The Silver Rose (15 page)

“Some things,” she murmured with conviction, “are better hot.”

Stop now. Pull back and insist she's mistaken. Don't do it!
His palm moved, and his fingers splayed through her bolt of hair, fingering, massaging, and memorizing the luxurious feel of it cascading over his skin. His fingers, those of an artist, cupped the back of her neck, holding it secure while his thumb softly traced her pulse which surged into overdrive.

Hunger reflected back at him from her beautiful, emerald eyes. Dragons' Breath! She wanted him, and for one crazy moment he thought he saw her future reflect back at him and he was part of it.

With stealth, he wrapped the cloak of his deception about him. He lowered his head, positive she would bolt when she realized her error in inviting his kiss. But she remained resolute, eyes open and inflamed with the same fierce need as his. There was a second when all he learned and all he knew merged, and his thoughts echoed her words spoken only moments before —
some things are better hot
— before he dipped his head and did what he had wanted to do since first setting eyes on Rosa Greenwood.

He kissed her.

Dragons' Oath! It was more than he had foreseen. The kiss took him places he'd thought never to go again and in those places, it brutally revealed what was missing in his life. An ache, a longing locked away, held ruthlessly at bay for centuries, welled up from the depth of his soul, and he almost wept with the beauty of it all.

Stop this madness before it goes too far,
he instructed his mind. Instead he drowned in her scent, swam in her warmth, relishing and savouring every second.

Rosa sighed into his mouth. He deepened the kiss. His tongue skimmed her teeth, tasting her sweetness. An audible moan echoed deep within his throat. His hands moved, swept down over her shoulders, across her back as he tugged her firmly against him. Mindless of the discomfort to them both, Rosa's legs tangled with his on the wooden bench and she melded willingly into his arms.

A heady fervor surged within Aden. He wanted to drown in her aura, to bury himself deep inside her and claim her as his own, but his conscience objected.
No! She is not yours. Stop! Now!

He surfaced for air. “We can't do this.” So why did his arms refuse to relinquish their hold? Why did he continue to steal kiss after kiss? Why did his hands trace a pattern of ownership over her, ensnaring her as much as she ensnared him?

“Too late,” Rosa responded, and grasped the tie binding his hair and tugged his head back to gain access to his neck and jaw line before paving her way to his mouth.

“But,” he protested, then Rosa silenced him with silky lips. They covered his, and she boldly flicked her tongue across his teeth.

“Don't talk,” she whispered hotly into his mouth. “Just feel.”

Oh, he was feeling, all right. Just how long could this flirtation continue before he combusted before her eyes? His breathing grew increasingly ragged, his heart thundered far too loudly in his ears, deafening reason and clouding what remained of his judgment.

Until he perceived hope. Hope he could be the one for her. Just in time, he was reminded of Marylebone and the oath he had taken. Her teeth grazed his earlobe, and the lightning bolt in his ear swiveled and crackled with energy.

“No!” he protested, knowing in a second she would see past the shield hiding his magic and recognize him for what he was. “I can't begin something I can't finish.” His words sounded weak and untruthful. He ached to make love to Rosa, reveal his true self, and meld his magic with hers. They would be good together. He inwardly hissed at the thought. It was a dangerous one and reflected just how far he had slipped.

He could not break his oath to Marylebone. He would not!

Gripping her arms, he wrenched himself away, putting space between them. She reached out to him. “No!” This time she listened, but there was confusion in her eyes.

His chest heaved with the effort as his body and heart protested vociferously and his soul cried out for so much more. “This stops now.” He thrust himself up off the seat and strode to the edge of the veranda. Clutching the corner post to steady himself, he strove to reclaim a calm he no longer possessed and probably never would again.

“Why?” Rosa shot to her feet. “Why stop now?” Rosa hugged her arms over her chest as if chilled by his rejection.

Aden fought the urge to take those few steps back and envelop her in his arms.

“Why did you kiss me?” she insisted again. “Why didn't you tell me you weren't interested? I would have accepted a no.”

