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Quin Finds His Dream Girl
Bonus Scene from Descension (Mystic 1)
By: B.C. Burgess
The musty yet
comforting aroma of well-worn pages flooded Quin’s senses as he closed the
leather bound book and returned it to the shelf. He reached for another, its
faded title obscured by shadows, but he already knew the title. He’d read it by
the glow of a magical light time and again, along with all the other books
lining the shelves that lined the walls of Enid’s
back room.
To the hexless, Enid’s was a quaint bookstore with a
modest collection displayed in one room right inside the entrance. To
magicians, Enid’s had the most
complete collection of magical literature in the Pacific Northwest. And unlike
the books in the lobby, those in the much larger back room weren’t for sale.
Locals could borrow them, and travelers could pay for copies, but the originals
– hundreds of them, all written by magicians and some worth more than the
average man’s yearly income – were not for sale.
Luckily, Quin
shared a coven with the Enid of Enid’s bookstore and had unlimited
access to the priceless writings of their hidden heritage.
Coming across a
book titled Peaceful Slumber – Cleansing
Unwanted Dreams & Blocking Uninvited Visions, Quin’s pulse quickened.
He narrowed his eyes on the spine and swallowed, recalling the one time he
dared to flip open the cover and scan the table of contents. Doing so had felt
wrong, like he was breaking a cardinal rule of life, and his stomach had
tightened as his unsteady finger drifted down the chapter titles. When he
reached the words Chapter 9: Permanent
Solutions to Unwanted Dreams, his stomach had churned as his heart skipped
a beat, and he’d snapped the cover shut.
That was seven
years ago, and he hadn’t touched the book since. Now, six days into his twenty-second
year, he reached up and rested his fingers on the wooden shelf. He lifted his
index finger, its tip less than an inch from the spine of Peaceful Slumber, his heart thumping so hard it resounded in the
quiet space between the lofty bookshelves.
‘Quin?’
Quin released the
breath he didn’t realize he was holding as his name echoed in his head.
Recognizing the mental energy as Brietta, he submitted to the mind-search and
called back.
‘What’s up?’
‘Are you in the bookstore?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Will you come to the café? There’s…
something I want you to see.’
‘Sure,’ he agreed, letting his fingers
fall from the shelf. ‘Be there in a
second.’
He continued to
look at Peaceful Slumber as he
severed the mind connection. Then he sighed and turned away, extinguishing his
magical light before entering the lobby of the bookstore.
“Find what you
were looking for?” Enid asked, glancing up from her paperwork.
The shop had been closed
to the public for an hour, so the lobby was empty as Quin weaved around
bookshelves. “I wasn’t looking for anything in particular.”
Enid laughed as
she returned her gaze to her work. “You have my inventory memorized, Quinlan. I
don’t know why you bother perusing the shelves.”
“You got four new
volumes in this week.”
She smirked and
shook her head. “I should have known you’d notice. Taking off?”
“Yeah. There’s
something Bri wants me to see.”
“Do you want me to
stick around so you can come back and find what you weren’t particularly
looking for?”
“No,” he laughed,
“but thanks. I might stop by tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself. Lock
that, would you? I’ll leave through the back.”
Quin gave Enid a
wave then exited the bookstore, magically locking the door behind him. The café’s
entrance was a few strides away – across a shared wooden deck – and as Quin
took them, the turmoil he’d felt over looking at the spine of Peaceful Slumber was replaced by an odd
combination of tranquility and anticipation. He tried to interpret the feeling
as he opened the café door and walked inside, barely registering the heat
emanating from the fireplace or the aroma of quality coffee.
A line stretched
from the counter, three customers deep, so Quin moved behind the bar to help
Brietta serve them. After washing his hands to appease the hexless, he scanned
Brietta’s notepad and started fixing drinks. “What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you in
a minute,” she answered, and the anxiety in her voice urged him to stop
twirling the whipped cream dispenser and pick up the pace.
He would have
mind-searched her for further explanation, but she hadn’t found her knack in
mental magic yet and lacked the patience to practice the gift in every day
life.
Working together,
they cleared the queue quickly and were soon free to talk. “What’s going on?”
he asked. Then his confusion grew as Brietta stood on her toes, took hold of
his collar, and pulled his ear close to her whispering lips.
“There’s a
woman... or a witch. I mean, she looks like a witch, but she doesn’t have a
power band… I don’t think. It was hard to tell without staring. There were so
many colors.”
Quin was about to
ask her what on earth she was talking about when she huffed in his ear and got
to the point. “Just look for yourself. She’s behind you, in the back corner.”
Brietta released
his collar, and he straightened, turning his curious gaze to the darkest corner
of the café. Well, usually it was dark, and the stools surrounding the tall table
were rarely occupied due to their dim and secluded location.
