Destiny United Read online

  He pressed his foot on the gas, weaving through the heavy traffic on Main Street.

  “What’s wrong?” The voice next to him invaded his thoughts. Erin had been slumped down in the seat with a frown set firmly on her lips for the last fifteen minutes.

  “Why do you think something is wrong?”

  “You’re driving like an infuriated male.”

  A short bark of laughter escaped him. “And how does an infuriated male drive?”

  “Fast and-” She stopped when he slammed on the brakes to avoid plowing into a truck. “Jerky.”

  He looked down at her. Thick lashes framed her amber eyes, her pale but luscious lips were shaped perfectly for kissing. Her pulse jumped on her slender neck, catching his attention. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he forced his gaze back to the road. Damn her for being so irresistible. Damn her for making him forget Natalia – even momentarily.

  “After I get my potion you will be going back to the hotel and staying put while I get our supplies.” He gave her a pointed glare that he knew she wouldn’t like. “We will remain there until the flight leaves tomorrow evening.”

  “Marcelo, how long has it been since you had a girlfriend?”

  Girlfriend? Never. He hesitated then answered, “Long.”

  “Well, here’s a refresher course. Women don’t like to be told what to do. Especially me. I need my freedom.”

  At first he thought she was being ironic, but a glance at her face revealed she was serious. “Freedom? Querida, you are paralyzed by fear. What is this freedom you speak of?”

  He expected anger or a defensive glower, but she didn’t say a word. She stared at her hands in a sad sort of silence. His chest felt heavy, like something just squeezed his heart. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He thrust the car into fifth and punched the gas.

  Misty’s Magic and Mayhem was a tiny nook in a strip mall on the corner of Main Street. Situated next to a bakery and across from a bar that looked like it was trying to be a NYC club, the witch’s enigmatic store stood out like a vampire at Catholic Mass. Marcelo wondered how many of Misty’s – if that was her real name – patrons were humans who thought they were witches and how many were the real thing.

  When he looked over at Erin, she had taken on a stubborn expression. “I suppose you are going to fight me about going inside,” he said.

  Placing her hands on either side of the car seat, she gripped the cushion until her knuckles turned white. The look on her face was absolute determination. And it was adorable.

  He exhaled an exaggerated breath. “All right. You can stay in the car.”

  Her hands loosened on the seat.

  “But call your phone if anything seems suspicious.” He held out his phone.

  She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, angry, he guessed, that he wasn’t giving her back her own phone. Admitting he was amused by this little show of willfulness would have only irritated her further, so he bit back the laugh he was choking on and placed the phone on her lap. She still hadn’t said a word when he stepped out of the car.

  “Erin,” he stooped down to see her face, “do I need to tell you to keep your ass in the car?”

  She rolled her eyes but shook her head.

  He couldn’t help himself. A patronizing grin crept onto his lips. “Good girl.”

  Her eyes promised retribution right before he shut the car door.

  ***

  “Bastard,” Erin muttered once Marcelo was out of hearing distance. First, he thought he could tell her what to do. Then he patronized her like a child!

  She fumed for a good ten minutes before she started to wonder what was taking him so long. Ten minutes later she was fuming again. What was he doing in there? Buying the whole damn store? Did the witch have to cook up the potion on the spot?

  She growled in frustration. The room service had been a great start to the day…er, night. Marcelo hadn’t even blinked when the twelve dollar salad and six dollar bowl of soup had arrived. She would have ordered the filet minion except that she was vegetarian.

  But Marcelo’s attitude had been gruff and scathing. Again she’d been left wondering why she was the subject of his resentment. This was no way to spend her twenty first birthday. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She was supposed to be having a picnic dinner in her apartment with her boyfriend. She was supposed to be cuddled up against him, watching their favorite movies drinking red wine. Instead she was being bossed around by an arrogant, chauvinist male who had mood swings like a woman with PMS.

