Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (7 page)

“PC, you awake?” His friend’s tentative whisper suggested he was well aware of their predicament.

“Yeah, Quayde.”

“Did you notice we’re tied to the bedposts?”

“Yep.”
How could I not notice?

“Who do suppose would do that? And why?”

A soft feminine cough interrupted PC’s response before he could get it out. “Um, I did.”

Quayde laughed. “Darlin’, I’m more than willing to add a bit of spice to our sex life. All you have to do is say so.”

Ilona sat up, her loose waves flowing down her back. “As much fun as that sounds, the reason I bound you was because I have to tell you important things about myself, and I didn’t want you to leave before I could explain.”

With his dick at half-mast and rising, PC fought the impulse to yank as hard as he could on the restraints. He needed to show her how much he cared for her. “What could you possibly tell us about yourself that we’d want to leave you? I meant what I said, Ilona. Forever. The three of us.”

She scooted to the foot of the bed before facing them. Her sweet mouth formed a frown, and worry lines creased her forehead. “Even if I’m a…a witch?”

“A witch?” Quayde snorted. “Witches are gnarled and ugly, and they have warts on their noses.”

“You better not ever let my cousin Lujza hear you say that. She’ll turn you into a toad.” She pulled in a noisy breath and then exhaled. “All the women in my family are witches. We can travel through time and make paintings have movement. Lujza once spelled a dragon from her storybook to medieval England. She’s mated to two fourteenth-century knights she met when she went back in time to retrieve a misplaced spellbook.”

The seriousness of her expression convinced PC she told the truth—or she was crazy enough to actually believe her ludicrous story. “Did you send us here?”

She shook her head and twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Why would I send you almost two hundred years into the past if I could’ve made you come to me? I don’t know how you got here.”

Quayde wiggled a few times, evidently trying to get free or comfortable. “Okay, then who else could’ve
poofed
us to Encanto?”

Having spooled her hair as far as it could go, she released it and twirled it a second time, a telltale sign of her anxiety. “Any of the adult women in my family. Maybe my cousin Rebeka’s mates. They’re Elemental warlocks. The Fates could’ve sent you here.” She hesitated for a moment, coiling her finger again. “Possibly my family’s enemy. He’s been attacking us more frequently since the prophecy came to pass.”

Either she was completely delusional, or things PC had only imagined existing were part of the real world. Almost afraid of the answer, he asked the first question to pop into his head. “He’s a witch too?”

Her gaze locked on his, and she placed her palms on his and Quayde’s immobile ankles. She must’ve realized he’d said “too” at the same moment he had. Did he really believe her?

“No, he isn’t a witch. He’s one of the elders of the Black Triad. They have powers to influence the weather and naturally occurring disasters that happen on Earth. They don’t like that witches are able to live in peace with nature.”

“What kind of prophecy?” Quayde seemed to accept her story so far since he hadn’t yet requested a demonstration of her abilities.

Ilona’s jaw tensed. “The first involved my grandmother and grandfather. He’s an elder in the Order of the Elements. They met and fell in love, but Kazmer kept him from arriving at their joining ceremony. The ancient shifter prevented the Order and my family from banding together in the fight against the Triad. My grandfather’s memories of my grandmother were erased, and they went on with separate unfulfilled lives. My mother grew up without knowing her father.”

A tear trickled down Ilona’s cheek, but PC couldn’t reach to wipe it away or try to console her. “You said ‘the first.’ It happened again?”

She nodded. “After the prophecy failed, another union between our clans was predicted. Rebeka and her mates were almost thwarted in their attempt to become mated as well. Thankfully, the Fates intervened and brought them together. With the alliance, we’ve all been stronger in the fight against Kazmer, and my grandparents were reunited. Great Grandmother believes the final confrontation is coming soon, which means he’ll do whatever is necessary to stop any more Macska matings.”

