Fire investigator Kayla Flynn escaped the temptation of the O’Rourke twins a year ago, now she’s returned to Slone, Texas for the town’s annual Halloween Festival.
Mages Ian and Duncan O’Rourke have until All Hollow’s Eve to unite Kayla’s magic with their own, forming a ritual tri-bond and sealing the dimensional doorways they guard.
Can they stop the hag before she frees her master and has her revenge on the world?
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Witches’ Duel
Copyright © 2011 Kymber Rowean
ISBN: 978-1-77111-009-9
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
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Smashwords Edition
Witches’ Duel
By
Kymber Rowean
Thank you to my parents and all the J’s in my life for their love and support.
Chapter One
Veils of red, orange, yellow and white danced against the pitch-black sky. From the barn’s seams white, gray and black smoke poured forth to choke the gawkers.
Glass shattered.
Horses screamed.
Heat rolled off the inflamed structure with enough intensity to make her edgy. Her body shivered in stark contrast to the world around her as Kayla Flynn hung back with the crowd. Firefighters fought with ax and hose against wood walls and dry hay. She tilted her head to catch a whiff of the smoke—brimstone, salt, roses and sage. Black and white magic vied for conquest.
Her talent sparked.
Voices shouted, the exact words lost.
The orders, she recognized from experience and from her work with the aftermath of the fires. Once the embers cooled, her team would enter and investigate the cause of the blaze. They held jurisdiction from the city limits of Dallas, Texas to a seventy-five mile radius. They took their job to the next level.
Water roared to drown out the Chief’s commands. Didn’t matter. Wouldn’t matter.
“The city never should have approved the structure—”
“Too damn big—”
“Laziness. Greedy politicians—”
Texans built things big her co-workers informed her after her transfer from Chicago. She agreed the barn could have housed an army in comfort.
Kayla strained to overhear the rest of the conversation, speculation on who’d want to ruin the owners. Her gaze remained locked on the barn, a web of licking flames and blistering wood. Disgusted by the loss of property, she kept herself and her magic in prospective. She examined the living, breathing monster before her with a professional eye.
Scorching wind caused a sheen of perspiration to bead her skin. Prickled and teased her talent with a lover’s skilled caress, she closed her eyes, unfurling her talent, gauging the strength on both sides. Magic, both ends of the spectrum. Good and evil. She sucked in a hot breath and pulled the strands of her magic in before anyone recognized her signature or her.
She glanced around and noted the two men near the fire chief’s car, their attention focused on the crowd, on her. The backdrop of the flames distorted them enough to keep their identities concealed except for the aura of power ebbing and flowing around them. Her talent couldn’t have singled her out, she worked too damn hard not use her magic in public.
Thwack!
The crowd jumped. She jerked her attention away from the duo. The loft door swung open, a yawning furnace of orange and yellow flames taunted those on the ground.
“Why build the thing and never buy a damn horse from me.”
“Don’t know unless the money stopped with the way the damn gold-digging whore spent it,” he spit on the ground next to her feet. “Sorry, ma’am.”
For swearing or the tar-like substance inches from her dusty boots, she nodded and hoped the group of ranchers continued to toss out ideas. Local citizens talked freely with their neighbors, strangers, received a cold and mute indifference. When the investigators attempted to interview them, they turned into stubborn, hardheaded mules. They witnessed a lot of head scratching and shuffling of feet. To stand amongst them offered her a rare insight into their opinions. Made her a target for questioning by the police later until they started to recognize her. Kayla glanced again in the direction of the car. A second fire truck arrived and blocked their view of each other—good.
Kayla focused her attention on the facts she continued to collect. When the team met in a few hours, she’d have a list of gossip threads they could follow and unravel. Kayla tightened her grip on her talent. She’d not interfere this night and save herself from the pain of covering her actions later.
“Haven’t seen any kind of livestock, think they’re taking them out another door?”
“Maybe, my ranch borders the place, only seen this goddamn massive stud horse in the meadow—”
Relief tumbled through her, bodies, whether two or four legged, still churned her stomach. Her divided concern melted together to worry about the firefighters battling the lethal blaze. A dangerous job no matter the size and conditions of the fire, something this intense increased the chance for injuries, even death. To stem her desire to bolt forward and discover the responsible party, Kayla curled her fingers into the palm of her hand. Science not magic would show them the criminal and give them the proof to press charges.
Kayla suppressed the lick of power and recited her personal code. Those who know understand your worth, those who don’t inflict the greatest pain—and in times like this, she shouldn’t care.
Human screams rented the night.
Her reasons crumbled to ash.
The weathered face of the man beside her paled with the tortured screams, “What the hell—”
The flesh on her arms goose bubbled with icy droplets. Cold shivers rushed through Kayla’s overheated body and raised the hair on her arms.
“Holy hell, how many horses are inside?”
Her talent flared higher than the flame before her, straining at her control. The flames faded from Kayla’s sight, allowing her elemental magic to fill her at warp speed. The force of Kayla’s talent, a near kick to the gut, was an unnerving sensation, Kayla couldn’t ignore. Instead of the heat of the burning world around her, Kayla grew frigid, a polar opposite. Cold fire breathed within her.
The old, tar-spitting cowboy next to her shivered and swore. “Devil danced on my grave—”
Wrong.
“Kayla,” a voice from near the fire trucks screamed and snapped her talent back into her body.
Her breastbone ached from the invisible ice ball growing within her. She swallowed the challenge to contain the blaze—another reason she avoided her power, the searing backlash.
A female officer down the line inspected the crowd for arson suspects and stalked toward her. Her hand rested on the butt of a service pistol. Charlie, her boss and the officer converged three feet from the crowd, well out of range of nosy people, her included. Their voices silenced by the fire and chaos.
