Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (10 page)

Quayde inclined his head. “Pleasure to meet you both. Not to be rude, but I hope you’re planning to tell us more about what’s wrong with Ilona than her other caretakers.”

The older woman nudged Heléna toward the dresser. “Be sure to light the new candles before extinguishing those that are burning. Gentlemen, I can only inform you about that which I know. Ilona has an infection requiring sleep and the presence of her…champions. The poisons must be drawn out.”

Poisons?
Setting down the book he’d found in the nightstand, PC frowned. “Shouldn’t she be on antibiotics or something? And she isn’t getting any fluids. She needs to be hooked up to an IV.”

Flóra smiled. “You’re protective of her already. She’s in excellent hands.”

Seemingly finished with her account of the situation, she moved to the head of the bed and eased down the blankets, exposing the lush mounds of Ilona’s naked breasts. Flóra folded the covers past her patient’s flat stomach, the nest of curls at the vee of her thighs, and down to her feet. Every inch of her was bared.

His half-hard dick twitched.
She didn’t have any clothes on while I was lying next to her.
He wouldn’t have been able to keep from touching her if he’d known. Pert, rosy-brown nipples stared back at him, begging him to take a taste. An image of his cock buried in the tunnel of her tits flashed in his mind, followed by a look of pure pleasure on her face as he came inside her pussy. He had to swallow hard against the moan crawling its way up his throat.

Quayde squeaked beside him. He must’ve been just as affected by her beautiful body and hadn’t been able to suppress his response.

“Do you need help, Mother?” Heléna’s question tugged PC out of his trance.

Removing a small bottle from her pocket, Flóra gestured for her daughter to sit on the opposite side of the bed and handed her the bottle. “You can apply the eucalyptus oil after I massage her arms and legs.”

Her gentle kneading made PC wish he’d studied to be a masseuse instead of learning to train cutting horses. He’d caress Ilona’s muscles, soothing the stiffness from lying in the same position for more than twelve hours.

Heléna dabbed a bead of nose-clearing oil on the tender skin of Ilona’s inner elbow when Flora shifted from the left arm to the right and again when she switched to the legs. If nothing else, Ilona wouldn’t suffer from congestion. The smell reminded PC of menthol cough drops.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Quayde gave what PC guessed was an impatient sigh. “What does that stuff do?”

Glancing at her mother, Heléna seemed to wait for permission to answer. After a nod, she spoke as she moved to Ilona’s knees. “Eucalyptus is a healing plant. The clearer the lungs, the more oxygen the body can absorb. It also reduces stress and has a calming effect.”

“But is it making her well? She’s lying there like she’s in a…coma.” A break in the last word revealed how worried Quayde was.

Both women sobered, sending PC’s stomach to his knees. “She isn’t in a coma, is she?”

Flóra sighed. “Not in the truest sense of the word, I assure you. Agnes and I have administered a homeopathic remedy to induce sleep. My family is well-versed in the treatment of many illnesses and injuries with natural ingredients we grow in our gardens and greenhouse.”

Forget the gypsy settlement. We landed in a hippie commune.

A choked cough came from Quayde. “You mean you grow things like marijuana and poppies?”

Heléna glared at him. “We would never risk drawing attention to ourselves like that.”

Noting Flóra’s quickly covered gasp, PC could only conclude they had something to hide—meaning he or Quayde needed to leave Ilona for a little while to explore the house and grounds.

“Come, Heléna. We must help prepare lunch.” Flóra hurried from the room with her daughter on her heels. “Margita will bring your lunch at noon, gentlemen.”

The outer door clicked closed several seconds later, leaving PC and Quayde alone with Ilona once again.
A very naked Ilona.
“Help me cover her so she doesn’t get chilled.”

Quayde rounded the bed to fold the blankets up over her. As he eased the comforter up to her chin, he touched his finger to her cheek. “We need to find out more about these people. I’m going to go for a walk and do some spying.”

Unable to resist brushing her hair from her forehead, PC rolled his eyes. “Don’t get into trouble. The last thing we need is more of that.”

“I know. I want to look for TVs and computers, that kind of stuff. Something to show we didn’t jump from the Old West to another time or place we don’t belong in.”

“Okay, but be careful.”

Quayde nodded and then leaned down to kiss Ilona’s temple. “I’ll be back shortly, darlin’.”

He traced the path Flóra and Heléna had taken out of the apartment, the outer door clicking closed as he left.

Settling beside Ilona, PC pressed his lips to hers in hopes of some response. A flutter of her eyelids. A soft feminine moan. Her mouth opening to welcome his tongue inside.
Yeah, right.
He’d hardly been dropped into a fairy tale.

The silkiness of her skin was a dream come true, though. He succumbed to the need to trail a line of kisses to the delicate shell of her ear. “I wish I could remember you, Ilona.”

Her slow, even breaths didn’t change. She didn’t move.

* * * *

Every step away from Ilona’s apartment sent a tiny stab of pain through Quayde’s head, but he scuttled down the stairs she’d taken the day before. The first flight led to a second, giving him the choice of a hallway much like the one he’d left or to continue downward. Seeing no one in the wide corridor, he opted for the steps.

At the bottom of the staircase, a high-ceilinged entryway gave him more options—what looked to be the front door, a hall to the left, and a hall to the right. He chose the right.

Double doors stood open on the left side, leading into a spacious library with floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with thousands of books. The top of an antique-looking desk held a volume he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Its cover was worn, cracked leather, and its pages yellowed. A faded green ribbon marked the reader’s spot. The book had to be at least a couple hundred years old.

Two dark-haired women sat on a fancy couch, sipping tea and talking in low voices. The word “poison” perked up his ears, and he stood motionless in the doorway in an attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“…a splinter in her thumb. Aunt Flóra says it couldn’t have come from the house or the barn. None of the wood here is that roughly hewn.”