But tonight, the
loneliest seat in the house gave way to a bright rainbow of sparkling fog, and
Quin’s mouth fell open as his lungs emptied. Time seemed to stop, suspended in
the moment Quin locked eyes on an aura unlike any he’d seen before – its bold
colors too numerous to count, each flowing separately from the others and
exuding an intensity found only in the most profound emotions.
Quin commanded
himself to blink, to make sure he wasn’t imagining the beauty before him, but
the dazzling mist had a supernatural allure that demanded his eyelids stay
open. Or maybe he couldn’t blink because time wasn’t moving. He couldn’t be
sure. In that moment, the only thing he could attest to was the undeniable need
to feel that aura caress his skin, to find acknowledgement in its luminous
translation.
His heart thumped
his ribs, ticking away the frozen second, and his concentration narrowed on the
woman within the mist.
Big, round eyes
stared back at him, wide and shiny and honest – a betrayal of her vulnerability.
And her pink lips were parted, the top lip climbing into a defined curve over a
plump pout. Her chest quickly rose and fell, reminding Quin to breathe. Then
her cheeks flushed as she bowed her head.
The insecure gesture
shocked him; the motive behind it humored him; and its authenticity drew him deeper
into her mysterious world.
A ponytail of
pitch-black spirals started slipping over her right shoulder then gained enough
weight to pull the rest of the tresses along. The curls cascaded down the front
of her shirt into her lap, and Quin reverently watched every detail, curious
and confused… and exceptionally aroused.
Brietta quietly
laughed and nudged him in the back. “Down, boy. You’re supposed to be
interrogating her, not seducing her.”
Keeping his gaze
on the bewitching stranger, Quin took a steady breath and waved Brietta away. Until
his dying day he wouldn’t recall putting one foot in front of the other to get
to the angel. If not for the lack of a reaction from Brietta, who surely would
have rushed to remind him to keep his feet on the floor, he’d be inclined to
believe he floated out from behind the counter and across the crowded café to
the only place in the world he wanted to be.
The angel’s aura
parted around him, its humbling warmth penetrating deeper than his core to
tantalize both spirit and mind. She continued to look down, as if her empty
coffee cup were the most interesting thing on earth, and Quin couldn’t resist
the opportunity to sweep his gaze across the back of her neck, its smooth flesh
exposed by her high ponytail.
He wanted to
follow the delicate curves of her neck down to her shoulder blades, but she
wore a hoody, freeing his imagination to run wild as he speculated about what
lay beneath the bulky material.
He swallowed and
turned his attention to her aura, trying to follow its elaborate flow. Some of
the more dominate colors had turned inward to slither along her form,
expressing intense embarrassment, so he took a calming breath and spoke.
“Would you like a
refill?” What he really wanted to say was You’re
the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I want to see more. Let’s go get a
room at the inn down the street. But he’d been raised to be more respectful
than that. And smarter. If he started the conversation like that, the most
stunning creature on earth would disappear from his world as quickly as she
popped into it.
“Um…” she mumbled,
finally looking up, and despite her hesitancy, her voice was sweet and
soothing, breathing life into Quin when his lungs refused him. “…yeah, sure.”
The flitting of
lashes grabbed his attention, and he stopped staring at her lips long enough to
glance up, expecting gorgeous eyes, but he got way more than he bargained for.
As his gaze locked
on shiny emeralds – pure and bright and tucked into uniquely round lids fringed
with long, black lashes – his life changed. Even if she never said another word
to him, he’d never be the same, because the first time he got lost in her eyes
was the first time he saw himself clearly. In that moment, the rest of the
world melted away, and he was swallowed by her stare – huge windows into her
soul flung open to expose not only her own potential, but his as well.
She blinked, bringing
the rest of the world into Quin’s focus, and he glanced at her flushing cheeks,
which were several shades darker than the first time she blushed. He wondered
how red they could get and was tempted to find out, but he refrained, reaching
for her cup instead.
“I’ll be right
back.”
It took a great
deal of restraint for him to walk rather than run to the bar, and it took even
more willpower to avoid looking back every other second.
As he poured the
angel’s coffee, Brietta approached and pretended to clean the counter beside
him. “Geez, Quin, are you going to take her right here on the dining room floor?”
Quin knew Brietta
was referring to his aura, which surely broadcasted his attraction, but he
wasn’t one to make excuses. “I’ve said nine words to her, Bri.”
“What were they? How about you and I go get a room?”
Her jokes would
have made him laugh if they weren’t so damn accurate. “She probably would have run
out of here if I’d said that.”
“You’re probably
right,” Brietta agreed. “She’s weird, huh? Like she doesn’t even know.”
“We’ll see,” he
murmured, walking away.
The angel was
staring at the table when he returned, so he took a chance and seated himself
across from her, once again basking in the warmth of her magnificent glow.
She looked at him,
and he captured another moment with her eyes before holding up her cup. “How do
you drink it?”
“Sugar and cream.”
