by T. M. Cromer
Mackenzie gasped, and Sebastian frowned his concern for Sabrina. Shelving the animosity, he asked, “What can we do to help?”
* * *
“So these attacks would’ve been earlier in the week, when the Thornes’ magic went down as a whole?” Mackenzie looked between the two of them. “When Alastair called me and told me all was well, I thought we were in the clear.”
Both men grimaced. The similarity in their coloring was remarkable, but where Sebastian stood at an imposing height and had a ruggedness to his handsome features, Damian was shorter, thinner, and more elegant in form.
The Aether was beautiful for a man. His nose was straight and perfect—not too long, not too short, and without a bump on the bridge to speak of. Every feature on his face was symmetrical, from his almond-shaped eyes to his full lips to his chiseled cheekbones and jaw. It was as if the Goddess had taken all of the best features a human had to offer and rolled them into one, creating this incredible dream of a man. He had a panther-like grace. Every gesture, every step, an economy of movement. Pure elegance. Yet, the undeniable power was there, ready and available should he decide to strike.
While absolutely hypnotic, Mackenzie had no need to fight the Aether’s pull, because her attraction to Sebastian was far stronger.
When Damian turned his attention on her, the knowing in his eyes convinced her he could read her thoughts. And when he winked, she knew it to be true.
Crap on a cracker!
That meant he had a good idea of her feelings for Baz. Was it why he’d said what he had earlier? Was he trying to warn her Sebastian’s heart would never be hers?
“Dethridge?” The hard edge was back in Baz’s tone, and Mackenzie shot him a sharp look. “What are we dealing with? Is it Isolde?”
“Who’s Isolde?” Their grim expressions had Mackenzie’s nerve endings dancing. She was missing something important, and she didn’t like it.
“My mother,” Damian informed her.
“Sabrina said she was sorry for what her grandmother would do to me. I get possibly hurting a stranger, but why would she attack your daughter? Her own blood? This makes no sense.”
He sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck again, as if to relieve a building tension. With a shake of his head, he walked to the doors and stared out into the night. Mackenzie received the distinct impression he could see what no one else could. The inky blackness didn’t affect him in the least. He’d have made a wonderful vampire. Dark, mysterious, powerful… sad.
Sad? Why had that thought occurred to her?
“I don’t know what this all means at the moment. When I learn more and can put all the puzzle pieces in place, I promise to be forthcoming. For now, Isolde is still contained,” he said. “Please enjoy what’s left of your evening.”
“Wait!” Mackenzie rushed forward to stop him from leaving and placed a hand on his upper arm. “I got the feeling your daughter was trying to warn me of the inevitable today. Won’t you tell me if I should be worried?”
He turned his head to meet her eyes, and in those near-black depths, she definitely witnessed a silent request for forgiveness. “What happens will be fate’s design, Ms. Thorne. I cannot stop a train once it’s in motion. I can try to prevent my mother from escaping, but I can make no guarantees. She’s strong and mad as a hatter. If she finds a way to break free of her stasis, it will take more than just me to prevent the path of destruction she’ll create.” He shook his head and grimaced. “I can only assume this is what Sabrina is talking about unless the Goddess sends me a vision. I hope you understand.”
“And do you believe it has been set in motion, Mr. Dethridge?”
“I’m afraid it may be so. If you’re what I suspect and possess the powers you do, you may have triggered it by setting foot on this estate.”
Goose bumps peppered her skin, and it wasn’t from the cold. Unable to withstand his intense stare, she dropped her gaze to where her palm came in contact with his arm. She caught a brief glimpse of his recent past, but no clear future.
“If you’re trying to, you’ll be unable to read me, my dear,” he said in a low tone. “It’s by design because of what I am. You are the psychic Thorne, are you not?”
She gave a single short nod. “The only one I know of. But Cousin Alastair could be holding out. He’s a wily one.”
Damian chuckled. “He is at that. But no, he’s not psychic. I’ve known him a long time.”
