Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge 01 - Spell Bound (13 page)

Someone lightly rapped on my bedroom door. It sure as hell wasn’t Pierce. He’d just barge in. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Thad poked his head inside. “Can we talk?”

I nodded, and he closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“Drake.”

Like I hadn’t seen this one coming. As the rule follower in the family, Thad was most likely going to lecture me on blurring the lines. Drake was my assignment, not my love interest. “What about him?”

“You like him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know what I feel for him, but, yeah, there’s something there. So what?”

He sat at the foot of my bed and sighed. “This could complicate things, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t argue with that. It moved things so far beyond complicated, it was a calculus problem. “Yeah, it does.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I had to say something before the lecture started. “Look, I know I screwed up when I cast that spell in front of him. I wasn’t thinking. I just reacted. And I know that doesn’t make it any better, and the Conclave might bind my powers, but I couldn’t let him die. I had to do something to save him.”

“And yourself?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “But I wasn’t thinking about myself when I did it.” Thad regarded me carefully. I hated when he did that. It was like I was on a glass slide under a microscope. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you think about someone before yourself. You’ve always been very much a warlock in that regard. Focused only on your wants and needs, and to hell with everyone else, including this family.”

Was Thad trying to start a fight? “That’s a damn lie. This family means a lot to me.”

“I have no doubt.” There was no sharp edge to his words, which wasn’t Thad. Maybe he didn’t want to start a fight after all. “But to you being a warlock has always been about a show of strength, a projection of power, an image of some badass motherfucker.” I had to suppress my laughter. Thad rarely cursed, and when he did, it sounded strange. Like hearing a five-year-old accidentally scream
shit
.

“What?” he asked. “Why are you smirking like that?”

“No reason,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “Go on.”

He glared at me for a few more seconds before he continued. “I find it interesting that your spells seem to work now that you have apparently cast that false image aside.”

“False? Are you saying we aren’t badass motherfuckers?” Coming from my lips, cursing worked.

He shook his head. “We are, but that’s not all we are. Yes, we’re powerful, and yes, our kind is far more selfish than any of the other orders. But we aren’t evil, and we aren’t some stereotype. I think that’s how you saw us. All of us.”

Maybe he was right. I always felt I had to live up to the family name, to honor the reputation we carried. In order to do that, I had to be perfect. Had I been putting too much stress on myself? Was that why I hadn’t been able to master my magic, because I was standing in my own way? “You could be right.”

“I know I am, but I don’t think you see it that way anymore. I think you now realize that being a warlock isn’t a reputation, it just is. Our magic doesn’t define us. We define it, and when you look at it that way, it makes it easier to manipulate.”

This was the best talk Thad and I had ever had. He was actually talking to me like my brother and not my parent. “You’re right. It does.”

“So on those grounds, I think whatever is going on between you and Drake might be good for you and your powers. But you need to be careful.”

“I know. And I also know I have to face the consequences of my actions. If the Conclave binds my powers, I’ll accept the decision and won’t embarrass the family.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Thad said as he rose from my bed.

“What? Why not?”

“The Conclave can’t see into Havenbridge right now, right?”

Shit. I hadn’t even thought about that. “They have no idea I broke the law.”

He nodded. “The only ones who know are your family.”

“But you’re required under law to report me. If you don’t, the entire family could have its powers bound.”

“Correct,” Thad replied as he opened my bedroom door. “But you’re family, and the Blackmoors take care of their own first. That’s how we badass motherfuckers roll,” he said with a wink.

I burst into laughter as he left and shut the door.

With my family behind me, how could anything go wrong?

A
BOUT
AN
hour after my talk with Thad, I sat in front of Millicent Carpenter’s house. Going up and knocking on the front door wasn’t going to be easy. Millicent hated the Blackmoors. We’d ruined her business, and she thought we were rich lowlifes. At least that was what Drake had told me.

And maybe from her perspective, we were. My family had tons of money and influence, and we weren’t shy about using them when we needed to further our own interests. That was how her grocery store went from being the most popular in town to going bankrupt.

