Spellbinder (10 page)

She snatched her phone from the bedside table. “I’m gonna find out.”

She went to contacts. Found the word, “Daddy.” Her finger hovered right over the word. Those tears that had stung her sinuses now filled her eyes and she felt the warm drops roll down her cheeks. How could he have lied to her all this time? How could her mom accept his lies? How could Miranda love the man and know so little about him?

“How do I ask him?” She looked up at Kylie, blinking away the blurry wetness.

“I … don’t know. Just ask.”

“And say what? Hey, Dad, do you have another family you haven’t told me about?”

Kylie, sensing her emotion, dropped down beside her and hugged her tight. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Miranda said, even as the calm emotion flowed from her friend’s touch, but it wasn’t enough to stop the knot of pain throbbing inside her. “Tabitha’s right, I’m a fool not to have figured this out. He’s only home a couple of weeks a month.”

“Look, I know how you feel. It’s hard to realize that our parents aren’t the people we grew up thinking they are. I learned my dad was really just my stepdad, and he was boinking his intern who was only a few years old than me. My mom had been lying to me about who my dad was, and keeping me from my real grandparents. But believe me when I tell you that while it hurts realizing they aren’t the perfect people we want them to be, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. If anything, learning the truth has helped my relationship with both my mom and my stepdad.”

Miranda wiped her eyes. “Having an affair is one thing, but having another family is … is … How can that ever be okay? If what Tabitha says is true, I didn’t even know my own father’s real name.” A moan left her lips. Even to her own ears, it sounded pathetic, but she couldn’t help it.

She felt pathetic.

Glancing down at her phone, she touched the word “Daddy.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Kylie stood up.

“I don’t care,” Miranda said. “I’ll tell you everything anyway.” She always did. She and Della were her sounding boards—sometimes she didn’t even know how she felt about things until she talked to them.

She put the phone to her ear, and held her breath waiting for the phone to ring. Her heart started to race with the first ring. She looked up at her friend. “Shit! What am I going to say to him?”

Kylie simply made a face as if to say she didn’t have an answer. “Maybe you aren’t ready to talk to him yet.”

As tempting as it was to hang up, Miranda didn’t. Turned out, she didn’t have to. On the fifth ring, the call went to her dad’s voice mail.

A big wave of relief washed over her. Kylie was right. She wasn’t ready to tackle this. Not with her dad at least. But there was one parent she was accustomed to arguing with. One that was possibly a home wrecker.

She hung up and immediately started to call her mom, but then quickly changed her mind.

Tossing her cell down on the bed, she reached for a pillow to hug. As crazy as it was, her first thought was that she wanted Perry. To have him hold her. To hear him tell her it would be okay. His touch, his tenderness, his kisses, they always made her feel okay. Even more than Kylie and Della, Perry had felt like her soul mate. Now her soul mate was gone and he hadn’t even bothered to call her. Hadn’t even come to see her and she was here in Paris.

Rolling onto her side, she looked up at Kylie, who stared down at her with empathy.

“I used to think I was the lucky one,” Miranda said. “Your home life was crazy and then Della’s dad being accused of murder. Sure, my mom can be a bitch about me not being high priestess material, but I thought at least I didn’t have the crazy kind of problems you two did. Now I realize I’m not the lucky one, I’m just the stupid one who didn’t see it.”

“You are not stupid!” Kylie dropped back down on the bed. “You trusted them. Trusting people you love doesn’t make you stupid. I know, because I trusted my parents all those years, and they were hiding stuff, too.”

Miranda closed her eyes, hoping to hide the tears she felt forming. “I trusted Perry, too.”

Kylie put her hand on Miranda’s shoulder. Warmth and peace flowed from her touch. “Love makes us vulnerable,” Kylie said. “But to live without it makes us miserable.”

“I’m miserable now,” Miranda said.

“I know, but it will pass. I promise.”

Miranda just lay there with her eyes closed, her arms wrapped so tightly around a pillow that even it longed to breathe. As a few more tears slipped from her closed eyes, she craved the numbness of sleep.

*   *   *

Miranda found some reprieve with slumber, but only for a bit when something caused a big shift in her mattress. Shooting up, thoughts of rogue vampires chasing away the calm of sleep, she saw a figure sitting on the end of her bed and knew she was only partially right. Vampire, yes. Rogue, no.