Anxiety dominated
every word she spoke, giving the impression of weakness, but her voice fiercely
invaded all his senses to culminate in his head and heart, never to be
forgotten.
Humored by her
vague answer, he suppressed a laugh and grabbed the cream. “You’ll have to be
more specific.”
“I’ll do it,” she
insisted, taking the cup. “I use a lot of sugar.”
She wasn’t
kidding, and he had to withhold another laugh when she dumped several teaspoons
of sugar into her coffee. He mentally measured the amount, but he would have
counted the grains if given the chance. He wanted to fix her coffee just the
way she liked it every day for the rest of her life. “That is a lot of sugar.”
“We all have our
vices,” she replied. “Mine’s really sweet coffee.”
Quin yearned to
tempt the angel into a few addictions much sweeter than sugary coffee, but the
longer he watched her, the clearer it became – she was completely out of touch
with the woman she was meant to be, a stranger in her own body and in no
position to let someone else in. As she sat across from him, blushing and
reserved, her aura revealed everything she wanted to hide. This heavenly
creature, this walking contradiction, was lost. She was frightened yet brave;
guarded yet honest; bashful yet blazing; and she exuded both sexuality and
naiveté.
She straightened
her shoulders and met his stare. “Do you always sit and visit with your
customers?”
“I don’t work
here,” he confessed.
“Then why are you
working?”
“I’m not. Earlier
I was helping a friend. Now I’m a customer sitting with a beautiful woman.”
She glanced around
the table, as if his words didn’t belong to her, and Quin started counting the
seconds until he could tell her again.
Her gaze returned
to his. Then she pointed to the empty table in front of him. “You’re not a
customer.”
A technicality,
and the fact that she pointed it out made him smile. “Would it help if I got a
cup of coffee?”
“Help what?”
“Make you more
comfortable sitting with me.”
“Maybe, if you
tell me who you are and why you’re sitting here.”
“Then I’ll get
some coffee.” He rose from his chair, reluctant to lose sight of her, but
anxious to please her. He would cross the café a million times if that was the
price of her time. “Be right back.”
As he walked
behind the counter, he braced for more of Brietta’s ridicule, but the jokes
didn’t come. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her giving him a pointed look,
obviously waiting for an explanation, but he didn’t have one, so he ignored her
and returned to the beautiful stranger.
After taking a
seat and adding a dash of sugar to his coffee, he sipped and set the mug aside.
“Now, what was it you wanted to know?”
“Who are you?”
“That’s right.” He
smiled and extended his hand. “My name’s Quinlan, but most people call me
Quin.” His heart and lungs refused to work while he waited to feel her touch,
and when she placed her petite palm in his hand, his organs restarted with a
jolt as chills slid down his spine.
“It’s nice to meet
you, Quin. My name’s Layla.”
Quin nearly
swallowed his tongue as his hand contracted around hers, and it was all he
could do to remain outwardly calm as bells echoed in his head – years of subconscious
conditioning. His heart rate spiked and his blood quickened, inflaming his
flesh and threatening to expose him, so he released her hand and looked down. Letting
go of her was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but his world, which
suddenly depended on her future, was spinning.
This angelic woman
was not lost. Not anymore. The mysterious Layla had finally been found.
“It’s nice to meet
you, too, Layla. Do you have a last name?”
“It’s your turn to
answer one.”
Her bold reply
surprised him… and pleased him. He wanted her to know him, everything about
him, so he took a calming breath and looked into her eyes – eyes he’d waited
more than two decades to see. “I guess it is. You wanted to know why I’m
sitting here, right?”
She nodded, so he gave
her a watered down version of the truth. “Because I’m intrigued by you.” And insanely turned on by you, and I feel
like the sky will crush me if I ever lose sight of you. Obviously the
watered down version was safer.
But maybe not safe
enough. Her expression told him she didn’t believe him.
“And what about me
intrigues you?” she asked.
“Nope,” he
refused. “Your turn again.” His head was still spinning, and he needed time to
contrive honest answers she’d accept.
She puckered, and
his heart skipped a beat, his mouth watering for her pout. “What’s your last
name, Layla?”
“Callaway.”
The name was
familiar to Quin, adding layers to the proof, and he forced his gaze away from
her, hiding the recognition she’d surely find in his eyes if she braved a long
enough look.
“I’m not satisfied
with your previous answer, Quin. Why are you sitting here?”
His reply was the
hardest he’d ever had to give. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“No.”
She meant it, and
it made his heart sing, but she blushed and bowed her head, embarrassed by the
truth. This was not okay with him. “I wanted to meet you,” he explained, hoping
to ease her discomfort.
“Oh.”
She slowly looked
up, and when he found her gaze, he asked the Heavens to let him keep it…
forever. “I’m in here a lot,” he noted, “and I’ve never seen you. Are you from
around here?”
“No, this is my
first time here.”
“Here in Cannon
Beach? Or here in Cinnia’s?”
“Both. It’s my
first time in Oregon.”
