Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (8 page)

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Authors: Maree Anderson

Tags: #FICTION / Romance / Paranormal, #FICTION / Fantasy / Paranormal, #FICTION / Romance / Fantasy, #FIC009050, #FICTION / Fantasy / Contemporary, #FIC027120, #FIC009010, #FICTION / Romance / Contemporary, #FIC027030, #FIC027020

BOOK: Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series
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His chant went on, never flagging for an instant, just as his gaze never left Sera’s face for an instant. And as Opal watched, mesmerized, after a few tense moments her daughter’s breathing calmed and synced with the big man’s slower, even breaths.

“Well done, little one,” Dan told his charge. “You have the courage of a sand-cat.”

“Are they… very brave?” Sera asked, and to Opal’s relief there was only the slightest hitch in Sera’s voice as she drew breath.

“Of course. One has only to observe them stalking a viper to know they are fierce little creatures.” He chucked her under the chin. “Like you.”

She giggled and hugged him.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Desiree murmured. “It worked.”

Yes, it had. And Opal couldn’t think of a thing to add. She slumped back in her chair and watched, bemused and enchanted in equal measure, as the big man regaled her daughter with some tale of an intrepid wildcat who’d dared sneak into his tent and make a bed atop the rag he used to clean his…
sword
? Jesus. He sure had an active imagination.

The doorbell shrilled.

“That’ll be Roth.” Desiree made a beeline for the front door.

Opal tore her gaze from Dan and her daughter, and heaved her lethargic body from the chair to greet Desiree’s friend.

Roth was a tall, lanky man with black hair so bushy it almost made Sera’s wavy locks seem tame. He’d tied the thick mass back with a leather thong. He wore a Grateful Dead t-shirt that’d seen much better days, jeans so worn they were almost white, and scuffed black hi-tops. And if not for his large blue duffel with the distinctive caduceus enclosed by a six-pointed white star, Opal might have been forgiven for thinking Desiree had phoned a member of an indie grunge band instead of a doctor.

She opened her mouth to thank him but Roth didn’t spare her so much as a glance as he strode past. Oh. Well, doubtless Desiree had briefed him over the phone, and it had to be a good sign that he was more interested in patients than exchanging pleasantries, right? She sank into her chair and tried to ignore the quivering in her limbs and the fluttering in her stomach—like she’d had one shock too many and was on the verge of collapse.

Desiree had resumed her perch on the arm of the chair, and now she patted Opal’s shoulder. “Don’t fret. He’s good at his job.”

“I’m
great
at my job.” Roth cast the correction over his shoulder as he dropped to his haunches before Dan and Sera. “Which is how I know your friend Opal needs a hot drink with plenty of sugar. She’s pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. Make yourself useful, Des.”

Desiree made a rude face at his back and muttered an equally rude word. “Tea or coffee?” she asked Opal.

“C-c-coffee.”

“With milk and two sugars,” Roth said, still without turning around.

Now it was Opal’s turn to make a rude face. She preferred her coffee black and unadulterated.

“On it,” Desiree said, and scuttled into the kitchen.

“You must be Dan,” Roth said.

“His real name’s Danbur,” Sera piped up. “But he lets me call him Dan.”

Danbur
. Unusual, but Opal liked it. Strong. Exotic. It suited him far more than “Dan”, or heaven forbid “Danny”.

“That’s real good to know, sweetheart,” Roth said. “Okay,
Danbur
, there’s a few things I need to know about your medical history.”

Opal watched Danbur’s face. His mouth had set in that stubborn line again. “I will answer no questions at this time, Healer,” he said. “You will first attend the child.”

Roth gave an audible huff of displeasure. “
You
were unconscious. She’s over the worst now. She can wait ’til I’ve checked you out.”

“Sera first. This is not a negotiation, Healer. This is a fact.”

“Your funeral, dude.”

Danbur’s eyes turned cold and deadly. “Or likely yours if you fail to heed what I observed during Sera’s breathing attacks.”

Desiree’s friend didn’t miss a beat. “I’m listening,” he said. And once Danbur had said his piece, proceeded to question him thoroughly. Then he seamlessly switched his attention to Sera. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m Roth. Your mom’s friend Desiree tells me you had a bit of a scare tonight, so I need to check you’re okay.”

Sera nodded solemnly.

Desiree returned with a mug of sweet milky coffee for Opal, and another mug of something for herself. They sat in silence, sipping their drinks and watching Roth do his thing.

