Read Dark Tide (A Mated by Magic Novel) Online
Authors: Stella Marie Alden,Chantel Seabrook
Dark Tide (A Mated by Magic Novel)
Dark Tide
Mated by Magic (Book 3)
Stella Marie Alden
Chantel Seabrook
Copyright (C) 2016 Stella Marie Alden, Chantel Seabrook
ISBN 978-1534908574
Cover design by Virginie Wernert – www.designedbyqueenninie.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Table of Contents
With the dock of her father’s rental house in view, Maya O’Connor slowed her Stacer’s engine to a stop and let the boat’s momentum take her the rest of the way. Willy barked excitedly beside her, and she ran her fingers through his thick, white coat.
“Good boy.”
She honked the horn, hoping for a hand with the supplies. When none came, she cursed bloody Yanks under her breath. Especially loner Yanks with too much money and a crap load of attitude. She hadn’t met this one yet, but she doubted he was any different than the other self-indulgent tourists she’d met.
“Willy, come here.”
Her Great Pyrenees bounded from the boat onto the dock and continued to bark in the direction of the rental house.
She pressed the horn, this time longer. Nothing.
Fine
. Lifting a leg over the edge of the boat, she straddled the water, putting one foot onto the wood dock, and climbed out.
Salty air rushed into her lungs when she inhaled and stretched her arms.
This island was one of her favorites. Eight miles off the eastern coast of Australia, surrounded by pristine reef and crystalline beach, it was a little piece of paradise.
But the current occupant had put a damper on what would’ve otherwise been a perfect day. She had more important things to do than run errands for her dad, but he’d insisted she bring the supplies while he covered for her mistake last week.
With her darkening mood, the water around her began to stir, crashing angrily against the side of her small craft. She closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths, until the ocean returned to normal.
It wasn’t the Yank’s fault that the advanced dive class she was supposed to teach was given to her younger brother. But bloody hell, that woman had unknowingly swum straight into a smack of jellyfish. What else could she have done? But she’d almost exposed her powers and been put on probation like a child with only herself to blame.
Cursing under her breath, she lifted one of the heavy bags of groceries, and strode across the sand.
Shells cracked under her thick-soled sneakers as she approached the small, yet modern beach house, built on six-foot pilings.
“G’day,” she called out.
“Leave everything at the dock. I’ll take care of it.” A curt, baritone voice made her jump and almost drop the bag.
“Shit.”
A low growl sounded to her side, echoing her own frustration at the man’s rudeness.
“Willy. No.” After she’d done the courtesy of bringing up the refrigerated goods, the least he could do was take the damn groceries from her.
“Listen, mate...” Readying herself to give him a piece of her mind, she climbed up the last ten stairs and sucked in a sharp breath.
Working with scuba divers since she could walk, she figured she was immune to near naked male bodies, but hell. His sculptured abs made her fingers itch to touch them. A tattoo on his bicep brought her attention to his arm muscles. Then she continued her gaze north to his face, and her cheeks heated.
This
was Josh Fialko?
His dark brows furrowed over eyes so brown they hinted at black. Standing, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and scowled.
“What part of leave it at the dock did you not understand?”
Any attraction she had momentarily felt, vanished. The man radiated arrogance and disdain. She considered throwing the groceries, eggs and all, at his blooming attitude.
“Here are the supplies you ordered. I assume you can put them away yourself?” Sarcasm edged her words, and she bit her tongue to stop from saying anything more.
Eyebrows raised, he grunted, and grabbed the bag. “Leave the rest on the dock. I’ll get them myself.”
Bronzed skin covered well-defined back and shoulder muscles that rippled as he turned toward the screen door. His jeans hung low on his hips, covering thighs that could probably hold a woman in place while she begged.
Damn. Where had that thought come from?
Distracting herself, she studied the scuba equipment laid out on the decking.
He was staying here alone, and as far as she knew, he hadn’t signed up for any of their tours.
Was the man a few roos short in the top paddock? No guest on her island was diving solo. Her ears buzzed and her heart started to pound.
She shouted into the kitchen, where he squatted at the fridge, “Mr. Fialko, I assume you can read?”
“Excuse me?” He came to the door, wiped a hand over the dark stubble on his chin, and stared down to where she pointed.
“It’s dangerous to dive solo.”
Sliding the screen, he exited, looming over her. “It’s none of your business.”
He was a good six inches taller and she had to look up to meet his disdainful gaze. Holding back with one last ounce of restraint, she unclenched her jaw to speak.
