Breathless Magic (8 page)

Kiran wisely chose an H2 and we piled in with Titus now
prudently in human-form.

Kiran took off, not bothering to drive carefully or
expertly. Mostly, he drove
through
things. Through the garage exit. Through the pileup of Immortals that gathered
to stop our getaway. Through the narrow streets of the village. He almost drove
through the Immortal Fountain, but I think old Magic bumped the steering wheel
to the left and we narrowly missed the gigantic structure made from thousands
of years-old stone. And finally through the gates of the Citadel that had been
blown wide apart from Terletov’s initial attack.

I could feel the residual Magic in the useless gates that
hung at awkward and wide angles. He had used some kind of explosive that had
been made with Magic.

I also felt the Magic that chased us out of the Citadel.
Terletov’s men had followed us for as long as they could, but Kiran had grown
up on these winding roads and knew them better than anyone. They couldn’t keep
up with us, and they couldn’t follow us for long.

We drove for hours, though, before we finally began to feel
relief. We were well into Hungary in fact, before our nerves calmed and our
hearts slowed down.

Kiran clutched my hand the entire time, refusing to lose
contact with me.

Titus sat quietly in the backseat, neither willing to break
the tension nor remind us that he was with us.

We’d just barely escaped. Our children had been threatened
and now their secret was out. Our Citadel had fallen.

And now our people were at an even greater and deadlier
risk.

This was by no means over.

But at least we were safe.

At least we were together.

We’d left all our material possessions behind, except the
ones that mattered most: our wedding rings, Kiran’s crown and the pendant
necklace he had given me so many years ago that dangled around my neck.

The rest was all behind us.

And we would leave it there until we could defeat this enemy
and rebuild our Kingdom again.

We had been here before. We had fought for the Castle, for
our people, for our Magic to remain open and free.

We would never stop fighting. This was what we were born
for… what we lived for. And we would stand side by side during this and the
rest of eternity.

Kiran was my husband, my lover and my King.

This fight belonged to us more than anyone else. Terletov
could try to destroy this Kingdom but he would soon realize our strength and
resolve would out match him every moment of every day.

This was our Kingdom.

And he could burn in hell for trying to take it from us.

Chapter Eight

“I don’t believe you,” my husband’s glittering blue eyes
narrowed on me, sparking with light from the fire that burned a few feet
away.
 

After we escaped Terletov’s Castle attack, we’d driven
straight through Europe until we’d rendezvoused with Avalon and Sebastian in
Geneva.

This was somewhat sentimental for Kiran and I, so while the
rest of the group had left for South America in search of Kiran’s mother, we
had stayed behind for a night to recoup.

Kiran was obviously worried about his mom, but he was equally
worried for me and our unborn babies. He wanted to make sure that everything
was fine and normal before we endured the plane ride over the ocean.

And apparently,
Syl’s
good bill of
health was not enough for him.

I wasn’t going to complain though. After the day, week,
months I’d endured lately, I was ready to relax for just one night.

Tomorrow there would be plenty to worry about and fight for.

But tonight, with my friends and family safe, with Lilly
returned and the babies perfectly healthy and buzzing with Magic and life, I
wanted to enjoy this rare moment of alone time with my husband.

Currently, we were sprawled out in a bed of pillows in front
of a wonderfully warm fire. The lights were dimmed, there was music playing
softly in the background and I had just climbed out of a deliciously relaxing
bath.

My husband was trying to seduce me.

“I promise you, they’re fine.” I laid back on the pillows
and walked my fingers over my twenty-weeks-along inflated tummy.

Kiran scooted next to me and stared down at my stomach as if
it would talk back to him and tell him the truth.

“Here.” I grabbed his hand and placed his fingers on the big
bump that housed our children. “Feel their Magic.”

Gently he lifted my recently-purchased
cami
and pressed his palms against my naked skin. His face lit with utter and
complete joy at the faint little buzzing that tingled beneath the pads of his
fingers and his Magic swelled with beaming pride around the room.

“Are you really alright, Little Ones?” he crooned down at my
belly button. “You would tell me if you weren’t. You wouldn’t lie to me like
your mum does, would you?”

I was getting ready to punch him, when the most remarkable
thing happened. As if in answer to his question my stomach jumped with internal
movement. I gasped and Kiran’s eyes grew huge with concern. His hands lifted so
that his touch was as light as he could manage and his frown deepened as he
stared down at my stomach as if there were an alien inside ready to rip its way
to freedom.

“What was that?” he whispered.

I laughed and allowed the happy tears that instantly fell
from my eyes. “That was your babies telling you that they are just fine.”

“That was them?” He was still whispering.

