by T. M. Cromer
Rekindled Magic Copyright © 2019 by TM Cromer
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-7327013-8-0 (eBook)
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art: Deranged Doctor Designs
Line+ Editor: WIP Wizard
Proof Editor: Trusted Accomplice
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
From the Author…
Stay Up-To-Date
To all the laid-back and loving men out there:
Thank you for always understanding what your significant other needs, even when they may not. You are who I like to call my Quentin Collective;
funny, warm, loving, and steadfast.
Chapter 1
Then
“Have her home by eleven.”
Quentin Buchanan met the frosty gaze of Holly’s father, Alastair Thorne, and tried not to gulp. His motto was to never show fear.
“Yes, sir.” Quentin wasn’t insane enough to think he could challenge a powerful and dangerous warlock of Alastair’s caliber. At eighteen, Quentin was still a relative newbie compared to the older man. If Alastair wanted his daughter home by eleven, Quentin figured he’d have her home by ten-forty-five as a precaution.
Holly laughed off Alastair’s decree and intertwined her fingers with Quentin’s. She tugged him off the porch and toward his black Harley Sportster 1200.
“Oh, you changed the design!” she exclaimed when they were close.
He eyed the twisting turquoise flames and smiled with pride. It had taken him three tries, but he finally managed to conjure paint the exact shade of her gorgeous irises. “Yeah.”
Quentin swung one leg over and waited for her to tie up her long chestnut hair. When she was finished, he held out a hand to help her mount behind him. If he took a little extra time to start the bike and rev the engine, only he was to know the stall tactic allowed him to revel in the feel of her full breasts pressed against his back.
His skin prickled, and he sensed he was being watched. Quentin looked toward the porch.
Alastair still stood watching them with his arms crossed over his massive chest.
He knew Quentin’s ulterior motive.
Quentin grinned, gunned the engine one more time, and roared away with Holly’s arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.
“Where are you taking me?” she shouted.
“You’ll see,” he hollered in return.
She leaned forward and tucked her chin against his shoulder.
He imagined he could hear her sigh of happiness.
They followed the curve of the two-lane highway for another twenty minutes until they reached the bottom of Yellow Creek Mountain. The only sound was the guttural throbbing of the engine echoing across the night.
Something close to contentment settled in Quentin’s chest. He could make a forever-hobby of driving across the country if only Holly was clinging to him. His left palm covered the delicate hands locked across his abdomen. When she laced her fingers with his, his heart stuttered.
She was so trusting and affectionate. The need to protect her, to nourish the love she freely offered, had become ingrained in him.
Instead of heading toward town, Quentin changed direction and drove toward the airport. He circled around the hub and found a dirt road to the left of the smallest terminal.
The road, with its gate clearly marked as “no trespassing,” was meant for airport maintenance personnel only. He didn’t care and knew Holly wouldn’t either. The wild child residing in her five-foot-four frame would thrill to the fact they were breaking the rules.
She didn’t speak as he slowed. Anticipating the need, she waved her hand. The lock fell from the chain, and the large metal gate swung wide to allow their entrance. He felt more than heard her laughter. The carefree sound was robust and possessed the ability to curl around his dick and squeeze. It was an intoxicating combination of naughty and happy. Her laugh spoke to his soul.
He parked by the fence line, removed the bungee securing the blanket on the back fender, and led her to the end of the runway. When he’d found the perfect spot, he unfurled the blanket and laid it on the grass.
With an unhurried motion, he relaxed back on his arms and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. He gazed up at her and smiled his invitation.
Holly was beside him in an instant, burrowing between him and his leather jacket.
“Cold?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“I’m an idiot. I should’ve made sure you had a warmer jacket.”
“Alastair taught me how to warm my body by manipulating my cells.” She glanced up into his face and shrugged. “The chill is a result of the night air. I don’t mind it.”
“I have the perfect way to warm you,” he said suggestively.
“Well, get to warming.”
Holly didn’t have to ask twice. Quentin had their positions reversed before she could blink. She released a happy giggle, and he chuckled in return.
The V at the top of her thighs cradled his jean-clad hips perfectly. He couldn’t prevent the instinctive rub of his pelvis against hers. Somehow, even as tall as he was, they fit as if they’d been made only for each other. From the moment they’d met, he’d known she was the one for him. No other would do.
“We have about ten minutes of make-out time before the next plane takes off,” he said.
Wordlessly, she reached her slender arms up and dragged his head down to hers. Their lips met in an explosion of youthful passion. Tongues tangled and teased. Hands explored. Bodies practically fused together in their need. They made out for the entire time.