“Really? That’s our rental equipment, our boat, and our goddamn island?” Her temper flared and the ocean responded, crashing hard against the shore below. She took a step toward him and pointed a finger. “If you die out there, it’s our name that’ll be splattered all over Trip Advisor and the news. The whole friggin’ internet along with
your
dad will blame
mine
for letting you be a boofhead. If you’ve got a death wish, then find another island to rent. Is that understood?”
“I paid for this island and this gear. I didn’t sign anything saying–” He gripped her wrist when she reached for the scuba tank, and her whole world tilted on its axis.
She gasped. Her vision swirled and a buzzing sounded in her ears, like a mass of flies. Electricity coursed through her body and her knees went weak.
He grabbed her other arm as she started to fall.
That just made it all worse. Her heart pounded, the tips of her ears throbbed, and damn, she bloody hell creamed for him. Never had a witch affected her so, not even during solstice.
Not even close.
Her stunned brain registered this was something so rare, that it was almost impossible.
A perfect match
. Or at least damn near close. It was only a myth, a fairytale, or so rare it might as well be. If she wasn’t so ready to jump him, she would’ve laughed it off as a freakish joke of Mother Nature.
With lips just inches away, his uneven breath filled her nostrils, smelling of peppermint. Sweat rolled down his chest, creating a scent no doubt full of pheromones. That had to be why she was half-crazed with lust.
She licked her lips, inched in, and waited for him to close the gap.
Suddenly, he let go. She stumbled back over his gear and her ass hit the deck hard, knocking some sense into her brain.
Fire blazed in his dark eyes. Magic swirled like lava, making the iris’ glow unnaturally. If looks could send you to hell, his would’ve done all that and more.
“Go away. And for fuck’s sake, never come onto me again.”
“Me?” She stood, legs still shaky, and jabbed at his perfect abs with her index finger. That, too, was a mistake, because tiny zings of lust torched her skin. “You, you arrogant...” Words couldn’t convey her frustration. “Prick.”
Swiveling on her heel, she had the good sense to steal his pressure gauges before jumping away, three stairs at a time.
He followed in close pursuit, but Willy crouched, growled, and held him at bay until she could cast off.
Shit
. His supplies were still in her boat.
She practically threw the remaining bags onto the dock. Then she whistled, and her savior hopped in beside her, ears flapping, tail wagging.
“I’d give those gauges back, if you know what’s good for you.” Josh Fialko stood on the edge of the dock holding a globe of swirling fire in his hand.
Was he serious? Her entire body vibrated with frustration from the lingering heat of his touch.
She dipped her hand over the side of the boat and sucked in the energy. A ripple appeared on the surface of the water, then loomed up in a giant surge. For a brief moment, he disappeared under her tidal wave as it crashed down over his head. When he resurfaced on his knees, he gasped for air looking like a drowned rat.
Glaring, he cursed her while his supplies bobbed around him, some washing up on the beach.
It would take him hours to collect it all.
Good.
A small laugh of victory escaped her lips.
When the water retreated fully, he stood and shook himself off, clearly dazed, and extremely pissed.
Ignoring her own rules not to produce a wake in the shallow waters, she took off at full speed.
Clearly fire and water did not mix.
Josh Fialko frowned up at the dark clouds that gathered in the east. The normally crystalline blue Pacific, now churned, gray and angry. Waves peaked, changed directions, and crashed on the shore. Knotted between two trees, his hammock spun in circles in the rising wind.
The feisty Aussie witch had almost drowned him last week, and with it, his last round of supplies. She abandoned him as well. That wave hadn’t just doused him, it’d also damaged the engine of his only ride back to the mainland. Without replacement parts or scuba gauges, he was pretty much stuck on the island with nothing to do.
To say he was going stir crazy was an understatement.
He’d thought about using his satellite phone, calling Dan, and letting him know what his temperamental daughter had done. That would probably lead to questions Josh wasn’t about to answer. To be honest, his pride was still bruised that the little redhead had bested him.
If
she
hadn’t mentioned their connection or their little skirmish, than
he
sure as hell wouldn’t.
Thunder clapped in the distance and a cool wind blew in. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the ocean, then turned, heading back to the rental house.
Damn
. He needed something, anything, to occupy his mind. Keep it free from the past. Free from the torturing thoughts of his dead wife that plagued him.
Nicole
. Even in this small piece of paradise, her beautiful, remorseless face haunted him by day and especially by night. Her cold and lifeless body clouded his vision, reminding him of the part he’d played in her demise.
Josh ran his finger over the small scar where the bullet had grazed his shoulder. She’d tried to kill him. And for what? More power? More money? He’d given her everything. And if it weren’t for his brothers, he would’ve no doubt even given her his life.
