“Kieran once said that phantoms gave him ghostbumps, nae goosebumps. I figured it might have applied in this situation.”

  Tamsin smiled, finding it strangely charming.

  Max’s fingers moved to the fabric of her gown, steady and careful as he aligned the zipper. The metal teeth whispered upward, and he was meticulous in his movements, making sure not to catch her skin, though she still burned wherever his hands lingered.

  When he reached the top, she realized she hadn’t breathed the entire time. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she hoped he couldn’t hear the tattletale beat. They stayed like that for what seemed an eon, before his hands slid down her shoulders and arms, drawing more ghostbumps to the surface.

  She turned to face him and stepped back at his heavy-lidded gaze. “Max?” Her voice was strangely hesitant.

  “Ye are beautiful, Tam.”

  Her mouth turned drier than the sands of the Sahara, and she met that dark gaze that promised her things he had no right promising. “We…” she had to stop a moment to clear her throat, before finishing, “We should go.”

  He flicked a glance at his watch and then nodded, the dark intensity of him shifting as he became the easygoing Uncle Max Fhearchair once again, and she hated every second of it.

  Chapter 6

  Max

  Something between them had altered, transformed into a burgeoning new energy. Max was aware of Tamsin on a whole new level; her every motion pulling him toward her, like the moon gravitating toward Earth.

  Tamsin glanced at the black envelope she’d collected from the bed and moved her arm in a circle. A portal grew to life in her arm’s wake, and he admired how easily she did a magic so challenging, it demanded sacrifices from most practitioners.

  Strangely, the other side of the portal appeared as if it was shrouded in black mist. “That doesnae seem normal,” he muttered.

  “No, it’s not.” She checked the envelope again then shrugged. “It’s the right coordinates, though.” She handed him her invitation, and he tucked it away in his jacket pocket. “Have you got yours, too?”

  He nodded, finding it oddly endearing that she thought to ask. Bloody idiot.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the portal and its cloaked destination. “Shall we?”

  She stepped through, Max close on her heels, his temper igniting. The scent of pine and sap reached him first, along with a bite of cool air that rivalled the autumn winds near Loch Muick. But that was not what he was focused on.

  “Are ye mad!? Ye should have let me go first,” he growled. What if she’d walked into a trap? The mere idea made him sick.

  She gave him an unimpressed look. “Why would I do that?”

  He stared at her like she’d grown a second head, sure he hadn’t heard her correctly. “I cannae die.”

  Her wolf eyes glimmered slightly, as if amused. “Oh, yes, that. I’ll make sure and remember to use you as my human shield next time. It’s very kind of you to offer.”

  He wanted to refute that, but he didn’t think it would be wise, since it was true: he had offered to be her ‘human shield’. But he had no idea why she seemed to think she was infallible. She was a powerful witch, sure, but a witch, nonetheless. She could die, unlike him. The thought sat heavy on his heart, like a truth better left unacknowledged.

  Tamsin looked around, clearly done with the conversation, and he followed suit. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “This is…a lot.”

  He straightened the glasses on his nose, seeing the magic woven into the fabric of the stone path that led them into a darkened forest—a trail leading toward doom or salvation. The tree canopy on either side of the walkway soared toward the sky, their branches grasping like fingers at the moonlight, silhouettes twisted and gnarled. Flowers with purple bell-shaped petals lined the path, glowing slightly in his vision. “Is this like the yellow brick road?” he asked.

  “The what?”

  He just looked at her for a moment, sure she was joking, but she just stared at him, waiting for a response. “Right, I am old, ye are not,” he grumbled. “Ye made yer point.”

  But honestly, who hadn’t heard of the yellow brick road?

  Tamsin strode down the path, but he thought he saw amusement in the lines of her mouth as she turned away from him. Mist curled around her ankles as she walked, coiling up her calves like serpentine tongues tasting her skin. He never thought he’d be jealous of mist.