“Will you untie us? I promise we won’t leave.” The more she explained, the more PC needed to hold her. “Forev—”

A scream from one of the neighboring rooms mixed with a sudden roar, and most of the ceiling was ripped away from the bedroom, revealing a murky yellow-green sky and a spray of splinters.

Quayde jerked at the restraints. “Tornado!”

The color drained from Ilona’s panic-stricken face. A rush of words came out in a terrified voice, barely audible over the roaring wind and cracking timber. Her grasp tightened around his ankle, making her knuckles white. “Return me to my proper time, and reverse the traveling rhyme. The past becomes the past once more. Take me to my future’s door. Harm to none and blessed be. Erase me from this memory!”

In an instant, quiet descended. He stared up from a hard floor at a swirling-patterned ceiling. A pale, naked woman with long brown hair sat staring at him and Quayde, her fingernails digging into his anklebone. He and his best friend were also naked.

Quayde spoke before a coherent thought could form in PC’s mind. “Who are you, darlin’? And where are we?”

Chapter 6

Choking back a sob, Ilona pushed to her feet and hurried into her bedroom—her real bedroom. The one in her suite at the Macska mansion. Grabbing a skirt and top from her closet, she headed for the bathroom, dim light from the window allowing her to find her way.

She and her mates had narrowly escaped the wrath of Kazmer in nineteenth-century Texas, and they didn’t remember her. With no recollection of the hours they’d spent making love and sleeping together or their promise to stay with her forever, they would likely think she was insane if she tried to explain what had happened. She’d already begun to care for her men, but any feelings they might’ve had for her were gone. Lost with the month they’d spent searching for something familiar in a time that wasn’t their own.

Great Grandmother Romána would surely have a stern lecture for her when she went downstairs to face to the family. Not only had she ignored the tradition of being welcomed into the circle of full-fledged witches on her birthday, she’d deliberately disregarded the warnings about Kazmer. For the first time in her life, Ilona’s logical brain had failed.

She shimmied into the ankle-length skirt, sniffling from her emotional reaction to the fiasco she’d caused. Her hormones were beyond control now that she’d returned to the moon cycle her body was accustomed to. The second-quarter of the lunar phases would rise at sunset. She’d ruined the first day of her fertility cycle, and the third-quarter moon wouldn’t wait for her. Had the Fates decided to scorn her for attempting to direct her destiny?

Slipping on the tank top, she focused on the mess of her hair. A quick comb-through with her fingers made it manageable enough to braid.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you have some clothes we can put on? Or maybe a robe?” Recognizing Quayde’s low drawl, she looked toward the open doorway. He’d wrapped the afghan from the sitting-room chair around his waist. “I’d also like to apologize. I didn’t mean to stare at your…at you when…Anyway, I’m sorry. Do you have any idea what we were drinking? ’Cause I can’t remember a damn thing. Did we, um, you know?” He waved his hand back and forth between them.

Should she be honest? Or was a white lie acceptable in this case?

Keeping her eyes focused on the tie she’d looped on the end of her braid, she winced when the elastic pressed on a sore spot on her thumb. She tried for a friendly but vague answer. “No apology necessary. We were all naked, so fair’s fair. No worries about the other. I’ll go find some clothes for you.”

She started past him, and he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, triggering goose bumps up her arm. His intense study of her eyes simultaneously drew her in and made her want to look away. “Do I know you?”

Her heart squeezed in her chest. With the truth too difficult to explain, she shook her head. He and PC didn’t really know her. She’d only begun to scratch the surface of explaining her life before the tornado hit. They’d known more about her body than any other part of her.

Avoiding his gaze and concentrating on not scanning the sitting room for Paxton, she left the apartment to go in search of male clothing and her missing brain.

* * * *

The purplish mark on the side of the young woman’s neck made Quayde doubt her claim that they didn’t know each other and hadn’t had sex. She was physical perfection. A pair of spectacular tits—D cups if he had to guess—topped a tiny waist and curvy hips. Her nicely rounded ass begged for a nibble and a kiss. Those eyes of hers sucked him in, though. Dark, expressive, intelligent. She was the whole package. Maybe not every man’s dream, but certainly his.