“Tell me something, Mr. Dethridge. If I leave here, tonight, will it at least help Baz and Arabella?”
Respect shone in his eyes, and he allowed himself a small smile. “I don’t have the answers you seek. Yet. Follow your heart, Mackenzie.” He nodded toward a watchful Sebastian, who stood a few feet away. “I think you know where it leads. Don’t we all deserve happiness, even if it’s for a short while?”
“Is that all I’m allowed?”
“It’s all within your grasp, dear, but nothing is worth having without a fight. Remember that, won’t you?”
She cocked her head and tried to figure him out. Damian Dethridge was a strange duck, but damned if she didn’t like him. “Since I suspect your cryptic response is all I’m going to get, I’ll say fair enough.”
His smile bloomed wide and unfettered. “I think you’re going to give him a run for his money. But don’t run too fast or hard. You still want him to catch you.”
Her laughter filled the space between them. Before she could say another word, a rift opened in front of him, and she could see the child standing on the other side. The worry eased from the girl’s obsidian eyes when she saw her father wink in her direction. Damian left without a backward glance, and the last thing Mackenzie saw was Sabrina flinging herself into her father’s arms.
The picture was heartbreakingly sweet.
After the portal sealed shut, she crossed to Sebastian. “I believe we need to talk, Baz.”
“Indeed, we do.”
“I’ll let you get your apology out of the way first.”
To give him credit, he didn’t wince, grimace, or otherwise make a face. Remorse shone in his warm brown eyes. “I’m sorry, love. For all of it. Storming from the dining hall, summoning Damian, threatening him, and acting like a complete ass.” His mouth pulled down at the corners. “I may have gone slightly mad when he touched your arm.”
“And why is that? Vivian?”
“In small part.” He crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. “Would you care for one?”
“Sure. Brandy if you have it.” She sunk onto the settee in the center of the cavernous room and studied the shattered doors. Closing her eyes, she visualized them as they had been the first time she saw them and waved a hand in their direction. With only the slightest clink of glass, all the pieces fused together as they had been prior to Damian’s forceful entrance.
“Nice party trick. I should have you restore the oak tree.”
She accepted her drink from Sebastian and took a small sip. “I can if you’d prefer.”
“No, I’ll do it. Come, let’s go out to the terrace.”
He escorted her outside with a hand hovering at her elbow as if he feared she’d bolt from the room and never return. Sebastian offered her his glass with a small smile and crossed to the massive downed tree.
He ran his fingertips down the length of the trunk, and had Mackenzie not been watching closely, she’d have missed the healing green light. Lifting both arms, with palms facing skyward, Sebastian channeled his magic to raise the tree back to its original position. Mackenzie waved a hand to part the earth, helping as a sign of goodwill.
Once the mighty oak was firmly back where it belonged, with the dirt packed around the base, Sebastian joined her by the low stone wall and accepted his glass. “As I was saying, I’m sorry for my behavior. Vivian was my fiancée prior to her meeting Damian. In my garden.” He looked toward the maze of hedges and shook his head. “Perhaps I still hold a bit of animosity for them both.”
She sno
rted. “No perhaps about it, Baz. You’ve got issues.”
“Not because of Vivian, Mack.” He frowned down at her. “But because his brand of charm is lethal. He tempts all manner of people, unknowingly or not, and it’s fueled by what he is. The Aether’s power is enticing to others, and they find it nearly impossible to resist.”
“And you’re worried I’ll fall under his spell?”
“I’d be lying if I said no.”
“You do me a disservice.”
“Do I?” He shrugged and stared moodily into the depths of his drink. “Perhaps.”
“I’m not Vivian, Sebastian. I’m a woman who knows my own mind.” To gain his undivided attention, she placed her hand over the top of his glass. When he raised his gaze to hers, she said, “He doesn’t hold a fraction of the appeal for me that you do.”
His dark eyes dropped to her lips, but he didn’t kiss her as she’d hoped. Instead, he turned away to stare out over the darkened landscape. “I’m glad. Good night, Mack.”