“Are you on
vacation?”
“You ask a lot of
questions, Quin.”
Damn, she kept him
on his toes. He’d never had such a hard time engaging a woman in conversation. “Am
I bothering you?”
“Not really.”
She cleared her
throat, and her attempt to put her insecurities aside wasn’t lost on him. Why
she was so insecure he didn’t know, but he was prepared to spend his life
fixing it.
“Do you live in
Cannon Beach?” she asked.
“No,” he answered,
bolstered by her interest, but when he leaned forward, she froze. Her aura,
however, picked up speed, threatening to draw his gaze from her face. “I live
northwest of Jewell,” he revealed, “a logging community between here and
Portland.”
“I saw the
junction.”
“Junction?”
“Yeah, the Jewell
Junction. On the highway from Portland?”
“Right.” He’d
never seen the junction from the ground, and as senseless as it seemed, he yearned
to see it now, to experience everything she had been through, to experience
her. “Is that where you’re staying? Portland?”
“For now. I moved
here on a whim, so I don’t have a place yet. I’m at a hotel until I figure out
where I want to live.”
“Is that what
you’re doing in Cannon Beach? Looking for a house?” He’d buy her ten houses if
it would get her to stay near him.
She hesitated then
gave what she probably thought was an obscure answer, but it revealed much more
than she intended. “No. I’m here for the coffee. I was told Cinnia’s Cannon
Café has the best.”
“Cinnia’s
has a good reputation. It’s been around for years.”
“That’s what I’ve
heard.”
“So you drove to
the coast just to try Cinnia’s coffee.” He didn’t expect her to tell him the
truth. He didn’t want her to tell him the truth. It would scare the hell out of
him if she gave away her secrets so carelessly. But he couldn’t help but ask.
He longed to discover everything happening in her head.
“Well,” she
answered, “I also wanted to see the beach.”
“Did you see it?”
“From a distance.”
“Do you have a
warmer coat in your car?”
She glanced at her
hoody then back up. “Yes.”
“Good.” Unwilling
to let her go so soon… and dying to get her alone, he presumptuously took her
cup and stood. “I’m going to refill our coffee. Then we’ll go to the beach and
watch the sun set.”
He turned and
walked to the counter, not wanting to see her doubt and reluctance to trust
him. He couldn’t blame her, but seeing it would deal him a hit to the heart and
ego. Every night, for more than twenty years, he’d gone to sleep hoping to find
her in his dreams, and he’d spent countless hours imagining the moment he’d
find her in reality. But neither his dreams nor his musings compared to the
real thing, and they sure as hell didn’t prepare him for the nerves and the
terror of possible failure.
As he rounded the
counter, he practically ran into Brietta, who was looking up at him with wide
eyes. “What is going on, Quin? Your aura’s a mess.”
“In what way?” he
asked, helping himself to coffee.
“Well,” she
answered, leaning on the counter as she searched the air around him, “I’ve
never seen it so agitated… or active. Does that woman turn you on or stress you
out?”
“She doesn’t
stress me out,” he corrected, moving to the cream and sugar. “But this situation
does.”
“Why? Nothing
ruffles you, least of all meeting a beautiful woman.”
He glanced at
Layla, finding her putting on her backpack. Then he returned his gaze to
Brietta. “That’s not just a beautiful woman.”
Brietta grinned
and jabbed him in the ribs. “Look at you all starry-eyed over a girl. Never
thought I’d see the day.”
“Bri…”
“Right,” she
interrupted, “sorry. Not just a beautiful woman. So what’s she got? Besides the
looks of a goddess and an aura that puts the sun to shame.”
He turned and laid
a hand on Brietta’s shoulder, trying to keep her from reacting. “I need you to
stay calm.”
Her eyebrows
furrowed as her smile fell. “Okay.”
Layla was
undoubtedly on her way to the counter, so he lowered his voice to a whisper.
“That’s Layla.”
Brietta’s mouth
fell open, and Quin quickly reached up and closed it, switching from a whisper
to a mental connection. ‘Don’t react. She
has no idea who we are or who she is. I’m taking her to the beach. Call
Caitrin. Tell him what’s going on and that I’m trying to find out where she’s
staying. Assure him I understand what’s at stake and that I’ll give him all the
information I have soon.’ He paused and searched Brietta’s dumbfounded
stare. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” she
mumbled.
Her eyes shifted
to the right, and Quin looked over, finding Layla turning away from them, her
aura swirling insecurely. Damn. He needed to fix that.
Calling her name,
he introduced her to Brietta, who hid her surprise and excitement well, which
must have been a challenge. Brietta was easily excited, and it wasn’t every day
a person gets to meet their long lost cousin.
‘Thanks, Bri,’ Quin mentally conveyed,
walking around the counter.
