Second Chance Desire (Hot Moon Rising #8)

by Dominique Eastwick

  “You’re still beautiful to me.”

  Hostility washed over her. “Don’t lie.”

  “I want to kill the men who did this to you, but nothing could dim your beauty to me.” He reached for her and, instinctively, she turned into his arms. “Why are you up?”

  “I needed to take something for the pain.” She cringed as the muscles in his arms and chest contracted.

  “Can I get you something?”

  She hesitated before shaking her head. “It’s in my car.”

  The room suddenly spun as he lifted her into his arms. He put her to bed, pulling the sheet up. “If you promise to stay here and take it easy today, I’ll go out and get your first aid pack.”

  “I am not sick or—”

  “Humor me. I know you’re in pain. And I didn’t give you much of a chance to sleep last night.” His fingers brushed the slight bruise on her shoulder, the one he’d given her. “I hate that I had to cause you any more pain.”

  “Those are the only ones that don’t hurt.” And they were the ones she wore with pride. She yawned; the night filled with moments of uninterrupted sleep had caught up with her. She agreed to his request to stay in bed, but only because she wanted to heal so she could find out exactly what he meant when he told her, “When you are fully whole, I will make you mine in every way.”

  After last night, she couldn’t imagine what more there might be. She took the pills he offered before snuggling deep into bed. She woke as the sun was setting, her stomach protesting it had been ignored all day. She found one of his T-shirts folded at the foot of the bed. Pulling it on over her head, she crossed the room on shaky legs. As she entered the garage, she found her man at the workbench, an engine in pieces in front of him.

  “Hungry?” Knox asked, without looking up from the metal puzzle before him.

  She was starving, but he couldn’t have known that. “Is there a physic link between us now?”

  He placed the greasy metal down and rested his hip against the workbench before bestowing her a heartfelt grin. “I am more in tune with your needs, but, no, we aren’t psychically connected. It doesn’t take a psychic to know a woman who slept the day away is going to be starving.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “The grill is heating up. I sent Cedro home early and found a bottle of champagne in the fridge.”

  “Wow, you seem to have thought of everything.”

  “Go on out back. Let me clean up here and get the bottle.”

  The night air held the weight of a humid Florida summer evening. Wrapping her hair into a bun, she took a seat and stared up into the clear sky. She turned as the screen door squeaked open then slammed closed behind Knox. In one hand, he had an open bottle of bubbly, and, in the other, a plate of raw steaks. She wasn’t a vegetarian but had never been a big meat eater. At the moment, she craved it.

  He dropped a kiss on her lips before placing the bottle in her lap and moving to the grill. She marveled in the comfort his presence created in her, as well as how relaxed he seemed. He reminded her of the man she knew in Miami, mixed with the new man she had come to know. Although the last eight years had been hard, it had made them into the people there were today. And perhaps they were better for it.

  After dinner had been served and she sat, comfortable and protected, in his lap, she finally asked the questions worrying her all day. “What happened to the…my…the kidnappers.”

  “Three of them seem to have decided to quit the area. The last was found hog tied in the woods by the state police. Jesse says he confessed to the fires. As of right now, there has been no mention of what happened to you.”

  “Will it stay that way?” She maneuvered so she could see his face.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Will he ever get out of prison?”

  “I don’t know, but if he does, I’ll be there waiting.”

  She feared if they looked further into what happened, Knox would be the one landing in jail, and he couldn’t handle any more time behind bars. Once last night, she had woken not at his urging but upon hearing a wolf’s howl. When she had gone to the window, she witnessed him, his wolf, silhouetted against the night sky. He had been so beautiful he took her breath away. He had been free, and she’d helped him gain what he’d been missing—a sense of belonging.

  “Let it be.” She shivered, and his arms wrapped around her tighter. She wanted to change the subject. “Who was on the phone earlier?”

  “Derek. There’s a pack meeting coming up, and he wants me to bring you.”

  Instinctively, she touched the bruise under her eye. “When?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  He would forever put her first, something no one had ever done, and she also discovered it was the one thing she had been wishing for her entire life. “Thank you.”

  He searched her eyes and must have seen the uncertainty and the early glisten of tears because whatever he’d been about to say died as quickly on his lips. He brushed her hair away and pulled her back into his arms. Her silent mate could read her silence as well, and that boded well for them both.

  They had been blessed with a second chance. They had earned it. “So how many children do you want?”

  “As many as you will grant me.” His voice remained calm, but his cock jumped under her hip.

  “Perhaps we could practice making them again.” When he didn’t make a move, she straddled him. “Tonight.” Still, he remained impassive. Taking his earlobe between her teeth, she nibbled. “Now.”

  Standing, his hands gripping her ass, he stared down at her with fire in his eyes. “You are sore.”

  “You make it better”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You can’t hurt me by being a part of me.” And it was true. The only way either could hurt the other was by leaving, and she doubted either could do that anymore.