Another chilling wail rose from the barn. Her heart thudded in her ears. She wished the blast of water from the hoses would deafen her from the cries. The spot in her chest throbbed harder as she searched the crowd for the two men she spied earlier. Would they attempt to siphon energy off her talent? Two mages couldn’t control the cold fire any better than she could control her element. Wild fire, the devious element would bite your ass when you weren’t paying attention, firsthand experience.
The crowd pressed forward. “Get them out of there.”
“Stay calm,” the police officer shouted and closed the distance, her hand in the air in an effort to summon the crowd’s attention to her. Her gaze met Kayla. “You should have flashed your ID, your boss wants you on the scene. Pronto.”
The two men gave her steel-eyed glares.
“Fire investigators don’t fight the flames.” Kayla ducked under the tape and met the officer’s gaze. Someone familiar? A member of the coven or someone who’d covered her share of burned out fires, too. Not the time to ask, “Never go where I’m not invited.”
“Then we’ll get along fine.”
Kayla directed her attention to her grim-faced boss.
“Don’t say anything, listen.”
An elemental opposite didn’t give her any unusual powers over her element. Sometimes she wondered why the Goddess blessed or cursed her with the gift, until she discovered she could use the talent to investigate fires. Find the source and the clues left behind by the arsonist or the carelessness of others.
He caught her elbow and guided her around the trucks and closer to the heat of the flames. Here, the crowd couldn’t see them, the firefighters formed a wall between the barn and house. Secluded. “We—I need to know what’s inside? They don’t have the equipment to go in—”
Her gaze flickered from his face back to the inflamed barn. The renewed sheen of perspiration coated her skin in an invisible layer of magic with her proximity to the inferno. She drew her arm out of Charlie’s grip, his dealing with the coven kept her from denying his plea. He valued her secret and vowed before the coven not to exploit her talent. She glanced around and noticed the four men standing with the fire chief, waiting. The four men possessed an aura of magic. She’d seen two of them earlier, not the owners, therefore, not her concern. She focused her attention back to the fire. “Not with so many witness, not with unknown mages present—”
“They can stop the fire if they know where to concentrate their magic.”
To keep from pushing Charlie away, Kayla curled her fingers into the hem of her shirt. She wished she could refuse. “You know what this will do to me.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Bulky clad firefighters waddled from one position to another, axes and hoses gripped in gloved hands. Her talent hummed like a bloated freezer beneath her skin.
“We’re going in—”
She opened her mouth to voice her concern for the firefighters. Here in horse country, a horse’s life equaled or outweighed a man’s worth. Instead, she focused on the flames, the opening she found and prepared for a stroll into someone’s version of hell.
Charlie rubbed his hand on his hip and retreated from her personal space. “Shit, damn, frigid and burning.”
She pushed the awkwardness of the situation behind her and focused on the front of the barn. With her arms at her side, her palms faced the flames and her talent burst to life, wrapping a protective bubble around her. Her footsteps were confident. Eyes open to the blinding brilliance and the angry flames, Kayla blinked and replaced them with blues, grays and black—an ugly bruise upon mother’s nature landscape.
She strolled into the inferno via the back door.
Wood timbers snapped and crackled under the hungry flames.
Every fire possessed a starting point, clues the hottest fire failed to incinerate. Her gaze pierced the walls of flames, tracing back to the first spark. Her body wavered under the sheer size of the structure. She passed the feed room where the grains cracked, popped and sizzled. Smoked leather from the tack room burned her nose. Icy teardrops clung to her cheek.
Her talent flowed around her in shimmery shades of blue, not water, flame-to-flame to divide the blaze around her. A path opened to the center of the barn, too small for an arena. Too big for a turnaround, in the center, a charred pile remained. She circled the black smoldering ring. The fire started here with these rags, not rags—her stiff, cold lips turned down into a frown.
Horses reared. Her gaze snapped up. Images of men imposed themselves over the steeds to distract her from her task. They tugged at the secured leads trapping them within the stalls. From within, the thickest part of the fire trotted the red-black stallion. Smoke billowed from his nostrils, filling the air with the stench of brimstone.
Her talent slammed into waves of heat and demon magic. Hell’s horse stomped the ground, sparks leapt from the stallion’s flinted hooves. She tilted her head back in awe of the horse. His red eyes blazed with hell’s fire. A rider on his back caught her attention, a cloak of long black hair, a woman. Death’s rider grasped something in one hand and the mane of the stallion in the other. Her long black hair, untouched by the fire, whipped over her shoulder. An evil gaze pinned her to the spot where she stood.
The hag’s mouth twisted into an evil smile.
She prepared for the strike.
The demon stallion reared and leapt forward.
Kayla dropped to her ass to escape the hooves.
Large hands, two sets, caught and lifted Kayla from the burning floor of the barn. Her gaze remained on the black wood and snakelike tentacles of flame pursuing them as a stranger’s wide shoulder pressed into her stomach.
They burst from the barn, not stopping until they entered a shelter of vehicles.
She gasped for fresh air, shuddered hard from the temperature change and abrupt popping of her wards. Their bodies pressed against her, the compress aided her composure. Her talent ebbed and flowed away to leave her weak and shaken to the core. Two different hands cupped her face. One thumb caressed her cheekbone, the other her lips. Awareness streaked through her, her retreat halted by the safety of their bodies. Two male faces filled her vision, masked the smoldering barn, their eyes shimmered with magic, ocean-blue and greenish-brown.
Someone’s hand. A hand slipped from her cheek to thread through her hair to grip the back of her neck, firm. “What the hell were you trying to do?”
More of her talent leeched away. Her lungs constricted. Her lips parted, her voice refused to return. Concern showed in the dark-haired man’s eyes before something registered in his gaze and twisted his full lips into a predatory smile. His fingers slipped beneath her chin to tilt her head away from his intense gaze. Her struggles melted away when his lips covered hers. Firm, warm lips pressed against hers.
She gasped.