  She should storm into the store and give him a piece of her mind. Her body disagreed. It was glued to the seat, her muscles warring with a sense of foreboding.

  “You are paralyzed by fear.”

  Marcelo had said it and damn him for being right.Who does he think he is? Even her boyfriend wouldn’t dare say something like that to her. True or not, scorning her because of her disability was not helping!

  Laughter from across the street pulled her attention from her anger. Her gaze moved from the door to the magic store towards the sound of a group of rowdy people outside a bar.

  A bar. She jolted upright in her seat. Techno music poured from the club when the doors opened. Neon lights lit up the darkness inside, setting a sexy mood. It called to her. Already her foot was tapping to the beat of the song. She looked from the mystic shop then back to the bar. Always reasonable, she weighed the pros and cons of slipping out for a little drink. Pros: you only got one twenty first birthday. She wouldn’t even need to use her fake ID anymore. And she’d been through a hell of a lot in the last twenty four hours. Cons: Marcelo would be pissed. Really pissed. That was it.

  I think we have a winner.

  Glancing at the entrance to the store again there were no signs of movement. So she slipped out of the car and raced across the street to the bar.

  With a deep breath she pressed open the door and was immediately assaulted by the scent of sweat and beer. She wondered if it was a bad sign that she found it comforting. Erin was only able to enter the bar because she knew the panic would subside in a few moments. Pressed up against the wall, trying to go unnoticed, she slunk towards the bar counter. It was too early for a crowd, which aided in her rebellion.

  “Irish Car Bomb,” she whispered to the tattooed bartender.

  He looked her over before demanding to see her ID. “Happy birthday,” he said drily then flung her license back at her.

  She downed five shots in a row, growing braver with each one. In a giddy stupor she edged towards a group of young, harmless looking men. They didn’t know it yet but they would be paying for her drinks. She slapped on a flirty smile.

  ***

  Marcelo impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter of Misty’s Magic and Mayhem. The witch didn’t have a daylight potion in-stock. If Marcelo had known it would take this long to make one, he would have come back later. But the witch had assured him it would take no longer than five minutes. That was thirty minutes ago.

  Erin’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He expected to hear her irate voice on the other end demanding to know what was taking him so long. But it was a text. From her boyfriend, Jimmy. Marcelo had texted him from her phone last night and told him she had a family emergency. Curious, he pressed the button to read it.

  Happy 21st birthday honey. Miss you.

  Twenty first birthday? Why hadn’t she told him? Damn, he’d treated her so poorly. An uncomfortable twinge in his gut caught him off guard. Something wasn’t sitting right. He felt…guilty. Guilt? What the fuck?

  Humans seemed to think it was important to celebrate the day they were born. And since Erin wouldn’t be seeing her boyfriend today, or possibly ever, perhaps she deserved some acknowledgment of her existence. With a roll of his eyes he searched the store for an acceptable gift. Curse me and my bloody beating heart.

  The display shelves in front were for humans – more specifically the humans who thought they were witches because th
ey practiced a religion called Wicca. The real witchcraft products were in the back. Although witches worshipped the goddess Gaia, and derived power from her, they were born, not made. Witchcraft wasn’t a religion. It was a bone-deep brand as thick as thousand year old tree roots.

  Shelves were lined with books on Wicca, the Occult, and Tarot cards. Crystal and pentagon pendants hung on display stands. Crammed on small tables were herbs, candles, so-called rune stones, and every cliché new age novelty one could imagine. Marcelo picked up a six inch pewter fairy figurine. Humans spend money on this stuff? Shaking his head he placed it back on the shelf. Anything to make their lives feel meaningful. If they would just open their eyes they’d see their God in more than overpriced baubles.

  Finally he spied one pink rose in the corner, half hidden by a stack of walking sticks. It was the exact color of Erin’s lips. Lips he’d been dying to taste since he first saw her laid out like an offering on the hotel bed.

