CHAPTER THREE
Mellie felt a bit self-conscious, knowing Peter was watching her every move. It was also oddly comforting, in a way, to not be all alone while she was brewing her potion. Before Urse had married John, Mellie always knew her sister was around if Mel needed help or advice. Even if Urse wasn’t in the room when Mellie was brewing a potion, she was a presence—a highly magical presence—in her life, available and nearby should Mel need her.
Now that Urse had moved out and gone to live with her mate in his den, that had changed. Even though she wasn’t very far away as the crow flies, the feeling of Urse in the apartment was gone. She wouldn’t just pop in and remind Mel to stop and eat dinner or ask if she needed anything. Theoretically, she could still do that, but Urse was so wrapped up in being a newlywed that it hadn’t happened since Urse had moved out.
Mellie was a little lonely, if she was honest. Peter was good company. He wasn’t overly chatty, though he was a bit more talkative than some of the other guys in town. Mellie loved the timbre of his lightly accented voice and could listen to him for hours, if he’d let her. She didn’t have any plans to tell him that, though.
She sent her prayers up to the Goddess as she worked, Peter standing companionably beside her. He was both a distraction and a comfort. Overall, it was nice to have him here, even if she had to keep dragging her mind back to the matter at hand.
“Would you pour half the carafe of water into the silver bowl, please?” she asked, hoping to get him involved in the work and get her mind back on business at the same time.
“Are you sure my wild bear energy won’t mess with your spell?”
She took him seriously for a short moment before catching the glint of humor in his dark eyes.
“It’s the dragon part I’m interested in tonight, but no, simply pouring water into the base potion won’t require any magic on your part.” She turned back to her work and heard water splashing gently into the silver bowl next to her. Peter was a warm presence at her side. Closer now that she’d given him a task.
When he put the crystal carafe back on the table, she reached for it. “I think this is nearly done.” She poured a few drops of water in to the bowl and then poured the resulting green mixture into the silver vessel, closing her eyes at the last to speak words of high magic.
When she opened her eyes again, the dark green and brown liquid in the silver chalice was beginning to bubble. Timing was critical.
She turned to Peter. “I have purified my athame and sterilized it, as well,” she told him, gesturing toward the silver dagger on the countertop. “It is a sacred blade, and I offer it to you, for use in tonight’s work. Or, you could use your own blade. It’s your choice.”
“Would the potion be stronger if we used your special knife?” he asked her.
She raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “There are benefits to either approach. Your own blade should already carry your magic and intentions. My blade is consecrated and as clean of other influences as I can make it right now. Honestly, either will work, though I’m beginning to believe that free will has a lot to do with the success of this potion.”
“Whose free will?”
“Yours. Or the dragon’s,” she corrected herself. “Since you’re my dragon stand-in, yours. In fact, I’d like you to do the honors, so there can be no question that your blood is freely given. Using your own knife would only reinforce that idea, I think.”
“How much blood are we talking about?”
His brows drew together, making her want to reach up and stroke his forehead until he relaxed again. It was a silly, stray thought that heightened her awareness of him and her reaction to his presence.
“Three drops,” she answered, trying to keep her mind on the business at hand. He was making it tough, though. The sexy beast.
His wrinkled brow smoothed all on its own. “That’s all? I thought you would need more.” His accent worked its magic on her spine, making her warm from within, though she did her best to hide her reaction.
This always happened whenever she talked to him for any length of time. She was surprised she hadn’t melted into a puddle at his feet already, but apparently, she hid her arousal well enough that he didn’t notice…or pretended not to.
To distract herself, she went to the bookshelf and took down the book her grandmother had recently acquired at great personal magical cost. Nonna had bartered some of her magical workings for use of this ancient grimoire. She wouldn’t tell Mellie or Urse exactly what the mage who was now the official caretaker of this book had required of Nonna, but it had to be something complex. Nonna was both clairvoyant and a very powerful strega in her own right, and she had friends all over the magical community. One of whom had loaned them this book…for a price.
“Is that the book?” Peter asked, his tone full of curiosity.