He didn’t wait for permission to sweep his tongue into her mouth. He plundered her, not out of ruthlessness, hunger. Self-preservation vanished under the rough stroke of his tongue. Cinnamon, sage and other earthy flavors swamped her senses. Her nipples hardened. Her panties dampened. Her tongue met his and the kiss ended. Before she could protest, another mouth sealed over hers, different, cooler—he licked at her lips, savored her. She should bite him, opened her mouth to do so, only to have her senses swamped with the thrust of his tongue. He kissed nothing like the other man, tasted different—tropical.
A hand slid over her stomach, another hand over her ass in possessive claiming. Kayla glared at them, would have swiped at her mouth if both men didn’t hold her wrists. Restrained, she couldn’t blast them with anything more than an icy glare.
“An elemental—name, tell us now? Your aura—”
His knowledge scared her worse than the evil in the barn. She twisted away from both of them. Her body slammed into another. Calloused hands devoid of magic encircled her arm, steadying her. “I could demand the same and more—”
“Kayla?”
Charlie’s concern stopped her before she could say something she’d regret. Her knees buckled until she locked them and spun to face Charlie. She nodded, confirmed his question from earlier, “Get me out of here.”
“No.”
Their tone was brisk, demanding. She wouldn’t give into the temptation of their kisses, the sexual desire they awakened within her. She tightened her grip on Charlie’s arm and the thermal blanket he’d wrapped her in. “I can’t be near them, they’ll kill me.”
He continued to support her while putting more distance between her and the two mages. “The O’Rourke’s aren’t evil, Kayla.”
Didn’t matter, they’d suck her dry like a vampire. Use her talent to fuel theirs until she ceased to exist. She preferred a fast death to a life enslaved to another. “Shades of gray—” Destined to meet again. She shivered.
Chapter Two
Eighteen months later…
The truck jerked hard to the left. Kayla’s hand slapped the dashboard with the same force of her eyes snapping open, both hard. The sting in her hand and the bright sunlight streaming through the windshield caused her to wince and tears to flood her eyes. She glanced at her boss, his fingers pushing through the gray hair at his temple.
“Everything okay, boss?”
Charlie muttered, straightened the truck and wiggled his body back into the seat. “I hate strays, think they own the place.”
She didn’t comment strays weren’t the ones to blame for their fate, the owners who dumped them deserved the credit. Kayla twisted in her seat and scanned the edge of the road for the downed animal. Relief flooded her when the cat sat there licking his paw. He lifted his black head and their eyes met. A shiver of recognition sent warning prickles on her skin. Bloody hell, someone owned him, someone who’d attached wards to their pet or their familiar. Charlie would be lucky if the truck didn’t reek with ode de skunk by the time they left town.
“I didn’t hit him. I’m not stupid, Rosie told me who lived here,” Charlie assured her and took a left into the town of Sloane, Texas. A banner that draped across the road announced the seventy-eighth anniversary of their annual Halloween Festival. “Steven owes you for this. I’ll make sure he pays you back.”
She dismissed the idea of streaking the cat with a distinctive white stripe and a bushier tail to create the impression of a skunk, who if struck would stink to high heaven and back. She tucked the loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Her water broke, Charlie. If Steven missed the birth of their twins, Beth would castrate him. Tell me again why we’re here and why the town’s fire inspector and chief aren’t doing this?”
Charlie glanced at her, slowing for the red light. Flanked on both sides of the street by sun-bleached cornstalks, stacks of hay surrounded the base of every visible lamppost. Scarecrows posed on top, dressed either in costume or casual garments, added to the population who drifted from business to business.
“Curious thing and nothing to worry about, some of the men contacted a virus.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles before he relaxed his grip. “Nothing to worry about, she assured me the doctors contained the illness. Ms. Crewe told me town insisted the festival continue.”
Nothing to worry about…reassuring her or himself? “Explains why Beth induced labor a week early, doesn’t it?” She asked the question, she didn’t expect him to answer. She rolled down the window. A ripple of magic sent tingles of awareness over her skin, she closed the window too late. The wispy hairs on her arm rose. She glanced in the side view mirror, awed at the sight of the cat following them, impossible. Dismissing the tom, she studied the town since her last visit. Negative vibes and shadows of ancient fires danced in replaced windows, every city could boast of a half dozen fires a year. The town of Sloane tripled the number. Heaviness hung in the air the way a wet, woolen cloak settled against one’s body.
“Maybe, couldn’t say, Ms. Crewe assured me, the doctors treated and isolated the men in question. To cancel the event would hurt the town in these times.”
“She played the economy card?”
He shrugged and gave her look of disbelief with an arched eyebrow. “Are you surprised everyone needed outside money these days? Everyone believes their special event’s the best and they’re hoping the festival will improve the town’s reputation for family fun.”
Why did evil lurk here? When a family of powerful mages, guardians, and the O’Rourkes lived in the town and took their responsibilities to the limit. Guest, magical guest offered their services and swore a loyalty to the family the moment they arrived. When she wasn’t engrossed in her work, in her duties to the coven, they consumed her thoughts with the memory of their kisses, their bodies pressed against hers. They’d consume her if she didn’t avoid them. She nudged Charlie for more information than the basic inspection for fire hazards. “First impression of her, Charlie, an honest one.”
His foot on the gas slipped them into the intersection headed toward their destination. “She sounded mature.”
She forced her thoughts away from the fire, the O’Rourke brothers and focused on the conversation. “You mean she sounded old?”
The red, brick building ahead of them captured her attention. Blinking twice, she repeated the action when the wards and magical blessings danced over the wall. The sign on the front of the building demanded her attention, O’Rourke & Flynn’s Gallery. Demanded she present herself to their keep. Not the reaction she wanted, they should be angry with her for disappearing. The Goddess understood she’d released her talent in the name of justice only to have two of the hottest most eligible, magical brothers lay claim to her mouth while bleeding off the effect of her magic. Her nana didn’t raise a fool, she’d fled with body, heart, soul and talent intact.