Aden stared hungrily at her, searching for a reason convincing enough for her to believe. He deliberately closed his eyes, shutting her out. He took a second, imagined throwing ice into the well that was his heart and willed it to freeze over. When he opened his eyes once again, the passion that had flared within him only seconds before had been contained.

“You're looking for a husband.” It was a weak excuse, but the best his rattled mind could come up with.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and his desire for her only increased. Rosa marched over and planted herself in front of him. “What are you doing buying tickets if you're not interested in winning me for yourself?”

“I can't deny I find you attractive, Rosa. More than attractive. But I'm leaving once the festival is over. It would be wrong to start something I can't finish.”

“I didn't ask you to marry me. We've barely kissed. What's the big deal?”

The big deal was that he was immortal, and the bells had not tolled for him. Rosa was human and lived a mortal life span. Unless she met her fate as the bells had decreed, she would lose so much. Her magic, the ability to become immortal and, quite possibly, if she refused to sacrifice her magic, her life.

“The big deal is you're not the type for a one-night stand. I never stay long in one place. It would be wrong.” What had Marylebone been thinking by recklessly tossing him into Rosa's life!

Rosa stood her ground. “You're scared to let yourself care. Why?”

Aden recognized the truth in her statement. He never spoke of his other life all those centuries ago. Never. “Been there, done that, never doing it again.” The words were callous, and he regretted them instantly.

Unable to stand the disappointment flooding Rosa's eyes as she began to accept he was serious, Aden released his hold on the post, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and let his thumbs caress her skin. “I'm sorry, Rosa.”

“What happened to you?”

“I can't tell you.” Aden stepped away from temptation. Another step backwards, and he would fall into the garden. “It's in the past.”

“How can it be in the past when it affects you today?”

“We can be friends. Nothing more.”

“And do you kiss all your friends the way you just kissed me?”

Aden didn't have an answer. He stepped down onto the path. “I don't know what else I can tell you. I think it's best I leave.”

“Go then,” Rosa said, a defiant light in her eyes, “before you change your mind.”

“I won't,” Aden uttered, without conviction.

“We'll see about that,” Rosa challenged.

And that was what he was afraid of.

Aden abandoned any pretense of sleep, tossed aside his duvet, and strode across the polished wooden floors of the bedroom with purpose. The walls closed in on him, and his mind gave him no peace. He needed to get out, feel the earth beneath his feet, reconnect with its powers, and replenish his energy.

Not once did he pause, not even as he waved a commanding hand through the air, dressing his frame in jeans and a black polo sweater against the chill in the air. He allowed the shield hiding his true magical nature to slide away. Feeling free and lighter than he had in ages, he stalked across the lawn and down to the water's edge in the inky night. He needed no light to see where he went. It was witching hour. Midnight.

Recognizing his presence, the night welcomed him. Where once he had brushed it away with an arrogant disdain, he instead allowed the air to caress him, enveloping and uplifting his troubled spirit. Precariously balanced at the edge of the river, his toes splayed in the chilled grass, he let the elements wash away the day's worries. His energies, bolstered by the earth, replenished and renewed his spirit.

He looked across to Beth's house. All was in darkness, and, sensing no movement in Clematis Cottage, he inflated his lungs, tilted his neck back, and raised his face toward the sky. Arcing his arms wide, palms cupped upwards, he invited the power of the almost full moon to embrace him. He took care not to allow it to expand and bump into the sister's web of spells surrounding their homes.

How could he have lost control? He had come dangerously close to breaking his oath and revealing the truth of his heritage to Rosa. The temptation had been there, but his promise was paramount, and he had remembered just in time.

Not long after leaving Rosa, while his mind still whirled with the memories of how her lips felt on his, he had been beset by the irrepressible Alanna. The wilful minx had attempted to probe his aura, and his shield, weakened by his lack of control, had made him vulnerable. In an attempt to be rid of her, he had purchased three additional raffle booklets.

