Mystical Love (38 page)

“What?”

“Nothing, just amused by your attempt to improve on perfection.”

Brianna gave a haughty sniff.

“As my friend Tommy Cloisters would say, ‘There is no such thing as perfection, blue eyes. There's only a hopeful illusion of it.'”

“I like this Tommy Cloisters. Perhaps one day, you'll tell me how you met such a sage philosopher?”

Brianna snapped her mirror shut, and re-pocketed it in her purse. Settling back, she turned her gaze to Devlin's profile.

“Perhaps one day you'll tell me where you went after leaving Green Sapphire, and what you've managed to accomplish since leaving.”

“It's a deal,” he nodded. He leaned over and turned the radio dial. “Care for some music?”

“Yes, something soothing.” Brianna laid her head back against the headrest. “Something that makes these last horrible days a distant memory.”

“Done. Cat nap if you can,” he advised, seeing her shoulders sag.

The dulcet tones of Josh Groban filled the Jeep a few seconds later and Brianna tuned into the soft, soothing melody. In a matter of minutes, the rocking of the Jeep had her dropping into a deep sleep.

Devlin lifted his foot from the accelerator, noticing the needle approaching eighty. He hadn't meant to reveal his feelings quite so openly, but he had no intention of letting Brianna plunge herself into a pity party. He preferred her anger. And even though she appeared to have forgiven him for that day in the circle, he hadn't forgiven himself for it. He should've felt the spell going wrong as it shifted. But he had been so intent on pleasing Brianna that he missed the signs. Thanks to a foolish, boyhood crush, he had managed to kill Brenda, his confidence, and any chance of pursuing Brianna romantically in the future.

But that was then and this was now, he grimaced. He was fifteen years older and wiser—and certainly more realistic about pursuing Brianna as a permanent bed partner.
Right
, his inner voice supplied.
You just keep pretending you aren't attracted to the clean smell of her hair, or the disturbing way the air around her seems electrified. And her lips?

Devlin checked the rear view mirror, studying the green eyes glittering back at him. Forget her lips. Focus on the stupidity that robbed her of her heritage. And for God's sake, stop replacing the Dark Time with visions of her body flexing rhythmically beneath yours in all-out ecstasy. They were driving home together, nothing more. Home! The word was laughable. Green Sapphire hadn't been a home to either of them for a very long time.

Turning his head, he gave Brianna's body a raking glance. He had broken every promise he made to forget the past. And he had done it on a whim, hoping that things might be different between him and Brianna now that their lives had intersected again. How masochistic was that?

Feeling the Jeep drift off the roadway, Devlin guided it back with a soft turn of the steering wheel. Hopefully, Brianna would remain asleep for the rest of the trip. Without her pointed questions, he could study her unobserved. His gaze raked her body again. She was still a ravishing blonde, with an hourglass figure. Her lips were sensually rounded and just begged to be thoroughly kissed. And the musky-rose flush that stained her cheekbones? It made him want to see what other flush might be produced if his naked body claimed hers.

He put a brake on that erotic thought—and the insane desire to stop the Jeep and make love to her on the spot. Would the Sisters of Fate look kindly on such an act? Hardly. Then why had they thrown them together again, and filled him with hope that this time he could win her love?

His gaze centered on the illuminated blacktop in front of the Jeep. There was a way to trap her in a loveless marriage, but his pride couldn't stomach it. If he couldn't have her love unconditionally, he didn't want her, period. However, somehow in the next couple of days, he intended to tell her he owned D.J. Corp and that he had bought her company, lock, stock, and barrel. His pride couldn't stomach holding on to that lie any longer either.

Switching his thoughts, he leaned over and replaced the current music with a James Blunt CD. The soothing tones softly reverberated and he returned his attention to the road ahead. The Jeep was eating up their hundred-mile drive at an astonishing rate. He could see the outlying mountain range in the distance already. The Sapphire Lake cutoff was ahead, no further than thirty-five miles.