Charlie turned left, driving them away from the building. He glided to a stop in front of a house with a postage stamp size lawn, this time draped with an oppressive shroud conflicted with the tidy bright white paint. A large porch outfitted with rocking chairs completed the picture.
“Maybe, she didn’t cackle like a witch when she laughed.”
Kayla frowned with dislike regarding the place she preferred not to enter. “Old women and witches don’t cackle, they chortled with suppressed glee. Or so my Nana would say and no one dared to call her a liar.”
Charlie gave her a glance that translated into a yeah right. She liked her boss, not in a romantic way, the man carried a curse in the commitment department. Divorced twice with a girlfriend, who believed the third time would break his streak of bad luck. She didn’t have Rosie’s optimism of winning Charlie’s love and loyalty. Kayla’s heart didn’t belong to anyone, she remained celibate after her entanglement with the brothers a year ago. Somehow, the O’Rourke brothers ruined her for other men. Two near perfect bookends, one with sandy blonde hair, the other dark, with personalities to match. Night and day, their single kiss apiece left her breathless. She didn’t want to think about the mind-blowing experience of them together.
The slam of the truck jerked her back from a place she shouldn’t have gone.
Charlie paused on the pavement in front of the truck to gaze at her in question. She prayed he hadn’t said anything important while her impression of the house conjured images of her second meeting with the brothers. She’d escaped being present at the finding of the fire, where both government and magical officials gathered. She continued to keep a low profile, tending to fire investigations far away from the brothers. Back in their hometown, she swore the Goddess stacked the odds against her.
She exited the truck, but didn’t close the door. She lingered, trying to figure out why the air vibrated with tension. Charlie paused and waited for locals to pass them. The couple bobbed their heads and hurried along. She studied a middle-aged couple who crossed a block down before continuing their stroll on the other side of the street. Kayla paused. Her curiosity peaked when they hastened their pace along the length of the sidewalk and again jaywalked before entering a diner a few doors down. Determined to avoid something or someone—
“Kayla, I’d rather not be late.”
Kayla slammed the truck door and gazed at her reflection for a heartbeat before burying her wild magic deep within her. A true magical being would sense her immediately. Some enthralled by her talent, while others would be repelled and appalled. She learned to accept both extremes. Had the couple sensed her magic and grown wary? Could she blame them? Even she didn’t trust the wild nature of her talent because cold fire wasn’t normal or predictable. She followed the creed. So far, no one suffered because of her ability, but suppressing the gift might backfire on her, too. Time would tell, not today. Today, she controlled the fire within.
She quickened her pace and caught up with Charlie. He gave her an odd expression and she shook her head. She didn’t have all the pieces to give him an explanation and preferred not to make snap judgments when she didn’t have all the facts. Besides, people tended to avoid strangers, even if the tourists helped the struggling town to survive, not everyone aspired to the title of social butterflies.
Charlie held the door for her. They stepped into the foyer, an old structure laced with heavy magic. Through the sound system, the local radio station rambled on about the lack of true seasonal Halloween music and begged forgiveness for replaying the theme song from a popular TV series.
A door opened down the hall timed with the eerie squeak of the one on the radio. Kayla was surprised when the woman with the heavy curtain of black hair streaked with gray cascaded to her lower back didn’t snap her finger in time to the song.
“Prompt, I like that,” said the tall, middle-aged woman approaching them, who wore a black sweater dress with a cowl neckline. “Shelby Crewe charged with the Halloween festivities for the last two years.”
Kayla pressed her lips together. Liar. Bonnie O’Rourke directed the event for the last ten years. Did she take them for novices? Before they put their signatures on anything, they studied the past events, checking for problem areas. What could Shelby gain with the lie? Kayla smothered the information away when Charlie gave the slightest shake of his head. On the way down, he mentioned he’d attended the festival with Rosie last year.
“The town looks great, Ms. Crewe,” Charlie accepted the manicured hand offered to him, her fingers slid against his palm in a caress. Goose flesh covered Charlie’s arm and Kayla tramped down the urge to rub the chill from his flesh.
“Please call me Shelby since we’ll be working together for the next few days. I feared we’d have to cancel the event if your people weren’t available on short notice. I apologize ahead of time for taking you away from your weekend.”
Could the air get any thicker with the waves of lust rolling off Shelby Crewe? The woman admired Kayla’s boss while she stood there. The urge to protect him rose to the surface. She tramped the desire down. Charlie dated a woman devoted to her craft. Any man stupid enough to toy and betray the affections of a witch deserved their wraith.
“Then I insist you call me Charlie, my assistant and someday my replacement, Kayla.”
Kayla avoided preening at the complement. Charlie appreciated her ability when she could read the remains of the fire and find the source. The talent allowed the fire ravaged buildings quicker inspections and on assignments like this, she could see the shadows of a fire well before they bloomed.
For the first time Shelby glanced her way and the flash of irritation faded under her false smile. She slipped her hand from Charlie’s grasp, not offering Kayla the same curtsies. “You’re—your company mentioned two men would be coming.”
Kayla remained alert and guarded. No need to tell her about the babies, for evil magic thrived on the blood of innocence. Not to say Shelby Crewe smelled of evil. Kayla preferred to err on the side of caution until Shelby revealed her true nature. “A personal issue developed.”
“I see a natural blonde trying to break stereotyping, are you, commendable.”
“As I said, Kayla’s capable to do the job without me hovering,” Charlie reassured her.
In a hallway with a table tucked against the stairwell, Shelby retrieved a clipboard. With one hand, she brushed her salt and pepper hair over her shoulder. “Well, then if you have confidence in her, I’m sure she must be good even for her youth.”
“Good genes.”
Shelby’s gaze locked with Charlie. “Perhaps. Many places volunteered to do activities this year. I hoped you would be able to divide and conquer.”
Kayla didn’t interfere. If something evil occurred, the O’Rourke estate wasn’t far and asking for their aid shouldn’t come with too steep of a price. At least she hoped not, they’d vowed for generations to protect the town and the people living here.
