Impassion (Mystic) (4 page)

“Maybe, but they’re very fresh in mine.”

“I guess they are. And I can see why that might make this difficult, but your grandparents will understand as well. They won’t hold your tears against you, and they’ll do whatever they can to make you feel better.”

“I know,” she whispered, recalling the way they’d held her in the memories—gently and ardently, like they never wanted to let go. “I’d like to shower and change before meeting them, but after that, no more putting it off. I swear.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything, Layla.”

“I’m promising myself.”

“I see.” He kissed her head then let go. “Where would you like to meet them?”

“Hmm...” She imagined him marching her across the lawn in broad daylight to meet her long lost family, and her stomach churned. “Would they mind coming here?”

“Not at all. How do you want to meet them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to meet them all at once or one at a time? Should they let themselves in or should they knock? Or I could let them in and introduce you. You pick.”

Layla raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You’re a very thorough person, Quin. You’ve amazed me with your attention to detail several times.”
And cue the dimples
.

He didn’t disappoint, grinning as he touched her lips. “Thank you.”

She blushed and reached up, taking his finger from her twitching smile. Then she led him to the coffee table. “That’s a lot of decisions to make. Would you like to help me?”

“I would love to,” he answered, sitting in one of the cushy armchairs.

Before Layla could sit beside him, he spun her around and pulled her onto his lap. One of his arms encased her stiff shoulders as the other encircled her waist. Then he softly squeezed, urging her to loosen up. Layla took a calming breath then forced herself to relax, quickly realizing his lap was a fantastic place to be.

He grinned then buried his face in her hair, his aura flaring bright yellow and emerald green. “If this is the kind of help you need, count me in.”

His breath swept across sensitive flesh, and she giggled as she tilted her head. “This wasn’t what I meant by help, but it’s nice.”

He pressed closer, finding tingling skin with his lips, and she quivered from head to toe. “You’re a good distraction,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut.

He took a deep breath then pulled away. “Sorry. What can I help you with?”

Layla blinked and cleared her throat. “Right. Decisions. Can I get another cup of coffee first?”

“Let me see if Cinnia’s home,” he said, closing his eyes, and for the next several seconds, Layla watched his lids roll over pupils. When they opened, he lifted his right hand, catching a summoned cup of coffee.

“Amazing,” Layla marveled, taking the mug. “You’re thorough and expedient.” She sipped a few times then set the coffee aside. “Is mind searching as easy as you make it look?”

“Not always,” he answered. “Depending on the mind, it can be impossible, but Cinnia and I trust each other enough to let our guard down. She knew it was me knocking, so she opened up, but we don’t let just anyone in.”

“How do you block it?”

“You don’t have to keep it blocked. That would be exhausting. You’ll know if someone’s trying to connect. Then you protect yourself. Remember how I mentioned we’re good at compartmentalizing?”

“Yes.” That had been right after she found out she was a witch. How could a person forget a conversation like that?

“Well,” he continued, “it’s along those lines. You can’t erase what you know, but as magicians, we possess enough concentration to redirect thoughts from the forefront of our minds into hidden compartments. Once your secrets are concealed, create a new compartment filled with nonsense, then place it front and center for the intruder to find. We can also shield our skulls, which can prevent the intrusion altogether, but it’s wise to remember shields can be broken. Am I making sense?”

“Yes, and it sounds hard.”

“It is hard, but blocking is easier than searching, which helps protect our privacy.”

“Privacy,” she smirked, reaching for her coffee. The brew had already cooled, so she tried using magic to heat it up. The ceramic mug warmed, and she smiled as she sipped.

Quin grinned as he watched her drink. Then he inched back into her hair. “So,” he whispered, “do you need help with something else? Or should I go back to distracting you?”

Layla closed her eyes as she leaned into him, unable to stop herself. “Mmm... that’s a tough one, but we should probably get back to the point.”

“Did we have a point?” he asked, drifting his nose across her neck.

And that’s when Layla forgot she held hot coffee. “Damn.”

“What?” he asked, pulling away.

“You distracted me,” she accused, holding up wet fingers.

He took her hand and examined it. “Did it burn?”