Sixty tickets! He had bought sixty tickets!

If he kept buying tiny bits of paper at twenty-five bucks a pop, he was going to be a very poor warlock. It was as well he possessed the ability to conjure up food at will, or he would be a starving one as well.

One of the prerequisites of his obligation to Marylebone was to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He almost snorted aloud. What a joke! The citizens had taken him to their hearts and were treating him as one of their own. He hadn't helped by handing out those damned flyers for Beth. Who would have thought such a small community could contain such an enormous number of meddling mortals? Their power was mightier than any magician he knew. With enhanced hearing, Aden had overheard snatches of gossip. A curse rather than a blessing. As he'd passed from store to store handing out leaflets, phones had rung, his progress and interest in Rosa duly noted. Where he had been, to whom had he spoken, what food he had eaten. The town was literally abuzz with speculation.

Then there was that other little problem taking on a greater magnitude that unsettled him even more. Just as Rosa had indicated earlier, the townsfolk were actively participating in making monetary bets as to whether Aden and Rosa would end up together? Would he win not only the raffle, but her heart as well?

Using his finger, he lit the sky with a fine streak of fire and made a swift calculation. Two and a half thousand bucks! Eyebrows would be raised. What excuse would he have for Anton? That he had fallen for Rosa and hated the idea she was to be married to someone other than him before the month was over?

The first purchase had been to encourage others to buy. Surprisingly, not long after witnessing all the men parading their way to Rosa's door, the little green-eyed monster had paid him a visit. Every time Rosa smiled at another male, envy distorted his reason into something unrecognizable, creating fissures in his resolve to remain non-attached.

Rosa deserved better than a motley bunch of male suitors knocking at her door. She deserved someone powerful. Someone with purpose, strength, and character. Someone to appreciate her unique talents.

Without someone truly worthy and powerful enough at her side to ground her ever-increasing power, to support and understand how different a witch's life was from that of a human, she would not mature. Her magic would stagnate, warping into something far too dangerous for her to control.

It was imperative he succeeded in his mission.

Arms raised above his shoulders, Aden summoned his familiar to his side, keen to see his little companion again. Within seconds, a golden light glowed before him, gradually increasing to the size of a basketball. It burned a rainbow of colors before settling on amethyst, and then exploded. And there he was. Albert, a miniature dragon. One of only a few to live solely within the boundaries of Marylebone.

Conjuring a handful of berries, Aden held out his hand. “My friend. I've missed your incessant chatter.”

• • •

There was another soul unable to sleep. Beth arose from her bed and, with a weary, silent command, robed herself in her favorite, sky-blue silk dressing gown and wandered out onto the veranda.

Worried more than she would admit to her sisters, she hugged herself against the rush of air whipping through the stand of Pohutukawas planted on the edge of her boundary between her home and Lavender Cottage. Without thought for safety, she stepped onto the earth and walked over to stand beneath one of their great branches.

Wind held no dominion over her. A witch could harness the powers of nature and use them for the benefit of all. So when she shivered, crossed her arms over her chest, and palmed her forearms, it was not from cold. Fear held her in its malevolent grasp.

Everything happened for a reason. She had to believe the phrase. A few hours ago, she had pricked her finger on Rosa's wedding tapestry. Witches' Ruin. Fear knotted her stomach and anxiety yanked it tight. Rosa's future was vague and intangible even to her, and she had no inkling as to which way the pendulum would swing.

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, she stared unseeingly out into the yard, over to Lavender Cottage. A gust of wind whipped her robe about her legs, sending her blonde hair into pointed tendrils in front of her face. Gripping her robe with one hand, she brushed back her wayward hair, but halfway through the motion she witnessed a blinding shaft of light and the silhouette of someone on the embankment. She melded back into the darkest shadows of the tree, her heart suspended in her chest. She held her breath for so long she lost equilibrium. Dizzy, she remembered to breathe, and life jumped her heart back into action. Now it raced with a flurry of excitement, overriding her anxiousness.