That’s what love did to a man. Ate away at his sanity until there was nothing left. Just an empty shell desperate to find one moment of peace.
He’d run to Australia. Wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Although he loved his close-knit family, being around them was a constant reminder of what he’d lost. More like, he corrected himself, what he’d never had.
The soft hum of a motor suppressed his morose thoughts. Shielding his eyes, he searched the ocean for the approaching boat.
“Shit.” Her flaming hair blew in the wind while she flaunted her long, lithe body.
Hell, he didn’t even know her name, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Or the exchange of power that had transpired between them. He cursed again under his breath, knowing what it meant. But, he’d be damned if he’d touch her again.
Now at the dock, the woman tied off the rope and jumped out of her speedboat with shorts so high they should be illegal.
So. She’d come back to torture him some more. Covered in a creamy, flawless skin that defied the tropical sun, she made it hard to breathe.
Like the ocean, her eyes changed, sometimes green, sometimes with touches of blue. But right now they appeared gray as she glowered at him and approached.
He shot her an equally disdainful scowl. He’d sworn off women, especially little witches who had the power to make his cock harden with a single touch.
It wasn’t that he was oblivious. Hell, he
knew
their powers were aligned. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was his perfect mate. But he wasn’t sticking around until solstice to find out.
One more week and he was gone.
His bare feet, soles now immune to the sharp shells, strode to the foot of the dock.
“What do you want?” he asked, using the imperial Fialko attitude, reserved for moments like this.
Apparently, her dog didn’t care for the tone. He barked, jumped out of the boat, and immediately trotted to her side. A little warning growl sounded from deep within, and canines appeared under rolled lips.
“Stay Willy.” She crossed her arms from where she stood on the dock, and had the audacity to look daggers at him. “There’s a storm coming. I’m here to take you back to the mainland.”
“Not going anywhere.” Damn if he’d take orders from her.
Overhead, clouds filled in the small remaining patches of blue, making him wish he could recall his words.
“Not giving you a choice.” Her stony face said she’d had just about enough of him. She raised her hand and stilled the water close to shore, but waves still crashed wildly around her circle of calm.
The girl had guts, he’d give her that. Wild locks whipped about her head, reminding him of that Greek sea monster, the one with snakes for hair.
Standing his ground, he glowered back, feeling the flames of his power building within him. He’d been unmanned by a woman once before.
Not going to happen again.
An orange and red fireball flamed high in his palm, and he threatened, “Not much you can do on land is there?”
“You’d be surprised.” Almost instantly, a singular dark cloud formed over his head, and an explosion of thunder made him flinch.
Her powers were stronger than he’d assumed, and for a moment, he was intrigued.
He closed his fist, shut down his fire, and shouted over the crash of the ocean and whistle of the wind. “What’s your name?”
“Maya.” Eyes narrowed but overhead, her threatening cloud disappeared.
A palm tree bent, then snapped back, spewing coconuts about, like a giant slingshot.
Shit
. Maybe she was right. The real storm was coming in fast.
“We have to go. Now!”
She shot a worried glance up at the gray-green sky which filtered everything to the same eerie hue. Behind her, whitecaps grew larger and more ominous.
Apprehension squeezed his chest.
Not getting on that tiny boat.
He stalled. “I’m assuming you’re Dan O’Connor’s kid.”
It was a stupid question, and she gave him a look that told him she thought so too.
“One of them.”
With a small nod, he reached out a friendly hand, “I’m–”
“I know who you are. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting your stuff, I’d like to get out of here before the storm makes it impossible for us to get back.”
“Like I said, I’m good here.” Even to his own ears, his tone was more like a rebellious teenager than a grown man.
She let out a volatile sigh. “Fine. Stay and starve, bloke. I’m assuming you have enough supplies?”
Damn it.
He hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll make do.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes and took a step toward him. “Listen–”
A strong gust of wind pushed her into him.
Shit
. Again with the gut-wrenching need to have her, to take her.
The wide dark centers of her eyes expanded and her hands shot to his waist creating pulses of lust. Her lips quivered and moved toward his.
Abruptly, a wave splashed them both, waking him out of his momentary stupor. He used the opportunity to push her away.
A mix of emotion crossed her face, then turned to stone.
With a swivel on her heel she showed him her back, and said, “Help me get the boat into the hoist. You made me wait too long.”
Thank God he had, or they’d be out in the middle of this.
She soothed the waves long enough to skillfully maneuver the boat into a weighted frame, then cranked a handle, which lifted the craft high out of the ocean.
Willy encouraged her, barking madly, then nosed them back toward the house as if herding sheep.