  Never removing his lips from hers, he carried her into the building and to their bedroom. Theirs. How she loved the sound of that. Tomorrow, she would start thinking about expanding their place. Tonight, the small studio apartment seemed perfect for them. The last thought to run through her mind as he laid her on the bed to undress was that this was where she was supposed to be. This was her second chance at forever.

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  Breaking the Mating Bond by Dominique Eastwick

  Chapter One

  “So there is a way to break the bond?” Janessa Rowan unbraided her hair for the umpteenth time since she had entered the office of her friend and mentor an hour ago.

  “Few magics, light or dark, are unbreakable with the knowledge and the tools, as you, a curse breaker, know.” Allias Lindinbeck kept his nose in the book inches from his face. Even with spectacles an inch thick, the man could not see past the nose on his own face, but she loved him and prayed he had the information she needed.

  “I have both at least in the way of contacts.” Janessa Rowan watched the hustle of the main city from the window bench. Ever since the murder of her family years earlier, she no longer lived in the mortal world, hoping the safety of the para world would give her a degree of safety. It was at least a hope of hers.

  After a few minutes of hums and humphs, Allias bumped the pile of books beside him, causing them to crash to the floor. Janessa stood, picked up the books, and restacked them, ensuring they lay in the order from before the fall. To someone who didn’t know Professor Lindinbeck, the office would appear a hoarder’s wonderland. But there was a method to his messiness, and, in it, he knew where every book lay. Having been his private assistant for years, she could replace them in their pattern.

  Over the rim of his glasses, Allias cast a glance at her. She knew he didn’t see her, but the professor in him could still make his students rethink everything they knew. “Are you sure? Once you do this, there may be no turning back.”

  Nodding, she ran her fingers over the je
wel-encrusted dagger she had placed on one of the side tables when she arrived. Her husband’s heirloom, the Knife of Moshchnost, the symbol of his people. Mythos supposed it gave the Božović power to rule their people and yet none of his line had been able to touch it in a hundred years. Although Allias referred to the issues with her bond mate, she had so much more to deal with before the full moon rose again. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  The old wizard didn’t argue. She knew he wouldn’t. This was the right thing for everyone involved. If all went as planned, the three persons hurting would become only one and a serious wrong would be righted. “I only worry it is a great burden to add to your shoulders in a week promising to be draining on all the Rowans.”

  “Do you think it’s too much on them?”

  He shrugged. “Who is to say what is too much for a Rowan? I include you in the statement. The family is resilient and strong, and I think they will only get stronger after the coven meeting. Healing can bring great strength. And your powers will be at their strongest on the night when Luna is at her fullest.”

  They all needed healing, none more so than her cousin Cyrus who still carried great guilt over the events of a night nearly seven years ago. Assassins following him for months, yet under the protection of Rekkus Duteigr no one had managed to get close. They wanted Cyrus and, in order to hurt him, settled with killing those he loved. At the next full moon on Beltane, the surviving Rowan cousins would help those killed find peace and move to the next life and those left behind move on as best they could.

  “If you are determined to break the bond, you must meet all three requirements. The person breaking it must be pure of heart. The reason must be selfless in nature, and your love for him must be true.”

  She didn’t answer, but she didn’t think Allias expected an answer. “You must chant the spell and say aloud three times, I release you. The final time must be before the rising sun following Beltane.” He wrote down what she needed for the spell, the exact directions, and, finally, what to expect with the spell complete. “This doesn’t give you much time.”

  “It’s all set up. The family is heading to the Wiccan Haus for the memorial for our sisters lost seven years ago. As you know, being bonded, my husband cannot go more than a few days from my side, and I have convinced him to bring his father who has some ailments my cousins can assist with.”

  “So you shall work on the Knife of Moshchnost while you are there?”

  “I believe Sarka has the keys to unlocking this curse. She has the books I need in her private library.”

  He nodded his agreement. “And Narsaria?”

  Janessa tried not to flinch at her stepsister’s name. It was she, after all, to whom her husband’s heart belonged. “Though not part of the coven, she is family and invited to the island to observe the memorial.”

  “I have never trusted her.” Allias rubbed the bridge of his nose before placing the glasses on the stack of books beside him. He appeared frail and tired, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the side of the old leather Chesterfield chair.

  “Beauty as striking as Narsaria’s can breed distrust. Besides, it’s hard to fault her. Narsaria and Silvano were a couple long before I came along.” Even saying their names in the same sentence hurt.

  Extending his long bony finger in her direction, he mumbled, “But the Fates chose you, not her, as his bondmate.”

  “The Fates could not have guessed their hearts would already be engaged. Why should they be punished with a lifetime of heartbreak?”

  “And why should you be the martyr?” He opened one cataract-covered eye. “Do you not deserve to be happy?”

  “I deserve better than a man who, though he tries to hide it, yearns for another woman, and who, because of the nature of things, is forced to remain by my side. Only I can feed his needs.”

  He clicked his tongue a few times. “We shall see.”