“Does anyone know where she went when she disappeared? What if the shifter broke through the barrier again and kidnapped her? Maybe she got the splinter when she was escaping.”

The shifter?
A sudden stitch of pain made Quayde squeeze his eyes shut and tense his neck muscles. An image of a roof getting ripped off a house and flying debris sparked a moment of panic.
Tornado!
He jerked his hands forward to reach for Ilona, but he couldn’t move.

He swallowed a groan and grabbed for the wall. His heart slammed against his ribs, trying to pound its way out of his chest. Forcing his eyes open, he fought to regain his balance. His vision cleared and then blurred as the scene came and went.
The ancient shifter.
“The splinter was from the tornado.”

A hand closed over his shoulder and another gripped his elbow, guiding him into the room. “Orsolya, look out, love. Ilona’s mate seems to be ill.”

More images flashed in Quayde’s mind, and he staggered to keep from falling. Nausea rose in his throat. “The ancient shifter. He wants to hurt Ilona.” She sat facing him and PC on an unfamiliar bed, her lips moving and her words sinking into his brain. “He’s part of the Black Triad. And she’s a witch.”

Chapter 9

Raised voices yanked PC from his half-asleep state. He’d had strange dreams again, and this time, he had no doubt they were memories. They might’ve happened long before he was born, but they’d happened all the same. Now, he understood his and Quayde’s connection to Ilona. That they’d made love to her together didn’t even shock him, the act seeming completely natural.

Quayde’s stubborn tone carried into the bedroom from the living room. “I want to talk to Romána.”

A female voice answered him. “She’ll only tell you what we already told you. Ilona has to explain about…everything.”

“You mean that you’re a family of witches. Ilona is in a drug—sorry—
plant
-induced coma because some batshit wizard guy wants her dead. The witch thing means nothing to me.”

“But she has to be the one to—”

“I know where the splinter came from.”

No one spoke for several long seconds.

“I’ll get Romána.” The closing of a door seemed to signal the woman’s departure.

“About frickin’ time.” Quayde stalked into the bedroom. Crawling onto the mattress next to Ilona, he stroked her cheek. “I’m here, darlin’. I won’t leave you again. Promise.”

Keeping hold of her hand, PC levered up on his elbow. “You remembered more, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. You?”

PC nodded. “She’s ours forever, and we’re hers. I think she was trying to protect us.”

“True mates will always protect one another. Their bond requires it.” Romána moved at a sedate pace from the dresser to the bed.

Unsurprised by the sudden appearance of the old woman from last night, PC waited for Quayde to go on the attack.

He didn’t, her calm demeanor evidently soothing his temper. “The splinter came from the framing of Patience Wyndham’s brothel in Encanto, Texas. I’m pretty sure Kazmer made a tornado rip the roof off the house. As soon as Ilona saw the twister, she said some kind of rhyme, and then we were here. What did he do to her?”

Romána stood at the foot of the bed, her palms rubbing over the bump where her granddaughter’s feet were resting. “Because he caused the disturbance, his essence lingered in the splinter lodged in her thumb. It is poison to us. Had Flóra and Agnes not found the sliver of wood, Ilona would’ve died within a day. Instead, we must wait for the love of her mates to counteract the effects and allow her to heal.”

The memories of his sexual encounters with Ilona still fresh in his mind, PC winced at the tightening in his chest. “You said ‘love.’ How are we supposed to fall in love with her if we can’t get to know her? We can’t ask her questions about what she likes and dislikes, what kinds of things she enjoys doing. You can’t love somebody without knowing her.”

She smiled, a serene curve of her mouth accentuating the lines at the corners of her eyes. “You are wise for someone so young. Sex does not equal love, but to care for someone with whom you are intimate nurtures the emotions of the heart. Her family will help you discover more about my daughter. Her parents and grandparents will join you for lunch today, and some of her cousins and their mates will share supper with you.”

Quayde’s eyebrows dipped low as if he was concerned. “What about the fact that there’s two of us? Is it going to cause problems?”

“Love is love, whether between a pair of mates or more than two. My children will rejoice in Ilona’s happiness.” Romána nodded once. “I must inform the others of our arrangement. Good day to you, gentlemen.”

The ease of acceptance tamed PC’s nerves enough to relax his head against the pillow. He didn’t expect to hear the old woman leave. He didn’t, but the absence of her powerful presence assured him she’d gone.

* * * *

Combing his fingers through Ilona’s thick hair, Quayde bit his tongue to keep from blurting out the obvious. His supper companions probably wouldn’t appreciate his observation.

Lunch with her parents and grandparents had been interesting and enlightening, especially having recalled Ilona telling him and PC that Magdolna and Boldizsár had spent almost fifty years separated by the shifter’s manipulations. All through the meal, they’d often met each other’s gazes and touched like they treasured every single second of being together. Not that he blamed them after all they been through.

The introduction of Ilona’s cousins and their
mates
at dinner had flabbergasted him. Romána could’ve given him and PC a heads-up about the unconventionality of those relationships. Then again, Ilona might’ve informed them in Encanto and they just didn’t remember it.

Kata, Lujza, Rebeka, and Jolán had arrived with eight men, six babies under a year old, and two more kids on the way. Not only had they crowded into the bedroom so Quayde and Pax could stay close to Ilona, each woman had claimed two of the guys as her mates. No wonder the matriarch of the family hadn’t batted an eyelash at the prospect of her great granddaughter sharing her bed with a pair of Texas cowboys.

None of the males seemed to mind that the woman he loved also loved another and had borne children by them both. Twins, but not. Cousins? More like half-siblings. Rebeka had claimed the double matings were a fairly recent development, starting with Kata, Adam, and Aaron.