Piper was leaving. And Cian was a total ass because he hadn’t come after her, which meant he fully intended to let her go. Her chest ached and it legit felt like her heart was literally breaking in two.
Engaged!
After all this time, he claimed to still be engaged to Moira. One would think death—or a faked death in that horrid bitch’s case—would void any promises made. And had that not been enough, the fact she’d double crossed him and ruined his career should’ve put a damper on his things.
“Dick!” She threw her stuff on the bed, then dug her suitcase out from underneath with an aborted sob.
Why had she expected better from a man who, a mere ten days ago, was a self-proclaimed player and who refused to open up to real love? Did he seriously only want affection that came from that lying skank Moira? Anyone could see her aura was peppered with ugly and she had no true emotion to give.
But who was Piper to question the tastes of men? Chalk it up to her fucked-up radar.
She didn’t bother folding her clothes as she dumped one item after the other into her suitcase. And when she got to the Lucky Charms t-shirt Cian had given her just yesterday as a memento of their first time together, she balled it against her mouth to muffle a rage-induced scream.
All Cian had asked was that Piper not do to him what Moira had. Yet the second the other woman had returned from the dead, Cian had abandoned Piper like yesterday’s news. Whatever the two of them had begun to build couldn’t stand up against whatever it was he’d desired from Moira. His heart still remained frozen to all others. Piper included.
She momentarily paused what she was doing and looked around her wrecked room. It was as if a cyclone had struck when she wasn’t paying attention. A small shiver of unease struck. Her rage had created this destruction. Another reason she avoided magic; in the wrong hands, without mindfulness, it was lethal.
Wasting no more time, she used Liz’s sure-fire packing enchantment to finish the chore as she went to retrieve her toiletries from the bathroom. She caught her tear-ravaged reflection in the mirror.
How ridiculous was she to let someone turn her world upside down with lies and half-truths again?
No more.
She was done with romantic love.
Her gaze dropped to her flat stomach. Pressing a hand to her abdomen, she promised herself that she’d only ever bend over backwards for her little munchkin from here on out.
She’d gotten pregnant the first time they’d had sex. The instant his sperm connected with her eggs, a sensation of rightness hit her, and she’d known. She supposed she could urinate on a stick, but she didn’t need to. The additional magic coursing through her was too strong to discredit.
The Goddess had finally seen fit to entrust another’s life into Piper’s keeping. She wouldn’t let either the baby or Isis down. She’d stop trying to be mortal. The Goddess had granted her abilities for a reason and to deny the gift felt sacrilegious. She wouldn’t continue to disrespect her gifts any longer.
Bathing her face in cold water, she mumbled a quick glamour spell to eliminate the evidence of her breakdown. She didn’t feel any less tired or worn down, but her entire countenance glowed with vitality and beauty.
Piper grunted at her reflection. “Today starts a new day, Piper Thorne. Don’t you waste another second on stupid men, do you hear me? From here on out, it’s you and the baby.” She caressed the flat area above her womb. “We’ll make our own family circle, munch,” she told it. “Mom and Dad—or rather, your Gran and Grandpa—are going to spoil you rotten. So are your cousins Liz and Mack. You’re going to adore them, munch. They’re my best friends in the entire world.”
Piper firmed her stance. With a twitch of her fingers, all her toiletries flew into the other room. Did she imagine her magic was stronger than before?
“Pfft. The Mighty Thorne, my ass.” She paused on her way back into the bedroom. “Maybe my dad is the Mighty Thorne and he’ll shove an ice pick into the heart of the Frozen,” she said aloud to her baby. “It’s no more than he deserves, I’ll tell you that. Yeah, I get that he’s your father, but Cian’s a fucking jerk. You’ll be better for not having him in your life. The fickle shit.”
A pang struck her heart, but she firmly shoved aside the hurt.
He’d done this. Not her.
Piper zipped her suitcase, verbalized the words to restore the destroyed room, and made one last visual inspection. Not a single trace of her remained.
“Good. Cian should be happy,” she muttered.
The feeling to get out of this house ASAP was clawing at her brain. It caused her skin to prickle and the hair on her neck to rise. She intended to forego a flight and simply teleport, but she couldn’t leave without thanking Bridget for her hospitality. The main problem was that she didn’t want to leave her room and run into either Moira or Cian. If she did, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“You’re a Thorne, dammit!” she scolded. “Stop acting like a chickenshit and woman up.”
Gathering the last of her courage, Piper stepped into the hallway, but came up short. “Seamus? What are you doing here?”
Ugliness shifted in his expression, flitting away so swiftly, she wasn’t positive she’d witnessed it.
“Cian asked that I shuttle you to the airport. Are you ready to go?”
Had he anticipated her desire to flee? Perhaps hoped for it?
“Not quite yet. I want to say goodbye first.”
“He doesn’t want to see you, girl. Don’t know how much plainer he has to make it.”
The snappish words were a knife to her heart, but she refused to show their effect on her. “It’s not Cian I intend to speak to, Seamus. I owe Bridget a courtesy.”
His eyes narrowed and irritation flared in their charcoal depths.
Piper stared at him in confusion. When she’d first met Seamus, he’d been mellow, his eyes a dull, pale blue. There had been no sign he was a witch. Today, his irises were startlingly different—a witch’s tell.
“She’s not available.” His tone was terse and bordered on hostile.
“I’ll see for myself, thanks. Please step aside, Seamus.” She hoped he didn’t hear the tremble in her voice.
“Ye Thornes always have to make things difficult, don’t ye?”
Fear formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. It never ended well when someone referred to her family as a whole. That type of malice always indicated trouble.