The air wavered when invisible streams of magic flowed from Shelby, encircling both her and Charlie before retreating. Shelby scanned them for magic. Why? To interfere would alert the woman to her ability, to her talent, something she didn’t share with strangers, her trust didn’t come easily. Instead, she let her gaze travel round the deserted parlor renovating into an open office space. Shouldn’t there be one or two more people here working with the event scheduled to launch this afternoon?
Charlie took the clipboard from Shelby’s outstretched hand. “Yes divide and conquer, allowing us a chance to remain for the events if we choose.”
Unexpected news to Kayla, she packed a couple of days of clothing and nothing for socializing with the locals. An image of Ian and Duncan filling out a pair of snug blue jeans and soft shirts stretched tight across their chests popped into her head. Conjure the desire, be warned of the fire.
“Wonderful, we’ve earned some stunning reviews over the last couple of years and this year promises to top them all. Haunted houses, a barn dance, you do dance, don’t you, Charlie.” At his nod, she continued. “Then of course the bonfire after the kids have finished their trick or treating with a stunning laser show put on by the local electronics club. Everyone worked to make this year even better than the last.”
Charlie nodded and read the two pages of notes. He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote something on one of the sheets. Kayla would have peered over his shoulder if Shelby hadn’t position herself between them, drawing Charlie further into her lair. She wouldn’t remind him Rosie waited for him at home until they left the woman’s company, which shouldn’t be much longer.
“We made plans to stay until Saturday for sure, we intend to brief the fire department on the condition of the bonfire before leaving.”
Kayla observed the stiffening of Shelby’s spine followed by a sweet coiling scent of roses. Why did the scent fill her stomach and throat with sickening bile? Shelby whispered something in the closed confines of the hallway and Charlie pulled a piece of paper free of the clipboard. He fished in his pocket to pull the ring free. “We’ll divide and conquer, here’s your list, Kayla, and the keys to the truck.”
“Sorry. Surprised you didn’t bring two vehicles, although I’ll be happy to drive Charlie around if he’s willing to wait between meetings.”
“Not an issue, I’ll use one of the desks out here to type up my reports in-between your meeting.”
“Thank you, too bad there aren’t more men like you in the world.”
If she poured on the sex appeal any thicker, Kayla would choke. She grasped the key and paper in her hands. “See you at the inn later tonight, Charlie.”
“Right.” He was distracted by something else Shelby whispered for his ears alone. “We’ll go over your findings after dinner.”
Kayla glanced at the first item on the list. O’Rourke’s haunted house. Wonderful. It had an opening scheduled for after school and ran through Saturday night, up until the start of the barn dance. The barn would be undergoing a cleanup process from the schedule on her list, forcing her return for a repeated inspection later. She reread the list, searching for a way to avoid or at least shorten her inspection of the haunted house. Nothing offered itself in the way of a distraction, including a last minute inspection of the O’Rourke & Flynn gallery before they left town.
A peek at Charlie found him gone and the door Shelby Crewe exited earlier closed. The music on the radio played a foreboding tune to match her mood. The earth turned, the sun drifted across the sky and the waves caressed the shore. Each was a subtle reminder of the forces altering people’s lives for good or bad. She shivered with the knowledge that she couldn’t protect everyone.
Kayla frowned and pushed open the outer door. The tom brushed against her and awareness of magic sparked up her leg to dance over sensitive areas. She pivoted to see where the black cat ventured. She didn’t have time to hunt for him. He wanted in she’d not deny the witch her familiar. Only she didn’t think this cat belonged to Shelby.
Climbing behind the wheel of Charlie’s truck, she backed from the stall and drove toward the O’Rourke’s home. A large Victorian with turret rooms, catwalks and balconies, the inside left a person in awe. One expected a house of gander and historical significance filled with antiques. This house boasted a mixture of styles. Of course, they changed the accommodation for the attending covens. After her second encounter with the family, mainly the sons, she’d done some research. The O’Rourke of Sloan Texas weren’t any different from the other magical families in the area, a family group of two males and one female. Blessed with fraternal twin sons, Ian and Duncan and a daughter, Britana, the family was charged with the honor of guarding the portals into the demon world.
She arrived at an open, but gated entrance with a half-mile long drive before the house could be seen. Ready to accept visitors, a sense of peace and worry coated the autumn air. She parked the car beside the chest high gray picket fence surrounding a mock graveyard. She’d check into her room, start her inspection and then go to the local diner they passed coming into town. The dinner out would allow her to get a feel for the town and explore, while she avoided the O’Rourke brothers. Dreams of a coward, if she thought she could avoid them in their hometown.
* * * *
Duncan traveled through the house, activating the harmless surprises for the coming visitors. He strengthened the ward around the closed off wings and private bedrooms. This would keep the lost and curious away from places where they shouldn’t wander. He longed for the day when his—their parents returned. With one of their fathers and mom safely away and their other father missing, the duty of protecting the doorways fell to the three of them.
“The inspector’s here,” Britana called from a bedroom at the front of the house.
He finished the wards and sauntered into the room where Britana straightened the bedding. With the back of his hand, he parted the lacey white drapes of the window. How a fifty something male continued to let people call him Charlie like a teenager instead of Charles mystified Duncan. He’d meet the man on a couple of occasions over the last few years. He happened to be Kayla’s boss and their contact. They feared she’d fall into harm’s way or met someone. A surge of jealousy ripped through Duncan. She belonged to them, if she didn’t know this previously, she would before they let her leave this time.
The ward they’d placed on her a year ago dissolved at midnight on Hollow’s Eve and couldn’t be reinforced or rebuilt again without her consent. With consent, they’d form the tri-bond, something he hungered for with each waking moment. He and Ian needed to make love to her again and convince her to stay with them to become the keystone of their lives.
