“That’s not what you said the other day. I heard you tell Cyrus that you would trade eternity to experience true love.”
“I was talking to keep Cyrus from noticing you creeping up on him.”
“Liar.”
“Just because you don’t like my answer doesn’t mean I’m lying.”
“I’m very good at reading people. The tone of their voice, subtle nuances of expression and movement. There was truth in your words, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
“A moot point. I can’t choose again.” An image appeared in her mind; the grimoire that had belonged to Sam. A version of the blood spell was in there, the second paragraph addressing time being restored but was it exactly the same as the one she’d used? Mixing spells was risky. And so was sharing feelings.
“Everyone has choices.”
“Not me.” She moved to the window and idly noted the activity in the street below. The neighbourhood was beginning to wake up, shops opening for the day, people appearing on the sidewalk. A new day was starting. If only starting a new life were as easy.
Dante came to stand behind her. She could feel the heat of his body against her back, penetrating her skin and easing the tension in her shoulders. If the heat were ever to reach her heart, would it be able to thaw the decades of ice surrounding that vital organ? She shook her head.
“Are you sure?” He turned her so she was facing him.
She looked into his eyes. Saw the warmth, the faint twinkle. “I like how your eyes twinkle.”
He blinked at the non-sequitur.
“It doesn’t seem to matter how much a situation stinks, you can come up with some kind of a comment to add levity.”
“Not always.”
“No, but often enough.”
He shrugged. “Life’s short and full of crap. When you get a chance to escape the shit, you might as well enjoy it. Like I said, choices.”
She took a deep breath and tried to explain. “I made my choice years ago. I thought my heart was broken so I took the family grimoire and enacted a blood spell on a blood moon.” She reached up and traced the scar on her chest through the material of her shirt. “I had no use for love so I made a trade; my heart in exchange for life extended.”
“I’ve felt your heart beating. It’s still there.”
“But the ability to love isn’t.” She moved, freeing herself from his encircling arms.
“I don’t believe you. I think you’re scared to try.”
She shot him an evil look but he took no heed.
“Because of one man you’ve decided not to trust anyone again.”
“I trusted Cyrus and look what happened.”
“Life is a risk. If you keep yourself cut off from others you’re not really living, no matter how many years you might walk the earth. Life is about trust and love. Yes, you’ll get kicked in the teeth a few times but you don’t quit.”
His words filled her with doubt. Was she scared of the possible danger of reversing the spell or was she scared to love again? She’d never considered herself a coward but now… She folded her arms in an effort to shore up her defences. “Is the sermon over?”
He gave a frustrated sigh. “Did that bastard Tomas really hurt you that badly?”
She frowned, distracted from the main point of the argument. Dante had researched her background but there was no way he could have discovered Tomas’ identity. “How do you know his name?”
“You told me the other night just as you were falling asleep.”
Scowling, vague recollections of pillow talk surfaced. She’d been exhausted, on the verge of sleep. How much had she revealed? “Tomas Salazar was—”
“Salazar?” An odd look passed over his face.
“Yes.” Something about his tone caught her attention. “Why?”
“Salazar is my last name.”
“I thought it was Esparza?”
“That’s one of my working names.” He shrugged off the detail as if it were of no importance. “I have several but Salazar is my official last name.”
“That’s an interesting coincidence.” She cocked her head to the side. “I can barely recall what he looked like but you do remind me of him.” A dark laugh escaped her. “It would be just my luck that one of his descendants appeared in my life to plague me.”
Dante didn’t reply immediately, instead staring unseeingly across the room before speaking as if to himself. “I didn’t make the connection. There are hundreds of O’Donohues in the world but what are the chances of one being a witch and having had an affair with Tomas Salazar?”
“What are you rambling on about?”
He suddenly pinned her with a hard look. “It was you! You cursed my family.”
“I did no such thing!”
“That’s the family legend. That a witch named O’Donohue cursed our family after Tomas had an affair with her.”
Gwyn shook her head. “It was my grandmother. She was incensed when she found out what happened and cursed Tomas and his bride.”
“Not just them. Their offspring and all their descendants.”
She felt herself pale. “She... I had no idea.”
“The sins of the father have been visited on every generation of our family. Unhappy marriages, stillborn babies, tragic deaths, financial loss; every possible means of heartbreak.” He shook his head. “My grandparents, my parents. Carlotta.” His voice seemed to break and it was a moment before he spoke again. “Even Damien wasn’t safe. I’d hoped given that he wasn’t raised as a Salazar that he’d be spared but he lost Beth, almost lost Sam.”
“I never thought—”
“Of the havoc that curse has wreaked?” He shook his head, bitterness twisting his features. “Damien has paid the price, just as all the Salazars have. The curse has ruined every chance of happiness he’s ever had.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
She took a step towards him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm but the look on his face made her stop.
“I need to leave.” Without another word, he swept past her.