I nodded and rested my hands over his so he could feel them
again. “That was at least one of them.”

Another small kick out from one of the twins and his
expression softened into pure astonishment. “They’re really alright.”

I smiled at him and sniffled from a joy that was so
consuming and intense I thought my heart would burst from the sheer force of
it. “They’re alright.”

Keeping his hands in place, he lifted his eyes and held my
watery gaze. “And you’re alright, Love?”

I nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.

Kiran scooted up even closer and reluctantly removed his
hands from my stomach to cradle my face. “You’re sure?”

Finding my voice in a hoarse whisper, I confessed, “I know
that it’s bad out there, but I am fine.” I paused before deciding. “I’m more
than fine, I’m happy.”

He gifted me with his brilliant smile. His hand coasted down
my chest, over my breasts and to my stomach again where he waited for more
movement. “I’m more than fine, too,” he said. “I’m very happy.”

“I love you.” The words were an eternal vow on my lips.

“I love you, Eden. More than I knew was possible.” He bent
forward and pressed a lingering kiss to my accepting lips. I sighed with
longing and anticipation. Moving his kisses to my throat and lower, Kiran
mumbled, “Not even born yet and they’re already trying to ruin my plans for the
evening.” His fingers danced over my belly before taking a walk south.

“And what are your plans for the evening?” I giggled.

“To prove to you how much I love you.”

“And how were you going to do that?”

“Let me show you,” he suggested with a nibble on my collar
bone.

“Please,” I gasped.

And then he did.

Thank you to the
reader for inspiring another story from Eden and Kiran. At the end of Endless
Magic, I thought that the Star-Crossed series was finished forever. But it was
because of you that I continued writing the second saga; and it was because of
you that I revived Eden and Kiran for their own novella. I loved getting back
in their heads and exploring life for them after marriage. So thank you, for
your love for them, your excitement for their story and for your continued
devotion to this great love that will always be my favorite love story.

Rachel Higginson was
born and raised in Nebraska, but spent her college years traveling the world.
She married her high school sweetheart and spends her days raising their
growing family. She is obsessed with bad reality TV and any and all Young Adult
Fiction.

Please
keep reading for a sneak peek at my upcoming contemporary adult novel, The Five
Stages of Falling in Love. (released later 2014)

Chapter
One

Six
Months after Grady died

I snuggled back into
the cradle of his body while his arms wrapped around me tightly. He buried his
scruffy face against the nape of my neck and I sighed contentedly. We fit
perfectly together, but then again we always had- his big spoon nestled up
against my little spoon.

“It’s your turn,” he
rumbled against my skin with that deep morning voice I would always drink in.

“No,” I argued
half-heartedly. “It’s always my turn.”

“But you’re so good at
it,” he teased.

I giggled, “It’s one
of my many talents, pouring cereal into bowls, making juice cups. I might just
take this show on the road.”

He laughed behind me
and his chest shook with the movement. I pushed back into him, loving the feel
of his hard, firm chest against my back. He was so hot first thing in the
morning, his whole body radiating warmth.

His hand splayed out
across my belly possessively and he pressed a kiss just below my ear. I could
feel his lips through my tangle of hair and the tickle of his breath which wasn’t
all that pleasant first thing in the morning, but it was Grady and it was
familiar.

“It’s probably time we
had another one, don’t you think?” His hand rubbed a circle around my stomach
and I could feel him vibrating happily with the thought.

“Grady, we already
have three,” I reminded him on a laugh. “If we have another one, people are
going to start thinking we’re weird.”

“No, they won’t,” he
soothed. “They might get an idea of how fertile you are, but they won’t think
we’re weird.”

I snorted a laugh.
“They already think we’re weird.”
 

“Then we don’t want to
disappoint them,” he murmured. His hand slid up my chest and cupped my breast,
giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You are obsessed with
those things,” I grinned.

“Definitely,” he
agreed quickly, while continuing to fondle me. “What do you think, Lizzy? Will
you give me another baby?”

I was getting wrapped
up in the way he was touching me, the way he was caressing me with so much love
I thought I would burst. “I’ll think about it,” I finally conceded, knowing he
would get his way- knowing I always let him have his way.

“While you’re mulling
it over, we should probably practice. I mean, we want to get this right when
the time comes.” Grady trailed kisses down the column of my throat and I moaned
my consent.

I rolled over to kiss
him on the mouth.

But he wasn’t there.

My arm swung wide and
hit cold, empty mattress.

I opened my eyes and
stared at the slow moving ceiling fan over my head. The early morning light
streamed in through cracks in my closed blinds and I let the silent tears fall.

