely finding the ability to speak. “Why would she need warned about Quin?” She was terrified to hear the answer, and Maeveen made her sweat before giving it.

  “Because he’s a heartbreaker and always has been. He’s dated a lot of women, and they’re never good enough.”

  “He says that?” Layla gasped.

  “No,” Maeveen laughed. “Of course not. Quin would never say that, and it’s not like he purposely breaks women’s hearts. But that’s part of his appeal, isn’t it? He’s insanely smooth and can make a girl feel special while being honest about his inevitable departure. If a woman wants his attention, she has to make peace with the fact that it’s temporary, because the moment she starts hoping for a long-term relationship, he’ll cut her loose; no second chances, no hesitations. Snap, just like that.” She snapped her fingers, like the words didn’t stress her point enough. “That doesn’t stop girls from trying, though. They’re always throwing themselves at him, hoping they’ll be different, and sometimes he’ll treat one to a few amazing dates before saying so long.” She paused, grinning as she raised her eyebrows. “At least I’ve heard the dates are amazing. I’ve never been with him myself. I crushed hard on him for a while, but he never had any interest in me, so I wisely got over it.”

  Layla didn’t respond. She was too busy digesting the chest-clogging, throat-tightening, downright heartbreaking revelation. Her relationship with Quin had just been flipped upside down, and she had no idea how to handle it. Her insides tangled and squirmed, making it hard to breathe.

  “You’re very good at hiding things,” Maeveen noted, getting to her feet. She twisted this way and that, magically drying her backside. “I’m here to speak with Karena about the inn. It was nice meeting you.”

  “You, too,” Layla offered, keeping her eyes on her coffee.

  After counting to thirty, Layla looked up, watching Maeveen disappear into Karena’s house. Then she slowly got to her feet and dragged them home.

  What in the hell was she supposed to do now? Quin hadn’t exactly betrayed her, but he should have known better. Or had he betrayed her? She wasn’t sure. She just assumed he was single and never thought to ask. And how dumb was that? Of course he was dating someone. He was gorgeous and could literally and figuratively sweep a woman off her feet. Why on earth would he be single?

  Then there was Caitlyn, a witch who really liked Quin, had been spending time alone with him for weeks. Now she’d been rejected. Not because Quin was unhappy with her, not because he didn’t care about her, not because she was unlikable, but because someone new came along and stole his interest.

  Layla imagined Maeveen telling Caitlyn about Quin’s newest conquest, and it made her nauseous. She hated being the other woman, the outsider who ruined everything. It felt awful.

  Chest tight and aching, she refilled her coffee and shuffled to the back deck, scooting a chair beneath the overhang. The rain filled her ears with plinks, clicks and drips, but she barely registered nature’s song. She was too busy dealing with the sadness and uncertainty churning her gut. Her prince charming had a flaw, and the more she sat there and thought about it, the bigger it became.

  “Damn him,” she scorned, punching her thigh. Then she burst into tears, deciding it was as much her fault as it was his. He didn’t even kiss her until she asked him to. Maybe his relationship with Caitlyn was the reason why. Maybe he planned to end things with her first. Or maybe he only ended things with Caitlyn because Layla had thrown herself at him.

  “Damn him,” she breathed, dropping her face into her hand.

  “Layla?”

  She snapped her head up, nearly falling from her chair as Quin’s voice hit her like a hurricane. She had no idea she’d been sitting there that long. She needed more time to think before facing him. The pain was fresh, her mind was scattered, and her heart was raw, but ready or not, he was approaching from the south side of her house.

  He stepped into the backyard, and she looked in the opposite direction, trying her damnedest to conceal her aura.

  When Quin saw Layla’s beautiful haze retract, he froze mid-stride, flipping his gaze to the fingers tugging on her left sleeve.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to talk right now,” she returned. “You should leave.”

  Quin’s hand flew to his chest, gripping his heart as his lungs deflated. It was the first time she’d asked him to go, and it hurt like hell. He took a few tentative steps, and she flinched like he’d thrown a punch.

  “What’s going on?” he repeated, searching what was left of her aura—a river of wispy white fog hugging her trembling body. “What happened?”

  “Just go, Quin.”

  “Not until you tell me what happened.”

  “You broke your promise,” she whispered. “You’ve already broken it, and you didn’t even mean to. And that’s why promises are stupid.”

  Panic rolled Quin’s stomach as he slowly approached the deck. “What did I do?”

  “You’ve made everything harder.”

  “I don’t understand, Layla. Please look at me.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  His fingers curled into a fist as his speeding heart took another blow. “Okay, don’t look at me, but please tell me what’s going on.”

  “You were dating someone, Quin.”

  Shit. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Is it true?”

  He dropped his guilty head. “Yes.”