Finding me on her doorstep, calling on her nephew, wouldn’t exactly be a welcome event. But that wasn’t going to stop me. I got out of the car, strolled down the sidewalk, and knocked on the front door.

“Coming,” a kind, elderly voice sang from the other side. She was evidently in a good mood. I had to hope it would last after she realized who I was. When the door opened, a gray-haired woman with wrinkled brown eyes peered at me from behind the screen door. Her brows stitched together. She recognized me from somewhere, but she obviously couldn’t tell from where. “Can I help you?” she asked as she dried her hands on a kitchen towel.

“I’m here to see Drake. Is he home?”

She nodded. “He’s out back doing the gardening he refused to let me do.” After opening the door, she motioned me inside. Deep wrinkle lines crossed her face, but they couldn’t hide the strong woman who’d weathered the storms of life. Strength and wisdom reflected in her bright eyes and in the proud carriage of her jutting jawline. She obviously appreciated Drake’s helpfulness, but she didn’t like it. “I’ve been taking care of this place since my good-for-nothing husband ran off some thirty years ago, and I’ll continue to do just that till my dying day.” She punctuated her statement with a firm nod.

“I have no doubt you will, Mrs. Carpenter.”

She snorted. “It’s
Ms.
Carpenter. I went back to my maiden name a
long
time ago.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

She waved my apology away and gestured for me to follow her through the house, which was a simple half-Cape. The outside had a broad, strong frame just like Drake’s aunt, but the inside was anything but traditional. Vibrant blue and green paint covered the walls instead of the customary neutral colors associated with a Pilgrim-styled house. The furniture wasn’t Quaker or thrifty. A light green couch with white cushions rested along the far right wall opposite a custom white entertainment center that resembled a giant jigsaw puzzle.

This décor was stylish and chic. There was nothing old lady about it.

“You have a beautiful home.”

“That’s very sweet,” she said as we entered the kitchen, which included polished stainless steel appliances. She nodded at the back door. “Drake’s out there. Why don’t you wait a minute, and I’ll give you some cold lemonade to take outside for the two of you?”

“That would be great.”

“I’m guessing you’re the young man I have to thank for saving my Drake from that awful construction accident.”

“That would be me.”

She clasped her hands together before rushing over to give me a hug that almost squeezed all the breath out of my body. “I could never thank you enough for risking your own life that way.” When she backed up, her smiling eyes had filled with playful teasing. “You’re either very brave or very stupid.”

I laughed. This woman was awesome. “I’d have to go with stupid.”

She clicked her tongue. “As I suspected. I said the same thing to Drake after he told me what happened. When that boy runs, he doesn’t notice anything but where he’s going.”

That was most likely the shifter in him. They could be pretty narrow-minded at times. “So I’ve noticed.” But if Drake was a were, did that mean Millicent was one too? That would certainly explain the strength in her arms and the spring in her step.

“Let me get you those drinks,” she said after staring at me for a few seconds. She grabbed glasses from the kitchen cabinet. The wheels of her memory were obviously turning, and she was trying to figure out where she’d seen me before. It wasn’t me that she was recalling, though. She and I had never officially met. It was my father she knew, and we closely resembled each other.

“What’s your name?” she asked as she poured. “You look extremely familiar, but I can’t place you.”

“I’m Mason.”

She hesitated for a minute before resuming her task. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone by that name.”

It was now or never. “You may have met my father.”

She crossed to me with both glasses in her hands and a smile on her withered lips. “And who’s your father, Mason?”

“Oliver Blackmoor.”

At the mention of my father’s name, she stopped cold. She looked me up and down as if she could assess my worth solely on my appearance. “Well, damn,” she said with a sly grin. “I never thought I’d ever have a member of the Blackmoor family in my house.”

She handed me the drinks and motioned to the back door. Had I somehow passed muster? “Would you like to join us?”

She shook her head and smiled. “The last thing two young boys need hanging around is an old lady like me.”

“It would be an honor if you joined us.” And I wasn’t lying. I liked her, and I regretted what my family had done to her.