“Hey,” Della said and Miranda spotted a look of defeat in her eyes.

“You’re back,” Kylie said, sounding sleepy, and leaning up on her elbow.

“Did you find your uncle?” Miranda asked.

“No,” Della said, a frown pulling her lips. “It appears he had come and gone by the time I arrived. But you want to know something crazy? I could swear I got a weak scent of Chase when I got close to this building.”

“You think he was here?” Kylie asked.

“No, I’m sure it’s just someone with similar DNA.”

“Sorry,” Miranda and Kylie said at the same time.

“It’s okay,” Della said without a lot of confidence. “I’m not giving up. I can’t. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.” Della tilted her head to the side and studied Miranda. “You look upset. Is everything okay?”

Knowing that lying to a vampire was useless, Miranda shook her head and tears formed in her eyes. “No, it’s not okay. My daddy has another family. Tabitha is my half-sister.”

“No shit!” Della said. “Wait, Tabitha, is she the horse-crap bitch?” Della asked.

Miranda nodded. “My whole life is a lie.”

“Wow, that does suck.” Della made an odd face and glanced at Kylie and then back to Miranda. “Yikes … Uh … this might not be a good time, but I found something else while I was away.”

“What?” Miranda asked, hoping she sounded more interested than she felt. Down deep, all she wanted was to go back to sleep.

Della’s gaze shifted back to Miranda. “A huge pterodactyl with bright blue eyes.”

Miranda’s breath caught. “You … you saw Perry.”

Della nodded. “Yup.”

Tears prickled Miranda’s eyes. “Did he even ask about me? Wait!” She threw up her hands as if to block any words. “Don’t answer that. I don’t care.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “To me, he doesn’t exist anymore. He’s a nonissue. Not important. Doesn’t matter.”

“Actually … it does matter. You see, we have a little problem.” Della frowned. “And it’s not exactly little. It’s about six feet tall and weighs in at—”

“What?” Miranda asked. “I’m too tired to handle riddles. Just tell me.”

“All righty … it’s Perry … he kind of followed me here.”

“Kind of?” Miranda asked.

“Okay, he followed me.”

“He’s here?” Miranda jumped up and stood on the bed. “Here? Now?”

“Yup.” Della glanced up at Miranda, who was bouncing up and down on the mattress in excitement. “In the living room. He wants to see you. He’s been away a few days and didn’t know you were here. Do you want me to chase him off? I’ll probably have to hurt him because he was pretty adamant about seeing you. But for you, I’ll do it.”

“No.” Her mind spun. “I need clothes.” She jumped off the bed and yanked open her suitcase, which was on top of the dresser. She tossed clothes over her shoulder, looking for her perfect blouse and jeans. The ones she knew Perry liked. The ones she packed especially to wear when she saw him.

Her heart thumped with excitement. Her skin felt supersensitive.

After almost four weeks, she was finally going to see him.

As crazy as it seemed, she recalled the game of killing the blue-eyed shape-shifter. Then she remembered that in the end, that shape-shifter lived but had killed her. Stabbed her, right in the heart.

Like it or not, she knew Perry still had that power to hurt her.

Chapter Twelve

As Miranda stepped out of the bedroom, she heard voices. Even with her heart on the chopping block, her palms itched and the air tasted sweeter as she took the last steps to the doorway.

Perry was here. He wanted to see her.

The sweetness faded when the first thing she saw was Shawn, still half naked, his arms crossed and a frown dominating his expression. His gaze shot to her. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to,” he said, his tone deep. Was that a touch of hurt she heard in his tone?

She looked across the room and her heart leapt at the sight of the shape-shifter. He wore jeans—they appeared a little tighter than he normally wore—and a green long-sleeved polo shirt. His hair, blond with a few loose locks, looked a little mussed the way it did after he’d flown or maybe after one of their make-out sessions. His eyes were their normal bright azure, and those baby blues were on her. Staring, drawing her closer. Emotion flashed in those liquid pools of color and she felt as if that emotion echoed inside of her.

