Impassion (Mystic) (35 page)

His lungs barely pulled in air as he stayed silent, and only his eyes moved as he scanned her aura, trying to discern what conclusions she was reaching in her grief. He knew the guilt suffocated her, and he feared she’d soon succumb to it, resigning herself to the belief that her sacrifice was the only solution that would end everyone’s pain.

Crimson and orange suddenly flared in the haze around her, and Quin’s hands clenched into fists as his heart thundered. The thought of her facing Agro with the intent to kill heated his blood to a near boil.

He dragged a hand down his face, trying to shake the image. Then he returned his gaze to her back. Her sobs had softened, so he knew she was almost done.

Keeping her eyes closed, she plucked a rose from the earth. Then she gave the flower a kiss before placing it on the memorial. Pressing her palms to the golden epitaph, she touched her lips to her parents’ names, and another layer of roses burst into bloom.

Quin jolted when she pushed herself to her feet. He didn’t think she’d have the ability to move after the mass of emotions she’d disgorged, but she rose with the amazing grace she always displayed. He quickly jumped to his feet, and she spun around, sighing when she realized it was him.

“I’m sorry about your grandpa,” she whispered, guiltily dropping her gaze.

“Don’t,” Quin pleaded. “Don’t do this to yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

Her aura angrily flashed as she walked toward him. “I know whose fault this is.”

Quin met her halfway and swept her off her feet. Then he flew her home through dense timber.

After entering her house through the backdoor, he carried her to the master bedroom and lowered her feet to the floor. “Get ready for bed. I’m going to go check on Grandpa Cat and let everyone know you’re okay.”

She didn’t look at him or reply. She just nodded while leaning in for the kiss he placed on her forehead.

He frowned at the lack of eye contact as he caressed her lip. Then he reluctantly dropped his hand and flew from the room.

Layla did as she was told, starting with a shower, and she did it the hexless way, bereft of the oomph to perform magic. She also lacked the motivation to search through a haphazard pile of luggage for something modest to wear, so she numbly walked to the closet and grabbed the first nightgown she came across. She didn’t care what it looked like or how revealing it was. Quin had already seen her body, and she doubted either of them would feel like testing their willpower when he got back.

She resorted to half-hearted magic to dry her hair. Then she crawled under the covers and stared at the empty pillow beside her. She hated the sight and had gotten quite enough of it the night before. But she couldn’t make it go away by closing her eyes; the images haunting the backs of her lids were much worse. She would gladly serve a life of solitude if she thought it would ensure her family’s safety.

How would it ever end? Was she doomed to run and hide and let her loved ones get hurt until Agro died a natural death? That wasn’t the kind of life she wanted to live, and she didn’t know how long her heart could take it. Surely the organ would eventually shatter, disintegrate under the weight of grief and leave her an empty shell, oblivious and unfeeling. Part of her yearned for the moment—to live unbound by guilt simply because she could no longer find it in herself to care. But it would never be that way. If Layla was exposed to it, she felt it. Katherine had called her the Mother Teresa of Gander Creek, and had shielded her from sad situations until she was old enough to analyze her emotions with a clear head. Layla couldn’t begin to count how many times she’d cried in public, and it wasn’t until she was eight that she finally found a cure—help. If she could help them, even in the smallest way, she could stem the tears. But now, in the saddest situation of her life, she was useless; no hand to offer and no way to ease the ache. Not only was she helpless; she was the catalyst of the terror befalling those she couldn’t save, and that was the worst feeling in the world.

She heard the front door close, and she lightened her aura without thinking about it. The bedroom door was open, so Quin walked in without permission, dressed in a pair of cotton pajama pants.

He glanced at the bathroom then moved to the bed, sighing when he found her head poking from the comforter. He crawled under the blankets, and she scooted into him without hesitation. Through all the worry and heartache, she’d been looking forward to this moment like it was her next breath of air.

He waited for her to get comfortable. Then he stroked and kissed her curls. “Grandpa Cat’s okay, you know. He’ll be good as new in a few days.”

Her tight throat wouldn’t let her speak, so she nodded.

“You don’t have to hide your aura,” he added. “I already know what you’re thinking. It will make you feel better to let it go.”

She followed his advice, and he kissed her curls some more. “Thank you. It makes me feel better, too.”

