The witch gathered her hair with both hands and tied it back into a tight ponytail away from her face and glared at him. Knowing the situation between them and what with Roman, it was a lot to ask. But someone needed to keep an eye on Jake, and the witch needed to have a focus to keep her busy.
“I’m the last thing Jake needs right now,” she said.
“I’m not asking you to sleep with him, for Christ’s sake. Just be there. Be his friend. Can you do that?” Marcus lifted the picture frame, removed the photograph of his family, and slipped it inside his wallet, tucking it into his back pocket.
“I am his friend, Drayton, but he won’t appreciate me meddling in his affairs.”
He raked his hand through his hair and glanced up at the ceiling. He knew this would not be easy. The team. Hell, all his men were not ones to wear their hearts on their sleeves for everyone to see. But Jake and Isabella had a deep friendship that went beyond work. Somehow, they had survived their disastrous romance and remained friends.
“It isn’t lost on me that we’re all dealing with loss in some way. The Morrigan is stealing what’s precious to us. We have to defeat her. Ella was a threat and finding her is the answer.”
His wife always talked about fate and destiny. He knew no matter what, his was entwined with hers. If their bond had been severed, he would know it. In his heart and soul. Instead, a determination drove him. A strong force much like Ella herself.
“I’ll talk to Jake. But I’m not good with words, boss,” Isabella said.
“Just do your best. And have you spoken to Roman?”
Isabella flicked her gaze away, hiding her reaction, but he didn’t need to see what he already knew—her feelings for the vampire had not changed. She missed him. Love didn’t die, even when those you loved hurt you in the worst way. That gave him hope that he would not lose Ella when she returned and discovered his betrayal.
“Not since the funeral, and I’m good with that. If I never see him again, that’s fine. He’s dead to me.” Isabella laughed at her own joke, and Marcus touched her shoulder, squeezing it. When she turned around, he saw the pain etched across her face.
“Roman came to Boston. He arrived just as we were entering the hotel. When it all went to shit, he was the one who broke into the suite and dragged my sorry ass out of there. That bitch put everyone to sleep. No matter what it looks like, he hasn’t deserted us.”
Remembering the delirious state he had been in when Roman found him and the gentle but forceful way the vamp brought him to his senses made him smile. Their friendship had never been an automatic one, neither trusting the other, but a mutual admiration had developed. And even though he didn’t know the reasons Roman had walked away from Isabella, he had his suspicions.
“It may not seem like it right now, but underneath he’s a good man, Isabella.”
The witch snorted. “Not around me.”
Thirty minutes later, Marcus sat in his quiet living room in his leather armchair, holding the photograph of Ella in his hand, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Staring at the picture, his gut tightened and he replaced it inside his wallet, tucking it away. He was a drowning man without her. A musky scent laced the air from the several pillar candles that Zephra had arranged around the dimly lit room.
“You have to relax, Drayton. Let all your worries fade away.”
“Are you kidding me?” He shifted forward.
Zephra pushed him back, walking behind him to rub his tense shoulders. “Close your eyes. Think back to the last time you saw Ella. Think of the sound of her voice, her scent.”
Sinking back into the soft brown leather, he cracked his neck and willed himself to relax, letting the pressure of the witch’s hands massaging his shoulders relieve his pent-up tension. As she manipulated his tight muscles, he sunk into her ministrations, and closed his eyes, letting the inky darkness seep in as he listened to Zephra’s lilting voice.
“Think of how she calls to you. Reach out to her. Call to her.”
“Ella…”
“Not verbally, Drayton. Call to her from your heart. Try to touch her soul. Call out to her…”
Shifting in the chair until he was comfortable, he breathed out, remembering how Ella said she managed to leave her physical form to float outside separate from her body, drifting away to another plane. The beat of his heart slowed, and the voice of the witch grew distant.
Ella. Come on, babe. I need you. Reach out to me, sweetheart, and I will come to you.
Silence surrounded him. The voice of the witch was absent, and a lightness filled him. The temperature dropped and the scent of smoked surrounded him. He snapped his eyes open and a stranger shoved past him.
“Sorry,” he said but the man did not acknowledge him. His surroundings were not familiar at all. Swirling around, he collided with another person, this time a lady who smiled through bright-red lips; she pressed in against him, but he stepped away. Where the hell am I? Eyeing the crowded red brick cavern, he wove through the crowd as best he could, confused as to where the hell he was. People jostled around, chatting and laughing in the smoky tunnel. The heat made him head for the bar. Examining the perimeters of the room, he couldn’t see any windows or doors. Men in sharp suits and women in designer dresses filled the space, which stretched through several brick archways, extending