I hated waking up like
this; thinking he was there, next to me, still able to support me, love me-
hold me. And unfortunately it happened more often than it didn’t.

The fresh pain clawed
and cut at my heart and I thought I would die just from sheer heartbreak. My
chin quivered and I sniffled, trying desperately to wrestle my emotions under
control. But the pain was too much, too consuming.

“Mom!” Blake called
from the kitchen, ripping me away from my peaceful grief. “
Moooooom
!”

That was a distressed
cry, and I was up out of my bed and racing downstairs immediately. I grabbed my
silk robe on the way and threw it over my black
cami
and plaid pajama bottoms. When the kids were younger I wouldn’t have bothered,
but Blake was eight now and he’d been traumatized enough in life- I wasn’t
going to add to that by walking around bra-less first thing in the morning.

He continued to yell
at me, while I barreled into the kitchen still wiping at the fresh tears. I
found him at the bay windows, staring out in horror.

“Mom, Abby went
swimming,” he explained in a rush of words.

A sick feeling knotted
my stomach and I looked around wild eyed at what his words could possibly mean.
“What do you mean, Abby went swimming?” I gasped, a little out of breath.

“There,” he pointed to
the neighbor’s backyard with a shaky finger.

I followed the
direction of his outstretched hand and from the elevated vantage point of our
kitchen I could see that the neighbor’s pool was filled with water, and my six
year old daughter was swimming morning laps like she was on a regulated workout
routine.

“What the f-“ I
started and then stopped, shooting a glance down at Blake who was looking up at
me with more exaggerated shock than he’d given his sister.

I watched her for
point one more second and then sprinted for the front door. “Keep an eye on the
other ones,” I shouted at Blake as I pushed open our heavy red door.

It was just early fall
in rural Connecticut; the grass was still green, the mornings foggy but mostly
still warm. The house next to us had been empty for almost a year. The owner
had been asking too much for it in this economy, but I understood why- it was a
beautiful, stately colonial with cream stucco siding and black decorative
shutters. There were big oak trees offering shade and character in the
sprawling front yard and in the back, an in-ground pool that was the
drool-worthy envy of my children.

I raced down my yard
and into my new neighbors. I hadn’t noticed the house had sold, but that didn’t
surprise me. I wasn’t the most observant person these days. Vaguely I noted a
moving truck parked in the long drive.

The backyard gate must
have been left open, because even though Abby had taught herself how to swim at
the age of four- all by herself, the end result giving me several gray hairs-
there was no way she could reach the flip lock at the top of the tall, iron
fence.

I rounded the corner
and hopped/ran to the edge of the pool, the gravel of the patio cutting into my
bare feet. I took a steadying breath and focused my panic-flooded mind, long
enough to assess whether Abby was still breathing or not.

She was, and happily
swimming in circles in the deep end.

Fear and dread quickly
turned to blinding anger and I took a step closer to the edge of the pool while
I threw my silk robe on the ground.

“Abigail Elizabeth,
you get out of there right this minute!” I shouted loud enough to wake up the
entire neighborhood.

She popped her head up
out of the water, acknowledged me by sticking out her tongue, and promptly went
back to swimming. That little brat.
   

“Abigail, I am not
joking. Get out of the pool. Now!” I hollered again. And was ignored- again. “Abby,
if I have to come in there and get you, you will rue the day you were born!”

She poked her head
back up out of the water, shooting me a confused look. Her light brown eyebrows
drew together, just like her father’s used to, and her little freckled nose
wrinkled at something I said. I was smart enough or experienced enough to know
that she was not on the verge of obeying, just because I’d threatened her.

“Mommy?” She asked,
somehow making her little body tread water in a red
polk
-a-dot
bikini my sister picked up from the Gap last summer- it was too small which for
some reason made me more angry. “What does rue mean?”

“It means you’re
grounded from the iPad, your
Leapster
and the Wii for
the next two years of your life,” I threatened. “Now get out of that pool right
now before I come in there and get you myself.”

She giggled in reply,
not believing me for one second and resumed her play.

“Damn it, Abigail,” I
growled under my breath- not that I was surprised by her behavior. She was
naturally an adventurous child. Since she could walk, she’d been climbing to
the highest point of anything she could, swinging precariously from branches,
light fixtures and aisles at the grocery store. She was a dare-devil and there
were moments when I was absolutely adored her “the world is my playground”
attitude about life. But then there were moments like this, when every mom
instinct in me screamed she was in danger and her little, rotten life flashed
before my eyes.

Those moments were
happening more and more often. She was testing me, pushing every limit and
boundary I’d set. She had been reckless before Grady died, now she was just
wild. And I didn’t know what to do about it.