He was über-gentle with Sera, allowing her to stay in Danbur’s lap. And Roth even got her to giggle as he deployed his stethoscope and had Sera perform the usual breathing tests with the peak flow meter.

When he was done, he ruffled Sera’s hair and sat back on his heels. “Doing good, sweetheart,” he said. “You just need to catch some Zs. No need to break out the noisy, boring old nebulizer.” He held up his palm and Sera hi-fived him.

“I know you’re real comfortable there,” Roth said, “but it’ll be easier for me to check Danbur out if you find another seat. That okay with you?”

Only once Sera nodded did Danbur lift her from his lap. “Can I hold Dan’s hand while you do the ’xamination?” she asked. “It’s scary when doctors are ’xamining you and stuff.”

“Sure thing, Sera.” To his credit, Roth didn’t crack a joke about Danbur about needing a kid to hold his hand. Apparently Roth had a well honed sense of self-preservation.

Danbur stood and stretched the kinks from his back and shoulders—a procedure that revealed a strip of defined abs that would be the envy of any gym junkie, and that made Opal inhale her coffee. Desiree seemed to be smothering laughter as she helpfully whacked Opal’s back. “You and me both, girlfriend,” she muttered, and not-so-surreptitiously fanned her face.

When Danbur sat on the couch, Sera climbed up next to him and slipped her hand into his curled palm. She observed the proceedings with scared, saucer-like eyes. She’d obviously picked up on the possibility he might have something seriously wrong with him. Poor kid.

Opal did her level best to divide her attention between the three of them. Every time Roth frowned, her stomach plummeted to her toes. Then, inevitably, her gaze would drift to Danbur’s face and she would find herself wondering how such full lips could be so damned masculine they made her toes curl. Cue jerking her gaze to Sera, instead, and worrying over the absorbed expression on her daughter’s face as Sera stared up at Danbur—like he was her whole world.

Opal could have felt jealous at that worshipful regard; she had, after all, been Sera’s whole world for almost nine years. But all she felt was sadness and intense regret. She’d given Sera everything she had to give. She’d told herself it was enough, believed
she
was enough. But she wasn’t. Sera needed a father-figure—that was painfully obvious given the way she’d bonded with Danbur in such a short time.

And Danbur? He looked like there was something missing in his life, too. And that something was—

Sera.

Opal blinked and mentally shook herself. No way was she standing by while some “handsome asshole”, who’d forced his way into their lives, formed an unnatural attachment to her daughter.

She fixed her attention on Roth again, willing him to hurry through the examination. The sooner Danbur got the all clear, the sooner she could boot his handsome ass out of her house. Meaning Sera would be safe from his influence, and Opal would be able to rid herself of these ridiculous and wholly inappropriate feelings for a stranger who’d made it brutally clear he didn’t think much of her.

Roth hung his stethoscope around his neck and tugged on the ends. “You appear to be healthy as a horse, Danbur. But I’d recommend you get to a clinic and get some scans done—just to be sure.”

“If this
clinick
is a place where Healers congregate to prod and poke patients and make their lives a misery, then I think not.”

Curiosity flit across Roth’s face but he didn’t launch an inquiry into Danbur’s origins. Sensible. Because apparently Danbur wasn’t a fan of personal questions.

“Passing out cold isn’t something to be taken lightly,” Roth said, “especially in light of the headaches prior to losing consciousness. In my professional opinion—”

“I respect your professional opinion greatly, Healer. But further investigation into my health is not an option open to me at this time.”

The two men locked gazes but it was Roth who backed down. “Okay, then. I guess my job here is done.” He packed up his gear and sauntered over to introduce himself. “Roth Morgan.”

Opal shook his proffered hand. “O-O-Opal S-S-Stewart.” She waited for the inevitable barrage of well-meaning advice about managing her stutter but he only smiled. Points to him. She managed a wan smile in return.

“Thanks for making a house call, Roth,” Desiree said. “What do I owe you?”

Opal mentally tallied the meager contents of her purse and hoped he’d accept a check. But before she could speak up, Roth drawled, “Dinner. This coming Friday.”

“I’m busy,” Desiree said.

“Saturday, then.”

“I’m busy all that weekend.”

“You’re always busy.”

“What can I say? I’m a popular girl.”

No surprises there, Opal thought. She’d bet her right arm Desiree had more male attention than any woman could possibly want.

“Following Saturday, then.” Roth got full points for persistence.