Right about then, Josh was glad he’d opted to rent a sturdy house as opposed to one of the more quaint tropical huts. From the looks of it, this storm was going to be a doozy.
Once inside, he said, “Listen, I’m sorry I–”
“Save it.” She moved past him and pulled out a long flat-blade screwdriver from a kitchen drawer, then thrust it into his hand. “There’s shutters outside with white fasteners at each corner. Cover every window. Quickly. I already smell ozone and the air pressure is dropping. It’s going to be bad.”
“I didn’t hear anything on the weather report.”
She pursed her lips, obviously holding back some smart-ass retort. “I’ll grab anything that’s not tied down, then help you finish.”
“You’re going back out there?” He frowned as he pictured her tiny form blowing away.
Again, she rolled those beautiful green-blue eyes at him. “Unless you’d like to spend the night tied to a tree, I suggest you get to work.”
He opened his mouth to respond with an equally churlish retort, but she didn’t give him the chance. Bounding out the door, she jumped down the deck stairs, then rolled the grill under the deck. After that, she disappeared around the corner of the building.
With a heavy sigh, he started by inspecting the sliding glass door over the deck. Willy, deciding he needed guarding, stayed close by.
The storage area door below the deck creaked open, followed by some cursing and clunking.
“It’s not me you should be worried about, buddy,” he said to the dog, scratching behind his ear. With the wind picking up, she’d be lucky not to blow away.
With a heavy sigh, he descended and circled the circumference of the house. Solid plastic shutters hinged forward and swung around the plate glass windows. As promised, built-in latches turned and locked them down. After finishing the deck, he felt a bit more confident, and grabbed a ladder to finish the first floor windows.
Meanwhile, she unpinned his small load of laundry from a clothesline and dragged in all manner of his gear that he’d left strewn about.
He didn’t fancy finishing the second floor, which by his reckoning was the third, if you counted the pilings.
She noticed his gaze and ran over, shouting something in his ear.
“What?”
Her mouth moved, but over the accursed wind, he couldn’t make out what she said.
She pulled him under the deck and shouted. “You can get those by leaning out the bedroom windows. I’ll secure the boat hoist to the dock.”
In response to his questioning look, she explained further, “The hoist needs more weight. Both have cement moorings. I just need to tie the two together. Then, I’ll tie them both to that palm.”
She pointed to the largest tree, bent over in the gusts. “We should be able to keep everything from drifting out into the ocean.”
He vehemently shook his head, no. “I’ll get that. You get the windows.”
A doubtful look crossed her face, then she made her way to the back door.
At the ocean’s edge, sand blasted his skin, stinging like hell. Willy didn’t like it much either, and whimpered, but stayed at his side.
Josh patted his head. “Good boy.”
Where were the ropes he needed?
The wind mixed with sand and salt water made it nearly impossible to see.
Finally, he found a couple long coils of strong nylon in the hoist under the seat of the small boat. Maybe he should’ve left this chore for her, at least she could’ve calmed the waves that grew larger by the minute.
When hail fell, he cursed, and threw loops over the hoists legs, then wrapped the rope around the decking.
Making a final knot, he whistled for Willy to follow and started back up the dock.
A surge crashed over him, he lost his balance, and slipped on the wet decking. Instantly, he was sucked into the ocean’s pull.
Pain sliced through his right side when he hit something hard under the water. Like a rag doll, his body was tossed beneath the waves.
He coughed and sputtered when he finally found his way to the surface.
A strong swimmer, he didn’t panic, until he realized how fast the shore was falling away.
Undertow.
Willy barked from the edge of the dock.
“Maya, get Maya.” He hoped the animal could not only hear, but was smart enough to obey.
The dog snorted and raced away to the house while Josh tried to ride out the underground river. He could swim parallel to shore once he got further out. However, the rule he’d learned in New Jersey didn’t seem to apply to a tropical island.
For a short moment, he considered giving up and letting the ocean have at him. With everything he’d been through this past year, it didn’t seem like such a bad option. But, the thought of Maya finding his half-eaten waterlogged body was enough to keep him swimming as he swallowed another gulp of seawater.
By the time the little witch exited the back of the house, she was but a small dot. She ran to the edge of the dock and searched the ocean for him.
“Josh?” A tinny voice carried on the wind.
Holding his breath, he pulled off his jeans, so as not to be weighed down by them. Then, he conjured a fire, and sent up a bright flare of power. It took all of his strength to hold one arm up and keep it lit.
When she saw him, she laid flat on the deck and put her arms into the ocean. God almighty, like Moses, the fucking sea opened up. On either side of him, a wall of water. Under his feet, fish flopped and tiny critters skittered away.