Dana Marie Bell - Heart'sDesire01 (8 page)

He gave her his best sad-sack face. “Can you resist puppy dog eyes?”

She bit her lip. “I hereby exercise my fifth amendment rights against self incrimination.”

He chuckled softly. “I like you.” He stroked her hair away from her eyes, lingering in its silky sweetness. “Maybe some day soon you’ll like me too.”

Her expression turned serious. “I hereby exercise my—”

He kissed the rest of the sentence away, forgetting where they were, forgetting everything but the taste, the scent of her.

When his lips left hers she sighed. “I am in so much trouble.”

Chapter Five

Grammy had insisted that Chris call her Annabelle. And he did, striking up a relaxed conversation over ham and cheese sandwiches and barbeque potato chips, sitting in her kitchen at Grammy’s comfortable ebony stained banquette. He’d even offered to sit on one of the long benches behind the table, his back to the wall, leaving the chairs for Lana and Grammy. He was calm, polite, a total gentleman.

She wondered what he was up to.

“So it’s all right if Lana and I stay here, at least for a little while?”

She tuned back into the conversation to find Grammy nodding. “Of course you’re both welcome to stay here. Do you have any idea why Cole is so eager to hurt you and Lana?”

Christopher frowned and rubbed at his forehead. “I have no idea. There’s some bad blood between us, but nothing that would warrant attacking Lana.” He cleared his throat. “Last I heard he was happily ensconced in Pittsburgh along with his family.”

Lana watched Chris gulp, his face turning pale. He discreetly pushed his plate away. “I need to do a little research, find out exactly what he thinks I’ve done this time.”

“This time?” Lana watched Chris take a sip of soda, wincing before he put it back down. Something wasn’t right. He was flushed, then pale, and he was beginning to shake. Every instinct she had sat up and began screeching. She pressed her hand against his forehead. “Chris, you’re burning up.”

“Too soon to get sick from the rain.” He coughed into his napkin, his body wracked with shudders.

“Looks like you’re wrong about that.” She stood and pulled him from the bench. She staggered, his full weight hitting her, nearly dropping them both to the ground. “Whoa! Steady, Chris.”

“Not wrong. We don’t get sick like this.” He coughed again, his voice hoarse. She winced in sympa-thy at the wet sound.

“Grammy? Blue room?” At Annabelle’s nod, she steered Chris through the kitchen towards the stairs at the front of the house. “Most people would catch cold after being out naked in the rain.”

She took hold of the banister, pausing when he grabbed hold of her wrist. “Not like this.”

She bit her lip, narrowing her eyes at him. “You think this is magical?”

“Yes.”

She pulled him up the stairs, one dragging step at a time. She agreed with him, and that scared him.

It had come on so fast. “You think I did it?”

He looked horrified. “No! Cole.”

“Damn. We really need to figure out what you did to piss him off.” She pushed open the door at the end of the hall, pulling him into the blue bedroom. A twin bed was covered in a deep blue comforter, the walls done a paler blue. It was a quiet, soothing room, perfect for a sick man.

He tried to smile, but she could tell it was too much effort. “Tell me about it.”

She reached down and pulled the comforter and sheet down before settling him down on the bed.

“Get some rest.”

She jumped when he grabbed her hand again, his worried, fevered gaze holding her own. “Are you sick?”

“I’m fine, Chris. Whatever this is hasn’t affected me.” The relief that filled his face melted a little bit more of her resistance to him. How could she stay mad over the “mate” spell when he obviously cared so much already? She couldn’t resist brushing his hair off his forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” She watched him slip into unconsciousness, more frightened than she could ever remember being.

* * * *

Lana double-checked the chicken soup she’d made, making sure the magic rose from it properly. If Chris was right, and this Cole person was responsible for his illness, than the soup was only step two.

Step one was already in Chris’s room, hopefully absorbing some of the sickness that seemed to plague him. She checked the ginger and anise seed tea on the counter and decided it had steeped long enough.

Grammy broke a cinnamon stick in half and added it to the mixture, nodding slightly. “That should do it.” She put the tea on the tray, smiling at Lana.