“No, but it made a mess of things.”

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix,” he assured, cleaning her up. “So, what decisions do you need my help with? I think that was our point when we sat down.”

“Was it?” she asked, staring at her dry fingers.

“Yes,” he answered, taking her mug and floating it to the table, “but we can find a new point if you don’t like that one anymore.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows. “What about how incredible you smell?”

Her cheeks burned, but she somehow maintained eye contact. “I’m not sure that would make for stimulating conversation.”

“Who said anything about conversation?”

Layla laughed, but her insides flipped with a mixture of nerves and desire. “You are a good distraction, Quinlan Kavanagh, but you’re making me break my promise.”

“Well, Layla Love Callaway, we can’t have that. What can I do to help with your decisions?”

His use of her middle name caught Layla off guard. Only two other people had ever used it—her dad and Katherine. “What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your middle name.”

“Now who’s distracting?” he teased.

“It’s only fair,” she countered. “You know mine.”

“I love your middle name. It’s very appropriate.”

“You’re stalling,” she accused.

He laughed as he swept a curl across her nose. “Am not. It’s Farrel.”

“Hmm... Quinlan Farrel Kavanagh. I like it.”

He dropped her hair and touched a forefinger to her bottom lip. “Are you stalling?”

“No.”

She leaned into him, trying to decide which way would be the best way to meet her grandparents. “I think it would be weird to meet them one at a time, so I guess the four of them should come together. I also think it would be weird to answer the door to them, or for them to just walk in, so it would be nice if maybe you could warn me then let them in. It will still be awkward, but there’s no escaping that. What do you think?”

“What did you need me for?”

“Input. So you don’t mind letting them in? Or have a better idea?”

“Of course I don’t mind, and no, I don’t have a better idea of what you want than you do.”

“I guess that’s it then. Time to climb the ladder to the high dive.”

“That’s the scariest part.”

“So they say,” she mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder.

After a long moment of bliss, she leaned back and found his eyes. “Are you going to let me go so I can shower?”

“I have a choice?”

“Well I doubt I could successfully fight my way free.”

“Do you want to try?” he asked, dimples deepening.

“Maybe some other time,” she smirked.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, slipping one arm under her knees. He stood, picking her up with him. Then he lowered her feet to the floor. “There’s something I need before giving you your freedom.”

“Of course there is.”

He leaned in, stealing her breath with an intense kiss. Then he straightened and released her. “Okay, off you go.”

She grasped his shoulder, trying to steady her balance and clear her head. “You make it hard for a girl to accept her freedom, Quin. Was that your goal?”

“Nope. I was hoping I could convince you to willingly return.”

“Clever,” she commended, taking a step back. If she stayed close to him, she’d never make it to the shower. “What are you going to do?”

He stiffened as the color and pace of his aura shifted. “I’m going to go tell your grandparents what’s going on, then go home and get cleaned up. I’ll come back to make sure you’re ready before having them come over.” He took a few steps toward the door then turned. “Sound okay?”

Though he was looking at her, waiting for her reply, Layla could tell he was distracted. “Sure,” she answered.

He resumed his trek to the door, but when she called his name, he paused once more. “Yeah?”

“What’s the dark green?” she asked. “Like forest green, but murkier.”

He flinched then squarely faced her. “It represents concern.”

“Hmm…” she hummed, watching the dark green eclipse the other colors in his aura. Only the emerald green could compete. “Would you like to tell me why you’re so concerned?”

He hesitated, looking at the ceiling as he rubbed his tense jaw, and after ten seconds of silence, Layla
grew concerned. She hadn’t seen him this way since he revealed she was a witch. “What’s going on, Quin?”

He released a heavy sigh and met her stare. “Your grandparents might not be too happy with the way I’ve handled the situation.”

“Why?” she blurted, shocked by the explanation.

“They might find my behavior inappropriate,” he answered, “considering the circumstances.”

“I don’t understand,” she pressed, so he elaborated.

“I doubt they would approve of me sitting here kissing you while you’re going through something so difficult.”

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling like a fist had thumped her in the chest.