“The ancient Grimoire of Andalusia,” Mellie breathed respectfully as she stroked the cover of the ancient book. “After the Phoenicians came the Carthaginians. But, when Hannibal tried to fight off the Romans, he failed, and the region became known for a time as Baetica, part of the Roman Empire. It was the birthplace of the Emperor Trajan and probably Hadrian, as well. It was during the time of Rome in Andalusia that the first strega of the area began writing this book. Her descendants added to it down through the centuries until it became the powerful repository of arcane knowledge it is today.” She walked carefully to the work bench and put the book into a cradle Mellie had prepared for it.
Mellie lit a white candle and gently opened the book. The pages moved as Mellie held her hands over the book, opening to the recipe she needed. It was the only thing the grimoire would show her, and it was the answer to the question she’d put to the book time and time again. Somehow, this potion was what she needed, but finding the right ingredients had been a task of monumental proportions. She had everything now…except the dragon’s blood. Hopefully, Peter would be a good enough substitute to make the potion work this time.
“What happened to the strega in that region after the fall of the Roman Empire?” Peter asked as Mellie moved back from the book that would give up no more of its secrets than that which she had already seen.
Mellie looked at him and thought back. “The Vandals came through, then the Visigoths, then the Eastern Roman Emperor Justinian I called it Spania in the sixth century A.D. as part of the Byzantine Empire. Then, the followers of Mohammad came in the eighth century and called it Al-Andalus. In the tenth century, the followers of Christ were fighting back, and by the thirteenth century, most of the land had gone back to Christian rule. But it wasn’t until the fall of Grenada in 1492—the same year Christopher Columbus set sail for the New World—that the last bit of the Iberian Peninsula was united under the Kingdom of Castile. Then, of course, evil ran over the land in the 1500’s. Drought and famine. Plague and pestilence. All hallmarks of the Destroyer and her followers. But the strega of Andalusia survived it all and kept working on the book. Adding knowledge with each generation. There was more strife in the 1800’s with Napoleon’s shenanigans, but the area remains part of Spain. Who knows what the next few centuries will bring?”
“I didn’t realize you were such a student of history,” Peter said respectfully.
Mellie flushed a little, realizing that she’d given him a bit more than he’d probably wanted. “Sorry. When the book came to me, I made it my business to brush up on its history. Plus, I should warn you, I was a history major in college. I enjoy studying the past. Always have.”
“You must have learned a lot from the book,” he offered, gesturing toward the ancient tome on the stand.
“You’d think so, but it only shows the reader what they need at the time. I need a potion recipe to push back the leviathan and its minions, so that’s all it’s been showing me.” She shrugged as she checked on the base stock for the potion, which was bubbling nicely now. “I’m almost ready to try this, if you are. Just a minute or two more for it to get to full strength.”
“I promised to help you, and I will.” Peter bent slightly to retrieve the knife he apparently kept in a sheath in his boot. Mellie looked at the gleaming blade. He kept it in good order, which boded well for the spell. “How did the book get that way? Does it have magic of its own?”
“Only the magic that the strega who wrote in it passed to it through the centuries. Many protective spells. Many spells that aim to prevent its misuse. Layer upon layer of protections, each with the particular flavor of the witch who placed them. Some were potion masters, like me. Some were spell casters, like Urse. Some had other powers and ways to realize them. All of that magic is both chronicled in the book and was used to protect it.”
She gazed fondly at the book. Her family had one like it, but it remained in Nonna’s sister’s possession, back in the old country. Nonna had tried to get use of that one first, but it had not contained a spell that could help in this case. It had been Nonna’s sister who had arranged for the use of the Andalusian book through her contacts.
Mellie checked the brew again and judged it ready. “Okay. It’s show time. Come over here, and let’s do this, and we’ll see if it works.”
Peter moved right up next to her, holding the tip of his knife to one of his fingers. Oddly, he’d chosen the ring finger on his left hand even before she opened her mouth to instruct him to do so. How had he known she’d suggest the finger that was thought to connect with the heart?
Or had it just been an arbitrary choice on his part? No time to ask now. There was work to do.