  “Oh, you found an Everlasting Rose,” the witch said with a wide smile when he placed it on the counter. He didn’t care what an Everlasting Rose was, it was pretty and that would do. “I blessed it so it will never die.” Even better.

  He spared the witch a slew of nasty comments about her forty minute potion making and paid for the items with his mouth zipped tight. Relieved to be able to travel in daylight and ready to get this favor over with, he reached the curb where he’d parked the car. But Erin wasn’t there. The stillness of the air held her scent and he followed it easily. It led him east, across the street, and –

  He spotted a bar, obnoxious music blasted from the open doors. A low growl started deep in his chest then tore free from his throat startling the pedestrians around him. She dares defy me! He stalked to the door.

  Inside the hellish bar, he found her sitting among a circle of boys. The way they crowded her while she flirted in the center made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time. Pure, unadulterated rage. He took a deep breath. Calm yourself. Just politely escort her away and no one will get hurt.

  Then one of the boys touched her leg. In less than a second he was behind Erin, glaring down at the boys around her. Three of them were smart enough to back up and look afraid. One was not.

  Marcelo grasped her elbow, having to make a conscious effort not to hurt her. “Come. We’re leaving this place.”

  She looked up at him, a lovely smile already planted on those pink lips. The smile even reached her eyes. Damn it! She was really having fun with these…boys. His chest tightened in disappointment. For some insane reason, he wanted to be the one to make her smile like that. Not a bunch of half-witted frat boys who wouldn’t know their way around a woman’s body without a map.

  “Already?” she said, her lips forming a small pout.

  He wanted to kiss that pout right off her face.

  “But Slash here,” she touched the boy’s arm, “was about to buy me a drink.”

  So alcohol curbed her anxiety? She smelled of gin and the sweaty boy with bleached hair. Why did that infuriate him more?

  Tightening his grip on her arm, he gave a little tug. “I said we’re leaving.”

  She narrowed her eyes in defiance. “No.” Alcohol gave her courage as well? “I’m celebrating my twenty first birthday. Leave me alone.”

  “Who are you? Her father?” Slash unwisely asked. What kind of name is Slash? “We’re trying to have fun here so just –”

  All it took was one intimidating step and a dark growl and the boy was backing up. Now why didn’t that work with Erin?

  “Querida,” he whispered in her ear. He felt her shudder. “I suggest you leave with me now before I lose my patience.” The hold on his temper was quickly fading. She would be smart to obey him.

  But she didn’t. She pursed her willful lips and turned back to the bar. A clear message. Well, he would be sending a message too. He swiveled her stool, grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder, his arms locking around her legs. He got plenty of odd stares and a few giggles as he carried her out of the bar, but no one tried to stop him. Was it a reflection of today’s society or the fact that Marcelo looked like someone you just didn’t want to question? He hoped it was the latter.

  When they reached the street he marched straight towards the car, ignoring the pounding on his back. Suddenly she stilled.

  “Marcelo?”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “If you don’t put me down, I’m going to puke.”

  Mierda! He swung her down so hard she yelped. She bent over leaning on her knees with her eyes closed and took a few deep breaths. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Her body jolted upright. “I’m fine.”

  “Good. Then I can yell at you.” He sent her his most menacing glare – one that had cowed much larger men. “I thought I told you to stay in the car!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Good grief, Marcelo. I’m not a dog.” Then she turned on her heel and sauntered away, her hips swaying side to side.

  Walking away? From me? He marched forward to stay in stride. “A dog would be less trouble than you.”

  “I think I should be offended by that, but I just realized how funny your name is.” She giggled and he scowled down at her. “Marcelo…” she muttered, “rhymes with jello.”

  She’s drunk. “You’re drunk.”

  “No, I’m not,” she insisted.

  He sighed. No point yelling at a drunk, especially not about being drunk. Then she tripped over her own feet and Marcelo had to catch her before she landed face first on the sidewalk.