He let his mind replay Brianna's earlier question. What had gone wrong in the Sacred Circle? Anything, he knew. A pissed off elemental, an intruder stepping into the circle at the wrong time, the door between worlds left open. He squelched that thought. No, he'd not go there. He'd rather think a pissed off elemental had latched onto Sienna's essence and she was unable to fight off the powerful energy. If that were the case, he was sure they could find a way to make amends to the elemental and send it safely back to its home realm. Groveling would probably be part of the process, but it would be a groveling worth doing.

Thirty minutes later, he switched CD's again, and exited the expressway onto the parkway cutoff. As the car settled back into a steady rhythm, he tuned into Brianna's energy level. She had gone dead to the world when the music started, and she hadn't flexed a muscle in at least thirty miles. What was she dreaming about? None of your business, he cautioned. Enjoy the peace and quiet.

Ten miles later, he realized he was nodding off under the steady hum of the tires, and if he didn't find some way to keep his mind occupied, he'd literally fall asleep at the wheel. He stole a peek at Brianna, surprised to find her eyes wide open and studying him.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he stated.

“I was thinking about the power of three—how one little thing you do comes back to you in triple force.”

“Three times bad, three times good,” Devlin quoted.

“Umm, but how does it relate to Mother's collapse? She's never had a hateful thought for anyone. And all I can do is wonder what she could've done to have the power of three boomerang back on her in such a terrible way.”

“Perhaps, the boomerang wasn't meant for her,” Devlin said. “The karmic lesson may be for the person—or entity—that interrupted the flow of energy in the circle.”

“Or me.”

Devlin's foot jerked from the gas pedal.

“That's absurd.”

“Why? I hurt my parents beyond belief when I willfully disobeyed the Wicca creed. And I broke every principle of faith that I once cherished by wishing harm on you. As if that wasn't enough, I went out into the world and exploited the very people I admire to get them to do what I wanted. So much for the principle of ‘blessed be' and ‘harm none,' don't you think?”

Devlin digested her words. It was certainly possible that karma owed her a few lessons for her selfish behavior, but he didn't think she was owed the death of her mother as part of that karmic recompense. Should he confess his sins of betrayal to make her feel better? No, she'd not understand; she'd think he was humoring her. He heard a weary sigh, laced with annoyance.

“Alright, let's hear it. What else do I owe you an apology for?”

So much for turnabout, Devlin thought. He followed her second sigh with one of his own.

“We've said it all, I think.”

“Well, if we've said it all, then you're just holding a grudge against me for no good reason, and that's just plain stupid.”

“I'm stupid?”

“Yes, stupid. I've apologized for wishing harm on you, and if I can humble myself to make an apology, I don't see why you can't. After all, it's not as if I did anything wrong that day.”

“No, of course not. You were a saint. It was my fault.”

“Exactly. You were the careless one.”

“If I remember right, you were emceeing the circle.”

“Under your eagle eye. It never dawned on me that you thought I was capable of conducting the ritual on my own. After all, I was only seventeen.”

“You've been conversant in Sacred Circles since you were twelve. Why wouldn't I trust you to know what you're doing? Your parents certainly did.”

“Of course. Blame Brenda's death on them now.”

The slur was cutting, and Devlin wondered why he was letting her get away with such a cheap shot. Had she not once in the past fifteen years thought that Brenda's death might sit squarely on her head? He glanced out the side window. He should've followed his first instinct and let Brianna drive herself home. And more importantly, he should've gone to Florida as planned. Why had he changed his mind?
You still have a “thing” for her,
his inner voice chided. Right. Stupid is as stupid does.

He focused on the roadway ahead again, praying their conversation was truly at an end this time. A loud sigh escaped Brianna's lips.

“Don't you think I know that I mishandled the spell that day?”

“I think that accidents sometimes happen,” Devlin interrupted. “It's no one's fault; energy just collides. Let's drop the subject, huh?” He stepped on the gas pedal and brought the car up to a steady seventy miles per hour. It settled under the rush of fuel, giving him time to wish he could turn the clock back a few minutes. Right now, falling asleep at the wheel was preferable to regurgitating an incident that he thought he had buried long ago.

