Tempted by Fate (38 page)

Willow paced on the sidewalk next to it.

He glanced at the spot where Taylor was taken
down, offered a prayer for his partner, and went to face Willow.

She stopped when she saw him approach. He saw her swallow thickly before she said, with attitude, “Well?”

“You could have warned me.”

She shrugged. “I thought the Band-Aid method was probably better.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You know I need time to digest this.”

“Of course.” Her voice was sad.

He sighed. “What do you expect, Willow? You’ve dropped a number of bombs on me, and I don’t know how to react. This is all fantastical, a thing out of a sci-fi movie. I need time to adjust.”

Her lips pinched together, but she nodded and moved to get in the car.

Taking her elbow, he spun her around and into his arms. “I’m not rejecting you. I’m just asking for a little time to get used to this.”

“What if you can’t?” She crossed her arms, closing herself off from him. “You said yourself you’re a black-and-white kind of guy. What if this is too gray for you?”

“I’m not going to leave you,” he said, cutting to the heart of the matter. “If you want me to trust you, you have to trust me, too.”

“I told you I was a Guardian, didn’t I?” She stepped out of his arms and slid into the car, a show of long, leather-encased legs and boots, before slamming the door.

He watched her as she sat there, looking so miserable that he wanted to take her into his arms and reassure her in every way he knew how. A week ago, he would have been worried she’d run before he could come to grips
with everything she’d told him. Now he was confident she wasn’t going anywhere. He had faith in her. Possibly more than she had in herself. She recognized they belonged together—she wouldn’t abandon that, and she’d give him the time he needed to process.

So he went around to the driver’s side and got in. He started the car, put it in gear, and took her home.

W
illow sat on her heels in front of the apple tree. The moon shined full and bright. Plants swayed to the night’s music. The man she loved was headed toward her. All very romantic.

In theory at least. Willow couldn’t appreciate any of it. Her future hung in the balance.

Sure, yesterday Rick had said that he had needed time to adjust to her being a Guardian, but what if he thought about it and realized he couldn’t deal with it?

And then he’d sent her the text today, asking her to meet him. She hadn’t expected that—not so soon. It couldn’t be good. She watched him as he approached, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but his beautiful face was cloaked in mysterious shadows.

Well, she wouldn’t let him just break it off with her. This was too important. She’d keep after him until he realized he couldn’t live without her.

The two caught eyes before Ramirez knelt down in front of her. In his hands, he had what looked like a
linen-wrapped plant. A consolation present as he sent her on her way?

Like hell he would. She lifted her chin. “Starsky—”

“Wait, before you say anything,” he interrupted her gently, setting the package between them. “I have to tell you how beautiful you look.”

“Thanks.” After he’d texted her, she’d gone shopping for something special to wear, something that would bring him to his knees. She’d found this short green silk dress. It reminded her of something a wood sprite would wear. “I—”

“I need to ask you something,” he said, interrupting her again.

She frowned. “What?”

“Will you show me?” He gazed at her steadily. “I had a taste of your powers when you confronted your father, but I want you to show me specifically. Do something just for me.”

She blinked, shocked by the request. “Are you certain? Experiencing it means you won’t be able to make excuses. You’ll have to face the magic.”

“I know.”

Meaning he wanted to show her he accepted all of her. She wasn’t dense—she got it. It didn’t make her any less nervous, though. “Are you ready for this?”

Ramirez nodded, confident and sure.

“Pay close attention.” One hand on the ground, her eyes never leaving his, she let
mù ch’i
flow through her arm and into the roots of the tree. She felt its warm pulse of life, its benign acceptance. She gave a bit of herself—of her light—and asked for a bit in return.

Holding up her other hand, a twig fell straight into it.
Thanking the tree, she resettled herself and held the twig up in front of her. She focused
mù ch’i,
letting it flow through her, out her fingertips and into the thin piece of wood. She felt the energy of the wood and lovingly encouraged it. Since the episode with her father, she’d felt her powers so differently. They seemed purer, more unadulterated. She’d tapped into what she always felt was missing. Elena was right—letting go of the anger had caused her to bloom. The same way the twig was now blooming.

Thin brown shoots were springing from the piece of wood, extending into delicate branches that sprouted tiny green leaves. She let her energy flow into it until it’d blossomed into a small tree. Not wanting to shock the plant, she withdrew her energy slowly.

For what seemed like forever, Ramirez stared in silence at the miniature tree in her hand. Then he held out his hand. “May I?”

Puzzled, she nodded and handed it over. He took it gently, taking care not to jostle it, as if he thought it’d be fragile or an illusion. He weighed it in his hand and rubbed the leaves. “Can this be potted?”

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

“This tree. Will it survive if it’s potted?” Ramirez held it up and looked at the roots. “Or will it fade away?”

“Well, all things go at some point, but, no, it won’t just die. My power doesn’t create energy. It just helps it grow or die.”

Ramirez nodded and set the little tree on the ground next to him. “Then we’ll pot it so I can keep it on my desk at work. A living reminder of you.”

Her heart expanded with warmth. “So you’re really
okay with this? You don’t find it weird at all that I can do this stuff?”