  They’d only been walking a handful of minutes when they bumped into a young woman who skidded to a startled stop in front of them. Her blonde hair was braided around her head, reminding him of a crown, and she wore a silver-blue gown that glittered with embellishments. She was beautiful in the same way an ice sculpture was—something to be admired, but not touched; you risked frostbite if you dared.

  Personally, he preferred brown-haired vixens whose touch threatened to burn him alive.

  Max realized the blonde woman was staring at him, with eyes that saw more than just his physical form. It happened from time to time, when people encountered his kind for the first time. They sensed the death…but had no idea what or who he was.

  He winked.

  Her cheeks turned a faint pink in response.

  He could feel Tamsin’s eye roll, even if he didn’t see it.

  “Sorry to startle you,” she said. “Max has that effect.”

  “No, it’s just…” The newcomer’s eyes turned vague, as if she were watching a show that only she could see.

  “You okay?” Tamsin asked, a faint frown marring her forehead when he glanced her way.

  “Yeah, I—sometimes I get distracted.”

  But Tamsin’s expression smoothed knowingly. “You saw something.”

  Max had followed their conversation like a spectator at a tennis match. But he finally caught onto the verbal undercurrent—they were both seers. And Tamsin was one of the best.

  “I have the gift of sight,” the woman admitted, as if it were a secret being drawn reluctantly from the hidden depths of her.

  “I knew it.” Tamsin snapped her fingers. “Takes one to know one.”

  The woman blinked. “You have it too?”

  Tamsin nodded with a sigh. “Fortunately…and sometimes unfortunately.”

  “I’ve never met anyone else who could see what I see.”

  “And what exactly did you see?” Max asked. Tamsin was always so secretive about his future, and he had a feeling this woman’s vision involved the two of them.

  This time he saw it when Tamsin rolled her eyes. “This is Max. He’s half-dead, so that’s why his manners suck.” She held her hand out. “I’m Tamsin.”

  Max blinked. He had excellent manners.

  Except when yer around Tamsin.

  Well, there was that.

  “Kendall.” The woman raised her hand, then paused. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

  “Or maybe we should.” Tamsin grinned, the expression slightly wicked. Max swallowed, half-wishing that she’d directed that look at him instead.

  Tentatively, Kendall put her hand in Tamsin’s and they shook.

  Max looked through his glasses at their joined hands, but nothing happened. A faint glow of magic seemed to swirl around Kendall’s body before subsiding. Odd.

  Tamsin grinned as they broke contact. “That was…interesting.”

  Kendall frowned. “Wait. What? Did something happen on your end?”

  “I think this is one vision I should keep to myself,” Tamsin said, shaking her head and making the beads in her hair clink together. She motioned for Max to start moving again.

  “Is it… my death?” Kendall whispered, her face stricken, like she’d been struck by fate one too many times to expect anything good.

  Tamsin turned back, her expression warm and kind, no doubt sensing the distress in Kendall’s voice. She’d never looked at him like that, he realized…and he realized then that he very much wanted her to.

  “Not at all,” Tamsin said. “It’s your life. And by the way, she was right.” Her gaze flicked along Kendall’s silver-blue dress and then back up. “That dress really is a weapon in itself.”

  “Wait, who…” Her voice trailed off, like she was remembering a conversation from another time.

  Tamsin ushered Max along, careful to avoid touching him. But she turned back with a wave. “Enjoy your night, Kendall.”

  “What the hell was that all about?” Max asked, after they rounded a bend and the blonde was hidden from sight. He glanced up at the sky, but it was hidden by the gnarled fingers of grasping trees.

  “I can’t say,” Tamsin replied, her voice prim.

  His eyes narrowed. “Cannae or willnae?”

  “Both. Take it as professional courtesy.”

  He grunted. “Funny how yer ‘professional courtesy’ dinnae extend to me.”

  She gave him a mock pout and patted him on the shoulder. “Does that trouble your wee self?”

  Oh, so now she knows Scots’ slang.

  He stopped walking, with her following suit, and he leaned down to whisper near her ear, “There is nothing wee about me, Tam. I could give ye a demonstration if ye’d like.”