“I never thought I'd want to discuss that day with you.”

“Don't then,” Devlin cut in. “We were both there; we know what happened. We paid the price. Enough said.”

“How long were you ill?”

“Drop the subject,” Devlin stated, turning his attention to the CD player. She fell silent, but not for long.

“Don't tell me you weren't ill; I was. We both know that a bout with a powerful negative force can cause an illness to linger for months. How long were you down?”

Devlin ignored the question, hoping his silence would persuade her he had no intention of discussing the past anymore. He pressed the “start” button and listened to the soft, soothing tones of Il Divo. Liking their sound, he turned the music track up. The music disappeared a moment later.

“You may as well answer me. You know what a brat I can be when I set my mind on something.”

Devlin turned the music back up again, ignoring her statement. Once more, the music disappeared from his hearing.

“I mean it, Devlin. I need to know the answer to the question—now more than ever.”

Devlin gave a huge sigh.

“Look, the punishment fit the crime. You miscalculated the level of your energy, and by the time I realized the error, the ritual tanked.”

“And because Brenda was standing behind me, she took the hit.”

“Right, so we deserved exactly what we got. Now, drop the subject before I'm forced to toss you out of the car.”

“You, and what army of witches?”

Devlin frowned at her sarcasm; however, before he could utter a sarcastic retort, a thumping erupted from beneath the floorboards, and the rear of the vehicle began to fishtail along the blacktop. Lifting his foot from the gas pedal, he tapped on the brakes, hoping to short-circuit the inevitable spin the Jeep seemed headed for.

Twisting the wheel hard-left, he fought to keep the tires from skidding across the swale into a nearby ditch. To his relief, the car righted itself under his jerk and came to a complete stop. Tuning into the silence, he held onto the wheel, listening for the sound of spinning tires. Nothing. At least they weren't dangling over some unseen drop-off. He had hit an animal, nothing more.

“What the hell did you hit?”

“Some damn animal crossing the road.”

“Well, that was careless of you.”

Her words had him dropping his head, and lightly banging his forehead on the steering wheel.

“Ever mind the Rule of Three,” he quoted. “Three times what thou givest returns to thee. This lesson well thou must learn. Thee only gets what thou dost earn.”

“I hope you're not suggesting that I caused the animal to cross the road and get killed?”

Devlin rolled his head to the side, his gaze sweeping Brianna's face.

“You
are
a brat, you know—a beautiful one, but still a brat.” Lifting his head, he shoved the Jeep into park and exited the vehicle. Angling around the rear panel, he fished in the hatchback for a flashlight. Finding one, he checked the undercarriage on both sides of the car. No structure damage; no smell of gas or burning metal. And definitely no animal carcass caught in the wheel well. He swung the beam behind him, and over the roadway. A lump lay sprawled in pieces not far from the beam. A car door slammed a moment later.

“What have you found?”

Devlin turned the beam onto the mauled lump in the roadway.

“A splattered roadrunner.”

She spun about, fixing her stare anywhere but on the diced carcass.

“Are you sure we hit it? Maybe we just ran over the carcass.”

“We hit it, Cinderella. So much for my becoming your Prince Charming.”

“Don't be an ass!” she sniffed, swinging back around. “Now, are we stranded or not? If we are, it's clear the power of three belongs to you. I'm simply along for the ride.”

“Rubbish,” Devlin grumbled, tossing the flashlight back through the open hatch and slamming the trunk down hard. “I'm quite sure you've never just been simply along for the ride on anything.”

“Are we stranded or not?” she hissed.

“Not.”

“Good. I'd hate to leave your murdered body alongside the road for some damn animal to feast on.”

He laughed at her words and then spun her about with a hefty shove towards the passenger door.

“Stop being so bloodthirsty and get back in the car. We're almost at the coven turnoff.”

She entered the Jeep again and Devlin followed her lead. In less than a minute, they were on the road again, eating up the miles and settling into a companionable silence. Before he knew it, they were passing mile marker 34 and turning onto the perimeter road leading into the compound.