His breath hitched when the woman who’d haunted his and his brother’s dreams for the last six months circled the back of the truck and withdrew two bags. Her white blonde hair drawn back in a neat ponytail to brush the top of her ass, images of his hand wrapped around the tail while he rode her hard. His cock twitched with eagerness. Pent up desire tented his pants until he adjusted himself. He considered taking care of the buildup, one he hadn’t experienced since their last encounter. A side effect of the spell they wove around her also left them loyal and celibate. Spelled or not, no woman measured up to Kayla. Ian agreed. Kayla belonged to them and the sooner she trusted them with her talent and her body, the better.
“I’d prefer not to explain to the parents the reason for purchasing new curtains,” Britana commented.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Britana smoothing the comforter. “Wait, little sister, someday a man will desire you the same way, then Ian and I will have to draw him out and test his courage.”
“Unfair advantages, since the only men attracted to me have no magic.”
Duncan cursed himself for his insensitive comment. He crossed the room and drew his stiff sister into his arms, careful to keep his arousal away from her. “The parents sense the magic within you and when the time’s right, you will bloom. If they didn’t believe that, would they allow you access to the texts?”
She withdrew from his arms and headed for the door. “I’ll go down and greet her. I overheard you and Ian mentioning preparing her room.”
He opened his mouth to define what they’d meant, but she stopped him with a delicate lift of her hand.
“I don’t want details. I plan to sleep with the stereo on. Any requests leave me a note.”
Smartass. “We prepared the room before Ian left this morning. Remy, I don’t think today would be a good time to introduce yourself to her.”
Remy slipped head first from under the bed and glanced between them. “You’re probably right besides, I wanna be on my pedestal when the kids start arriving. Did you make my plaque, Britana?”
Duncan followed the two of them to the top of the stairs. “What plaque?”
Britana’s footsteps never faltered. “He had me write on the plaque Kiss me and I might turn into a prince.”
Duncan ushered the family pet from the room. Pet being a loose term for the creature. He’d been with the family well before the birth of his fathers. Thinking of the men who’d influenced his life stirred a mixture of emotions to the surface and he let go of his anger. He didn’t want to meet Kayla again with a veil of desperation in his gaze. He took one final scan around the room. They’d have preferred her to sleep in the master bedroom at the gallery, but she wasn’t ready. So having her here in the family home would have to satisfy them all. Their keystone would allow them to find their father and the other men Shelby Crewe lured into her web in a vain attempt to gain power. Once she consumed their power, she’d try for the doorway—hell and the demons within were not something you wanted to release on the world, any world. “Getting a bit desperate old friend?”
* * * *
Shelby lured Charlie further down the hall and away from the beautiful employee at his side. Her senses told her they weren’t romantically involved, something about the girl made her wary. She’d not have her plans foiled this time. Chanted words fell from her lips. The man at her side fell deeper under her spell, an easy enough task when they lack magic. When he’d handed Kayla his keys with the protection talisman, she suppressed the urge to crow. She cooed, led him to a chair and motioned for him to sit. “Tell me, Charlie, are you magic?”
His body folded into the visitor’s chair. She circled him, using her hand and body this time to draw upon her seductive powers. He’d be putty in her hands and she’d take his essence for her own. She paused to see if the air would crackle with her laughter, the Halloween music of the radio filled the space with a haunting melody.
“No.”
A frown touched her lips. Did she waste her time on him or send him on his way to concentrate on the O’Rourke boys—men. She licked her lips when her lust flared to life. Her gaze dropped to the middle-aged man before her. Still he might prove useful if she needed the demon to burn something down. “The girl, does she possess magic?”
“Kayla,” his head bobbed, “don’t tell her I told you, she’ll be mad.”
She did another slow turn around Charlie, scraping her nails across his Friar Tuck bald spot on the top of his head. “Of course, Charlie, we wouldn’t want anyone mad at you. One more question, do you or your friends know of the Goddess brooch?”
His eyes grew wide and his head did a slow shake. She tapped her fingers on the desk, tempted to kick him out of her office. She sighed, noticing where his gaze settled, a dangling thread she didn’t intend to leave hanging. His answer didn’t matter, but her influence did. “You’re staring at my breasts, Charlie, tell me the truth. What would you like do first?”
A muscle in his throat bobbed and his mouth opened with a grunted sound issued from his lips. He slipped to the floor, his hands grasping her hips while he buried his face between her legs.
Good. Her eyes closed with the growing hunger that allowed the binding of her true self to escape into the civilized world. I ache.
Feed, grow stronger, so you may release the one who can truly satisfy you, the husky voice whispered.
She nodded in obedience. Her nipples hardened, her channel flooded. Damn him, for his inability to fall beneath her spell and yet drive her into a rutting need. Once the master arrived, she’d have them both—cool air touched her bare ass. Hands kneaded her flesh, Charlie licked at her, light little flicks. She could smell the scent of his arousal and a mixture of a rose at the end of its bloom.
Are you watching, Mule? She wanted him to witness the sex she enjoyed when he rejected her every advance. What he could have with her. Insulting her seductive powers while he stood in the shadows unaffected, she despised him. Her afterglow shattered by scolding her for her delay in locating the true portal and opening the doorway to release their demon master.
She widened her stance, her gaze set upon the empty vase where a shimmering image ghosted into view. “Eat me until I come screaming—”
Chapter Three
The Cooperton Ranch
His head ached and mouth tasted of alcohol-drenched cotton. He didn’t drink anything to induce this pain, at least he didn’t remember, which sucked big time. He recalled where he was, the town of Sloane in Texas. What happened to him remained a mystery. Did the damn stray cat cause him to lose control of the truck? Kayla? Was she okay? He fought the darkness, opened his mouth to call out when a gut-deep moan escaped. His throat hoarse from his cries, a woman’s moans fueled his memories with a thick coiling scent of roses—his memory fogged on something important. Rosie. His eyes snapped open wider. The faint light caused him to wonder if he’d closed them at all. His gaze stared straight up into a barn’s rafters. The odor of sex hung heavy in the air and memories filtered in. This wasn’t a dream. He fought the pull of his body for the clarity of his mind.