He could never get enough of touching her. The feel of her silky hair wrapped around his hand. The satiny smoothness of the bare skin of her back and belly. The intoxicating smell of the little spot below her ear where his lips unerringly zeroed in every time they came together.
His watch beeped, and he reluctantly drew away.
Her pout was adorable.
Quentin laughed and tugged her up into a seated position between his legs, the ideal position to wrap his arms around her and cradle her back against his chest. “Watch.”
The small passenger plane taxied down the runway and headed directly for their love nest. Holly screamed her delight when it lifted off above their heads. The whining sound of the engines was deafening, but the vibration could be felt on the ground and through his chest.
After the plane was out of sight, she twisted to look up into his grinning face. “That was amazing!”
He agreed. It was almost as exhilarating as having her in his arms.
A swirl of blue lights caught his attention.
Shit! They were busted.
If they got hauled to jail for trespassing, her dad was going to kill him.
“Oh, shit!” she yelled. She followed it up with a sneeze. Within a minute, a small flock of cr
ows settled on the ground around them.
He couldn’t see her blush, but he knew it was there. Her reaction was always the same when she forgot and swore. Quentin grinned and gave her a quick squeeze before he waved the birds off with a flick of his wrist.
With a war cry, she scrambled to her feet. “Let’s make a run for it!”
Quentin jumped up beside her.
“You’re crazy,” he laughed. He could’ve reminded her teleportation was a safer bet, but he didn’t care to spoil her fun. “We’ll never make it.”
“We’ll go out like Bonnie and Clyde. They’ll never take us alive!” she shouted with a fist in the air. “We’ll go down in the history books.”
“You have the soul of a rebel, love.” He dropped a soft, lingering kiss on her puffy, ruby lips. “But Alastair would revive me to kill me again if anything happened to you. As it is, I doubt I’ll see the sun come up tomorrow.”
Two cop cars pulled up about ten yards away. The officers went on, ad nauseam, about punk kids breaking the law. Quentin tuned them out to watch Holly attempt to charm her way out of being handcuffed. From his position against the cruiser, he focused on her beautiful, animated face.
The grin on his own face had to look as dopey as it felt, but he couldn’t contain it. He loved her spirit. He also loved that her handcuffs mysteriously dropped to the ground within seconds after they were clicked into place—much to the frustration of the officer who attempted to arrest her.
In a show of unity, he used a surge of magic to unlock and drop his own. They tried to smother their grins against the cool metal of the car when the officers started to malign the handcuff manufacturer after a third attempt to restrain them.
Holly and Quentin were shoved into the back of the squad car, but before Officer Not-So-Friendly could close the door, she propped it open with her booted foot. “Can I bum a cigarette?” She nodded toward the pack on the dashboard. “Getting arrested stresses me out. I need a light.”
The older officer released an irritated growl as he slammed the door. Their laughter echoed around the interior of the squad car. Their eyes met, and even though they were in a whole heap of trouble, Quentin wouldn’t have changed a second of tonight. He suspected she felt the same way when she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.
“I don’t want to be on the other end of the call to your dad when we have to request bail.”
“Yeah, he already thinks you’re trouble.”
“He’s going to have to get used to having me around. I intend to marry you, Holly Anne Thorne,” he declared huskily.
She snuggled closer.
He rested his cheek on the crown of her head. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.”
A sharp rap on the window brought their heads up. An angry Alastair stood on the other side of the door.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered.
Holly sneezed, and Quentin quickly balled his hand to stop the influx of birds.
“It’s official. He’s going to kill me,” he said in a low voice. “How do you suppose he got here so quickly?”
“The sheriff is a Thorne.”
“Great. I’m going to rot in jail.”
She laughed and bumped his shoulder with hers. “I’ll spring you from the joint.”
“I think you’re an outlaw at heart, love.”
She giggled, and his suspicions were confirmed.
Chapter 2
Now
“What are you doing here?”
Holly’s surly tone set Quentin’s teeth on edge, but he hid his irritation—as he had for nine years. “Hello, my love.”
She rolled her eyes as she always did when he used that particular endearment. Quentin stifled a laugh. An irate Holly amused him. Her turquoise-blue eyes would deepen exactly three shades darker, and her full mouth would compress in a tight, white line. When that happened, a dimple would appear on her left cheek. The dimple never failed to fascinate him.
“Don’t you have a job or hobby?” she asked as she returned to the task on her computer.
“My job is you,” he replied as he leaned his elbows on the counter.
“The stalking is getting old, Quentin.”
“Who’s stalking? I’m guarding you.”