Stunned by the unexpected turn of events, she watched him leave. The door clicked shut behind him, the soft sound seeming louder than normal. Sherman stirred and padded over to wrap himself around her ankles. It took a moment before his actions registered and she bent to pick him up. Absentmindedly rubbing the feline’s head, her eyes drifted to the kitchen table where the two mugs sat companionably side by side. For some reason the sight of them sitting there, abandoned, made her throat feel tight and her chest ache.
Minutes before, she hadn’t been sure she wanted Dante in her life. Now he was gone. She was alone again. Just herself and a scraggly cat.
“What is wrong with you?” Sam glared at Damien as he paced the length of the living room. The pack had thrown them a surprise baby shower last night. Damien had abruptly left after the first few gifts had been opened much to the surprise of those gathered. She’d covered up his behaviour explaining he had to contact Reno about recent events. It was a lie and most knew it, but no one had called her on it.
Now she was trying to show him some of the adorable onesies and baby toys they’d received, yet he was barely glancing at them.
“Nothing is wrong with me.” His gaze darted about the room, never once looking at her.
“Yes, there is.” She tossed down the blanket she’d been holding. “You’re acting like a caged animal.”
“Fine! If you really want to know, everything around me is wrong, that’s the problem.” He growled the words, his eyes shadowed. “The baby’s room isn’t ready. When you’re off the rotation, we won’t have enough members to cover patrol. I just found out my father’s the bastard I’ve hated for years.”
Sam pursed her lips and took a slow, deep breath. “Is it because of the baby you lost?”
“No! Yes…” He stopped and scrubbed his hands with his face. “I don’t know.”
She tried to choose her words carefully, sensing she was walking a
tightrope. “I know the past few days have been difficult, you’ve had some shocks, but a lot of good has happened, too.”
“Such as?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood by the window, his back ramrod straight.
“The malefic witch was stopped. I’m safe. The baby is safe. The pack gave us some great gifts.” She gave a soft laugh. “We found out I do have a bit of latent witch magic in me.”
“Oh, and of course that’s a cause to celebrate.” He turned, a sneer twisting his lips. “My mother was murdered by a fucking witch. Having magic in the family isn’t a good thing in my book.”
His words were like a knife to her heart and she gasped. “Damien!”
He looked at her and gave his head a shake, the coldness in his eyes suddenly falling away. “Sam, I’m sorry. I…” He wet his lips.
She blinked unable to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones! Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the room.
“Sam!” Damien called after her.
She entered the office and slammed the door shut behind her. What was going on? The stages of grief were familiar to her and she understood that Damien might have been harbouring some secret hopes about a joyous reunion when he finally found his birth parents, but this seemed extreme. He was unkempt, drinking, and she’d discovered he’d missed his patrol duty.
Well, he’d have to shape up because she wasn’t raising her child in a house full of fighting. She recalled her parents’ battles, the shouting and slammed doors, hiding in the back of the closet crying and thinking it was all her fault because her eyes had been the wrong colour. For years she’d felt guilty, secretly happy that though her father had died, at least the yelling had stopped.
There was a soft knock on the door and then it eased open. She knew it was Damien but she didn’t turn. He didn’t approach, didn’t take her shoulders or nuzzle her neck like he usually did. Silence filled the space making the room seem chilled despite the warm spring sun shining in through the windows. She wrapped her arms around herself.
He finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like something is taking over me, making me act differently than I intend, words I never planned on saying spilling from my lips.”
“If you quit drinking so much it might help.”
“Yeah.” He shuffled his feet. “I know. It seems to quiet the angry feeling inside me for a while, but then…”
She turned to look at him. “This isn’t like you, Damien. Ever since I escaped from that warehouse you’ve been different.”
“I know. I was so scared for you and then, once I realized you were safe, this cold wave of anger came over me.” He took a deep breath. “Sam, I think I need to get away before I do something or say something I will regret later.”
“Get away?” Dread curdled in her stomach.
“For a while.” He began to pace restlessly again. “When we first agreed to be mates, I told you I was restless, that I didn’t know how long I could stay in one place. You said you’d understand if I had to leave.”
“For a week or two, as long as you always came back.”
“Yeah.” His eyes darting about the room in that wild way again.
“When…” Her voice broke and she paused having trouble forming her words, her throat was so tight. “When are you leaving?” Her hands gripped the back of a nearby chair so hard her knuckles turned white. She tried to use their blood-bond to reach him but he’d locked her out. The knowledge hurt more than she could imagine.
“Today. Now.” He shook his head, his hands creeping up to rub his temples. “I have to go. I…I’m sorry.” In a blur of movement he left the room.
Seconds later she saw him passing by the window wearing his black leather jacket. He was heading towards the backyard. Moments later, the roar of his motorcycle filled the air, the sound growing louder as he swung by the house and then fading in the distance as he disappeared from sight.
She swallowed hard, feeling as if her life had just shattered into pieces.
Her mate had left her.