Chapter 5
“Hello, child. I’ve been waiting for you.”
The woman standing in the center of the garden was easily the loveliest person Mackenzie had ever seen. Her long wavy hair hung to her trim waist, and as the air around them picked up speed, her blue-black locks lifted and danced with a life all their own. Her face was thin, but not painfully so, and her high sculpted cheekbones would make anyone in the modeling industry green with envy.
Mackenzie included.
“Who are you?”
Displeasure swept across the woman’s stunning face before she could smooth her features into a serene mask. “I’m Isolde de Thorne.”
Isolde.
Mackenzie recalled the earlier conversation between Sebastian and the Aether. A small shudder swept her, and she got her first sense of unease. “You’re Damian’s mother.”
“Yes.” Triumph shone in Isolde’s eyes.
Wait! De Thorne? Was the name a coincidence? Did that mean they were related? Mackenzie needed to remember to ask Damian the first chance she got. “What do you want?”
“It’s not what I want that matters. It’s what you want, and I can help you gain it. Sebastian Drake.”
Mackenzie barked a humorless laugh. Funny, but even in dreams, people underestimated her intelligence. “I wasn’t born yesterday, lady. Whatever you’re selling, I want no part of.”
“You’d be a fool to make an enemy of me, child.” Isolde narrowed her obsidian eyes, and the wind around them picked up. “I will destroy you and all those you love.”
Odd how those near-black eyes looked mysterious and sexy on Damian, yet on Isolde, they were flat. Devoid of light and humor. Dare she say demon-like?
“Meh.” Mackenzie shrugged. “I’d be a little more worried if your son was concerned, but since he’s assured me you’re out of the picture, I think I’ll end this little dream here and now.”
Isolde surprised her when she laughed. The sound was full-bodied and seductive. Even Mackenzie was drawn by it. She was disconcerted to witness Isolde’s unguarded humor.
“You have courage, child. I like that in an adversary.”
“Do we have to be enemies? Can’t you just leave me in peace, and I’ll do the same for you?”
For an instant, Mackenzie thought she detected real regret in the other woman’s gaze. But her eyes hardened, and the coldness in them would chill anyone to the bone.
“Until next time, child.”
* * *
A hand came out of the night and touched her shoulder.
A scream was ripped from her soul.
“Mack! It’s me. Sebastian.” He bent slightly to look into her eyes. Worry clouded his. “Are you all right?” At her shaky nod, he asked, “What are you doing here in the garden, love? It’s freezing out here.” He frowned as if he’d just realized the temps were ridiculously cold for the time of year.
Mackenzie rubbed the skin of her bare arms and focused her magic in an effort to ward off the bone-chilling air temperature. Although her body heated marginally, her teeth began to chatter from the fear associated with her conversation, and she wanted to wake from this god-awful nightmare.
Sebastian scooped her up, and with long, smooth strides, he ate up the distance to the terrace. His body heat began to permeate her icy skin, and she felt toastier than she had moments before.
“I’m not dreaming? We’re really in the garden?” Her unease from earlier returned.
“Yes. Mack, why are you walking the gardens in a tank top and shorts?” Worry was heavy in his voice.
“I’m not sure. I thought it wasn’t real.” She glanced back over his shoulder to the spot she’d seen Isolde. A faint red glow pulsed at the center of the garden. Her heart rate kicked up a few notches, and it wasn’t all from Sebastian’s nearness. “Um, is that a normal occurrence here?”
He turned to look.
“No.” His arms tightened. “No. It’s not.”
He wasted no time getting her inside. After depositing her on the settee in his study, he wrapped her in a throw blanket and poured her a tumbler of brandy.
From their seats on the sofa, they watched the red light fizzle out.
“Who were you talking to, Mack?” His tone was low and urgent, causing her stomach to clench.
“Isolde.”
His head whipped around, and he stared at her in horror. “You summoned her?”