“No, it’s definitely weird.” He smiled ruefully. “But it’s not like I’m a stranger to weird things. I got an early start with my grandmother.”

“But isn’t this”—she waved at the little tree—“more than what Elena even subjected you to?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Has she ever given you her speech about fate?”

“Of course.”

He nodded, taking her hand. “I’ve witnessed some strange things in my life, starting with Lita. But then, there was everything that’s happened over the past year, with Gabrielle, and then Carrie.”

Willow’s gaze narrowed. “Did you really have to bring
her
into the conversation?”

He grinned. “There’s nothing to be jealous of there.”

“I know.” She nodded reasonably, her fingers digging into the earth. “Except for her blondness, and her perkiness, and her intelligence, and—”

“There’s nothing,” Ramirez said with quiet force, lifting her hand and cradling it in his. “She’s my friend. You’re going to have to get over this irrational animosity.”

Irrational—
ha.
But he was right. She’d decided to stay in San Francisco out of hope for a life with Ramirez, but also because she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn about the other Guardians. It helped that Morgan had decided to stay there, as well. She and Weinberg had moved in together on their second date.

Willow looked down at her hand in Ramirez’s. “So you’re okay with my powers? And my past?”

“You have to promise you’ll give up being an assassin.”

“Done,” she said without hesitation.

He didn’t answer for a long, torturous moment. “Yes, I’m okay.”

She held her breath, afraid to hope. “So… you’re saying…?”

“I’m not saying this isn’t difficult. I’m a pragmatic person.” He held her close. “But Lita would claim that the universe was preparing me to accept you as my fate, because it’s obvious everything through my life, and especially the past year, has chipped away at my disbelief.”

“But my Guardianship is all that stuff on a grander scale.”

“Because you’re all those things on a grander scale.” He tucked her hair back from her face. “I’ve never seen you wear your hair down. Except in bed.”

She tried to think of some sassy comeback, but all she could do was blush like a schoolgirl.

She used his grip to yank him forward. “You realize you can’t change your mind, right? Once you commit to me, it’ll be forever. I’m not the type of woman who—”

His mouth came down on hers, shutting her up immediately. It occurred to her that she should push him back and get his answer, but it was too delicious to stop. She drank him in like it’d been years since she’d felt him, instead of twenty-four hours.

He nibbled her lips, a lick here and there. “I want forever with you, Willow.”

Something in her chest melted. She rested her forehead against his. “Good, because that’s what I want, too.”

“I have something for you.”

“I bet you do, Starsky.”

He sat back, running a hand along her face, an amused smile lighting his eyes. “Something else. For the moment.”

Before she could ask what, he lifted the linen-wrapped plant between them and held it out to her. The tree’s energy suffused her the moment he set it in her hands. She looked up at Ramirez in question.

He nodded. “Open it.”

Feeling around the base, she found the string that kept it bound, then tugged. The cloth fell away to reveal a small shrub.

A
tarata.

“It’s time you had roots.” He pointed to the right. “We’ll plant it right there.”

She swallowed thickly, her hands gripping the plant. “We will?”

“Yes.” He gazed at her levelly and spoke slowly, as though he wanted to make sure she got it. “Lita once told me you were entrusted to me, and it was the greatest challenge I’d ever know. I never back down from a challenge.”

“That’s what I am?” She wanted to will him to tell her what was in his heart. She needed to hear it, like a plant thirsted for water. So much so, she was tempted to send him a compulsion, even though she knew logically it wouldn’t work on him. “
A challenge?
”

“Yes.” His lips quirked. “But you’re also a pleasure, an honor, and a joy.”

“All that, huh?” she said lightly, feeling anything but.

He leaned forward, holding her firm. “You’re also mine.”

She melted on the inside. “You’re mine, too.”

“Of course I am.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”

He led her to the spot he’d pointed out earlier. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she saw that a space had been cleared and a hole dug—the perfect spot for the
tarata.
They knelt on either side of the hole. He looked up at her, his cheekbones sharp in the moonlight. “So do we say a chant or something now?”

She laughed, feeling ridiculously light and happy all of a sudden. “Really, you’re supposed to strip naked and do a little dance.”

“Fantastic.” He sat back on his heels. “Go ahead.”

Slipping fingers under the thin straps of her dress, she shimmied the top down her torso. He stopped her, but not before the springtime air pebbled her nipples. She shivered, more from the way he looked at her than the cool San Francisco air.

“Not here.” He tugged her top back up. “The neighbors will see, not to mention my grandmother is here.”

“Then we better finish this fast so you can take me inside.” She tipped her head. “I assume that’s where you want me.”

“Forever,” he said, his entire being behind the word.

A feeling of warmth and comfort and belonging overcame her. A feeling she hadn’t felt since her mom had been alive.

He lifted the
tarata
in his hands. “We’ll do this together.”

She nodded, unable to form the words for the thickness in her throat. Putting her hands on top of his, they guided it into the hole together.

“I wasn’t sure it would grow in this climate,” Ramirez said as they packed the dirt back into the hole.