His gaze swept
from Layla’s head to her toes, but he only allowed himself a brief look, and it
merely made him want more. She was tiny, on the short side for a witch, but she
didn’t lack curves, and his head filled with visions of his hands on her. Even
through jeans, her shapely backside would probably shoot his arousal to the
moon, and not even a hoody could hide the generous proportions of her chest.
Yes, her body and
all its parts called his name, awaking urges he’d never experienced, but her
bashfulness and mistrust was like a blinking red light, so he merely laid a
hand on her small shoulder. “Ready?”
“Um… yeah. Bye,
Brietta.”
“Bye, Layla. See
ya, Quin.”
“See ya,” he
returned, guiding Layla out of the café.
Once they were
outside, he dropped his hand and let her breathe, but when they approached the
road, he felt a strong need to protect her. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to
protect her from. Cars? Curbs? Cracked asphalt? Whatever the case, the need was
adamant, roaring its presence in his chest, so he tentatively touched her back
as they crossed the street. She trembled, but he could tell by her aura she liked
his touch, even if it made her nervous, so he kept his hand on her back as they
made their way to her car.
Following a few
questions about her trip, she opened up more than she had in the café. In fact,
she rambled a bit, and she knew it, her cheeks brightening with her beautiful
blush, but he didn’t mind. He could listen to her ramble all night. Her voice
remained touched by insecurities, but once in a while, he detected the angel
who spoke to him in his dreams.
She held out her
keys and triggered the locks on a sedan, and his hand abandoned her back so he
could open her door. The shocked look she gave him pissed him off, and he was
tempted to ask her if she’d come from a land of inconsiderate pigs, but he
didn’t want to pressure her, so he hid his displeasure and stifled his temper.
He hadn’t ridden
in a car in several years, not since high school, and he could count on one
hand how many times he’d been in a vehicle, so it felt odd climbing into the passenger
seat of her car.
The backseat was
full, nearly obstructing the view of her rear window, and while he wondered,
somewhat sadly, if that was everything she owned, he celebrated the fact that
she obviously planned to stay a while.
“We’re only a few
blocks from a beachside parking lot,” he noted. “Since we’re here to get your
coat, we might as well drive. Take a right out of here and follow the signs
advertising Haystack Rock.”
“Will we see it?”
“Yep. So you’ve
only been in Oregon for two days, right? Including the drive in.”
“Right.”
“And you’ve seen
downtown Portland, the Columbia River Gorge Scenic Highway, the Sunset Highway,
and Cannon Beach.”
“Yes. Now I’m
visiting the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life.”
He smiled, feeling
like the luckiest man in the world. Not everyone got the chance to show an
angel her first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. Sharing this experience with her
indulged him in a way nothing else ever had. “Really?”
“Yes. I’ve seen
the east coast a few times, but I’ve never been this far west.”
“You’ve been busy,
Layla. Do you always do a lot in a little amount of time?”
“I don’t know. It
didn’t seem like a lot. Maybe I accomplished more because I didn’t have
anything slowing me down.”
Taking a chance,
he started flipping through her music uninvited, memorizing the artists and albums.
They were all hexless, but she had a wide range of genres, most of which he
enjoyed. “Like what?”
“I was by myself.”
“Other people slow
you down?”
“Well, it always
slows things down when there are others to consider. I’m on my own, running my
own schedule.”
“Is that how you
like it?” He held his breath, bracing himself for a crushing answer.
“Not necessarily,”
she replied, “but that’s what I’m used to.”
The answer did
crush him, just not for the reasons he anticipated. She didn’t want to be
alone, but she was, and if her social anxiety was any indication, she’d been
alone far too long. He slowly filled his lungs, determined to end her solitude,
one way or another, very soon.
She cleared her
throat and changed the subject. “Have you always lived in Oregon?”
“Yes. Well, I
moved to Alaska for about a year when I was a baby, but other than that, yes.”
“Same town?”
“Same place, same
house.” Realizing how weird that might sound to someone raised by the hexless,
he looked up from her CDs, catching the sideways glance she threw him.
“You still live
with your parents?” she asked.
He couldn’t lie.
Lying wasn’t in his nature, and he didn’t want to lie to her. He wanted to tell
her everything, every thought going through his head. It was driving him crazy
to filter himself. “I do,” he confessed. “Does that worry you?”
“May I ask why?”
“Because I don’t
need to move. I have a great relationship with my parents and all the freedom
and privacy I want. Until I have a reason to go, I’ll stay.”
“You guys don’t
get on each other’s nerves and fight about petty stuff? Like most families?”
“We don’t fight.”
“Ever?”
“Nope.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Maybe, but it’s
always been that way for me. I’ll move out when I need to. In the meantime, I
enjoy living at home.”
Her eyes stayed on
the road as she considered his claim, and he flipped his gaze from her profile
to her aura, finding she liked the idea of a happy family. Good, because she
had a big one waiting for her.
She practically
jumped out of the car after she parked, and he kept his eyes on her as he
followed suit at a more leisurely pace, wondering if she had a streak of
feminism. He’d find out soon enough.