I didn’t know how to
tame my uncontrollable child- how to be both parents to a little girl who
desperately missed her daddy.

I focused on my
outrage, pushing those tragic thoughts down, into the abyss of my soul. I was
pissed, I didn’t have time for this first thing in the morning and no doubt we
were going to be late for school- again.

I slipped off my
pajama pants, hoping whoever had moved into the house- if they were watching-
would be more concerned with the little girl on the verge of drowning than me
flashing my black, bikini briefs at them over morning coffee. I said a few more
choice curses and then dove into the barely warm water after my second born.

I surfaced, sputtering
water and shivering from the cool morning air pebbling my skin. “Abigail, when
I get you out of this pool, you are going to be in so much trouble.”

“Ok,” she agreed
happily. “But first you have to catch me.”

She proceeded to swim
around me in circles while I reached out helplessly for her. First thing I was
doing when I got out of this pool was throwing away every electronic device in
our house just to teach her a lesson. Then I was going to sign her up for a
swim team- because the little hellion was very, very fast.

We struggled like this
for a few more minutes, well I struggled, she splashed at me and laughed at my
efforts to wrangle her.

I was aware of a
presence hovering by the edge of the pool but I was equally too embarrassed as
I was preoccupied to look. Images of walking my children into school late
again, kept looping through my head and I cringed at the dirty looks I was
bound to get from teachers and other parents alike.

“You look hungry,” a
deep masculine voice announced from above me.

I whipped my head
around to find an incredibly tall man standing by my discarded pajama pants
holding two beach towels and a box of
Poptarts
in one
arm, while he munched casually on said
Poptarts
with
the other.

“I look hungry?” I
screeched in hysterical anger.

His eyes flickered
down at me for just a second, “No, you look mad.” He pointed at Abby, who had
come to a stop next to me, treading water again with her short child-sized
limbs waving wildly in the water. “She looks hungry.” He grinned at me, his
mouth full of food, and then looked back at Abby. “Want a
Poptart
?
They’re brown sugar.”

Abby nodded excitedly
and swam to the edge of the pool. Not even using the ladder, she heaved herself
out of the water and ran over to the stranger holding out his breakfast to her.
He handed her a towel and she hastily draped it around her shoulders and then
took the offered
Poptart
.

A million warnings
about taking food from strangers ran through my head, but in the end I decided
getting us out of his pool was probably more important to him than offing his
brand new neighbors with poisoned
Poptarts
.

With a defeated sigh I
swam over to the ladder closest to my pants and robe, then pulled myself from
the water. I was a dripping, limp mess and I was frozen to the bone after my
body adjusted to the temperature of the water.

Abby took her
Poptart
and plopped down on one of the loungers that were
still stacked and wrapped in plastic. She began munching on it happily,
grinning at me like she’d just won the lottery.

She was in so much
trouble.

I walked over to the
stranger, eying him skeptically. He held out his remaining beach towel to me
and after realizing I was just in a soaking wet tank top and bikini briefs, I
took it quickly and wrapped it around my body. I was shivering, and my dark
blonde hair dripped down my face and back; but I didn’t dare adjust the towel,
afraid I’d give him more of a show than he’d paid for.

“Good morning,” he
laughed at me.

“Good morning,” I
replied slowly, carefully.

Up close, he wasn’t the giant I’d originally thought. Now
that we were both ground level, I could see that even while he was tall, at
least six inches taller than me, he wasn’t freakishly tall- which relieved some
of my concerns. He still wore his pajamas: blue cotton pants and a white
t-shirt that had been stretched out from sleep. He had almost black hair that
appeared still mussed and disheveled, but swept over to the side in what could
be a trendy style if he brushed it. He seemed to be a few years older than me-
if I had to guess thirty-six or thirty-seven- and he had dark, intelligent eyes
that crinkled in the corners with amusement. He was tanned, and muscular, and
imposing. And I hated that he was laughing at me.

“Sorry about the
gate,” he shrugged. “I didn’t realize there were kids around.”

“You moved into a
neighborhood,” I pointed out dryly. “There’s bound to be kids around.”

His eyes narrowed at
the insult but he swallowed his
Poptart
and agreed,
“Fair enough. I’ll keep the gate locked from now on.”

I wasn’t finished with
berating him though. His pool caused all kinds of problems for me this morning
and since I could only take out so much anger on my six year old, I had to vent
the rest somewhere. “Who fills their pool the first week of September anyway?
You’ve been to New England in the winter, haven’t you?”

He cleared his throat
and the last laugh lines around his eyes disappeared. “My real estate agent,”
he explained. “It was kind of like a ‘thank you’ present for buying the house.
He thought he was doing something nice for me.”