them. It didn’t matter what her body felt; her mind was in charge and that was how it was going to stay. “And I’m not a witch. I didn’t set fire to that man.”
“You did,” he told her, his voice deep and even. “You’re a hereditary witch, Shea Jameson. The power runs through your bloodline. Your aunt, your mother, you. Even now, I can feel your power emerging. Growing. You feel it, too.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head wildly and looking around her for an escape that simply wasn’t there. “Look, ever since my aunt Mairi was… burned at the stake, people have been watching me. The MPs. The Bureau of Witchcraft. Right after she died, I even changed my name and hid for a while. But even BOW didn’t seem interested in me anymore. It’s been ten years since Mairi died and I’ve never shown any sign of power. And I don’t feel a damn thing emerging.”
“You’re lying. To me. And to yourself.” He braced his hands on the railing on either side of her, effectively trapping her and holding her in place. “I was at the school. I watched the man approach. I waited for your power to erupt. For your survival instincts to force you to remember who and what you are.”
Shea glared up at him. “You watched? You saw that man attack me and you did nothing?”
“It was necessary for me to stand back while you unlocked your powers. You’ve been fighting against their emergence for too long.”
“That man died!”
“He was nothing,” Torin said with a barely concealed sneer. “A predator. A human who lived his life on the misery of others. If you had not stopped him, he would have brutalized more women as he had done to others before you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she argued, realizing that she was never going to be able to get the mental pictures of what she’d done to that man out of her head. “That doesn’t give me the right to-”
“Survive?” He snapped the word at her and Shea shoved ineffectually at his broad chest. He didn’t even budge. But the contact between them sent heat flashing through her, like a sudden fever, enough so that she had to take a breath before she felt steady enough to say, “I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“Then master your powers before it happens again.”
“Master something I didn’t know I had until today?” She laughed shortly and felt the sound scrape against her throat. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She sighed, feeling the crushing weight of this oh, so miserable day fall down on top of her.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said softly, drawing her eyes up to his again. “As I’ve said, I am Torin. Your Eternal.”
“My Eternal,” she repeated tiredly. “What’s that mean exactly?”
“It means you are right where you are supposed to be, Shea Jameson.” He touched her cheek and she could have sworn she felt the heat of flames rising up in her again. “I will stand beside you in this.”
God, it was tempting to believe. To trust. To think that she wouldn’t have to stand alone against whatever would happen next. But she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t risk it. Though her body clamored for his, though her hands itched to reach out and touch him, she refused. She was forced to fight her own attraction to the man just to keep her mind straight.
“I’m just supposed to trust you?” She had gone from seriously deep trouble at the school to being in way over her head here. “I don’t even know where you’ve taken me.”
“We’re not strangers,” he said, each word tight with banked emotions. “Your soul knows me. As you will. Your memories will begin to return now as your power grows.”
“Right. Memories.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to convince herself she was dreaming. But the pain that stabbed her mouth was proof enough that this was all real.
Her skin was buzzing at his nearness, as if she were reacting to an electrical charge. The color of his eyes seemed to swirl like gray clouds in a high wind. His mouth was firm and full and fixed in a grim slash that told her he wasn’t feeling much happier than she was.
“This is not a dream,” he told her as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
“Nightmare, then?”
“Ask yourself why you’re not afraid of me.”
“Who says I’m not?” She lifted her chin, daring him to contradict her.
“I do. It’s not fear I feel coming from you, but arousal.”
She wouldn’t even respond to that.
“I look familiar to you, yes?” he asked, and took her upper arms in a firm grip.
His touch opened up something inside her. She felt the barest flicker of recognition from deep within. That sense of familiarity was back and she knew, deep in her soul, that he was telling her the truth. There was a connection between them. Maybe she would remember him, eventually. But the question was, what exactly would she recall? Was he to be trusted, as he said? Or would her memories tell her to stay as far away from the sexually powerful man as possible?
“No,” she said softly, meeting that strange gray stare. “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. I just want to leave.”
“And go where?” He slid his hands up her body until he was cupping her cheeks in his big palms. She felt the overwhelming rush of heat slicing from his body into hers and she nearly trembled at the force of it.
But she wasn’t going to give in to something that made zero sense to her. This was all some sort of bizarre mind game. And he was the puppet master. In the years since witchcraft had been revealed to the world, the crazies had really come out of the closet. “That’s none of your business.”
“Everything about you is my business, Shea.”
When she sucked in a gulp of air, the fear she tasted was dark and bitter. “What do you want from me?”
“Everything,” he admitted, “and I will accept nothing less.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the one who saved your very fine ass from that mob.”
“Funny,” she said softly, “I don’t feel ‘saved.’ I feel trapped.” She pulled free of his grip, though her body instantly missed his touch. Quickly, she moved to one side so he wouldn’t reach out and grab her again. “And how did you do that fire thing without burning us both to a crisp?”
Frowning, he lifted both arms and fire danced across his skin. Snapping, hissing flames flashed over his body, wrapping him in a blanket of living fire.
“Oh, my God…” She swallowed hard and backed away until she once again slammed into the railing.
“I am the fire, Shea Jameson.” The flames on his body winked out of existence, leaving his skin unmarked, untouched. Magic shimmered in the air between them. “Just as I am your other half.”
She stared up at him as the moonlight shone on his features, giving him a shadowy, evil look that sent her heart plummeting to the soles of her feet. “You’re crazy.”
“No,” he said, his voice clipped. “But I am out of patience. I have waited centuries for this day. And I will not wait any longer.” He reached out, scooped her up into his arms, and before she could shout a protest, carried her back into the room and tossed her onto the bed. “There is no escape from your destiny, Shea. Tonight it begins.”
She scrambled away from him, never daring to take her gaze from his. “What? What begins tonight?”
Torin walked across the room, opened the door and stepped through it. Before he closed it again, he sent her one long look and said simply, “The mating ritual.”
Chapter 3
Torin left the bedroom with one last look at Shea. Everything in him burned. The flames that were a part of him seemed to lick at his insides as well, consuming him in a fire that could not be smothered. He closed the door firmly, then stalked down the long hall and stopped at the head of the stairs. The lighting was dim, shadows spilling from the corners. His housekeeper, an older woman named Anna, looked up at him.
“No one goes in there.” He glanced back down the long hallway at the closed door. He wanted Shea to accept where she was and that she wouldn’t be leaving. If he gave her an hour or two to herself, he had no doubt that she