Chapter 33
“Camille, did you mean what you said the other day?” Gwyn faced the Magissa in the Coven chambers. There was no sign of the drama that had occurred days prior. There were no water stains on the wall or scorch marks on the floor. The blood had been wiped up, the furniture put back in place. It was as if the carnage had never occurred, the room returned to its pristine, calm, whiteness. The only noticeable difference was that one chair was missing. A replacement for Cyrus would have to be voted in.
“I said many things the other day. Please be more specific.” Camille sat in her chair as haughty as usual. There was no sign of the accord they’d achieved while working to defeat Cyrus.
“You said we’d made foolish decisions in our youth and what we gained wasn’t worth what was lost.” Camille didn’t respond right away, so she continued. “Did you mean that or were you trying to distract Cyrus?”
“There was some truth in my words. I have moments of regret over…several things.” There was a look in Camille’s eye, a tentative softness that made Gwyn wonder if the reference was to their long-dead friendship. She considered asking but gave her head a mental shake. That was a topic for another time.
“Would you risk reversing the spell?”
“I am the Magissa.” Her expression firmed, all hints of softness disappearing. “Our people need me and that takes precedent over any personal whim. If I reversed the spell who would take my place?”
“I’m sure someone would rise to the occasion.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” The woman arched one brow.
“Simply pointing out that no one is indispensable.”
“I am fully cognisant of that fact.” Camille inclined her head. “And I am beginning to look for someone to train for the position.” She paused and gave Gwyn a pointed stare. “You are not on the short list. Your temperament is decidedly unsuited for the job.”
“I’m heartbroken.”
“No. You’re not.” She stood and descended the dais. “Was there a purpose to this conversation?”
“I…” Gwyneth took a deep breath. “I am considering reversing the blood moon spell.”
Camille paused, one foot suspended between the steps. “That is a bold move.”
“I’m well aware of the fact.”
“Dangerous, too.”
“I know.”
Camille began to move again. “Is it the Lycan?”
She nodded. “Yes. Dante is a large part of this. However, even before he appeared, I was beginning to feel…weary. Always starting up a new life, knowing everyone I ever knew was aging, eventually dying while I continued on alone.”
“That is one of the prices we pay.” A line momentarily appeared between Camille’s brows before smoothing. “Does this Lycan care for you?”
“I think so.”
“Think? This is a huge step to take on something that is not a certainty. What if he doesn’t return your feelings? Or changes his mind like the last one you cared for?”
“Then I will be alone. As I am now.” She stared unseeingly across the room, hands tightly clasped. “But at least the possibility of trying again would exist. As it stands now, I feel stirrings in my chest but they never develop into anything.”
Camille walked over to one of the statues that decorated the room and trailed the tip of one finger over the marble figure. A ghost of a smile curving her mouth. “I recall what it was like. The warmth, the pounding of the heart, the buoyant feeling that filled my entire being. But,” she turned, the smile disappearing. “I also recall the pain of disappointment, the dead feeling that consumed me, dragging me into a dark lifeless place.”
“Life is a risk. Without taking risks you’re not really living, in which case what is the point?” She paraphrased Dante’s words.
“You always were stubbornly headstrong and I can see you are determined to try this.” Camille clasped her
hands behind her back. “Do you wish to do it here? If so, I will stay and try to support you as is my duty.”
Her duty. It always came down to that, didn’t it? Gwyn looked at Camille’s cool expression, the sterile white room and the lifeless figures in the artwork. “No. I’ll do it in my home. I started this journey on my own. I’ll end it that way, too.”
“Very well. You are dismissed. Cassiah is taking Bianca’s place. Please send her in when you leave.” Camille began to walk back to her chair. “If I sense an energy fluctuation I’ll know it is you.”
“Yes, Magissa. Thank you. I’ll send in Cassiah.” And just like that she’d been dismissed. The area beneath her scar gave an odd quiver but she quelled it with a deep breath. This might be the last time she stood in the Universal Coven. Much of her life had been devoted to the institution but now…now it was time to move on. She turned and walked toward the door. It wasn’t until her hand touched the handle that Camille spoke again.
“We’ve often been opponents but once we were friends. I…I wish you good luck, Gwyneth.”
“Thank you.”
“If you survive the spell reversal, I’ll expect you to maintain your seat on the council until a suitable replacement can be found, regardless of how long it takes.”
Gwyn kept her back turned but nodded her head, a lop-sided smile appearing on her face. “Yes, Magissa.”
“Fuck!” Reno threw his phone on the bed and began to pace the hotel room..
“What’s wrong?” Brandi appeared in the door of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair a cascade of curls spilling around her shoulders.
At any other time, Reno would have admired her beauty, even removed the towel and carried her to bed. But not now.
“Sam just called. She think’s Damien’s really gone rogue this time.”
“What?”
Reno began to search for his shoes. “She said he was pacing the house like a caged animal, not making eye contact. He snapped at her, then apologized and said he needed to leave before he did or said something he shouldn’t.”
Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My! Page 67