“Sorry. No can do.”

“Sunday. Matinee at the Iron Horse Theater.”

Desiree’s eyebrows arched and a gleam of interest chased the assumed boredom from her eyes. “What’s playing?”

“Special screening of The Fifth Element.”

“You’re on.” Desiree grinned mischievously at him. “I adore Bruce Willis.”

“And I love Milla Jovovich… and that outfit.”

“The one that looks like a strip of bandages?”

“That’s the one. Mmm hmmm. Bet you’d look hot in that outfit, my lovely. Not that I’m hinting what you should wear or anything.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Desiree said, but she was smiling as she said it.

“I’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Roth looked smug as a cat that’d happened on a bowlful of cream and Opal couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he’d handled being turned down multiple times. In front of witnesses. But then, maybe that level of persistence was normal for singles these days? Not that Opal had any interest in flirting or dating. She was too busy raising her daughter. And avoiding men.

Her gaze flitted to Dan… and surprised him staring back at her. And frowning, like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Hah. Ditto. She suppressed the desire to stick out her tongue.

“Hey.” Roth touched her forearm to snag her attention. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“M-M-Me?” Opal managed a light laugh. “D-D-Don’t th-th-think so.”

“I never forget a face,” he said.

God. She sure hoped that wasn’t the case. And that she was pulling off a credible “don’t be so silly” expression.

It’d been almost a decade since “Jordan Cast” had featured prominently in the tabloids. She remembered jumping at the chance to reinvent herself when she’d been discovered by the modeling agency. At her mother’s suggestion, she’d taken her middle name of “Jordan” and combined it with her grandmother’s maiden name of “Cast”. And after she’d run away from a promising career, she’d been grateful for the anonymity her real name had provided.

She didn’t want to lose that anonymity. She didn’t want to uproot the life she’d carved out for herself and Sera here in Philly. It was safe. Familiar. Comforting. With luck Roth would conclude she reminded him of someone famous and that would be the end of it. But if the worst came to pass, perhaps Desiree could prevail upon him to keep his mouth shut?

Desiree did her spooky tap-into-Opal’s-thoughts thing again. “You’re thinking of that girl who fronted the Dion Vonette label, oh,” she waved a languid hand, “about a decade ago. You know, the one who got embroiled in a huge scandal when that tape of her and that skeevy photographer was leaked? I’m sure Opal’s been told she reminds people of that girl, like, a thousand times.”

Opal screwed up her nose as if to say, “Yeah, and what a pain in the ass it is, too.” She had to admire her friend’s quick thinking. Especially since “Jordan Cast” had also been a skinny blonde who, ironically, had originally been offered the Vonette exclusive. And she would have taken it, too, if she hadn’t had to disappear from the public eye in a hurry.

Roth shrugged. “Must be it.” He glanced at his watch. “Better head home. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow—we mere mortals who haven’t been blessed with the goddess gene need our beauty rest.”

Desiree rolled her eyes at the compliment. “Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

Opal summoned the ghost of a smile. “I th-th-thought it w-w-was a… a… good one, m-m-myself.”

“Hey, Roth,” Desiree said, casting a glance at Opal. “Before you go, can we ask one last favor?”

Uh oh. What was she up to now?

“Depends,” Roth said. “Is it going to hurt?”

Desiree puffed an exasperated breath. “Don’t be an idiot. We wondered if you could drop Dan off at a shelter. He’s got, uh,
housing
issues at the moment.”

“What leads you to believe I am going anywhere?” Dan’s voice held more than a hint of a challenge.

“You can’t stay here,” Desiree snapped. “Isn’t that right, Opal?”

Opal darted a quick glance at her daughter and discovered Sera curled up on the couch asleep. Good. It would make giving Dan his marching orders easier.

“Th-th-that’s right,” she said. And God. Dan’s expression…. For some reason it was ridiculously easy to read the emotions skating across his face. Betrayal. Anger. Acceptance. And, as he gazed at Sera, sadness. It was as though Opal had forged a connection with him that allowed her to see straight into his heart and mind. But she couldn’t afford to feel sorry for him. She couldn’t afford to let him in to disrupt her life—or Sera’s.

“Enlighten me about this… shelter,” he said.

Roth frowned and cocked his head, appearing to take stock of Dan’s I-kick-ass-and-take-no-prisoners leathers for the first time. He’d opened his mouth, doubtless to ask some interesting questions, when the doorbell’s insistent chimes cut him off.

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