After removing his
shoes, he slipped them in his bag. Then he scanned her from head to toe,
bracing himself to test her boundaries. “You should leave your shoes in the
car.”
Her eyes got big
as she looked between him and the beach. “We haven’t made it to the sand.”
He withheld a
laugh as he knelt and untied her shoes. “Lift your foot.”
“I can do that,
you know.”
If it weren’t for
her aura, he would have worried he had, in fact, pressed a feminist button, but
her objection wasn’t based on a need to be independent. She was embarrassed,
obviously unaccustomed to men doing things for her. “Just lift your foot,” he
insisted, smiling up at her. He didn’t want to change her, but he would show
her another way and hope like hell she liked it.
Her cheeks flamed,
but she obeyed, and he slipped off her shoe, his pulse strengthening as he
imagined stripping away all the layers between them, both tangible and
intangible. His fingers disappeared under the hem of her jeans, and he let his
sense of touch take over, getting a clear visual of her dainty ankle as his
hand followed its curves.
Damn. He was
losing his mind. She was making him lose his mind. As a man who’d seen more
than his fair share of naked women, a mere foot shouldn’t spike his arousal,
but he’d never wanted anything like he wanted her – every part of her… any part
of her, ankle or otherwise – and his body wholeheartedly agreed.
Making a noble
effort to calm himself, he removed her sock and laid it on the ground. “Here, stand
on this while I get the other one.”
She did, flexing
and wiggling a perfect row of toes. “The ground’s freezing.”
“You won’t be on
it for long,” he assured, removing her other shoe. He’d never had an unusual
attraction to feet, not even a hint of a foot fetish, but with her, he could
see the appeal.
She was barefoot
and standing on two socks, and what he was going to do next would either get
him slapped or make his dreams a reality. Hooking one arm around her knees, he
straightened and swept her off her feet, softly catching her back in his other
arm. Even without magic, picking her up was easy, and while he couldn’t feel
the details of her body through the layers of clothes she wore, holding her in
his arms made him feel like he held the whole world. He looked at her face –
wide eyes, bright red checks, and not a puff of air slipping from her parted
lips. He wanted to kiss her, pull her one inch closer and press her lips to
his. He could smell her – a sweet and soothing combination of flowers and
vanilla – and her aroused aura practically begged him to cross the lines he’d
drawn for himself. But she wasn’t breathing, and he feared she’d pass out if
her lungs didn’t get some air soon.
He smiled and gave
her a soft squeeze. “Put your arms around my neck.”
“What?”
“Hold on to my
neck so I can pick up your socks.”
Her arms circled
his neck, and he imagined her never letting go as he gathered her discarded
footwear and tossed it in the car. “How are your feet?”
“Chilly, but
tolerable.”
“Tell me if that
changes.”
As he left the
parking lot and made his way toward the water, he kept his eyes on her face,
studying every feature as if they were his destiny, a gorgeous map to his purpose.
And the more he looked, the more he found… and the deeper he fell. “You’re
stunning, Layla. And the longer I look at you, the more beautiful you become.”
Her gaze fell to
her lap, and he wondered if anyone had ever pointed out the obvious to her. “You’re
not used to compliments,” he assumed.
“No,” she
confessed, looking back up. “Not ones like that.”
“That’s too bad. We’ll
have to change that.” And he would. If she’d give him the chance, he’d tell her
every day how gorgeous she was. “Should I keep carrying you?”
He lost her gaze
as she looked at the sand. “I’ll walk. Until my feet succumb to frostbite.”
Not while he was
around. “I’ll warm them up when I give you a ride back.”
He lowered her
legs, and she wiggled her feet in the sand, flashing the silt a smile he was
dying to see straight on.
“Now I see why you
told me to leave my shoes in the car,” she conceded, walking toward the water.
“This feeling is definitely worth the shock.”
“I think so, too. Everyone
should try it at least once.”
When they reached
the high tide line, she stopped and gazed across the ocean to the colorful
horizon. “Wow.”
The wind was
whipping her ponytail around, and Quin’s fingers itched to vanish the band
containing the curls so they could dive into them, but she grabbed the long
tresses and pulled them over her shoulder.
Swallowing
temptation, he turned his gaze to the ocean. “We missed the final plunge. You
would have had a more detailed view ten minutes ago.”
“It doesn’t
matter. This is perfect. Well, a little fishy.”
Quin smiled and
breathed deep. “Can’t avoid that. You’ll want to be careful if you come here
alone. Keep your eyes peeled for sneaker waves and debris. It’s common for
entire trees to wash up.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It can be.” Quin
didn’t want her coming to the beach alone… ever. He wanted to be with her every
step she took, whether she was on asphalt, the sand or in the clouds. He’d
follow her anywhere, to hell and back, but he wasn’t invited, so he tucked his
hungry hands in his pockets.
