5

Tessa’s gut clenched as Crone got up and started to walk away. She needed him, but how could she expect him to help her if she hid the truth?

“Wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around, so she hopped out of her chair and slipped up behind him. Fear kept her from stepping in front to face him head on. “Tara gave you her magic before she died.”

He did a slow turn. “What? I thought Morden took that from her?”

She squared her shoulders. Damn it, she would not be afraid of him. “When our virginity is taken, our power can be jerked from us. It’s what the Demois men do. It was what Morden did as well. My Nana was a very powerful witch and somehow she still had power when she died. She passed it to you.”

Crone shook his head as if he had cobwebs that needed removing. “Wait... I would have known if Tara had given me her power. I felt no surge of magic.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. It’s masked to protect both parties involved.”

He narrowed his gaze. “How can you be sure of this?”

“Mother told me.”

“So what does it mean, and why would she do that?”

Tessa pulled in a breath. “She did it in hopes someone in the family line would be able to break the curse. She knew that special witch would need her extra power.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Let me guess. You’re that witch.”

Tessa nodded. “I was born on the Harvest moon, therefore I can take back her power and break the spell that started this curse.” He lifted his chin and crossed his arms over that expansive chest she wanted so badly to run her fingertips across.

“You can’t produce enough clothes to fill a closet, yet you’re supposed to break a curse?”

That stung but she refused to let on. “Yes.”

“Why do I feel there’s more?”

She chewed her bottom lip and looked around the room as if someone would step out and help her. Save her from embarrassment.

“Well?”

“You...uhh. You have to take my virginity.”

He blinked but remained silent, until his gaze turned cold and drilled into her like two icicles. “Sorry. Not happening.”

Hell. How was she supposed to respond to that? Telling him she was his mate was out of the question, so she would have to suck it up and ask. “Why not?”

“For one I don’t know you,” came his condescending reply.

She snorted. “Really? I find it hard to believe you have morals when it comes to sleeping with women.” She watched hurt flash to anger in his eyes.

“That’s right. After all, I’m a Jinn warrior and used to taking what I want. I like it fast and rough.” He curled his lip. “Something I doubt you could handle. Virgins are too...delicate.” He turned and stormed away, but she wasn’t letting him or this go.

“Don’t you dare insult me then walk away,” she cried out.

“Or what?” He shouted over his shoulder, never breaking stride. “Will you cast some kind of spell on me or perhaps turn the house into a barnyard?”

“Low blow.”

“Maybe, but I speak the truth. Don’t I?” He walked back into the living room.

“You’re a jackass.” She felt her face heat and realized her nails dug into her palms. He spun to face her, all riled-up male, and damn if he wasn’t sexy as hell.

“That the best you got?” He glared. Why the hell was he so pissed at her?

“Oh, I’ve got a lot more, but what are we arguing about and what do we hope to gain?” Tessa was not a fighter. She hated confrontation.

“We’re arguing because you can’t take rejection. I’ll kill the warlock, but you’d better figure out another way to get your power back from me, because fucking you is not an option.” He headed for the glass doors, pulling his shirt off and tossing it as he went. She had to stifle a moan at the ripple of back muscle.

“Stop walking away from me.” She cursed under her breath and started after him.

Crone heard a screech behind him and jerked around to find Tessa on the floor clutching her foot, writhing in pain. “What the hell?” He was at her side in an instant.

“It’s nothing,” she replied through clenched teeth.

“Your foot is already swelling. Don’t tell me it’s nothing.” He reached to touch her, but she jerked away. Okay, he got it. He’d been an ass. He scanned the room then it dawned on him. “You tripped over the coffee table?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m a klutz, all right?”

He sighed. “By the looks of it I’d say your toe is broken.”

“No shit!”

With another sigh, he scooped her up and headed toward the bedroom. Thoughts of baseball and every other thing he could think of swept through his mind as he tried to keep his erection deflated. Her curves fit against him as if they were made to, and he couldn’t help notice how silky her skin was. His anger began to surface; he didn’t understand why he had trouble keeping his libido under control in her presence.

“What are you doing?”

“I’d think it’s obvious. Did you hit your head too?” He couldn’t help the sarcasm.

“Funny.” She feigned laughter. “Ow. I think you’re right, my toe’s broke.” Her skin paled, and he grew concerned.

“I’m summoning a healer.” When she raised a brow, he cut her off. “Don’t worry. My younger brother has a special talent and should have you on your feet in—”

“No time,” Lazaro replied from behind them.

“Ah, what took you so long?” Crone asked.

His sibling rolled his eyes and headed to the bed where Crone had propped Tessa against several pillows. “Hi, I’m Lazaro the more charming of the brothers.”

Crone snorted, but when he witnessed the huge smile Tessa flashed his sibling, a sudden urge to throttle the youngest Jinn in his family came over him. The fact he wanted to do so pissed him off even more. Jealousy wasn’t even in his vocabulary. Least not until today, not until Tessa. Damn witch. “Can you just get on with healing her? And while you’re at it, maybe you can fix her clumsiness.”

Tessa folded her arms. “Maybe you can make your brother less of an ass.”

Lazaro chuckled. “I see you two are getting along fine. Unfortunately, there’s no cure for Crone’s arrogance.”

It was Tessa who snorted this time. “I’m not surprised.”

“I didn’t summon you here for insults. Fix the damn witch,” Crone growled, his anger and impatience ever increasing.

“This will sting a bit.” Lazaro placed his hand on the swollen and now purple foot. Crone felt magic stir in the air as his brother knitted her broken bone back together. Tessa bit her lip and winced, but she never cried out. Crone admired her backbone, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to pull her into his lap and comfort her.

