Mind Mates (Pull of the Moon Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Panic sent Emma’s heart into race. She couldn’t,
wouldn’t
stand by while Gabriel fell in love with another female.

But what could she do?

She believed he was the kind of man who wouldn’t give his heart easily. Once he loved, it would be forever.

So until then, she had as much a chance as anyone, right?

She even had a leg up, really. He liked her. They were friends. And more, he liked sex with her…no, from the sounds he’d made and the look on his face as he moved inside her, the sex was spectacular. He’d
responded
to her, enthusiastically.

Okay, sex and friendship. It was a start.

Confidence returned and with it, warmth. She straightened her shoulders. Surely, given enough time together, she could entice him to feel more for her than friendship. Of course she could.

The moment they left this bubble universe she’d put her plan into action. Keep him close with sex and friendship, and work hard, until he loved her.

Except once they left, sex was out of the question.

Elbows sinking onto her knees, her head fell into her hands. Stupid, stupid Witches’ Council taboo.

If only they could’ve proceeded in the usual way, coffee, first date, handholding, flowers, mating frenzy…she sighed. No, nothing about them was usual.

Then another, scarier thought occurred to her. What if the mating wasn’t real on
her
side? After all, they were the only living people in this bubble, a sort of Adam and Eve. She might have mated him because he was the one and only male in this universe.

Worse, maybe he knew that.

He’d been so brusque leaving.

She slumped on the bed. Joy was gone, and even hope bled away, leaving only fear and remorse. Wizard prince, iota wolf…worse, an iota who had the shameful tendency to berserk on relatives. A brother who’d sell her at the drop of a twenty-dollar bill. Plus an Enforcer who’d cheerfully see both her and Gabriel beheaded because their love was taboo.

They’d never stood a chance.

She didn’t cry herself to sleep, but when she woke nine hours later, the pillow was damn damp.

The bed still smelled like him. Like them. Like pleasure unbounded.

That scent filled her nose, her lungs.

Maybe it was the most unnatural mating on the planet, but she was
mated.
She shot to her feet. Almost as if she’d gone a little berserk, she was consumed by the need to be with her mate. Yeah, maybe they had no future.

But if she didn’t fight for it, that
maybe
would be a certainty.

She nearly sailed out nude. But he was human, and might not appreciate that.
“We need to have our brains fully functional to deal with both your brother and the Enforcer.”

Retrieving her bra and panties from where she’d stripped them off in the hallway, she began to dress. She remembered how the underwear had come off, baring herself for his hot, appreciative gaze. The jeans and tee were her first commitment to wowing him. Donning each piece of clothing again solidified her will to fight.

There was a “them”, or would be again. There had to be.

Dressed, she picked up her father’s journal. It wouldn’t fit in any of her pockets, so she’d have to carry it. Clutching it to her chest, she stormed downstairs.

He was already awake in the exercise room, sitting half-Lotus on the mat with his back to her, a pile of amulets around him. Somehow he sensed her presence, because, without turning, he said, “Leave it to Auntie to have this many charms that want to be helpful but wouldn’t be any use in a fight whatsoever.”

This was it. The beginning of her battle. From his neutral, almost indifferent tone it was going to be uphill the whole way.

“Oh?” She carefully sat down next to him, trying to map out a way to start. Her stomach churned.

It was so important.

Picking up a yellow square, he held it in front of her. “I hoped this was mustard sneeze powder. But no, it’s actual mustard, for picnics.” He touched it. With a
splush
, a dollop of yellow splatted onto the mat.

Gabriel,
she’d say, using his name to signal how important this was.
What you said on the ferry, about us, together…
She realized what he was talking about and frowned. “Do you need fighting talismans?”

“Well, sort of, since I’m a battle mage.” His lips tilted in a tiny smile. “I haven’t gone out unarmed in years. I have a belt with a whole array of options, from calm spells to freeze grenades to flame throwers. But I left them all in the jail.”

She gave that a thought. “Can’t you make more?”

“Logical. I’ve always liked that about you. Not with this.” He stuck out his leg, wiggling his foot, the manacle clunking against ankle bone.

“What is that, anyway?”

“Limiter. Puts a speed limit on my magic. How are you, by the way?” He finally looked fully at her.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically. Mentally she rolled her eyes at herself
. The most important battle of my life, right.

He gently shook his head. “If ever there was a time not to be fine, now is it.” He heaved a breath, his chest inflating from large to massive. She chided herself not to get distracted. “But I have to admit, if ever there was a time I need you to be fine…I’ve gotten us in a pickle, haven’t I?”