After giving her a
moment to watch the sun fade into the sea, he decided to delve a little deeper,
try to collect information her family would want to know. “Why did you move to
Oregon, Layla?”
She looked away
from the ocean and found his stare. “I heard it’s a nice place to live.”
“Where were you
living?”
“Oklahoma.”
“That’s a long way
away. Don’t you have people there who’ll miss you?”
“Sure. My friends
Travis and Phyllis will miss me.”
“No family?”
“No.”
This not only
surprised him, it punched him in the gut, leaving him breathless, but he hid
his discomfort in an effort to ease hers. “Still, that’s a big leap of
faith—moving halfway across the country for no reason.”
“Is it not a leap
of faith even if you have a reason?”
A loose curl
drifted across her cheek, calling his name loud and clear, so he took a chance
and reached for the strand of shiny hair. Her breath caught in her chest, so he
paused, giving her a chance to object to his touch, but she didn’t, and his
heart sighed as his fingers found a silky spiral. “I guess it would be. Did you
have a reason?”
“I wanted to get
out of Oklahoma.”
“And you heard
Oregon was nice.”
She started
chewing her lip, and he struggled to let her. What he really wanted to do was
pull her pout from her teeth and suck it into his.
“I recently found
out I have family here,” she confessed.
“There it is,” he
approved, surprised he got that much out of her. “Are you here to see them?”
“Um… not really. I
don’t know their names, let alone their addresses, so I’ll probably never meet
them. It was just time for a move, and Oregon was as good a place as any.” She
glanced at the ocean then back to his face. “Better actually.”
She wasn’t talking
about the scenery, and it gave him a huge rush to know he’d made a good
impression on her. He’d never tried so hard to do so. Usually he didn’t give a
shit what people thought of him, but he’d be anything this angel needed him to
be.
“What about you?”
she asked, abandoning his gaze. “Do you have family here? Besides your mom and
dad?”
“I have a very
large family.”
“That’s nice.”
“I think so.”
“Do you work
anywhere? Besides the café?”
He laughed,
incredibly turned on by the sense of humor she portrayed despite her
nervousness. “I work with my parents. You could say we’re contractors, but we
also design and decorate the spaces we construct.”
“The whole nine
yards, huh? Did you go to college for that?”
“No. I’ve been
involved in the business my entire life. After I graduated high school, my
parents made me a partner.”
“Do you like it?”
“Sure. It’s
creative work, and I get all the days off I want.”
“That is a perk. Do
you think that’s what you’ll always do?”
At that moment, he
was ready to quit his job and make himself available to her 24/7. He didn’t
need money. He needed her. “Unless something better comes along. What about
you? Do you have a career?”
She looked away,
obviously embarrassed by her answer. “No. I was a waitress for three years
before moving. Not a career waitress, a diner waitress.”
“Did you like it?”
“I didn’t hate it.
I worked with the friends I mentioned—Travis and Phyllis, so it was a pretty
easygoing atmosphere.”
“It helps to like
the people you work with.”
She nodded. Then a
moment of silence passed, silence that made her uncomfortable, but not him. He
could spend the rest of his life simply staring at her.
“I haven’t asked
what your last name is,” she noted.
“Kavanagh,” he
answered, “with a K.”
“How old are you,
Quinlan Kavanagh?”
Hearing her say his
name sent a tingle down his spine and through his appendages. “I turned
twenty-two last Saturday. You?”
“I turned
twenty-one on the third.”
Yep, there was no
mistake. He had the right girl, the woman of his dreams, a woman like no other.
“Happy late birthday.”
“You, too.”
Pulling his
forefinger from a spiral, he took her cheek, his palm warming up with her blush.
“Do you have to go back to Portland tonight?”
“If I want to
sleep, I do.”
“My aunt owns an
inn here, right down the street. She would gladly give you a free room.”
“I don’t want to
impose.”
“You wouldn’t be. You’d
be doing me a favor.” To say the least. If she did this, he might be able to
sleep. But if she were to refuse and return to Portland, he wouldn’t rest until
he saw her again.
“How so?” she
asked.
He wanted to tell
her the whole truth, but only gave part of it. “I want to see you tomorrow.” And the next day, and the day after that…
every day… forever.
“Um…”
He held his
breath, hoping like hell his good impression was good enough to make her stay.
“Okay,” she
agreed, lightening the weight on his shoulders, “but I’m paying for the room.”
“That’s not
necessary.”
“Yes it is. I
won’t stay otherwise.”
That did the trick,
and he caved. “If you must, but she’s going to give you a discount.”
“Fine,” she
sighed, feigning annoyance.
He laughed as he
glanced at her car. “I guess you have clothes with you?”
“Everything I own
is in there.”
That’s what he
thought, and he couldn’t deny the urge to give her more. “If you’re missing
something, we can stop by one of the shops.”
She gave him a
knowing grin, and while it wasn’t as bright as the one she flashed at the sand,
it was gorgeous and took his breath away.