“Pfft. Well, if you’re going to linger, there is a pallet of pet food that needs to be stocked on those shelves.” She used her chin to indicate the shelving unit to her left without removing her eyes from the screen.
“Your wish is my command, my prickly pear.”
For the second time in as many minutes, she graced him with an eye roll. He grinned and whistled a jaunty tune on his way to the stockroom. He passed Holly’s twin sister, Summer, who also happened to be the doctor of record here at the clinic. “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Hello, tease.”
Quentin laughed because Summer and her other three sisters already knew what Holly failed to realize. He may seem like a player, but he was, in truth, a one-woman man. He’d never stopped loving Holly, and as far as he was concerned, no one else would ever hold his heart.
The hand truck was easy to locate. After a quick check to make sure he was alone, he waved a hand to lighten the weight of the larger bags. No sense breaking his back if he didn’t have to.
Quentin stacked the feed to the top of the hand truck and returned to the waiting area of the Thorne Veterinary Clinic to stock shelves. As he bent for the fifth time to retrieve a bag, he felt the eyes of the multiple female employees upon him. From his peripheral vision, he noted Holly was one of the gawkers, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his self-satisfied smile.
“Pace yourselves, ladies. I have another pallet to stock,” he teased.
Their amused titters met with a low grumble.
Quentin lost his playful air and met Holly’s livid stare. A large part of him was pleased she’d become territorial. However, an even larger part knew she’d never act on her feelings for him.
A long time ago, their relationship had been damaged by lies. Lies crafted by Holly’s best friend, Michelle Wright, to make it appear he’d cheated on Holly. He never did. But Michelle had been a consummate actress and played on Holly’s insecurities.
Sadness consumed him from out of the blue. They’d lost nearly ten years to Michelle’s games, and the way things currently stood between him and Holly, they were likely to lose another ten or more.
Quentin presented his back and continued to stock the retail shelves, not trusting his ability to maintain the faux carefree air when he was feeling anything but today. He’d come to a decision about his future.
When they found the last of the artifacts for Alastair to resurrect Holly’s mother, Quentin would hit the road. Holly’s family unit would be restored, and his protection would be unnecessary. It was long past time for him to move on.
A small hand on his forearm made him jump. “Mister?”
A tiny, black-haired sprite of about six or seven stood beside him. She gazed up at him with large liquid pools of anguish. Quentin’s heart contracted. The angst in the child’s expression reminded him of Holly when she was in pain.
He squatted in front of the girl and smiled gently. “What can I do for you, little lady?”
“My dog… Mama needs help,” she cried tearfully.
A glance at the window showed a woman struggling to pick up an overweight Rottweiler from the back seat of her car. He pointed to Holly. “See that woman over there?” When the girl nodded, he said, “You go tell her to prepare a room. I’ll help your mom.”
She nodded again and ran across the reception area toward Holly.
Quentin didn’t wait but charged outside to relieve the child’s mother of her burden. “I’ve got him.”
“Thank you! Bear… he’s just so heavy.”
He lifted the dog with ease and rushed toward the clinic doors.
“What happened to him?” Holly asked as she held the main door open.
“He escaped the fence
d yard and ran into oncoming traffic,” the woman explained.
Quentin could feel the dog’s life force fading even as he settled Bear on the exam table. If Summer and Holly could save him, it would be a miracle of the Goddess.
The little girl stood off to one side as Summer and Holly examined the girl’s pet. Working on instinct, he picked the child up and approached Bear’s head.
“Tell him you love him and ask him to stay.”
“I love you, Bear,” she sobbed into the black fur. “Please don’t leave me. Please. I love you.”
Quentin set her on the floor and urged her toward the waiting room. “Now go with your mom. Doctor Summer and Miss Holly are going to fix Bear right up.” After he witnessed her fling herself into her mother’s embrace, Quentin shut the door. “We’re going to give him a magical transfusion.”
Holly gasped. “Quentin, you can’t—”
“I can, and I will.”
“He’s lost too much blood, and I fear his internal injuries are too severe,” Summer argued.
“First we start the blood draw. While that’s taking place, we’ll work up a spell,” Quentin stated. “Between the magic in my blood and your healing abilities, we can save him.”
If asked, he couldn’t say why he was desperate to save this particular dog. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t bear to disappoint another person in his life—even if that person was a complete stranger.
“He’ll likely have an adverse reaction to your blood, Quentin. Different species and all,” Summer warned.
“He’s dead anyway. What do we have to lose?”
Holly cast a protection circle to perform the magic. Then she prepared the dog for the infusion as Summer inserted the needle into Quentin’s arm where he sat outside the ring. “Sure you want to do this?”