“No!” She was at a loss to explain how she’d come to be outside when less than a half hour ago she was sound asleep in her four-poster bed, dreaming of him. “No, Baz. I can’t explain it. One second, I was in bed, and the next, I was in the garden, and she was trying to make me her ally.” She shrugged. “For what, I don’t know.”
“Her ally? What exactly did she say?” His intent dark gaze was hyper-focused on her, and Mackenzie felt like she’d opened a can of worms just by being here at his estate.
“She said she’d been waiting for me,” she admitted weakly.
Sebastian jumped to his feet and swore up a storm.
“I thought the English were supposed to be more reserved,” she said. “Nothing fazes you. Stiff upper lip and all that.”
“I’m only half English, and all that flies out the window when the Enchantress decides to use you for her personal agenda.”
“The Enchantress?” She had no idea what he was talking about. Since the moment she’d arrived here, it seemed everyone was talking in code, and Mackenzie couldn’t seem to break it.
“Damian’s mother was the last one.”
“I think you need to start at the beginning because I’m so lost it’s ridiculous.”
Sebastian ran his hands through his hair and huffed out a breath.
For a brief second, Mackenzie was distracted by his masculine appeal. In his haste to get to her, he’d failed to button his shirt, and it hung open, exposing all his delicious muscles. She’d never wanted to touch anyone more. “All those beautiful ridges and tempting skin.”
When she lifted her gaze to his face, he was staring at her. Wry humor curled his lip. “Do you normally blurt out whatever’s on your mind?”
“Sorry.” She bit her lip, fighting the urge to flee. She’d thoroughly embarrassed herself by revealing her innermost thoughts all willy-nilly-like. When had she last done that? When she was twelve? For the love of the Goddess! She was a thirty-five-year-old woman with plenty of experience under her belt. Yet, around him, her brain cells took a vacation. “You were saying?”
“I wasn’t saying anything. You were.” His smile transformed into a breath-stealing grin. He ran his palm over his exposed chest and abs. “You were admiring all my beautiful ridges and tempting skin.”
“The Enchantress,” she ground out. She scowled, trying to offset the blazing heat in her cheeks.
The humor dropped from his face, and he cast an uneasy glance back at the garden.
“Baz?”
“Right. The Enchantress was born in the year fourteen fifty-four. She—
”
“Wait! What? How is that possible? And how can she be Damian’s mother if she’s that old?” The math didn’t compute—which was saying something for a woman with a degree in nanoscience.
“An enchantress can live hundreds of years. As can the Aether. In Isolde’s case, she was both.”
He paused for her to process the information.
“Are you fucking with me?” Mackenzie was finding it difficult to comprehend. Yes, she knew witches had a longer life span than the average bear, but close to six hundred years seemed impossible.
“No. Trust me, if I were fucking with you, you’d know. I take my fucking very seriously.” His lips twitched as if he was fighting a laugh.
Despite the seriousness of their situation, a tidal wave of lust swept over her. She wasn’t sure if they were his feelings, hers, or a combination of both. All she did know was she wanted him to get super serious about it right now. Overly warm, she shrugged off the blanket. To occupy her mouth so she didn’t regurgitate her desire to surf that particular crest all the way to the sex shack, she sipped her brandy.
He joined her on the sofa—the picture of casual sophistication as he crossed one leg over the other and rested his arm along the back of the settee. His cool elegance, paired with his amused smile, turned Mackenzie on as nothing else could. It was as if he could read her churning thoughts and knew exactly what effect he was having on her.
“The Enchantress,” she blurted in an attempt to focus on the subject at hand.
“Right.” All teasing left him. “By all accounts, she was a horrid woman. Her main goal in life was to amass power, not caring who she hurt or killed to get it. Isis gathered the strongest family members of the Six to stop her reign of terror.”
“The Six?” Mackenzie was irritated with herself for not paying more attention to the history of the witch community. She’d been content with her science books, choosing to ignore everything else. Now, she felt like she was out of the loop and didn’t care for the experience at all. Her cousin Spring would’ve known and been able to drone on for hours about all this crap.