“That won’t be
necessary,” she insisted.
She was stubborn,
but he enjoyed a challenge and was prepared to put forth the effort and
patience it would take to convince her to accept him and everything he wanted
to give her.
Moving a little
closer, he smiled and lowered his voice. “I’m going to try one more time. Then
I’ll give it a rest.” Until next time
anyway. “Will you let me buy you breakfast at Cinnia’s in the
morning?”
“Throw in a cup of
coffee and it’s a deal.”
Her quick
agreement shot a tingle down his spine, and his grin stretched, his heart
soothed by the thought of seeing her the next day.
Her gaze lingered
on his smile then shifted to his eyes, intently searching them. He let her
look, hoping she liked and believed what she found. Her expression didn’t give
him cause for concern, but when she looked away to yawn, he decided he better
stop stealing her time. A woman as lovely as her undoubtedly needed beauty
sleep.
“Ready for your
ride back?” he asked, reaching into his bag.
She nodded, so he
swept her off her feet, which had lost their pink coloring due to the cold. Kneeling
on one knee, he braced her weight on the other. Then he wrapped her feet in a
piece of velvet he’d warmed up with magic. Hopefully she’d assume his body heat
did the trick.
Her tension eased,
but she was gawking at her feet, and he had to stifle a laugh as he stood and
carried her across the beach.
~ * * * ~
Quin showed Layla
to his aunt’s seaside inn, and was relieved to find the parking lot and lobby
quiet. The last thing Layla needed was dozens of curious eyes on her. The
intrigued gaze of the desk clerk couldn’t be avoided, though, and Layla blushed
and seemed to shrink when confronted by it.
After passing over
the room key and collecting the money Layla insisted on paying, the clerk
glanced between them. “Need anything else?”
“Yeah,” Quin
answered, pointing behind the counter. “Do you have one of Morrigan’s CDs back
there?”
She swiveled on
her stool and opened a drawer, flipping through CDs until she found the one she
was looking for. “Here it is.”
“Great,” he
approved, accepting the case. Then he smiled at Layla. “Ready?”
Layla stayed quiet
until they were almost to her room. Then she pointed at the CD. “Who’s
Morrigan?”
Quin wanted to
tell her exactly who Morrigan was, but it wasn’t time yet, so he only gave her
part of the truth as he unlocked her door. “The best pianist I’ve heard play.”
Layla’s mouth fell
open. “And you know her?”
“Yep.”
Layla entered the
room, and Quin watched her appraise the space, relieved to see she liked it.
Maybe that would convince her to stay a while.
“Is Dion your
aunt?” she asked, taking a closer look at the paintings hanging on the wall.
Quin once again
had the urge to spout the full truth and tell her most of the artwork at the
inn was created by her birth mom and grandparents, but he resisted. The story
wasn’t his to tell. “No,” he answered, laying her suitcase and room key on the
bed. Then he walked to a corner desk and propped Morrigan’s CD against a
stereo. “My aunt’s name is Karena. She tries to avoid working nights. What time
would you like breakfast?”
After checking the
clock, Layla returned her gaze to him. “How about nine?”
“Great.”
He didn’t want to
leave. In fact, his body screamed at him to stay, to do everything in his power
to get her to agree to spend the night with him. But he had over twenty people
waiting for him, and as much as he wanted this night with her, he was far more
interested in a future with her, so he unglued his feet from the floor and left
her standing at the end of the bed.
Once he was in the
hallway, he turned and pointed toward the threshold. “I’ll be here at 8:45.”
“I’ll be ready,”
she assured.
Her stance
remained timid, but she was making solid eye-contact, and the happy colors in
her active aura eased his anxiety and lightened his heart.
“Goodnight, Layla
Callaway.”
“Goodnight, Quinlan
Kavanagh.”
He smiled as he reached
for the doorknob, but it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to shut
himself out. As soon as he lost sight of her, his anxiousness returned, and he
stared at her door for several minutes before finding the strength to walk
away.
Yep, he’d found
the mysterious Layla, and in the process, he’d lost ownership of his heart.
Copyright 2013: B. C. Burgess
I mean seriously who doesn't love Quin? Thank you so much Bonnie for treating us to another look at Quin and Layla's first meeting. If it's possible I think we are even more in love with Quin than before and his perspective was well worth the wait! Thank you also to all those who lobbied for Impassion's 100 Amazon Reviews.
In addition to the excerpt BC Burgess has graciously offered to giveaway a signed set of the series. To enter to win this awesome gift please share the information about this excerpt/giveaway on either Facebook or Twitter, then come back and comment on this post with your name and where you shared the info. We will randomly choose one lucky winner on Friday, August 9th at 5:00 pm (EST). We would love for as many people as possible to discover these amazing books and be swept away in the Mystic Series!
If you haven't already read this series, what are you waiting for? Go one click the first book now!