Us.
He thought there was still a “we”. Hope surged. “Not your fault,” she said staunchly.

He gave her a real smile at that. “I don’t deserve your loyalty. But I treasure it.”

“Ten points out of ten for being noble, but four for stilted delivery. Don’t you mean my loyalty ‘stays crunchy even in milk’ or something like that?”

That got a laugh out of him, and he eased back onto his elbows. It threw his muscular belly into relief against the sweater vest.

Making her want to grab his wrist and drag him back to the bedroom. Instead, she looked away. “Look, um, I have a question. This isn’t easy to ask. But, well, I think you noticed my eyes have changed color. And I’m guessing you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

The single bald word gave her neither discouragement nor hope. She forced herself to continue. “I remembered something you said before any of this started.” Deep breath. “You said, ‘What can’t you and I do, together?’ Remember?”

“Yes.”

His flat tone was daunting, and she feared the worst. But she had to fight. “Well, I’m thinking what we do next, whatever it is, will work only if we do it together.”

“Hmm.”

She had no idea what that noncommittal word meant. She simply forged on. “So I was wondering…I’m mated to you, but do you…are you…” She forced herself to look into his blue-green eyes. “Are you mated to me?”

Slowly, he shook his head, and her heart wept. “I’m not mated to you. But Emma. Sweetheart. I do have
feelings
for you. Which is a big problem.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” He gave her a dry, anguished smile.

“Warning. Warning. Search in progress. Warning.”

The voice wasn’t his or hers. He snapped straight, his gaze flying around the room, finally landing on the mat nearby.

Where, under the tangle of talismans, a light blinked red.

Chapter Eighteen

“What is that?” Emma’s words were punctuated by her heart drumming in her ears.

“Cinnamon toast fuck. No idea.” Gabriel dug through Linda’s charms and talismans to the continued blare of “
Warning. Warning. Search in progress.
”

Emma tried to concentrate on scanning the pile too, but she was distracted by the sight of his clever fingers, sifting through handfuls at a time.

“Times like this, I miss my belt.” He dumped a cleaned pile into his pocket.

“Your bat-belt?” She spied a silver-and-turquoise talisman blinking red. “There.”

“Ah. Thanks.” He lifted the disk, about the size of a quarter, between his thumb and forefinger.

“What does it do?”

“Good question.” His gaze on the thing went briefly out of focus. “I think it reacts to a search for the bearer. Basically, scrying for someone looking for us without actually using any power.” He closed his eyes, frown developing. “Fuck me in milk. The Enforcer opened our jail and did a find spell.”

Emma sucked in a cold breath. “He knows we’re here?”

His eyes moved under his lids as if he were searching a room. “No. He just now cast the find. But though he’s looking in his jail, the one we escaped from… Crispy fried bacon, he
shouldn’t
be able to
do
this. He’s searching for us in
his
jail, but somehow his search is resonating into
other
pocket universes, including this one.” His eyes sprang open. “He won’t recognize our current location, but hopefully he won’t figure out why, or he’ll know we’re out of his lockup.”

“Wouldn’t he know already, if he’s there and doesn’t see us?”

“Not necessarily. He might think we’ve just gone off exploring. Most pocket universes are bigger than this workout dimension. But with all this magical racket, he’ll triangulate our true location—it’s only a matter of time.” He shook the talisman. “This is blasting on the etheric so shrilly I’m getting a headache.”

“Can you switch it off?”

“Hopefully.” He turned it over in his hands, peering at it as he would a motherboard, but his forehead was rumpled in a pre-migrainous scowl. “Switch is a good analogy. A talisman is like a thumb-size computer holding a single executable spell.”

“With an on/off? A rocker switch or button—or clap on, clap off?”

That got a brief smile out of him. “Similar. A pulse of magical power, ‘plucking’ on the etheric, or a trigger word. Auntie favors words, but it’s a matter of finding the right one.” He brought the talisman up to his mouth. “Stop.”

“Warning. Warning. Discovery imminent.”

“Quit? Done? End intention? Damn it, shut the hell up.” He massaged savagely between his eyes, thumb and forefinger lifting his glasses, a sure sign he was about to break.

Break.

Gimme a break.
Emma’s brain lit up.
Break me off a piece of that…

“Your aunt is on a jingles kick, right? How about ‘Gimme a break’?”

