It only took Ryanne twenty-seven hours and eleven minutes to realize how much of an idiot she was being. Nash was right. She could learn to control her powers. Other witches did it all the time. Now, she owed him an apology. Being wrong was a lot harder to own up to. Basically, she said she didn’t trust in them enough to try. Her only excuse was fatigue. She’d been so emotionally wrung out, she didn’t know if she was coming or going. She hoped like hell Nash would understand.
In all the time she’d been his assistant, she’d never been to his home. It wasn’t as odd now that she realized what he was and understood he needed privacy to protect his secret. A quick call to Liz obtained Nash’s home address, and Ryanne wasted no time hightailing it to his place. As she pulled into the driveway and stared at the palatial house, her nerves got the better of her. What if now that he’d had time to think about it, he didn’t want her? Her insecurities assailed her. She’d had to be many things to many people in the past. Never her true self. She’d be asking him to accept her as she was. That woman might not be who he truly wanted.
The front door swung open, and Nash filled the doorway. Even in his jeans, tee-shirt, and bare feet, he looked like the lord of the manor. His inherent, commanding presence couldn’t be denied. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for her to come to him. It was a very Alastair move. She’d seen his father do the same many times when he visited Thorne Industries. It made others uneasy, this watchful casualness. Would Nash grow more like his father in the coming years? A force to be reviled because he was feared?
During their time surveilling the Salinger compound, Nash had told her the story of Alastair’s imprisonment by Zhu Lin and Victor. Alastair was forged into the formidable warlock he was today due to torture at his enemies’ hands. Yet, she saw so much of his father in Nash. At their core, they were the same. She had no doubt.
On shaking legs, she approached. He didn’t appear to be all that welcoming.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
His features softened, and it occurred to Ryanne that he’d been just as nervous as she was when she arrived.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ryanne. You had an insane week.”
She nodded, her eyes dropping to his crossed arms. She reached out and stroked the top of his forearm, running her fingertips along the blond hair. He didn’t flinch or withdrawal. A good sign.
“Can we talk?” she asked softly.
“No.”
She yanked her hand back.
He laughed and scooped her up. “No, but not for the reason you might think. I’m talked out, and I just want to hold my girlfriend. Maybe make out and see if she’ll let me get to second base. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful,” she gushed. She gave him a tentative smile. “And, Nash? If we’re going with the whole baseball analogy thing, you’re assured a home run.”
His grin widened. “Excellent.”
Ryanne laughed when he kicked the door closed with his heel.
Two hours later, when she could finally drum up the energy to move, she padded to the kitchen to forage for food. She stopped in the doorway and gaped at her dream kitchen. The nerve endings along her spine went haywire right before he rested his chin on her shoulder to survey the room with her.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it!” Everywhere she looked, there was beauty. From the white cabinets to the pewter-and-glass-tiled backsplash to the top-of-the-line stainless appliances. Splashes of contrast peppered the room and massive island from brightly colored pottery, most in shades of purple—her favorite color. “Nash, this is gorgeous. A good thirty or more people could mingle about in here.”
“I heard you and Liz discussing HGTV one day. When I pressed her for information about your favorite designs, she gave me a few magazines. This is what I conjured with you in mind. The purple dishes are the various hues your highlights made when they caught the sunlight.”
She dragged her attention from the magnificent room and twisted to face him. He had observed her that frequently? How had she missed it? “That was the most romantic thing you could say to me.”
He chuckled as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. When they parted, they were both a little breathless. “I worried it was obsessive because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and what you might like. I began surrounding myself with anything that reminded me of you.”
“Oh, Nash.”
He went still, his expression serious. “I’m crazy about you, Ryanne. Tell me this is meant to be. Tell me we will have a forever kind of love. You’re essential to my happiness.”
When she remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak, he continued. “I don’t want to put undue pressure on you. I get it if you don’t feel the same. I just—”
Ryanne heard the nerves in his voice. She understood his fear of rejection because she’d dealt with it herself many times in the past. Placing her fingertips against his lips, she halted his flow of words. “I do feel the same. I think I always have.”
“Thank the Goddess!” he said on a breathy exhale.
“Oh, and while all this…” She gestured to their surroundings. “…is definitely a little stalker-like, I won’t hold it against you, because I love you.”
Wicked intent filled his jade eyes. “In that case, we should definitely break in this counter.”
She raised her arms for him to lift her up. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Knox Carlyle pulled the chain mail bag from inside his leather satchel and laid it upon the stone altar in the clearing. Normally, to request an audience with the Goddess, one would place a gift where the sack now rested. However today, this was all he had. He hoped she’d take this offering for the sake of all mankind.
It didn’t take long before pure white light illuminated the glen. It flared brightly for a moment, then calmed to a muted golden glow.
Isis.
Today, she was gowned in gold silk. Her black hair was gathered up, and a cascade of curls tumbled down the back of her neck and across one shoulder. Her expression bordered on irritated as she sashayed forward.
“Why did you call me, child? You are not one of mine.”
“Exalted One,” he intoned as he bowed low. “I’ve come to present you with the Red Scorpion. I’d hoped you might find a way to contain or destroy it for the sake of humanity. This cursed object is too dangerous to entrust to a mere human.”
Her eyes dropped to the metal bag on the stone surface. For a split second, her lips tightened before she once again smoothed her features to serene. “You are more than human, Knox Carlyle. Why do you not become the keeper of this object?”
“I can’t risk my wife’s safety.”
“Your attachment to the woman is unnatural,” she snapped. With a deep inhale and a casual wave of her hand, she dismissed their conversation. “Go. I shall see to the Red Scorpion.” She spoke the last words almost lovingly.
Alarm bells began clanking inside his mind. Surely Isis wouldn’t revere such a deadly object.
“I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” he said as he shifted to reclaim the bag.
She beat him to the altar and scooped up the armored sack. “I appreciate that you returned my necklace, lover.”
Her tone of voice changed seconds before she morphed into the goddess Knox never wished to encounter again—Serqet!
Fuck!
He backed away, gathering elements to strike. “Where’s Isis?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’s around. As the creator of your little gift, it called to me first. Now, it has been returned to its rightful owner.”
“The gift was not meant for you, Serqet. Return it to me immediately.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” Her smile was as malevolent as the cursed object she cradled to her chest like a precious babe.
Knox didn’t offer a warning, he simply struck, sending a lightning bolt straight for her heart. But he was too late. She’d already disappeared in a flash. He roared his frustration and mounting fury. He’d lost the fucking necklace, and now he had to tell the Thornes that Serqet had the ability to stir up her special brand of mischief for their family again.
Keep an eye out in the coming months for MOONLIT MAGIC. Liz’s story is sure to delight.