She nodded again, nuzzling closer as she squeezed her eyes shut on dreaded tears. They came anyway, and she turned her head, drying one cheek on his warm flesh.

She wished she could sink into his body. If it felt this good to lie on the outside, it had to be utterly peaceful on the inside. She turned her other cheek to his skin, drying more tears as his pulse echoed in her ear. Then she touched her lips to his heart while sliding her palms to his stomach.

Desperate for comfort, aching to feel a tiny sliver of the virtues he embodied, she stretched her fingers and pressed closer, employing magic to draw him into her.

Quin jolted as her spell rushed over him, as if gravity had shifted and strengthened, turning his insides toward her palms like a flower turns toward the sun. All his emotions and thoughts were geared toward her, and he could have sworn his heart beat her name as his blood flowed in her direction. The magic was intense and slightly uncomfortable, but satisfying on several levels and definitely worth it. He knew exactly what she wanted, and he wanted her to have it.

Warmth flooded Layla’s insides, soothing sore muscles and lightening her heavy heart. The terrifying visions haunting her head blurred, and she quickly replaced them with memories of cliff diving and flying over the ocean.

She kissed his heart while sliding her hands to his chest. Then she looked up, finding dark and shiny eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, wiping a satisfied tear from her temple. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

He shook his head as he pulled her up his body. Then he held tight as he rolled onto his back. Tucking his chin in, he found her eyes, and for several seconds he silently watched them while caressing her lips.

“I love you, Layla, so if there’s ever something I have that you need, I want you to take it. And please don’t think you have to stumble through saying you love me,” he quickly added. “I know how you feel, and I don’t want you saying anything if it doesn’t feel natural. I’m not saying it so I can hear it back.”

She reached for his cheek, trying to swallow the lump clogging her throat. “I do, you know?”

“I do know. I also know it’s hard for you to say, and that’s okay. I don’t need to hear it.” He gave her a kiss, then another. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed her one more time, making it last longer. Then he pulled the blankets to her shoulders. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” she agreed, licking her lips, but she didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t want to give up one second of the gorgeous view. So she stared at him while he stared at her, and neither of them planned to look away.

Quin’s stamina won out, and he had the pleasure of watching her lids fall over shiny emeralds. They fluttered open a few times before staying shut, and only then was he able to relax and fall asleep.

Chapter 25

A
gro summoned a pipe as
he paced and plotted his course. His witch was close. She had to be. Her move to the west coast wasn’t a mere coincidence; it had everything to do with her birth family, whether they knew it or not.

Farriss entered the tent, and Agro glanced up, exhaling the smoke he forgot he was holding in. “What is it?”

“You have a visitor, sir.”

“No one knows we’re here.”

“Someone does, because they sent this man to see you.”

“Hmm... Bring him in, but keep an eye on him. If he blinks wrong, kill him.”

“Yes, sir,” Farriss agreed, swiftly leaving the tent.

He returned shortly, escorting a wizard nearly as big as him. The newcomer bowed then straightened, his sleek hair and hooded eyes black and shiny like hot tar.

Agro squared his shoulders and raised an eyebrow at the visitor’s bold presence. “Who are you?”

“Dolan Barr, sir.”

“How did you find us, Dolan?”

“I was sent by a man who approached me in Astoria, a stranger intent on staying anonymous. He’d somehow learned of my respect for the Dark Elite and searched me out, proposing I deliver a message to you. I agreed with the hope you might consider me for your army.”

Agro scanned the wizard’s mediocre power band and the bland haze surrounding it. “That was a risky move, Dolan. Do you think I recruit every wizard who crawls into my camp?”

“No, sir. But I’ll devote myself to earning your trust and gaining your respect, and I won’t stop until I’m considered a soldier of the Dark Elite.”

“Hmm... You obviously possess balls, walking into my camp uninvited. Maybe you do have what my troops require. Let’s hear what you have to say.” He paused, trying to decide what he wanted to know first. “Did the stranger mention any prior dealings he’s had with me?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you see his face?”

“Yes. He was young, early twenties, fair-skinned with short, dirty blonde hair. He had facial hair as well, a mustache and goatee. But I didn’t see his eyes. He kept them hidden behind sunglasses.”

Yes, Agro decided, it was the same stranger from before, the one who’d passed information about the witch through a filthy wretch. At least this time he sent someone with respectable hygiene to relay his message. “What did the stranger say?”