  “All right. I might be a little tipsy.” She giggled again.

  “You’re flat out drunk. Which is irresponsible at best considering the danger you’re in.”

  With a dramatic, drawn out groan she turned to face him. She probably didn’t even realize she was at her car. “Danger, danger, danger. Blah, blah, blah.” She made her hand open and close like a mouth as she exaggerated the taunting words. “Don’t you ever talk about anything – Ow!”

  Marcelo snapped his gaze to her face. “What? What is it?”

  Her eyes glazed over as she dropped forward, bending at the waist and clutching her stomach.

  “You’re going to throw up? That’s what you get for –”

  She screamed. An ear piercing, horrifying shriek filled with pain and agony. When it was over she almost fell to the ground gasping for air. But Marcelo was at her side. Taking her weight with an arm around her waist he grabbed her chin and tipped her head up. Her eyes were unfocused and glossy.

  “Is she okay?” someone called from across the street. Oh, now everyone is concerned about her?

  “She’s fine,” he snarled. “She just lost her favorite earrings.” He shoved her into the passenger seat then sped off down a lonely side road.

  In the car her screams were muffled but she writhed around uncontrollably. At the first empty parking lot he pulled in, tires screeching, and stopped the car. He scooped Erin’s upper body into his lap, laying her head on his knees.

  “Shhh…” he whispered, brushing the hair away from her face. “Can you talk to me?”

  She whimpered and moaned and thrashed her head.

  “What’s hurting you, querida?” He stroked her head as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

  The screams had stopped but her face crumpled in agony. He tried to remember human anatomy. Was she having an epileptic fit? Did an organ burst?

  “Cosita, tell me. What is it?”

  For a brief moment she seemed coherent. “Pain,” she rasped.

  He was about to ask if she could show him where it hurt when the strangest thing happened. Her ears lengthened – the tips pointing upward the slightest bit. Then she screeched again, and in her mouth two tiny fangs formed in place of her canines. Blood flowed down her throat making her cough and sputter. He tried to tilt her upright but her body contorted, arms and legs growing rigid beneath him. She had been skin and bones before, but only a minute later she gained at least ten pou
nds in muscle. Her limbs were long and lean instead of the pitiful sticks they’d been.

  Pointy ears, small fangs, long lean limbs.

  Meirda! “You’re…you’re fae.”

  She gave him an odd look right before she passed out.

  Chapter 5

  “One day you will be a princess, my lovely Aila,” a silver haired woman said. “You have an important part to play in the world.” The woman placed a plastic tiara on the little girl’s head. She giggled with delight.

  “When Mari?” she asked spinning in circles as her frilly skirt whirled around her.

  “On your twenty first birthday.” She smiled in the magical way that made the girl feel at ease.

  The little girl smiled back. But then the old woman’s face started to change. It became darker, with angry flames in her eyes. Black hair grew in place of the woman’s silver, then sprouted along her chin, and soon the little girl was staring into the face of a monster. “You’re fae,” the man rumbled. Fangs extended from his mouth. “You’re fae.” His voice echoed and the girl screamed in fright.

  “Jimmy…” Erin moaned. “Another nightmare.” She writhed in the sheets, feeling hot and irritated. “Jimmy!”

  “Aila,” a strange voice said quietly from beside her.

  Aila? Her eyes popped open. The man from her nightmare sat next to her on her bed. Wait, not her bed. She looked around the room. A hotel. And the man next to her was not a man. A vampire. The memories of the last twelve hours plunged back into her mind.

  “Nooo…” she groaned and closed her eyes, wishing it would all disappear. Last night hadn’t been a dream. Room service, Marcelo’s cranky ass, the bar, then…pain. Agony had consumed every nerve in her body. Her skin had stretched painfully over bone and muscle, spasms raked through her so harrowing she hadn’t known up from down. She remembered nothing beyond the excruciating pain. Maybe the alcohol went bad. Can alcohol go bad?