“Just a little prick of the finger, and three drops of blood is all we need. Not fast. Spaced apart. I’ll be chanting invocations before and after each drop, so give me time to utter the words, okay?” She looked up at him, glad to see he was taking this as seriously as she was.
“Just give me the signal,” he told her. “I’ll follow your lead.”
She paused a moment before proceeding, tilting her head and considering him. A hint of humor flashed through her. She couldn’t help it. Being around Peter always made her feel joyful deep down inside.
“Think dragony thoughts,” she told him, offering a quick smile.
He chuckled at her words, and the tension level in the room lowered a notch. Good. Magic was always better done when things were calm and spirits were in a happy place.
She checked the base potion again. “I think we’re ready to go. I’ll nod each time it’s your turn to do your thing.”
He nodded his own agreement, and she began the ritual. Her words invoked the Goddess and all the forces of Light in this realm and beyond. There was a sanctity to the ancient words, and she spoke them in the old tongue. Most ancient strega recipes and chants were written and spoken in Latin, and that nearly forgotten language had been a requirement in her schooling that had come in very handy as she worked with old manuscripts.
It was especially important in light of the fact that Nonna had foretold that it would be Mellie who would become the next Ricoletti strega to add pages to the family grimoire. That would have to be done in Latin, as well, and Mellie took her grandmother’s prediction seriously. Nonna’s gift of foresight was never something to take lightly.
Mellie came to the end of her opening lines and nodded to Peter. He did not hesitate but used the sharp tip of his blade to pierce the skin of his fingertip and allowed a single drop of his blood to land in the middle of the silver bowl.
The effect was immediate as the potion changed color and began to bubble more fiercely. What had been a muddy green-brown was now a startling, shiny teal color. This hadn’t happened before. This was a good sign. Mellie allowed her hopes to rise, but the next two drops would tell the tale. She began reciting her lines again, the Latin words tripping off her tongue.
Finishing the next piece quickly, she nodded again to Peter. He tilted his finger and allowed a second drop to fall into the chalice. The color changed again. This time, it went to a shocking lime green, glistening the way she imagined a dragon’s scales might shine in the sun. The bubbling continued to increase, though no vapor came off the concoction. That was the final test. If the potion could manifest the dragon’s breath—basically a small amount of white smoky fog that remained even when the potion was still—then she would have succeeded. At least, that’s what the book said.
Mellie went into the next set of ancient words and then nodded to Peter one last time. He tipped his finger and the last drop of blood dropped into the silver cauldron. The color flashed, and Mellie had to blink as the reaction completed. Quickly, she recited the last invocation and waved her hands over the silver bowl, hoping for at least a wisp of fog.
A tiny stream of white rose…and then subsided back into the potion. So close!
The color of the concoction was a healthy green now. The green of forests and trees. Evergreen. Like the landscape all around the cove, now almost overrun by bear shifters. Mellie wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but she suspected the potion would have been a different color had the dragon side of Peter’s lineage been stronger. As it was, they’d managed to brew a potion that wasn’t a complete failure. It hadn’t exploded or otherwise destroyed itself, for one thing.
For another, it held a pure magic of its own. Not exactly what she’d intended, but not something bad either. Peter’s bear side had won the day, but the bear was plenty strong itself. This potion was a protective one, and it appeared stable. Mellie would bottle it and test it to see how strong its protective properties were. She couldn’t be altogether sure, but she suspected it was a slightly weaker version of what she’d been aiming for.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, peering over her shoulder at the potion. “I have the impression that’s not what you wanted.”
“It’s not bad,” she told him, studying the potion and gauging its magic as best she could from merely looking at it. “Maybe not quite what the book promised, but I think that’s more because you’re mostly bear and the presence of dragon in your blood wasn’t as strong as the potion requires. Still, this is a powerful protective elixir. It will not go to waste, and your sacrifice will be used to help protect the people of this town. I promise you that.”
She turned to him, finding him much closer than she expected. Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. He was standing so close, all she had to do was reach up on tiptoes… And then… She was kissing him.