His annoyance flared again.

After several minutes, she was able to wiggle her toes, and Lazaro stepped back to admire his handiwork. “While it’s healed you should stay off it for at least a day. The swelling will take that long to go completely down. My brother would be honored to wait on you hand and well...foot.” He chuckled.

“Thank you. It feels better already. I do think I could use a nap though.” She tried to stifle a yawn.

“Rest. We’ll leave you alone.” Lazaro pushed Crone toward the door. When they were both outside, Crone nearly came unglued.

“What the fuck? I am not––read my lips––not becoming her servant.” Crone shook, but he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the thought of her lying in bed naked. And where the hell did that come from?

“You’ll do whatever you want, but try being nice to the poor girl.”

“Why do you care all of a sudden about my house guests?”

Lazaro headed outside and stepped into the sun, tipped his face up, and closed his eyes. “She’s a beauty, Crone. So what have you learned? I gather by the exchange of dialogue in there, you’re attracted to her.” He turned his head and partially opened one eye to glare at Crone.

“Fucker.”

“I’ve always loved your pet names,” Lazaro laughed.

“She is Tara’s granddaughter.”

“Ah.” Lazaro stared at him. “Your guilt is showing again.”

“You should consider not taking up becoming a therapist because you suck at it.” Crone skirted by his brother, sand spreading under his boots, as he stormed around the outside of the house to reach the glass doors Once through them, he headed straight for the fridge and jerked it open. He shoved aside the bottles of water and reached for a brew. Twisting off the cap, he flicked it at his brother as he entered the room and tipped back the icy beverage. Bitter cold coated his throat, but it did nothing to break the sweat that had formed on his brow. What the hell is wrong with me?

“The female has you rattled.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Crone shot back. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

His sibling grinned. “Yes, dear brother, I do. Try not to blow the place up with your temper. I’ll check in tomorrow to see how the patient is.” He vanished. Crone sighed and took another swig of his beer. He really did need a shrink.

Crone had left Tessa in the capable hands of Ares, while he went back to the house of Tujan, his native home in the mists above Spain. He sat at his desk, trying to put together a plan on how to locate and kill Tessa’s warlock. His thoughts were interrupted when Lazaro and Armand entered the room.

Crone looked up from his paperwork.

“Greetings, brother,” the two Jinn spoke in unison.

He eyed his siblings with suspicion. “Greetings. Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a social call?”

Armand slipped into the chair across from him. “Because it’s not. We are here to help you track and kill the warlock.”

“Obviously you’ve been chatting with your lovely wife.” Crone motioned Lazaro to the other chair.

“I’ll stay back here. You may wish to kill me in about ten seconds,” Lazaro responded.

“What did you do?” he inquired.

“He told me about your time with Morden and about Tara,” Armand answered.

Crone shot out of his chair, but before he could reach his youngest––soon to be dead sibling––Armand grabbed him and pinned his feet to the floor with his magic. “Release me so I can rip him to shreds. How dare you divulge my secrets!” While Crone wouldn’t really kill his little brother, he could make him hurt.

“Stand down, and I’m not asking,” Armand commanded.

Crone met his eldest brother’s gaze, and while he wanted to challenge Armand, he had enough respect for the older Jinn’s authority. “Only because you command it.” He relaxed and Armand released his magic. Crone took his seat, but leveled a death glare on the youngest Jinn in the room.

“Don’t blame him. Father caught wind that you were hired by a witch to protect her from some warlock and grew worried. He and Lazaro came to me and they both spilled what happened.” Armand gestured for Lazaro to sit. “He will not harm you.”

“Father.” Crone sighed.

Armand leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Damn it, Crone. Why’d you hide this from me? All those times you came to visit when I was bound to earth. Gave me shelter when the humans of the village would grow suspicious when I never aged. What did all of that cost you?”

Crone didn’t look away. “It matters not what the price was. I would have paid anything to see to your comforts.”

Armand didn’t flinch. “The truth, brother. How did you end up an assassin to a warlock?”

He thought of concocting a tale, but knew Armand would see through it. He always did and since he was now aware of what Crone had done, it was best to get everything out in the open. “In order to get Cyndel to agree to let me see you, I had to become Morden’s slave.”

“Shit,” Lazaro whispered. Both his brother and father always believed he’d been captured, not gone willingly.

“It was your visits that kept me going. When you saved Kayla...”Armand choked a little

Crone held up his hand. He was never good at the mushy shit. “Stop. I did nothing more than I would have done for father or Lazaro. Family is all that matters.”

Both brothers nodded in agreement. “That’s why we’re here. To help you with this little problem,” This time Armand held up his hand. “And we expect nothing in return––only that you let go of your guilt.”

Crone would like nothing more than to have some peace, but it wasn’t happening. “It’s my pain to carry.”

“Crone, you did what you could to save the witch,” Lazaro replied.

Crone stood so fast his chair rolled back and hit the wall. He slammed his fists on the desk. “I did no such thing. Tara still died at the hand of Morden because of my arrogance. You were not the one to hold her in your arms and watch her take her last breath. Your clothes were not stained with her blood. I know I spent years killing for Morden and that I will carry as well, but there was something about Tara. That witch never showed an ounce of fear and I failed her.”

He relaxed slightly. “I appreciate the offer, but I will do this alone. I owe the girl that much.” He owed Tessa much more than he could repay, but he’d start with giving her some peace by killing her pursuer. She’d offered to pay for his service, but this one was on him. As for the small problem with her gaining Tara’s magic back... There had to be another way. Hell would freeze over before he’d be able to look her in the eyes and not feel the sting of guilt. He had this nagging feeling that if he ever did have Tessa, he’d never let her go.