Lana added the heavily herbed chicken soup and picked up the tray. “I’m going to go ahead and take this up.”

Grammy ladled out a bowl of the soup. “Go on, sweetie. I know you’re worried about him.” She held up her bowl. “I’m just going to have some preventative medicine just in case.”

Lana toed open the door to the bedroom, not sure if she’d find him conscious or not.

“Hey.”

She smiled when she saw Chris’s wan smile. Good, maybe the first part of the spell is working.

He’d scared her, the way he’d just passed out earlier. “Hey yourself.”

She carried the tray over to the bed, waiting until he’d managed to partially prop himself up. “Here you go.”

“What’s this?”

“Lunch.”

He picked up the tea and sniffed. “What’s in this?”

“Cinnamon, anise seed and ginger.”

He eyed the cup warily. “Really?”

“Drink it.”

He eyed her just as warily. “I pissed you off that badly?”

“Chris.” Her hands hit her hips, and she stared him down, waiting for him to give in.

He made a face and took a sip. “Mmm. That’s actually not too bad.”

“Good, then you’ll finish it.”

“And chicken soup? You spoil me, darling.” He took a bite. “It’s … um, spicy.”

“And spelled, so finish it.”

He choked.

“Don’t be a wuss. Go ahead and finish it.”

He sniffed, sounding stuffed up, but gamely took another bite.

She pulled a chair over to the side of his bed and settled in, curling her legs under her. “Nearest I can figure, if you’re right that Cole is behind this, he must have gotten a hair or something off of you during the fight in the woods last night.”

He grimaced. “Thought of that after I woke up.”

“And if he got your hair, he got the hair of the wolf, right?”

“Yes,” he drawled.

“So switching to wolf won’t cure you like you’ve been thinking.”

He looked shocked. “How did you know that I was thinking of shifting?”

She patted his knee. “Just a wild guess.”

He looked baffled, but it wasn’t something she could explain to him. She just … knew. “Anyway, I have the feeling if you shifted to wolf, things would actually get worse, not better.”

“Because the spell is tied to the wolf’s hair, not mine.”

She beamed at him. “Exactly.”

“Then shouldn’t we be trying to cure the wolf?”

“Most of the remedies in that soup work on canines and humans, so we should be all right.” She’d made sure to look up ingredients on the internet before beginning the soup, just in case she acciden-tally did more harm than good.

“Oh.” He took another sip of tea, much to her delight. “So the chicken soup and tea are the remedies?”

“And the plant.”

He eyed the plant on his nightstand. The leaves were beginning to droop. A few had turned brown.

“Ah.”

“I’ve taken a clipping. Even if this plant dies it will live on.” She fingered the leaf, offering a silent apology to the little plant. She hadn’t realized how virulent the infection currently being drawn out of Chris was. She’d thought the plant would get a little sick, not start dying a mere four hours after she’d placed it there.

“You could have left.”

She turned back to him, making a face at him. “I wouldn’t leave a do … um, cat as sick as you were, let alone a man.”

He tried to laugh but it turned into a hacking cough.

Good. She handed him a paper towel. Get it all out. She held out a waste paper basket when he was done. She wasn’t that altruistic. “Try and rest. Hopefully you’ll feel better tonight.” And if he didn’t she’d have to find another plant.

He settled back down with a sleepy sigh. “Thank you, Alannah.”

She gave in to the urge to stroke his hair, feeling a stirring around her heart when he smiled sweetly.

“You’re welcome, Chris.” She picked up the tray and left him to drift into a healing sleep.

She really hated invading his privacy, but she had to contact his family and let them know what was going on just in case he took a turn for the worst. She took his cell phone from his pants pocket and checked his voicemail. Luckily he had a model she was familiar with, and he hadn’t put in a pass-word.

The first message she heard had her sighing in relief. “Hey, Christopher, it’s Gareth. Do me a favor and call me back once you get this. Bro, you’re not going to believe what’s been happening around here. Your mate called and told me you were kidnapping her. Wait until Mom hears about this.”

Lana pressed the button that would allow her to dial the number back.

“Hello?”

The deep male voice on the other end of the line matched Gareth’s. “This is Alannah Evans.”