“I’m to tell you he knows the witch’s location, but he wouldn’t divulge the information to me. He wants to meet with your right hand man.”

Agro vanished his pipe and summoned a glass of wine. Why was the stranger willing to share his secrets but not reveal his identity? Perhaps the meeting was a trap. But then, why would the stranger ask for Farriss? Surely there would be no benefit to killing Farriss. The brute was replaceable.

“When and where?” Agro asked, taking a seat.

“He refused to give me the details,” Dolan replied, “but he assured me he would deliver another message tomorrow to let you know exactly when and where. I was sent to prepare you, as the next message may be a last minute delivery.”

“Were there any other messages for you to pass on?”

“Yes. He warns that if anyone besides your right hand man shows up, the deal is off and you’ll never get your witch. He also wanted me to tell you that the fires in Oklahoma were unnecessary and have only made things harder on everyone.”

Agro’s nostrils flared as his dislike for the stranger grew. “Is there anything else you can tell me, Dolan?”

“No, sir.”

Agro scrutinized the man for a long moment, looking for a hint of deception, but all he found was a sincere eagerness to please. “Very well, I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself, but you should know I don’t give second chances, and once you’re here, you’re not leaving.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you. I won’t disappoint.”

“For your sake, I hope you don’t. Go, find a witch named Ciara. She’ll show you what you need to know.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Dolan bowed then left the tent, and Agro sipped his wine while waiting for the new recruit to clear the area.

“What do you think, Farriss?” he eventually asked. “Would you like to meet our stranger?”

“I’m here to serve,” Farriss replied.

“I like that answer,” Agro approved, rejoicing in the prospect of learning the stranger’s identity and the witch’s location in one convenient swoop. “Tomorrow could be productive,” he added, tilting his goblet toward Farriss. “I want you at your best. Go pick a witch and make her rock you to sleep.”

“As you wish,” Farriss happily agreed, ducking out of the tent.

Agro laughed as he topped off his drink, imagining what the world’s most powerful witch would look like bound at his feet.

Chapter 26

W
aking up together made Layla
and Quin forget their worries for a blessed moment, and even though reality returned, staring into each other’s eyes soothed the sting.

“Good morning, angel,” he whispered, kissing her nose.

She magicked her teeth clean and smiled. “You can do better than that.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, rolling her onto her back.

Bracing his weight on one hand, he took her face in the other, flipping her insides with a delightful combination of soft and intense kisses.

“Better?” he asked, flashing dimples.

“Much better,” she approved. “You can wake me up like that any time you want to.”

“You may regret telling me that.”

“I doubt it.” She buried her fingers in his hair then pulled him back to her mouth. “I’m not done yet.”

When their lips broke apart a second time, she urged him to the bed and laid her cheek on his bicep. “What are the chances of me getting a favor from you?”

Quin laughed and hugged her close. “The odds are definitely tipped your way. What is it you want?”

She wiggled from his grip and sat up. Then she pointed at his pillow, magically raising him as well. After floating more pillows behind him to support his weight, she tucked herself under his arm.

He smiled and picked up a curl. “I wouldn’t call this a favor.”

“I haven’t asked yet. I was getting prepared so it will be harder for you to say no.”

“Unnecessary. Telling you no is a bigger challenge than you realize.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Feel free to take advantage.”

“Maybe some other time. For now, I want something very simple.”

His dimples deepened as he touched her lips. “My beautiful coffee addict.”

“You’re good,” she commended.

“Not really,” he countered. “When it comes to coffee, you’re predictable.”

“Maybe, but I don’t just want coffee. I want coffee with you, in bed, and I want to finish the entire cup before getting up.”

“That’s a fantastic idea. I’ll have to find big mugs.”

“Yes! Why didn’t I think of that? It’s a good thing you’re so thorough, otherwise I’d never get what I really want.”

He laughed as he kissed her head. “It’s going to be a minute before I can get them here.”

His fingers slid across her chest, and she looked down, surprised to find cleavage bursting from her skimpy nightgown. She flushed with heat, but she didn’t object to his touch. In fact, she couldn’t help but lift her chest into it.

“Mmm...” he murmured, slipping his fingers beneath plunging silk.

She turned her face into his neck, yearning for his hand to move beyond her breasts, to the warmth spreading across her inner thighs. “You drive me crazy, Quin.”