“Do you want him to leave?” Shawn asked again, and he uncrossed his arms, showcasing his bare chest, but damn if she already hadn’t forgotten the half-naked warlock was even in the room.

Miranda glanced back at him, and she hated knowing this might hurt him, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t send Perry away.

“No. It’s fine. I want to see him.”

She saw the way Shawn’s eyes reflected disappointment.

When she looked back at Perry, his eyes were brighter.

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” he said. His deep, familiar voice sounded like music to her ears and his tight focus stayed on Shawn. Inhaling deeply, as if fighting some other impulse, he glanced back to her. “Would you like to take a walk with me, so we might have some privacy?”

The emphasis he put on the word “privacy” seemed to mean something. Had he already picked up on Shawn’s interest in her? If so, was Perry about to morph into some superbeast and try to teach the warlock a lesson?

Standing frozen, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she just stared.

Perry repeated, “A walk? It’s a nice night.”

The word “yes” danced on her lips, when Shawn spoke up again. “Sorry. She can’t leave the apartment. I’m in charge of her care.”

She turned to Shawn, slightly annoyed. “A quick walk. We won’t be long.”

“No.” His frown deepened. “Sorry, Burnett’s orders were clear. No one leaves.”

“Burnett trusts me,” Perry said, his tone deepening with anger as his eyes grew brighter with the same emotion. For a second she feared he would shift and start trouble. He didn’t.

“Perhaps,” Shawn said. “Even as misguided as that may be, it’s not you he’s worried about. She might be in danger and I’m the agent hired to make sure nothing happens to her.”

“As if I would let anything happen to her?” Perry countered.

Shawn’s gaze flipped back to Miranda. She shook her head slightly, pleading for him not to do this. He seemed to understand, because she saw his wide chest expand as if taking in a pound of oxygen.

“You can have the privacy of the living room.” He turned and walked back into the hall leading to the third bedroom.

She watched Shawn go—feeling his unhappiness—before turning back to Perry. The shape-shifter’s gaze was on her, but brighter—anger always did that to him.

They stared at each other for several minutes. Emotions ran though her chest like wild horses. She’d missed him so damn much. She loved him. She was so angry at him. How could he put her through all this?

As that hurt swelled up in her heart, it bumped into the other recent painful realization about her dad.

“Hey,” Perry said.

“Hey,” she repeated and took a few steps closer. But it wasn’t as close as she wanted. She wanted his arms around her. His lips against hers. She wanted him to make everything that hurt inside her go away. He could do that.

He had in the past. But never had that hurt been caused by him.

His gaze shifted to the door where Shawn had disappeared. “So…?”

“So what?” she asked, not wanting to explain anything about Shawn, not even sure she should. There really wasn’t anything to explain.

“You look … nice.” His voice softened.

And then she softened, too. She nodded and took another step closer.

“Your hair … You decided not to streak it anymore.”

“You don’t like it?” she asked.

He studied her. “I like you. I don’t care what color your hair is.” He took the next few steps—closing the distance between them.

His scent, like fresh outdoor air, filled her senses and she took a deep breath, greedy for more. Her hands ached to reach for him, but her pride made that move difficult. Mentally, emotionally, she’d been reaching for him for four weeks. He’d pushed her away. He hadn’t even called her.

Slowly, he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

His touch sent a powerful bolt of emotion to her chest. It took everything she had not to fall against him.

“I’ve missed you so damn much,” he said.

Me, too!
“Really?” she asked. “Normally, I think you call people when you miss them.” She wasn’t sure where she got the backbone to say that, but suddenly she realized she deserved to know.

He lowered his hand and head. For several beats of silence he stared at the floor and didn’t move. Finally he lifted his gaze again. “I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That if I talked to you, I would have said screw the school and come running back to you.”

“Back to the girl you broke up with? That seems odd.” Her sinuses stung and she felt tears forming.

“Don’t you get it, Miranda? I broke up with you because I wasn’t sure that I could ever control my power, and if I couldn’t then … I’d never be able to live a normal life, not in the human world. And I know your plans for your life, you’ve told me them a hundred times.” A sad shade of blue touched his eyes. “Those plans don’t include hiding or hiding a husband. I wouldn’t fit in your world. I’d hold you back. You deserve to have what you want.”