“We do.” She shifted onto the balls of her feet. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about?”
A grudging respect lit his face and he smiled. “Cool as a cucumber even facin’ your own death.”
Fuck!
Suddenly it all became crystal clear: the attacks, the accidents, the assassins—they’d been sent by Seamus.
At the end of the bar, Cian guzzled the last of his Guinness, slammed his glass down, and gestured for a refill.
Ruairí picked up the glass and wiped the condensation from the bar’s surface. “Why don’t you stop this nonsense and follow your true heart, Cian?”
“Why don’t you mind your own fecking business?”
Ruairí continued as if Cian hadn’t spoken, picking up empties and scrubbing down the counter. “Love is the most precious gift in life, man.”
“Right, and you’re one to lecture me. Bridg—”
“This isn’t about Bridget. It’s about you and the colossal mistake you intend to make by letting that girl go back to America. And for what? That hoor Moira? Because she’s returned to twist you in knots?” Disgust was heavy in Ruairí’s voice, and he threw down the towel with a furious glare at Cian. “Bridget’s right. You’re a fecking eejit!” He spun to go but turned back with a stormy frown. “Did Seamus find you?”
“No. Why?” Cian didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with Seamus right then. Piper was certain to be upset, and Cian hadn’t found the words for when he crawled back to beg her forgiveness. He’d never felt more miserable in his life.
Yeah, he’d found the courage to break things off with Moira. He’d faced those heartbreakingly blue eyes and seen her for what she was. Those peepers had always been able to shred him in the past, but not anymore.
“Beautiful Moira,” he whispered. Underneath all that gorgeous was nothing worth loving.
“Beautiful Moira, my arse,” Ruairí retorted, misunderstanding Cian’s meaning. “Where has that betraying bitch been these last years, Cian? Scarlet for your ma for havin’ ya! I can’t believe you’ve been taken in by Moira’s continued lies.” He stalked off to serve another customer.
After Ruairí’s words sunk in, Cian experienced a burning need to get to Piper. His friend was right. Moira was a betrayer, and she’d come back for a reason. Cian had overlooked the real reason she was back. Sure, and it wasn’t to kiss up to him.
“Fuck!” Cian surged to his feet. Or attempted to. He used the bar as a crutch as he swayed and tried to focus on the wall clock. Something was wrong. He shouldn’t be this pissed after a single pint.
“O’Connor…”
Ruairí paused in putting the money in the drawer and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not refilling your glass, Cian. I’ll not help you drink away your woes.”
“Ruairí.”
His urgency must’ve registered, because Ruairí became a man alert.
“What’s going on?”
“The room shouldn’t be spinnin’ this—” Cian swallowed down the nausea in the back of his throat. “—fast.”
“Not after one pint of plain or you’re the worst sort of Irishman, to be sure.”
“The room is spinnin’,” Cian stated again, more emphatically. Mere seconds later, his legs quit supporting him.
He heard a shout as he crashed to the floor.
“Seamus McCleary, what the devil do you think you’re doing?” Bridget’s strident tones rang out.
His eyes locked onto Piper, promising a reckoning, and she felt the chill down to the marrow of her bones.
“Run, Bridget!” She flung her bag at Seamus’s head. “Run!”
As he batted away Piper’s suitcase, Seamus swore long and loud.
Piper didn’t give him time to act and quickly twisted to deliver a back kick to his stomach. Ill-prepared, he crashed into the wall behind him with a solid thud.
Wasting no time, Piper sprinted toward a stunned Bridget and grabbed her hand. “We’ve got to go!”
They made it to the stairs in record time, but so did Seamus.
Piper practically shoved Bridget down the steps then spun back to face her would-be attacker.
Use your magic.
The phrase whispered through her brain, reminding her she had a powerful arsenal at her disposal. Calling her elemental magic with a mere thought, she blasted Seamus with arctic air. Ice crystals formed on his skin, and his lips turned blue.
“Contineo,” she cried out.
Her shouted command locked him in place.
“Take that, you asshat,” she muttered.
Piper made it to the second landing when she heard Seamus thundering down the stairs. Terror kicked her heart rate into high gear. Her enchantment should’ve lasted until she released him.
How the hell had he broken free?
The only plausible explanations were that he was prepared for her spell or he had an accomplice, who was scrying and waiting to reverse whatever she threw at him. Neither possibility thrilled her.
Piper and Bridget rounded the last landing and plowed into Moira. They all went down in a heap of arms, legs, and creative swear words—the last on Piper’s part as the edge of the half wall connected with the soft tissue between her ribs. The air escaped her lungs in a rush, but inhaling more was a labor.
What was it with these asshats abusing her ribs?
She spared a worried thought for her little peanut, but the other women had broken her fall for the most part.
“Piper!” Bridget attempted to drag her to her feet as she cast a frantic look toward the stairs. “You’ve got to move, woman!”
“Can’t… breathe…” Piper dredged up enough brainpower to touch her tanzanite ring and send Alastair a telepathic cry for help.
As Moira rose to her feet, an evil smile curled her lips. “Convenient. Two of you in one place. This should be easy.” She backhanded Bridget, then drew back and kicked Piper in the same place that she’d connected with the half wall.
Piper’s agonized scream echoed around the foyer. The unfolding events were hazy for her as blackness dotted her peripheral vision and her focus narrowed to sucking in labored breath after labored breath.
The atmosphere around them crackled, and she was aware of a blinding white light. In the back of her conscious mind, she heard Seamus beg for mercy and a man’s derisive bark of laughter. A triumphant smile curled her lips.
Alastair had arrived.