“Did you find out who she is or where we are?” Pax’s questions pulled Quayde from his pondering as he returned to the living room.

“No. She seemed kind of upset when I came in the bathroom, like I should’ve known her name, or at least recognized her. I asked her if we had sex, but she didn’t give me a straight answer.” Quayde froze midstep, his stomach sinking to his feet. “What if we gangbanged her? Shit, I hope not. I wouldn’t be too thrilled to acknowledge it, either.”

Dropping to the couch, Quayde studied his surroundings. The room was neat. No clutter on the coffee or end tables. A teapot and a few dainty cups on a cart against one wall. Three doors led from the living room. He’d gone through her bedroom doorway, and she’d left through another. The third was closed, piquing his curiosity since the bed had shown no signs of being slept in—or any other activity. A second bedroom in the modest but comfortable apartment?

PC paced from the chair to the teacart, the blanket from the couch slung low on his hips. “Too bad there isn’t a bottle of tequila. I’m pretty sure I could use a drink.”

Although he didn’t have the kind of headache associated with a hangover, Quayde wasn’t yet convinced they hadn’t gotten skunked and come home with…
Damn, I wish I knew her name.
“No alcohol. I want to be completely sober when I find out what the hell happened.”

“Drunk or not, I’d never force myself on a woman. I want to know why we’re here naked and our clothes are missing. Say she picked us up at a bar. Shouldn’t our jeans and stuff be somewhere around? They’re not in the bedroom, are they?”

Quayde shook his head. Even in his hurry to talk to their beautiful hostess, he’d taken a second to check out the floor and the playground-size bed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Rubbing at his jaw, PC knit his brows. “We drove into San Antonio for a beer to take the sting outta losing our jobs. I still can’t believe Frank sold the ranch to Ballinger Farms. No notice. No severance pay.”

“Yeah, well, money makes the world go ’round. Sell out or get driven under.” Leaning his elbows on his knees, Quayde rested his head in hands. “Okay. We went to Lupe’s for a beer. I asked Junior if he knew of any breeders looking to hire.”

“We each had one Coors and then we headed out to look for a cheap place to stay the night.” Pacing again, PC moved to the window. He let out a low whistle. “Holy shit. We’re in some kind of expensive hotel or resort. Fancy gardens and sidewalks. A barn. Where the hell are we? I’ve never seen trees like those before.”

Curious to see what his friend was going on about, Quayde joined him in front of the window. Even cast in shadows, the rolling hills leading to thick woods told him they weren’t in Central Texas anymore. A light dusting of snow reflected what light filtered through the tall trees from the setting sun. To the left, a three-story wing of the building was dotted with several yellow rectangles, one of which silhouetted a man holding a baby. Below, a form skittered along a walkway toward a greenhouse, disappearing inside. Sudden illumination showed the figure walking along an aisle lined by lush plants, stopping here and there before moving on.

The click of a door opening drew his attention from outside and sent his pulse into overdrive.
She came back.
He couldn’t resist turning to look at her. His stomach somersaulted.

“I brought some clothes. Adam and Aaron are about the same build as you both are.” She held out a stack of jeans and shirts, but she didn’t step closer. “Margita will be here in a few minutes with supper for you.”

He strode forward to take her armload. Disappointment stole the thrill of seeing her again. “You aren’t eating with us?”

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. Pointing toward the third door, she sighed. “Through there is the bedroom you’ll be staying in for now and a bathroom you can use.”

For now?
What did that mean? Panic had him tossing the clothes on the chair and grasping her hand. She stiffened like she might pull away, but he squeezed a little tighter. “Did we do something to offend you? I’m sorry if we did. Hell, I have no idea what happened, and I’m really embarrassed to say I don’t remember your name.”