“The woman Christopher kidnapped? How’s that going, by the way?”

“Long story. Look—”

“Have you accepted the mating?”

She growled. “What did Chris do, call you last night?”

“Uh…”

“Because I’m still not convinced of this whole perfect forever mate crap.”

“Um…”

Lana began to pace. “He’s a wizard!”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m a witch.” She shook her head. “It just can’t work.”

“It’s going to have to.”

She frowned. “What do you mean it’s going to have to?”

“You answered the call, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe. And next time I’m letting my metaphysical answering machine get it.”

He chuckled. “That makes you a member of the Beckett pack, whether you like it or not.”

“That’s just it! I don’t know if I like it or not!”

“Does it bother you that he turns furry?” She made a rude noise, and he laughed. “Guess not. Have you two, um, ‘done the deed’ yet?”

“Ugh.” She could practically hear the quotation marks.

“Seriously. Did he suck in bed? Is that why you’re thinking of doing a flit?”

“First he drugged me, then he got sick off some spell that he thinks someone named Cole used on him, and now I’m nursing him while he hacks up snot. Not exactly my idea of romance, let me tell you.” There was no way in hell she was bringing up the workroom incident.

“Cole hexed him?”

Uh-oh. The teasing tone was completely gone from the other man’s voice. “Let me guess. You’re his older brother.”

“Damn straight. Tell Christopher I’m on my way.” Gareth hung up, leaving her holding a buzzing headset.

Lana hung up. “Lovely. Now I get to deal with two of them.” At least Gareth had sounded like he knew who Cole was and how to deal with him. She stared at the phone before putting it back in Chris’s pants. “And how does he know where we are, anyway?” She shook her head and decided to worry about that later. “Grammy!”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can I borrow the laptop?”

“Go right ahead. Pasta all right for dinner?”

“Does the Pope love Jesus?”

Grammy laughed and went back into the kitchen, shaking her head.

She headed into Grammy’s bedroom and opened the laptop. Big brother might know who Cole is, but I don’t. And I’m the one he threatened to kill. She booted up the computer, watching Windows come up. The good Lord helps those who help themselves, and the Lady provides the means. She settled down in the chair and began researching Christopher Beckett.

A half an hour later she had a better idea of who Christopher Beckett was, but was no closer to figuring out who Cole was. Chris was a graphic designer for Black Wolf Designs, a well established firm in Pittsburgh. From his correspondence, they were responsible for the websites of some pretty major labels. The fact that his father was head of the firm explained the name of the company. She wondered why Chris had chosen to live so far outside his home city, but nothing in the Google search had answered that question.

Heading to the bookcase, she pulled down The Registry. Inside was listed the name of every wizard, witch and warlock around the world. Each copy was magically tied to a Master Registry and updated when the Master updated.

How the Master updated was debatable. Some said one man was responsible, a scribe, priest or even a librarian who somehow magically knew when someone was born, died, had children and added all of that information to the registry. Others said it was secreted away in some secret monastery staffed by members of all three magical persuasions, all of them responsible for keeping the book updated. Still others believed the book updated when it needed to, with no interference from the mortals who referenced it or the person or people who guarded it.

Lana believed the latter. To her it made perfect sense. Men could be bribed to alter registrations.

Nothing could bribe the universe.

She opened the page to the Becketts, first checking out Christopher. She found his family listing easily. It seemed Chris had two brothers. Gareth, the eldest by three years, and Daniel, two years younger than Chris, were both listed along with their prodigious bloodline. Both looked enough like Chris that they were unmistakably related. There was a short, not very informative entry for a Zachary Beckett, and she wondered if he’d been a brother who’d passed away. The Registry could be vague at times.

She sat back to stretch, jumping at the sight of a strange man standing in the doorway of Grammy’s bedroom. He had dark hair and golden eyes much like Chris did, but his features were harsher, less refined, and his hair was closer to dark brown than black. He looked a lot like the portrait of Gareth Beckett in the Registry.

“Lana? Your grandmother told me I could find you up here.”

She grinned in relief at having her suspicions confirmed. “Gareth?”

He nodded and stepped forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. Where’s Christopher?”