  “Then where I heard it isn’t an issue.”

  Shit. He didn’t know how to fix this. “None of that matters, Layla. It wasn’t a serious relationship.”

  “I understand it wasn’t serious, but if you think it doesn’t matter, you’re sadly mistaken, because it’s mattering the hell out of me.”

  “I didn’t expect you to come along,” he countered. “If I’d known you were about to walk into my life, I would have spent every waking minute waiting for you.”

  “Of course you weren’t going to sit around waiting for someone you didn’t know was coming. Who does that? But you were dishonest by not telling me about her. I had no idea about her, even when we... even when you...” Her shoulders shook as she yanked in a choppy breath. “That’s not the point. How can you expect me to be okay with this? You’ve put me in an awful position, made me face awful decisions.”

  Quin wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg her not to do this, but he knew it would serve no purpose but to make him look insane. Shit. He had to fix this. “I understand you’re upset,
Layla. You have every right to be, but nothing has to change. The decisions have already been made...”

  “That’s not the point,” she snapped.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and roughly ran a hand down his face, trying to calm his frantic heart. “Then tell me what the point is.”

  For a long moment she stayed silent, trembling from head to toe as she wiped her face. Then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m so grateful for what you’ve done, Quin. You constantly go out of your way to help me, and I really do appreciate it... all of it. And I... I care about you so much, but this thing between us just seems like a bad idea now. We’ll always have the connection we made last night, which was wonderful and I’ll never regret it. But our… relationship, or whatever this is, can’t be good for us. It’s built on dishonesty and drama.” She paused, looking down at her lap. Then she abruptly stood and headed for the north side of her house. “I need to be alone right now.”

  Quin couldn’t find the strength to give her space and was right behind her. “I don’t believe that, Layla, because this relationship is good for me.”

  She didn’t respond, and his heart practically burst from his chest as it raced after the angel leaving him. “Damn it, Layla, stop.”

  He grabbed her wrist, spinning her around, and what he found nearly broke him. Swollen lids and red cheeks, and a sad gaze that dropped him lower than he’d ever been. She’d shed a river for him, and no matter how recently she wiped them away, the tears still plagued her.

  He ached to take her face in his palms and kiss the soreness away, but knew it would either piss her off or make her cry harder, so he merely squeezed her wrist. “This isn’t over, and I don’t understand why you think it has to be.”

  “Really? You don’t understand? The Unforgivables have already targeted this coven because of one rejected witch. I’m already paying for Medea’s spite, and my dad wasn’t even dating her when he met my mom. All this with you, me and... and Caitlyn, it all happened over a weekend. Boom, everyone’s flipped on their heads, and now I’m the other woman, the witch who came along and messed everything up. I hate the way it feels to be that woman, and I hate thinking about the way Caitlyn’s feeling. I’m sad for her; she’s been tossed aside. And who do you think she’s going to blame for that? This whole damn situation is entirely too familiar; and I don’t want to watch it run its course. I’ve seen what things like this can do to a family, and that’s one part of my parents’ sad history I’m not willing to repeat.” She tried to pull away, but his grip stayed firm. “That’s just one reason why this isn’t good for me, Quin. The list goes on. Now please let go.”

  He held tight, searching for a way to make her stay, but she gave him no choice. Her eyes narrowed and shifted downward, and a sizzling current of electricity shot from her wrist into his hand.

  “Shit,” he blurted, stumbling back.

  The jolt subsided, relinquishing control of his muscles, and he raised his smoldering palm, flexing fingers around blackened flesh. Surprised and impressed by her power and accuracy, he gawked at the wound. Then he found her eyes, watching a fat teardrop fall to her cheek.

  Her face drained of color as she mouthed the words I’m sorry. Then she turned and walked away. Right before rounding the corner of the house, she spoke over her shoulder. “I’m leaving for a while. Tell my grandparents not to worry.”

  “No,” Quin shouted, heart lurching as he rushed forward, but by the time he turned the corner, she was gone.

  He shot into the air, searching ground and sky. “Layla! Please don’t do this!” No response, no aura, no body; he couldn’t spot one shimmer of evidence.

  He searched for her mind and immediately made a connection, but it felt like he’d linked to a hall of mirrors that had stolen Layla’s warm glow. Powerful yet jumbled brainwaves collided with his, bouncing at him from every direction as he tried to communicate and locate.

  “Layla!”

  No answer; and the unreliable mind connection quickly faded.

  “Shit.”

  She’d left him… left because of him. Now she was in grave danger. Shit, shit, shit.

  He scanned the earth and sky once more, finding nothing. Then he flew to Caitrin and Morrigan’s, his heart hurting like hell and drowning in guilt.

  Chapter 19

  Angrier at herself than ever before, Layla flew toward what she hoped was Cannon Beach, tears raining from her burning eyes.

