Sensuous Summoning (6 page)

“What are you thinking?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she murmured. Nothing she wanted to share, anyway.

He grasped her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Look, I get it. The spell made us behave in ways that we might not have otherwise…”

“I’ve wanted you since you summoned me,” he insisted.

Her eyebrows rose. “Right. And I’m pretty sure we established that you have sex with whoever pulls you out of wherever you are when you’re not here.”

He shrugged. “It’s been known to happen. But that has no bearing on how I feel about you.”

Forcing a smile, she shook her head, unwilling to let him see the inexplicable sadness lurking inside her. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better than you think.”

“And,” she continued as if he’d never spoken. “This whole sex thing isn’t going to happen again.”

Chapter Six

The backdoor creaked open then slammed. Meaghan was home. Rowan took the opportunity to duck beneath Gwydion’s arm and move away from him. Close proximity wasn’t helping her think clearly. Not when all she could recall was the taste of his lips. She shook her head determined to think of something else. Anything else.

Meaghan set several bags of groceries on the table, and Rowan immediately busied herself unpacking them.

“Was I hallucinating, or did I see Reece the Wonder Douche pulling out of our driveway?”

Rowan snorted. “Nope. No hallucination. That was him.”

“What the hell did he want?” her friend demanded.

“What else? For me to withdraw the inspection request on the property.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “He’s such an ass.” She looked at both Rowan and Gwydion. “I hate to ask, but have you guys come up with a way to stop the build?”

Gwydion’s features hardened, and he slowly shook his head.

“Not yet,” Rowan admitted. “I keep hoping…but so far, there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do.”

“I refuse to believe that. There’s got to be something,” Meaghan said, putting a gallon of milk in the fridge. Rowan didn’t miss that it was organic. Maybe Gwydion would find it more palatable. If he stuck around long enough to drink any. With no solutions in sight, she couldn’t imagine he’d continue wasting his time.

Her throat thickened at the thought of him leaving for good, but she shook it off. Of course, he was leaving. There was no reason for him to stick around a planet that was being systematically destroyed.

“You’ve got magic, right?” Meg asked. “Why not just put some sort of mystical force field around it? Or better yet, convince Reece and the rest of the builders that it’s not the build site they’re looking for?”

Rowan’s lips quirked as she waited for Gwydion to answer.

Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not quite that simple. That level of shielding would require that I remain here indefinitely to keep it active. As for the other, I’m bound by certain rules that prevent me from bending humans to my will.”

Rowan snorted.

Meaghan looked between the two of them. “I’m guessing I missed something good?”

Rowan’s shook her head, and Gwydion smiled tightly. Ignoring both the question and the cause of her discomfort, Rowan sidled toward the doorway. “I could really use a shower. Do you mind making supper tonight?” she asked Meaghan without waiting for an answer.

Once inside the bathroom, she let the hot water pour over her head. She felt cleaner even though it did nothing to wash away the arousal that still coursed beneath her skin. Count on her to fall for someone who wasn’t actually attracted to her. She sighed. She could sure pick ‘em.

Tilting back her head, she rinsed the conditioner from her hair. She wished it was as easy to wash away her desire for the man in her kitchen. It would make everything so much easier. And how much worse was it now that she didn’t have to wonder what it would be like with him. She knew what it was like. It was nothing short of freaking spectacular. Granted, the spell had affected them, but she doubted it had anything to do with the way their bodies had fit together or the slick feel of his skin against hers. No, she knew. And that knowledge would slowly drive her insane. Maybe it would be better if he just went back to wherever he’d come from. That undeniable pain was back, but as far as she was concerned, pain was better than torment, any day.

Stepping from the shower, she quickly dried off and slipped on a cotton skirt and a lace-trimmed camisole. The spring night was unseasonably warm, and she planned to take advantage of it. She knew she should be helping with supper, but she found herself heading in the opposite direction toward the front door. She needed to get out of there for a little while and clear her head. Meg would understand when Rowan eventually spilled everything. Besides, she wasn’t hungry anyway.

Slipping out the front door, she stepped over a newly blooming patch of lilies of the valley and followed the path alongside the house that led through the backyard and into the orchard.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon and streaks of lavender and pink brightened the western sky. The fading light backlit the gnarled branches of the apple trees against the vivid backdrop of the evening sky. A short distance away, the large rock crevices that used to house legions of bats stood empty and ominous in the falling darkness. When she was younger, she used to sit out here and watch as the bats emerged in droves from their daytime hiding place. But that hadn’t happened in years. Like so many other plants and animals native to this area, they’d been added to the endangered species list. The construction crew would probably remove the rocks along with everything else.

She glanced around the orchard. It was hard to believe that in a few days’ time, this would all be gone. There would be nothing back here by scarred earth and cement foundations. The peaceful grove she loved would be gone, erased by the greedy hands of man. It might not seem like as much of a waste if the houses would actually be occupied. But this was Michigan, and they were in the middle of a recession. The contractors would be lucky if they could sell a tenth of the houses they built. The rest would sit vacant, waiting for families that would never fill them.

Rowan sank to the ground and leaned against the biggest tree in the orchard. Unsurprisingly, she’d wandered to the same spot where she’d performed the spell. It was much greener here. While the rest of the yard looked as though it were spring, this section of orchard looked like early summer. Maybe Gwydion’s appearance had jumpstarted the plant and animal life here. It looked nothing like this last night. Was it only last night? That didn’t seem possible at all. It felt as if she’d known Gwydion a hell of a lot longer than twenty-four hours. But apparently not.