  “That’s fine.” She waved a hand airily at him, but her cheeks darkened to a becoming rose. “I’ve already seen all you have to offer.”

  He straightened. “Nae quite. But the evening’s still young.”

  He hadn’t won that battle, but he didn’t mind. Why waste time on skirmishes when there was a war to be had?

  Chapter 7

  Tamsin

  Tamsin wasn’t sure why Max had conceded their verbal scrap so easily, and she eyed him with wariness. What was going on in that clever, handsome head of his? He had an ulterior motive, she was sure of it, but she had no idea what he intended to do in the meantime—aside from drive her insane.

  And what was with all the innuendo?

  She hadn’t been sure at first that he’d intended it, but the last comment, well, that was hard to mistake. “Nae quite. But the evening’s still young.”

  What did he mean by that?

  She fiddled with one of her necklaces as she thought. Any other man, and she was sure that was a prelude to more flirting, and then, well, seduction. But this was Max.

  He did not flirt.

  He did not seduce.

  At least, he did neither of those things with her, and she hadn’t seen him attempt them with anyone else, either. Her hand curled into a fist at just the thought of him turning his wiles and charming accent onto another woman.

  She’d magic him into a toad before he had the chance, she decided.

  For the other woman’s sake, of course.

  Sure.

  Not for her own sake at all.

  Not. At. All.

  Gods, she was lying to herself—and doing a rather poor job of it.

  She subtly glanced at him as they walked; his broad shoulders and narrow waist accentuated by his suit and kilt, making him look far sexier than he had any right to. She half hoped that a strong breeze would rush down the otherwise eerily-silent path… perhaps lift his kilt ever-so-slightly, so that she could see if the rumors about kilts and undergarments were true. Instead, the strange mist that hovered over the path clung to his shoes like kittens rubbing their sides along a favored person.

  Tamsin Redthorne, you are lusting after Max Fhearchair.

  No. She shook her head at herself. No, she was not.

  She was just…curious.

  That was it.

  About the rumors.

  Not about what he packed under that kilt.

  Then, her mind went to other women, and them wondering about what he was wearing underneath…and, well, if he dared show that package to another woman… She pursed her lips. Well, it would be the last time he attempted to do so.

  You are being ridiculous, she thought to herself. But for some reason, the idea of Max wooing a stranger, of him touching them with those sexy, capable hands…Gods, it burned. Like indigestion. Only worse.

  She rubbed her sternum.

  As they rounded another bend, the faint strains of music reached them. The air grew thick with the sense of enchantments; as if the spells themselves had taken root in the forest around them. She couldn’t tell what tune was being played, but it sounded melodic, haunting.

  “I dinnae think we’re far now,” Max murmured.

  She nodded, unable to respond further as lost in her thoughts as she was.

  Ten steps later, and they were suddenly out of the forest. The temperature warmed almost instantly, and the mist simply withered away from their feet, like eels slithering back into their darkened homes. The full moon hung heavy and low in the sky, its glow casting pointed shadows over the large iron gates that marked the end of a driveway. The gates stood propped open, vines clinging to the iron like limpets to a shark. It reminded her of a basking crocodile quietly waiting to swallow those foolhardy enough to come too close.

  Her gaze meandered past the gates, toward a fountain, and on to the towering mansion beyond, its walls kissed by the moon’s glow while its towers and turrets were submerged in the silk of night.

  How far had they walked? Where were they now?

  Tamsin discreetly tried to use her magic to pinpoint their location, but it was like the Heisenberg uncertainty principle: she could only focus on the momentum of her steps, rather than the place where she took them.

  She rubbed her forehead, annoyed.

  That idea alone showed she’d spent too much time with Max, to be thinking in terms of quantum mechanics.

  Gravel crunched under their feet as they entered the gates, Tamsin’s and Max’s silence that of companions assessing their newest assignment. A thin layer of fog hovered over the manicured lawns on the other side of the entry, denser than the teasing mist on the pathway they’d followed. She lifted a foot and swirled it through the vapor, her ankle prickling at the magic she felt within. She rubbed one of her arms in response.