“You’ve got a silver tongue like your father,” she said as she shooed me out the door. “Just make sure that tongue doesn’t develop a fork in the middle, and you and I will do just fine. The poor boy has been through enough.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said before heading out the back door.

D
RAKE
WORKED
in the garden, pulling up weeds. His back was to me, and he was listening to music through the earbuds that connected to his iPhone. I was grateful he couldn’t hear me approach because it gave me time to take in the sight of his shirtless body as he dug in the ground. His lean muscles flexed as he pulled out weeds. Sweat glistened across his back, and beads of perspiration snaked lazy trails down his spine before disappearing beneath the waistband of his blue denim cutoffs.

The cleft of his butt crack peeked out at me. I had to restrain myself from rushing over to him and lapping the sweat that dotted his pale skin before following the trail to his musky center.

But I had to gain control of myself. I couldn’t stand here with lemonade and a boner. At least not with Drake’s aunt more than likely watching from somewhere within the house.

I took several deep breaths and then crossed the lawn to where Drake worked. I kicked at his feet. When he looked up, a smile stretched across his hot, flushed face. “Aww,” he said as he pulled the earbuds free. “You brought me somethin’ to drink.”

I handed him his beverage. “Yup. Made it myself.”

After gulping down half the contents, he shot me an even stare. “I thought your name was Mason, not Millicent.”

I crouched beside him. “That’s my middle name.”

“What? Millicent?”

“That’s correct.” Drake playfully shoved his shoulder into me, which upset my balance. I fell backward on my butt and landed in the grass, spilling lemonade all over my shirt.

“Now look at what you’ve done.” I glared at him and raised one eyebrow in mock anger.

“That’s what you get for fibbin’,” he said, tossing a weed at me. Naturally, it hit my chest and showered dirt on me and into the remaining liquid in the glass.

“Aw, man. Now you’ve ruined my lemonade. Plus you got my shirt wet
and
dirty.” I leered at him and then pulled my tee up and over my head.

Drake’s breath caught in his throat as he swept his gaze over my chest and down my smooth, tanned abdominals. A thin smile stretched across his lips before it retreated. Was he playing hard-to-get? “Any excuse to take off your shirt, huh?”

I gestured toward his half-nakedness. “What’s that, Pot?”

“Oh please. I’m workin’ out here in the heat.”

“And I got wet and dirty. What’s your point?”

Drake shook his head and then placed his glass beside him. “So what brings you by?”

I lay on my side in the grass, propping my head up on one elbow. “I came to see you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

He glanced at me, his blue eyes twinkling with the sun’s light. “I really don’t know how else to ask that question. It’s pretty simple.”

Now I was confused. After last night, I figured Drake would be expecting to see me today. Or was that not taking it slow? Was I supposed to wait a day or two? I had no clue. Instead of answering, I stammered.

Drake chuckled. “You really
are
bad at this.”

I still couldn’t speak. Instead I let my arched eyebrows express my continued confusion.

He stopped working and covered my hand with his. His touch was cool and refreshing from the mud he’d been working in. “What’s the reason you came over here today?”

I stared down at our overlapping flesh. He ran his finger along the back of my palm, urging me to answer his question.

“To spend some time with you, I guess.” My response made my cheeks burn.

He patted my hand and sat back with a smile. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I snorted. “Says you.”

He shook his head before saying, “My daddy always said it’s best to just speak your mind. It keeps people from havin’ to guess what you’re up to.” The mention of his father caused the sadness that occasionally overcame Drake to descend upon him. It was a shadow that followed him and wrapped around him like a bad nightmare.

“You must miss them a lot.”

“Somethin’ awful.”

I could tell he wanted to say more, but his throat had clenched up. Tears had probably lodged in his throat. It happened to me all the time when something reminded me of my mother. Like when I looked at Thad’s reddish hair and hazel eyes. He resembled her so much it was uncanny, and it sometimes made me sad. He was a reminder of what I no longer had. If it was tough on me, I couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for my brother to look at himself in the mirror every day. “I miss my mom too.”