  She stood up, placing the knife into her large bag, and gave her blind mentor a kiss on his silver-bearded cheek. She unfolded the knitted blanket on the back of his chair and placed it over his lap. “I will visit you before I leave.”

  “And after?”

  “We both know the answer. I will come if I am still able.”

  “And if you are not.”

  “If it goes as we suspect, I will not be permitted to come back through the portal. I will take the ferry to one of the family safe houses.” She shuddered, but there was nothing to be done about it. She had to release her husband’s bond so he could find contentment, his happiness worth any price. Some days she even believed it.

  Allias humphed. “It would be a great shame to lose one of the great curse breakers.”

  “Perhaps this was always what the Fates had in mind.”

  “The Syndicate will not be happy.”

  “I couldn’t give two fucks if they are happy or not. The Rowan’s owe no allegiance to them anymore.”

  “Now you sound like Sarka and Rekkus rolled into one.” The old man got to his feet. “Trust your heart, Janessa. Because sometimes our head get in the way.”

  ***

  “She wants to what?” Sarka screeched. “No vamp is worth the price she will pay!”

  “Sarka, Janessa needs our support in this. I cannot believe she has come to this decision lightly. She loves her husband….” Cemil protested.

  “Undead or not.” Cyrus shrugged. He only wanted his cousin to be happy.

  “How many vamps are they bringing in their entourage?” Rekkus asked in his usual getting-down-to-business tone. Likely, he sought the answers he needed so he could get the hell out of there. Lucky bastard.

  “Is that all you ask about Rekkus?” Sarka’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

  “It’s all that concerns me at the moment.” Rekkus turned his attention to Sage who flipped through a book of herbs in the corner. “How many vamps?”

  “Three. And two are quite old. Livia and her husband Emil can go weeks without feeding. She has assured us they will need very little while they are here.”

  “And Silvano?”

  Cyrus clenched his mug as an awkward silence came over the room at Sarka’s question. Who would finally answer it? When no one did, he mouthed the word chicken at his brother before answering. “He feeds from Janessa.”

  “She’s his feeder? Oh, this gets better and better.” Sarka threw her hands.

  “She is his bonded mate. You above all others understand some exceptional witches get a great deal of power from the act.” Sage never lifted her soft, calm voice to be heard. “I believe it seemed like the ideal situation. They both got what they needed.”

  “So, to reiterate, I don’t need to worry about humans being fed on? Good. Then I don’t need to sit through the rest of this.” Rekkus stood, daring anyone to waylay him. No one spoke, but Cyrus knew Rekkus hadn’t expected anyone to. Fatherhood had made the tiger both more and less understanding.

  Cemil rubbed his head. “There is one more thing. It is possible when she has finished her ritual she will need to leave the island via the ferry.”

  “She will be in no shape to go anywhere for a week or two after. I have arranged for one of the tree houses to be refitted for her needs for those two weeks.” Sage looked up from her book.

  Sarka stood. “I need to get some things ready for her. I’ll be in my workroom. No one should disrupt me.”

  Cyrus shuddered. This week would be harder than he expected. Every year, the anniversary of the massacre was difficult, but, this year, they would lay the souls to rest. Grant the souls one simple request, whatever would give them the peace to pass on. He would give anything for the three sisters who left this earth before their time.

  “Cyrus, are you all right?” Cemil placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  Damn it! Could no one have a thought or feeling on this damned island without everyone knowing it first. “You already know I am not. So why bother even asking?”

  “Out of respect and to give yo
u the chance to say it’s none of my damned business.” Cemil remained monotone, void of the overwhelming emotions his empath sibling always experienced.

  Great. He couldn’t even be pissed without his brother understanding. “My pain is no more or less than anyone else in the family. Even Rekkus feels our pain with us. But this is the first time their souls will be able to tell us what they need to be at peace.”

  “And you worry they blame you.”

  “Why not? I blame me. If not for—”

  “Fate.” Sage flipped another page. “You cannot be blamed for your powers. Any more than Janessa can be held to the bonds fate has handed out.”

  Cyrus nodded, but no one seemed to understand not only the upcoming ceremony worried him. But the dread of what his slain sisters would ask him to do. Cyrus excused himself in search of Rekkus. If anyone would shake him out of his pity party, it was him. No one knew better than he the pain of losing your family in a massacre. Rekkus had lost his entire family at the hands of his mother’s cooking. With the remaining six of the original coven coming through the portal in the upcoming days, things were bound to get…emotional.

  He passed Myron who kept her gaze on her cards. “Providing the cards don’t change, the rooms are set. With every cabin and room on the island full, changing might not be easy to accomplish.”

  “Thanks, Myron.”

  “Cyrus?”

  “Don’t read me.”

  “Cyrus….”

  “If you care at all for me, you will give me what little privacy I can find.”

  Myron tapped her cards in a neat pile and extended them to him. “You know I care. And I don’t need cards to know you are in pain. Perhaps you could help Dana with the babies.”