  Sickened by what she’d done to Quin, crushed by what her existence was doing to the coven, and defeated by her lack of control, she overflowed with regret, like she might burst any second and bleed her accountability on the treetops. She was a passenger on a frightening rollercoaster, and the grim reaper was at the switchboard, surely laughing with wicked delight as he pulled levers and pushed buttons.

  She flew west for about twenty minutes before finding the ocean. Then she followed the coast south until she spied Haystack Rock—a giant, basalt rock signaling the shoreline of Cannon Beach.

  She carefully descended into a cluster of trees bordering the north end of the seafront. Then she lifted her concealment spells as she trudged toward moist sand, jolting under the sting of bitter wind.

  A break in the storms had drawn a few families to the beach, but the tourists were south, closer to town, and that was fine by Layla. She wanted nothing to do with crowds.

  A twisted piece of driftwood caught her eye, and she shifted her aimless course, finding the log had a branch she could use as a backrest. She sat, got situated then gnawed on her fingernails while fighting an internal battle.

  Part of her felt she’d overreacted; that she’d been unfair to call it quits over the news about Caitlyn. Then there was the part of her relentlessly screaming Heed the warnings!

  Maybe the only answer was time. If Caitlyn were given time to heal and didn’t show signs of jealousy or instability, Layla would feel more confident moving forward with Quin. But she couldn’t ask him to wait. The phobia instilled in her by Medea was her neurosis, not Quin’s.

  She switched to the fingernails on her left hand as her thoughts drifted to Sunday night—the night Quin pleased her in so many wonderful ways. The foray had been sensual, powerful and extremely personal… and he’d been dating another woman. Layla wondered if he treated Caitlyn the way he treated her, and her stomach rolled.

  All ten of her fingernails were stubby and jagged, so she pulled her feet onto the tree trunk and scanned the beach for hexless auras. One by one she found them, but those surrounding the adults were hard to discern—dull and smoggy. The children’s, however, were bright and lovely, untouched by worry or responsibility.

  Layla focused on a baby boy bundled in a coat, hat and gloves, and warmth filled her cold stomach. She watched his soothing aura until his mom carried him away. Then she searched for another child to focus on, but the families were scattering as rain clouds rode turbulent waves toward shore, dimpling soft sand and whipping the harsh wind.

  Despite the cold, Layla tilted her head back and closed her eyes, breathing in a mixture of sea spray and rain. Her teethe ached to chatter, but she set her jaw, unready to leave her reclusive moment.

  “You’re getting wet,” a deep voice noted.

  Layla sucked her aura in, and her muscles tightened, pulling her inward like a timid turtle. She shook her shoulders, shrugging off the tension. Then she opened her eyes to the person who spoke.

  At first she thought an ordinary man stood there, as his aura was extremely light, practically nonexistent. But then she focused on him instead of the air around him.

  Definitely a wizard—a wizard with extraordinary looks.

  Slightly taller than average with muscles bulging from a thin frame, he had curves and ripples in places other people didn’t, not even the wizards she’d met. His white t-shirt fit snug,
displaying defined pecs and a ridged abdomen, and he wore a pair of charcoal colored Bermuda shorts, revealing sculpted calves and bare feet. Just long enough to run a hand through, his golden hair lay in mellow waves; and his fair and flawless face housed intense multicolored eyes—vivid shades of blue and green bleeding together like the sea.

  “Do you need something?” Layla asked, wary despite his ridiculously chiseled body.

  He smiled, showing perfect teeth. “May I sit?”

  “It’s not my beach. Do whatever you want.” She looked at the ocean, watching white froth rise and fall over aroused waves, yearning to fly over them with no destination in mind.

  Unconcerned by her attitude, the wizard sat and offered his hand. “I’m Finley.”

  Layla looked over then gave his hand a short shake. “Layla.”

  “Layla,” he repeated. “Why are you sitting here by yourself?”

  “Because I feel like it. Why are you sitting here?”

  “Because I feel like it.”

  “Fair enough,” she conceded, resting her chin on her knees.

  “Are you from around here?” he pressed.

  “You could say that,” she answered, magically painting her toenails blue. Fitting for her mood, plus it matched her sweatshirt and the bluish tint of her freezing feet.

  “You’re awfully distracted,” Finley noted.

  She threw him a sideways glance. “Why is that any of your concern?”

  “Well, most witches aren’t so withdrawn. I’m concerned as well as curious.”

  “Would you say you’re intrigued?” she asked, recalling the night she met Quin.

  “I would,” Finley confessed.

  “Well don’t get your hopes up,” she returned, “because I’m not going to tell you why I’m distracted, and I’m not going to explain why I’m withdrawn, so your intrigue is going to waste.”