Shelby drove to a ranch outside of town away from the first site on his list to inspect.
His head pounded, his hips lifted with another hard suck on his raw cock. Charlie struggled to free his arms so he could push the thing away. He’d agreed to sex because hell, she’d thrown question after question at him until he didn’t know his left from his right. He withered under her talented mouth and hands, his cock ached and not for release, been there done that more times than when he’d been nineteen. “No, I-I can’t come again.”
The room grew lighter, revealing men chained in cells, no, stalls like horses. Naked. Aroused. Their faces lost in the shadows while their proud, hard cocks were bathed in shafts of light. What the hell kind of rabbit hole did I fall into? Another long draw on his cock, his back bowed and his head kicked back. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and attempted to focus on anything else. His body responded to the torture of her hand. More pained faces and one bored expression greeted his vision when he reopened his eyes. Charlie concentrated on the men’s expressions, determined to gain back control of his body. This time he bent his head forward to the source, a man’s cock was his best friend once he knew what it could do. The tinges of arousal from someone working him over erupted, again. He strained and tried to pull his cock free of her grip. Shelby showed him her handiwork. Goddess, his cock resembled tenderized meat raw and lifeless.
“Stop,” the whimpered sound bled from his swollen, tender throat. How many times did he scream? Did he pass out? His hips jerked. Blood rushed to his aching member, he’d never want to fuck or make love again. Was the woman deaf and blind to his pleas? Her grasp on him tightened. Squeezed, stroked and sucked harder, his body arched under the assault, he couldn’t think. Her appetite insatiable and Shelby’s mouth an unbreakable vise around his cock. His body betrayed him and readied for another release, his throat thick with tears, he begged, “Make her stop.”
“Finish him,” the male stepped away. His cock and expression unimpressed showed his indifference with the show. His shift to the right revealed a vase upon a pedestal filled with dead roses. Rosie. He sworn faithfulness, anguish ripped through his heart. Had he even resisted or did he make the offer? The pain in his cock eased and left him hard enough to drill for oil. Unable to regain his control, his body fought his mind, hands encircled flesh and hauled the woman upward. He pushed her to the side and rolled on top of her, she twisted to her stomach, rose to her knees.
“Watch the roses, Charlie,” the voice crackled with the click of gravel rubbing together. “Fuck me, hard…you promised.”
He couldn’t refuse and slammed into the frigid body of the woman in front of him. The cold meant something, but the meaning slipped from his grasp. His body wouldn’t stop. With each thrust of his hips, his gaze widened to see the wilted roses straightening, color returned to their petals. He continued to stroke into the woman with the gray hair streaked with black. The dull gray leeched from the locks. His hips piston into her body, bits and pieces of their conversation replayed through his head, he’d agreed to this, boasted of his stamina and whimpered like a little girl when her grip proved too much. Stupid male pride prompted Charlie to prove he could rock this woman’s world and then he’d return to Rosie and beg her forgiveness.
His oversensitive and drained balls shrank against his body. His fingers sank deeper into the bony flesh of her hips. He ignored the pained expression of those around him. He didn’t want to know. He’d come and drag his worthless carcass away. He stilled. His cock jerked hard in the vise of her dry inner muscles strangling him. Thick streams of something other than his seed filled her womb. His grunts turned to screams of agony. Blackness engulfed him.
* * * *
Shelby dipped her fingers between her folds to withdraw the essence of their coupling from her body. The sticky goo glistened upon her fingers she raised her gaze and licked her lips in hunger. The gorgeous, smoking hot man doing her bidding remained unaffected. She pouted. She wanted him, but couldn’t have him without the other, their master. Soon she’d brush away all of his excuses. She sucked her fingers dry and glanced at the vase filled with roses. Her little tumble in the hay strengthened the roses and her power. She craved more of both. “Secure him. The stall at the end will do.”
The eunuch demon stepped from the shadows. “He will take time to recover.”
“Mistress,” she hissed her reminder to him and lifted her hand to lob a bolt of magic in his direction.
“You would waste the energy you gained by attacking me?”
He arched a dark arrogant brow, the dangerous glint in his eye forced her to back down. Her master freed him with the understanding he would aid her in opening the door. So far, he tended to her stock and reminded her of her debt to a powerful demon. His scorn and unresponsiveness in her attempts to seduce him did little to improve her mood. She scooped more of the cream from her body and averted her gaze to the dozen roses. “No.”
“Our time slips away,” he circled the pedestal displaying the roses. “You have yet to bring another O’Rourke stallion into your stable. Without the three of them or the Goddess brooch, you will not have enough power to open the door.”
She scowled at him, her nourishment of male essence drained. She’d hoped for more from Charlie. Killing him out right would draw unwanted attention. Her gaze strayed to the perfect body of the demon as she licked her lips. Never one to deny herself anything, his refusal built her determination to have him. Why would the master entrust him to her if he didn’t want her use his essence to strengthen her power? “Your essence might assist me—us in our goal.”
“Possibly, my power means nothing if you don’t have the three O’Rourkes within your control, the reasons why are not mine to explain.”
He vanished. Shelby stomped her booted foot. From the shadows, a voice chuckled. Again, she raised her hand to rally against the heckler. She dissolved the fireball and slumped back in the lounge with a huff. She couldn’t do anything and her mood darkened. Crossing her arms over her bare chest, she pouted and glared at the two century old roses, the blue-black one limp upon the stem, his, a reminder of her failing to release her master for the last two years. “Soon, my power will overshadow all of yours combined.”
“Promises, promises,” a jangle of chains echoed O’Rourke’s words.