  “This place…” she muttered. It had taken serious power to enchant the forest and the house the way it had been.

  Who was this Vaelora, that she had so much magic she could waste it on fog and shadows?

  Max came to a stop in front of the fountain, its tiers carved from shiny black obsidian, the volcanic glass appearing to draw the moonlight into its glossy depths. “It’s warm now.” He stared at the mansion, at the fountain, even at the dense fog. “There is magic is everywhere.”

  Tamsin nodded, taking in the glowing runes that had been carved into the stone of the fountain, but she seemed to forget their meaning as soon as she read them. Which was…odd. Multi-hued lights flickered under the surface of the water, and she stared, trying to see if there were any fish within.

  Wait.

  “Did you just say magic was everywhere?” She looked at Max, his gray eyes widening in surprise—at realizing what he’d said or that she’d noticed, she wasn’t sure.

  “Uh, it’s obvious, isnae it?” He shuffled his feet slightly, then pushed those ridiculous glasses back up the bridge of his nose before moving forward.

  She narrowed her eyes, then followed. Tamsin was a witch; being able to sense magic was in her blood. But Max was a phantom. She wasn’t sure exactly how their magic worked—despite having been part of the House of Death and Diamond for years now—but she knew that seeing magic was an oddity amongst the phantoms; at least, that’s what Sabrina had told Tamsin.

  The crunch of gravel and low voices sounded behind them as Tamsin and Max approached the mansion’s enormous double doors. Tamsin turned, spotting a beautiful woman in a pale blue one-shouldered dress, her long brown hair unbound around her. She wore a necklace with a crescent moon symbol, which fell into the hollow of her throat. Dark magic, Tamsin thought, probably a fae. A second woman was with her, wearing a black leather corset and burgundy tulle skirt that moved like smoke, her dark lips almost black.

  Was there a secret message I didn’t get? Tamsin wondered, as two of the three women they’d bumped into were wearing blue gowns. Tamsin’s pinkish-purple dress looked like a bruised violet in a sea of stunning bluebells as a result.

  “Are the doors locked? Are we too late?” the brunette asked as they approached, her voice a little breathless, like she’d been running.

  Tamsin checked Max’s watch, since she hadn’t worn one—it would’ve clashed with her outfit. “It’s 9:45 pm. We’re early.” Technically. Although the sound of music was growing stronger, as if the party inside was increasing its tempo, not just getting started.

  The brunette let out a sigh. “Thank the gods.”

  Tamsin wouldn’t have been too concerned about missing this party ordinarily—except that Sabrina and Kieran had ordered her to attend, and she wasn’t one to let her leaders down. But she could see why others wouldn’t want to miss out. She smiled at the women. “I’m Tamsin, and this is Max.”

  The newcomers studied them for a moment, before the brunette gave them a wary grin in return. “I’m Erynn. And this is my friend, Sera.” Her gaze dropped to one of the necklaces around Tamsin’s neck. “You’re from the House of Death and Diamond?”

  Max nodded. “We are.”

  “So, you’ve met the phantoms then?” Sera asked.

  Tamsin often forgot that phantoms were still considered exotic to most of the other supernatural species, especially since they were insular, even after the world learned about them.

  Here we go, Tamsin thought, looking at Max, just waiting for him to show off. But the phantom just gave the women a lopsided smile, and held his hand out, letting it turn incorporeal for a few heartbeats, before reforming it. A simple trick. Not at all what she’d been expecting.

  “That is cool!” Erynn said.

  “It’s a handy party trick,” Max demurred, before turning back to the double doors. “Shall we?” He held his arm out to Tamsin, who stared at it like it had grown fangs. He watched her, gaze challenging behind his glasses.

  She could feel the women’s stares on her back. They must think we’re half deranged, Tamsin thought. Standing around outside the party and giving each other odd looks. She gave him a bright, false smile and hooked her arm through his. “We shall.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8