“I don’t want you worrying about this,” Quin insisted. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

She looked down, swallowing a lump while wiggling a toe into plush carpet. “Do you feel guilty for kissing me?”

He retraced his path and pulled her into a firm hug, encasing her more completely than ever before. His arms covered her entire back, and one of his hands nestled her head, holding her cheek to his chest.

“I probably should,” he answered, “but the time I’ve spent with you has been too good to regret. I just don’t want to upset the people who care about you.”

“I see,” she whispered, crumbling in his warm embrace. “Should I keep my mouth shut? I don’t want to cause problems.”

“No,” he objected. “You do and say whatever you want. This is my problem, one I was willing to face for just one kiss. I’ve spent more time with your lips than I deserve; I’ll gladly deal with this issue in return. It was well worth it.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, but I’m sorry it’s gotten you into trouble. If it’s any consolation, you’ve made this easier on me, not harder.”

“Good, because I would feel guilty if it were the other way around.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“No, but they’ll know something’s up, and if they come right out and ask, I won’t lie.”

“I’m sorry, Quin. I didn’t know this was an issue.”

He leaned back and found her face. “Don’t be sorry. That’s the last thing I want you to feel about our kisses.”

“I’m not sorry about the kisses,” she clarified. “They were perfect.”

“Good,” he approved, taking her cheeks in his palms. “Now stop worrying about me and go take your shower.”

“Okay.”

He kissed her forehead then walked to the door, flashing a smile at her before rounding the corner.

Unnerved by his absence, Layla watched the empty hallway long after she heard the front door close, foolishly hoping he’d forgotten something and would need to return. He didn’t, and she eventually gave up, rolling her eyes at her immaturity as she headed for the bathroom.

Chapter 3

L
ayla stepped out of the
shower feeling refreshed, alert and a little more prepared to handle an emotional situation. And if she couldn’t handle it, at least her face would be clean when she buried it in her hands.

She glanced around the bathroom, finding two fluffy, white towels hanging nearby. They were huge and felt bulky under her arms, so she dried with one. Then she wrapped it around her waist so she could bunch the other around sopping hair. With over two feet of curls, it took a long time to stop dripping, so she kept them clasped in cotton as she opened the door and entered the bedroom.

“Whoa,” Quin blurted.

Layla snapped her head up, finding him jolting from the bench at the foot of the bed, his wide eyes on her chest.

Oh—my—god
. Heat flushed her entire body as she looked down, struggling with the towels in a race to cover up.

“Shit, Layla, I’m so sorry. But
wow
.”

“Um...” she mumbled, still fighting towels. There, all the important stuff was hidden. She did one more scan, front and back. Then she slowly raised her gaze. He’d turned his back on her, so she relaxed, but he stayed rigid.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I had no idea you’d walk out of there like that. The bedroom door was open, and it didn’t even occur to me to wait in the living room.”

“I don’t believe you were purposely waiting to catch me in a towel, Quin. It’s just embarrassing.”

“You’re not alone in that regard. I should have known better.”

“Did you already go home and shower?” she asked, noting he wore different clothes—kaki shorts and a brown t-shirt.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“You’re fast,” she observed. “Did you already talk to my grandparents?”

“Um, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his tense neck then pointed toward the door. “I’m going to go wait in the hall. Let me know when you’re dressed.”

He flew toward the hallway, his aura racing as he tried not to look her way, but she caught him sneaking a peek as he reached for the doorknob. “Damn,” he whispered, closing himself out.

Layla quietly laughed as she moved to her duffel bag. Seeing Mr. Smooth so flustered made her feel better about the awkward ordeal.

As she dug through her bag, wondering what a woman should wear to meet her long lost family, she came across the skirt she bought the day she found out she was adopted. Long and white and trimmed with crocheted lace, it had tiny, satin bows adorning the ripples along the bottom hem. Layla rarely wore skirts and dresses. The only reason she’d bought the one in her hand was because the clerk had pushed it on her. Now she wrinkled her nose in defeat because she appreciated the purchase. For the first time in three years, she had a reason to look nice. Throwing the skirt over her shoulder, she reached into the bag and grabbed a satin tank top that matched her eyes.