* * * *
O’Rourke’s homestead
The sun slipped behind the gabled roof the house and caused the structure to glow. Haunted house she corrected herself. The sun wasn’t the only thing making the place glow, the wards and magic swirling around the property helped. She could feel the waves of welcome wash over her, her eyes closed when the warmth penetrated her body. Memories sneaked pass her defenses. She shouldn’t crave the sensation the way she did. She’d slipped away while Ian and Duncan slept. Unwilling to face them with any sort of morning-after conversation, she’d fulfilled her promise to the priestess and the Goddess and aid in sealing the portals to hell. Her magic intact, she fought the sensation of something misplaced like a sock or her underwear, she wore both. In the hall, she passed an older version of Ian seated at a table, at his feet the family pet. Their gazes met. She didn’t linger long enough for him to break the silence.
A small knot of apprehension churned in her stomach. If not for the birth of Steven’s children, she could have gone on avoiding them and protecting her talent, or rather her heart. A few of the coven women bragged and pouted at the change in the brothers. They no longer indulged in the flesh, awaited the return of their true mate. Jealous no matter how small feeds upon itself until the green-eyed devil contorts our features into ugliness. The words of her priestess echoed through her mind, she chose to leave, therefore, her right for jealousy unfounded. They probably didn’t remember the night or her.
With no gate to open, the atmosphere surrounding the building lightened, welcomed the innocent. She glanced down and noticed the symbols etched into the cement beneath the pebbles, spelling out welcome. By Hollow’s Eve, the impressive walls would retract themselves in an attempt to keep everything within, truth or fiction. She’d discover the answer if she stayed.
She lifted her gaze, gave a bow and whispered her request for entrance.
A slight breeze caressed her cheek while a force pressed against her back to hurry her along. Destiny awaits, embrace them— Whatever else the wind whispered vanished with the creaking of an opening door.
One of the men who’d haunted her dreams stared back at her, a seductive smile tilted up his lips. His gaze roamed over her. Her nipples tightened and ached. “Welcome, Kayla. I hope you had a pleasant drive down.”
His smoky voice drifted over her, sparking the neglected areas of her body. Her inner muscles quivered with the tenor of his voice.
“Yes,” her voice a little breathy, she cleared her throat. Keeping things professional between them would prove hard, especially with his rugged, sexy attitude, standing there with his shirt open and his legs encased in soft brown leather. His blond hair dipped over his left eye. Kayla resisted the urge to push the lock back for the excuse of running her fingers through his silky hair. The right wasn’t hers and not because she’d left them. She refused to become their well source, a fuel to their magic, used and discarded when nothing remained to remind them of their attraction to her in the first place. “I’ve been asked to inspect the house for safety concerns.”
“You’ll be spending the weekend with us, or perhaps I—we could convince you to stay longer?”
Heat shimmered in the depth of his ocean-blue gaze. She glanced away. Any willpower she possessed would be tested to the breaking point before the weekend ended. She stepped into the foyer, her gaze sought Duncan, she’d learned a lot about them in the last year. They weren’t joined at the hip like some magical sets. They worked together in the recovery of a stolen magical artifact, branching off with the opening of the gallery. She jumped when Duncan’s hand covered hers. “Sorry?”
“Taking your bags, Kayla, unless you’d like to hold hands, I wouldn’t complain,” Duncan teased. “I can think of even better uses for them. Should I list them?”
“No.” Heat flushed her face, her brain filled in the blanks with her hands. She caressed his shoulders, his chest and then lower. She fought the urge to inspect the front of his pants for his arousal. She released her grip on the duffel, reassuring herself occupied hands couldn’t tempt her resistance. “Warn a person next time, where does the tour start?”
Duncan smiled and set her cases on the steps, with a wave of his hand, the carpet runner awakened to transform into an escalator. “We’ve only managed to make the carpet transport inanimate things.”
She would have found the spell useful when she moved into her apartment. Too bad, she wasn’t here to learn spells instead of searching for fire hazards. Her gaze swept the area in front of her and noticed nothing wrong. Her hand twisted the handle of an umbrella to the left away from the path into the rest of the house. “So if I stepped on the carpet or a visitor did, nothing would happen?”
“Nothing. The tour will start at the front porch,” he indicated to the closed door behind them. Knife handles and stakes stuck out of the wood. He pulled one free to show the blunt end with a sticky tab. He flashed a mischievous grin, replaced the knife handle back on the black square before dropping his hand to the small of her back. “We’ve childproofed the entire house.”
To pull away would have fueled his amusement and confirmed his effect on her. She could deal with one brother better than two, together they proved impossible to resist.
“From there the guest will enter the living room, different from the scene of your last visit?”
The innocent comment aroused memories she’d rather have not stirred up. Here, in this room, they made eye contact for the second time. Duncan spoke with a willowy young woman who touched his robed arm in a way that conveyed her willingness for anything he might suggest. Other couples chatted in groups of varying sizes, the members of her coven scattered, leaving her in the doorway like an uninvited guest. She blinked the memory away, tamer than those she would witness when the night progressed. Concentrate on your reason for touring the house. Wooden chairs of torture faced away from the fireplace, seated with realistic dummies, “An attempt to keep the foolish from trying them?”
Slipping past her, Duncan adjusted one of the figures, “The chairs have many uses, torture, for one might invoke pleasure for others. An ancestor of ours secreted them away from Spain and spent years reassembling them, erasing the evil within them, while applying them for other uses. Later, Ian and I could show you how they heighten pleasure.”
Spanish inquisition. Although she didn’t voice her comment, she could visualize his words. The seat of the chair afforded the occupant a place to sit. Ankle cuffs attached to a spreader and pulley, leading to gears enabling the user to widen the space. She shifted her gaze around the room to inspect the case on the wall, filled with items of torture. She didn’t need them. “I’m surprised you would risk such heirlooms, aren’t you worried about damage?”
He spread his arm out, a silent request for her to join him in the dining room. “They’ve been warded. After this weekend, we’ll put them on display in the gallery. You probably passed the building on your way into town.”