It was as if she’d been thrust into some alternate reality version of her life. She’d known since she was a little girl that magic existed. Much to the dismay of her father and the delight of her mother, her aunt had taught Rowan everything she knew about the unseen world—about spells and creating her own reality. But this thing with Gwydion went far deeper than that. She’d never imagined gods existed, nor contemplated the kind of magic of which he was capable. She just wished he was able to do something to put a stop to the destruction of this place.

Closing her eyes, she tried again to think of a solution and realized there might not be one. Sensing she wasn’t alone, she opened her eyes. In the fading light, she saw the fox sitting a few yards away, head tilted to the side and watching her. The animal lay down on her belly, resting her chin on her paws and slowly inched toward Rowan. Not close enough for her to touch the creature, but close enough for her to see the bright amber eyes and cocked ears.

A slight rustle of leaves to Rowan’s left let her know that she and the fox had company. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she wasn’t surprised to see Gwydion standing there watching. “She knows you’re responsible for her survival,” he said quietly.

“I’m the one who nearly killed her.”

“You’re also the one who insisted on saving her.”

She turned to look at him. The setting sun glinted off his hair, highlighting the gold strands among the brown. He sat at her side, and a companionable silence fell over them. Finally, he caught her hand in his and traced intricate designs over her palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you more thoroughly about the consequences of the spell.”

She took a deep breath and looked at the animal. “It’s fine. It saved her, so it’s not like I would have done anything differently.” She tried to tug her hand from his grasp, but he held firm. “Besides, it’s not like it wasn’t enjoyable.”

Lifting her hand to his mouth, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles, and the need for him flared to life again.

She leveled a glare at him. “I thought we established that this is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t establish anything of the sort.”

She sighed. “Let it go already.” Yanking her hand from his grasp, she scooted a short distance away. She couldn’t think clearly when he was that close. Her mind drifted as silence fell between them. Staring at the setting sun, she turned to him, an idea forming. “You said that if you tried to put a protective bubble over this place, you’d have to stay here to sustain it, right?”

He nodded slowly, watching her.

“Okay, but what if you taught me how to do it? And Meaghan? We could keep up the protection magic.”

He shook his head slowly. “Maintaining that level of power would age you both prematurely. You’d be dead in a matter of years.”

The kernel of hope that had sprouted withered. “Oh.”

Her gaze drifted over the orchard, and her attention fell on the rock fissures, almost swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Hope sprang to life as another idea took shape. “There are plenty of plant and animal species that have vanished over the last few years. Is it possible to bring them back?”

He looked thoughtful. “You’re thinking that a reemergence of endangered or extinct species might be enough to halt the destruction.”

“Exactly. And if they reestablish themselves here, and the land can sustain them, it shouldn’t require a constant flow of magic to keep them here. Right?”

He nodded slowly as if lost in thought, and she noticed the shadows under his eyes and how pinched and drawn his face seemed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, laying a hand on his forearm.

“The high levels of pollution in your time have weakened me,” he admitted, his voice tight and frustration evident in his tone. “It’s not a spell I can do without help. Not without returning to my realm to revitalize my abilities.”

“Does that take a long time?” she asked, already guessing the answer.

“Time passes differently there. I can’t promise I’d be back before the inspection.”

She met his gaze. “Is it possible for us to do it together?”

“There would be consequences.”

It was more a statement than a warning. Not that she would have heeded a warning anyway. She didn’t anticipate her lust for him abating any time soon even though she knew she was nothing more to him than convenient. Pushing away a pang of sadness at what could never be, she focused on the here and now. She didn’t anticipate her growing feelings for him disappearing either. He’d be gone soon. If she would only have one more night with him, she’d be stupid not to take it.

“I don’t care.” She cleared her throat practically choking on the all the lies. She did care—more than she wanted to admit and far more than she should.

Chapter Seven

Gwyidon nodded once, then as he’d done with the fox who still lingered nearby, he placed Rowan’s hands palms down on the soft, cool grass and covered them with his own. Closing her eyes, she felt the sluggish, pulsing energy of the earth as well as Gwydion’s more vibrant power seeping into her.

“Visualize all of the plants and animals that have vanished from this place. Hold those images in your mind as you let the spell wash through you.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t sure if he saw her.

His power increased as he began intoning ancient-sounding words. Letting his voice wrap around her, she tried to focus on visualizing the little brown bats Meaghan feared so much. She pictured them flying from their hiding spots at dusk and filling the air with the flapping of their tiny wings. Racking her brain, she tried to remember the rest of the animals she’d read about and the plants she’d seen as a child but no longer grew there.

There was the rock cress that grew along the bats’ habitat—small purple, white and pink flowers that managed to flourish in the rockiest of terrain. She hadn’t seen any of them in years. Nor had she seen the tiny frogs she and Reece used to catch as children. She couldn’t remember what they were called, but they’d filled the woods in early summer.

Lulled by the sound of Gwydion’s voice, she remembered reading about the yellow-headed blackbirds. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one or heard its song. She wasn’t positive it was on the endangered species list, but it couldn’t hurt if there were more of them.