On the phrase, the talisman flared—and turned green. The voice died, and Gabriel’s pained furrow with it. “Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?”

“Not in the last ten seconds.” Emma lightly touched his arm. “Are we safe now?”

“Safer.” His hand dropped.
Disaster averted.
“But I don’t know how his find resonated here. In case he could accidentally stumble onto us, let’s get out before he does.”

Gabriel rose, slid the turquoise amulet into a pants pocket, and bent to gather up the rest of the charms, dumping them in various places in his baggy trousers.

Then he fished into his shirt pocket and pulled out was a silver talisman. “Last use.” With a thumb, he triggered the doorway to iris open at the far end of the workout room. “Gotta charge this when I have more time and less anklet.” He laughed, no humor in it. “Shall we?” Without seeming to be aware of it, he took her free hand.

The familiar shock of heat and size hit her belly low. Pleasure trembled through her.

He might not like it that she was mated to him—she wasn’t sure what “I do have feelings for you” meant, romantic feelings, no-ties sex, or the dreaded friendzone—but at least in this, at least subconsciously, he was content to be tied to her.

Clutching his hand and her journal equally tight, she followed him from the bubble universe and out the bookstore’s back door. Stepping onto the stoop, she waited while he relocked the door, working herself up to continue the conversation. “
I do have
feelings
for you.”

Before she could say a thing, he snared her hand and propelled her toward a detached garage.

“Where are we going?”

“That was too damned close. You need to get out of town, now.” He led her through the people door. Inside, he hit a button and the garage door rolled up, revealing the alley.

He pointed to an old car. “That’s my aunt’s. She said you can use it to get away. Well, assuming I can get it running.” He grabbed a set of keys off a pegboard and hopped into the driver seat, leaving the door open. “If you want to give your journal to me, I’ll keep it safe.”

Her spirits fell. He was sending her away. “No, I’ll take it.”

He grimaced, opened his mouth as if to object, then closed it again. Finally, he said, “There are some quirks to this car. The speedometer is a rolling dome, and the shifting system is push-button on the steering wheel.” He turned the key in the ignition. A click, then nothing.

She had to ask her questions, now, before it was too late. She clutched the journal to her chest and rounded the hood to see his face. “Gabriel. About me and you—”

“
Start,
damn it.” His eyes went out of focus, perhaps peering onto the etheric, and he turned the key again. This time the click was followed by a
pop
loud enough to make her jump. A moment later, a curl of smoke rose from the engine compartment. His eyes refocused and if his expression was any indication, corresponding smoke would shoot from his ears.

But he didn’t swear. The silence, the lack of any crunchy damns or toasted cruds, was almost more unnerving.

A phone’s ringtone burbled into the silence.

“
Now
what?” He pulled a phone from his pocket. To her inquiring look he said, “Pan had extra burner phones. Don’t worry, Mason can fix the car, given enough time. And parts. Light,” he said into the phone then listened.

Suddenly he snarled. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed her hand and spun out of the garage headed west.

Toward Ryder, not away.

“Gabriel…um, isn’t this the way to the B-and-B?” Yet she felt lighter, as if she’d had a reprieve.

“Yes.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket. “Can’t be helped. The Scooby Familiar Squad found the only witch who could lock writing like your journal was Avignon himself. That’s one too many coincidences for me. Before I let you run off with that thing, I want to know exactly what you’re taking with you.”

“So we’re headed for the Blackwood garage?” Her breath frosted. “But Noah—”

“Won’t say boo to you, if he doesn’t want to cross me.” Gabriel’s growl was very alpha himself.

She clutched his hand and trotted alongside him in the alley. On West First he veered a half block south, seemingly the long way but Emma knew it was to avoid the B-and-B. Matinsfield was a small town stretched almost entirely along Main Street, the few side streets branching off like an old television antenna. Reaching Main, he led her west.

They’d just passed the FreshFresh sub sandwich shop when Emma’s wolf pulled its ears back and her throat rumbled with a growl.

Gabriel’s head swiveled in reaction, as if reconnoitering for the enemy. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s following us.”

His eyes unfocused for a brief moment in that way she’d come to realize was him using his Witch’s Sight. It made him look kinda sexy.

Or maybe everything he did was starting to look sexy to her.

“It’s someone drawing power.” He backed her against a brick storefront, positioning himself like a shield before her.

Her wolf’s fur raised. Noah?
Ryder?