Or, perhaps he was kissing her. It didn’t really matter who had initiated it, though she privately thought maybe they’d both reached for each other at the same time. All she knew was that it was wonderful to finally be kissing the man who had been at the center of her daydreams for months now.
His arms were tight around her, and his kiss sent her senses into orbit. Peter was just the right combination of strong and gentle, power wrapped in velvet, desire tempered by care. She felt all that from his kiss, and her spirit soaked it in, wonder filling her at the feeling of being cared for by this amazing man. How could a simple kiss impart so much feeling? She wasn’t sure, but she had no doubt what her senses were telling her was true.
In some way, Peter cared for her. His kiss told her all of that and more. It hinted at the desire that she knew now was shared. She’d wanted to experience his kiss—and a whole lot more—for so long now. She felt that same yearning in him.
Maybe she was reading his magical aura. She’d been able to do that on occasion, and with her hands on his body, she’d never been closer to him physically. She wasn’t just touching his aura, she was standing within it. Enveloped by the core strength of a man she’d come to respect and desire above all others. It was a novel experience, and incredibly arousing.
His magical energy meshed with hers beautifully. There was no moment of resistance. No fear that they would be incompatible. No, with Peter, all was ease and simplicity. The attraction of opposites and the smooth blending of their energies to create something bigger and even more intense. The magic fueled her desire, and she took the kiss deeper, lifting her leg to wrap around his hip.
Peter seemed to understand her silent pleading, lifting her up with his hands under her butt cheeks and carrying her to a clear spot on the countertop. He placed her on the edge, stepping between her thighs and dragging her closer to the object of her desire.
The ridge of his cock rubbed up against the seam of her pants, and she wanted to curse the fabric that separated them. She pushed at his shoulders, hoping he would remove his shirt, but he didn’t comply. Needy, she moaned, and the sound seemed to stop him in his tracks.
Peter pulled back and looked into her eyes, both of them breathing hard. “This is too fast,” he told her, his accent thicker in passion, which made her body tingle even more.
“No,” she told him, unable to speak coherently at the moment.
Peter shook his head, his hair disheveled from her fingers running through it. She loved the look on him. She wanted to mess up his hair some more.
He rested his forehead against hers. “You are too important to me to do this too quickly,” he told her, making her breath catch as the seriousness in his tone.
What was he saying? Was he implying…?
Peter stepped back, making sure she was seated firmly on the countertop first before he separated them. She wanted to go after him, but her mind was captured by the words he’d spoken—and the ones he hadn’t. Intrigued didn’t begin to cover how she was feeling. A million questions raced through her mind, but she didn’t have the courage to voice even one. She didn’t want to be wrong and embarrass herself, possibly wrecking their friendship forever.
Though, it really sounded like he wanted to take their relationship beyond friendship. Well beyond, if she was a very lucky girl.
“I’m really sorry, Mel,” he repeated as he moved away.
“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered, not wanting him to leave thinking she hadn’t been an equal part of that scorching kiss. She had to be bold or she might lose him to misunderstanding. She dragged her tiny bits of courage together and tried to sound braver than she was. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.”
He stopped moving away and met her gaze, one of his eyebrows rising in question, his eyes dancing with…something. Joy? Amusement? Desire?
“You have?” he asked as she remembered to be bold and held his gaze, even as her blood began to tingle all throughout her body.
Peter had the most amazing effect on her. Truth to tell, he always had. From the first moment they’d met.
She nodded, unable to speak.
Peter started to move toward her again, his gaze holding hers with clear intent. Oh, boy. She was going to get it now. Yay!
Then, the phone rang. She could clearly hear it ringing in the main room of the apartment. There was an extension in her bedroom, too, but none in the potion room. She’d done that on purpose. Only, now, it was a total pain in the butt.
Peter stilled, and the intent look in his eyes dulled a bit. “Are you expecting a call?”
“No,” she told him, already sliding off the counter top. “It’s probably my sister checking up on me, and if I don’t answer, she’ll be here in no time flat.” Mellie loved her sister, but right at this moment, she could happily wish her into another country. “I’m sorry,” she told Peter, pausing as she passed him to lay one hand on his shoulder. His warm, muscular shoulder.