“Show yourself.” Gabriel’s tone was an alpha’s challenging snarl. His back stiffened as paws came into view. “
You.
”

Worse than Noah or Ryder?
She peeked out from behind his bulk.

A black wolf had materialized from the shadows of the FreshFresh drive-thru window. Not Ryder. Not Noah either, not with gleaming black eyes.

The thick dorsal cape and big paws meant male. The fearless way he trotted directly to them, sat on his haunches and lolled, told her he wasn’t a natural wolf.

She wondered if he was the flash of black animal she’d seen when she and Gabriel first escaped from the Council jail.

“Damn it.” Contrarily, Gabriel’s shoulders had relaxed and his growl was more irked than angry.

“You know this shifter?” The wolf did look vaguely familiar. Not a regular member of the Matinsfield pack, but she seemed to remember him from a hunt or two. She sniffed the air to get the wolf equivalent of a name.

“Met him at the wedding,” Gabriel said. “But he’s not a shifter.”

Gabriel was right, this wolf strangely didn’t smell like a wolf…ah. She knew him. Never as a man, but a couple hunts she’d caught him looking at her with those black eyes, and she’d seen the flash of something old and powerful.

“Goes by the name of Jayden,” Gabriel said. “He’s not a shifter, but he
is
a pain in the ass.” To the wolf he said, “We can’t stand out here in the open all day. You got something to say? Better man up.”

Before her eyes, the wolf’s spine and limbs extended, the snout receded. The wolf reared onto two legs, the man curling erect as body fur shingled back to reveal jeans and a casual button-down shirt.

Barest dressing for a lithe, muscled body that could fell half the female population, and a square-jawed, ride-me face that would make the other half swoon. Didn’t hurt that the man broadcast sex pheromones with nationwide coverage.
Can you smex me now?
Oh yeah. The only thing that kept Emma from throwing herself on him was Gabriel’s luscious body in front of hers, radiating heat and power and comfort.

Seemingly unaware of his charismatic effect, the moment Jayden formed he gave Gabriel a disgusted poke in the chest. “You idiot. You were supposed to get Sophia out of jail, not wind up there yourself.”

“I didn’t have a lot of choice,” Gabriel said.

“You could have kept it in your pants,” Jayden said baldly.

“Thanks for the advice.” With a glare at the man, Gabriel grabbed Emma’s hand and stalked off, yanking her into a run behind him.

“Walk and talk?” Jayden asked pleasantly from behind. “I can do that.” Almost immediately he glided up beside them, falling easily into step with Gabriel’s angry pace.

“Who are you?” she asked abruptly. “You run with the pack, but you’re not a wolf.”

“That’s correct.” The black-haired man grinned. “This one’s quick,” he said to Gabriel.

His mocking tone was meant to silence her, but instead she pursued it. “How do you know how to shift then? Mated to one?”

“I’m not married to a wolf.”

“He’s one of my kind,” Gabriel said shortly. “More’s the pity. You didn’t object to Sophia marrying Noah.”

The black-eyed man gave a graceful shrug. “My objection isn’t with doing the intermagical dirty, it’s with getting caught. You didn’t work out the prophecy warning like you were supposed to.”

“How did you…never mind. No, I didn’t. Pan told us the gist, and anyway, it’s not worth my time. ‘Give in to the rage.’ If it’s a warning, it’s nothing I understand. That’s the nature of prophecy. All a bunch of vague nonsense.”

“Really? How nonsensical is ‘Give in to the rage, little iota’? I like the iota touch. That’s fairly specific.”

Emma flinched. “Me?”

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Gabriel told her. To the other witch he said, “Not ‘Little iota.’ Pan said PEH-tee-OH-ta.”

Jayden rolled his eyes. “It’s spelled P-E-T-I-T-E-I-O-T-A.
”

“Fine, whatever, PEHteeOHta, paTEETee-oh-ta…fuck
, petite iota
. Petite is French for small, and iota. Fine, but even if you’re right about the word, do you realize how many iota wolves there are in this country alone? My sister did a magical census, so I know. That prophecy could refer to one of hundreds—assuming it doesn’t mean an iota yet to come. Prophecy’s about as informative as a politician’s debate.”

But he dug his free hand savagely into his hair.

So it bothered him, but not half as much as it did her, because she
knew
rage was her iota talent. She shivered in the suddenly chilly air.

A prophecy by a world-famous witch, telling her to give in to her berserker?

Her own family, afraid.
Beast.
Her shame.