Damn. She wanted to scream at Urse for interrupting just when things were getting interesting, but she couldn’t even do that because Urse didn’t know Peter was here. Double damn.
“Hello?” Mellie snatched up the telephone, miffed that her interlude with Peter had been interrupted.
“Is that any way to greet your nonna?” came the unexpected voice over the phone.
“Nonna! I thought it was Urse, checking up on me.”
The old woman sighed. “Sometimes, I wish you had just a touch of my gift, so you’d know what was coming next. You and your bear did good work tonight, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Nonna,” she repeated, a bit shocked, even though she’d grown up with her grandmother’s flashes of insight.
It wasn’t an all-the-time thing. Nonna saw visions of important stuff, but it wasn’t reliable. Sometimes, the visions didn’t come for months at a time. Sometimes, they came in rapid succession. Nobody could say when or why as far as Mellie understood.
“Don’t sound so surprised. I was young once, too,” Nonna reminded her granddaughter. “Your bear has a pure soul, though his past is quite colorful.”
“What did you do? Have him investigated?” Mellie whispered into the phone in a scandalized tone.
“Bah,” Nonna made a mildly disgusted sound. “That Collin Hastings wouldn’t take my money. Said he refused to rat on one of his own. Whether he meant a fellow shifter or that your bear was a personal friend or colleague, I’m not sure. The only thing he would tell me was just what I said. That your Peter’s past was quite colorful.”
“I can’t believe you called the shifter private eye!” Mellie was totally scandalized now.
Everyone in their magical circles was aware of the specialized services Hastings provided to the supernatural community, though he worked mostly for his own kind—shifters of all species. He, himself, was able to shift into some kind of bird of prey, or so the rumors went.
“Like I said, he wouldn’t take the case. Cagey fellow, for a bird shifter.” Nonna made a dismissive sound then cleared her throat. “But, for now, you get your mind back on business, young lady. Tell that bear to go home and let you do your work. No distractions.”
Nonna tried to sound stern, but Mellie heard the humor in her tone. Nonna was like that—a big softie, even when trying to be a disciplinarian.
“Tell her I’m going,” came Peter’s deep voice from just behind Mellie’s shoulder, making her jump. Mellie put the phone away from her ear, pressing it to her shoulder.
“Did you hear all of that?” She cringed, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by her grandmother’s nosiness.
Peter nodded. “Shifter hearing is pretty good, you know. And it’s all right. Collin called yesterday and told me a little old Italian lady from San Francisco had been asking about me. I wasn’t offended. It’s clear she is doing her best to protect you, even long-distance.” Peter’s eyes held laughter, not anger, for which Mellie was truly grateful.
“I’m so sorry.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Don’t be. She loves you.” He shrugged, smiling. “I’m leaving now. Lock the door behind me and tell your nonna I said hello.”
He paused slightly, dipping his head to kiss her on the forehead. Not exactly the goodnight kiss she was hoping for, but she’d take it. The gesture felt intimate. Special.
Then, he was gone, and Mellie was left with her grandmother on the phone for company.
Peter’s bear refused to settle. Those spectacular kisses with Mellie were even better than he’d imagined they’d be. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he wanted more. Much more. But there were still valid reasons why anything between them might be…inadvisable, at best.
For one thing, what would his grandmother say? Babushka was on her way here, though he wasn’t sure exactly when she would arrive. She was a very independent bear. If she wanted to take the scenic route from Mother Russia to the good ol’ USA, Peter could not gainsay her. At least, it wouldn’t be wise—or all that safe—to do so. Babushka was still a mighty bear, even if she was getting older.
He didn’t know how she was going to take the news that the only woman his bear had ever pushed him toward mating was a witch. Not just a witch, but an Italian strega, who came from a long line of powerful strega before her. Peter stopped short at his own thoughts as he walked down the Main Street of Grizzly Cove, heading for the stretch of woods that led to his cabin. Was he really thinking mate when it came to Mellie?
He tested that thought out. Rolled it around in his mind and savored it for a while…
Yep. He was definitely thinking mate. Wow.
Goddess help them both.