Chapter Eight

Rose’s furious exit was halted by a friendly voice. One whose gentleness was impossible to ignore.

“There you are, my dear. Where are you hurrying off to?” Odette called from behind the counter when Rose reached the bottom of the stairs.

The anger and pain that’d sent her flying down the steps fled, leaving Rose so dizzy that she had to grab the newel post to keep from falling to the floor. She closed her eyes for just a moment, hoping when she opened them she’d see that this had all been a dream.

A bad, confusing dream.

But she knew before she opened them what she’d see.

“Hello, Odette,” she greeted quietly, not questioning how the older woman had moved so quickly, so quietly, to stand in front of her. “I was just leaving.”

“Not yet, I think.” The woman’s smile was easy as she took Rose’s arm and, with just a little tug, pulled her behind the counter and into the kitchen.

“Your customers,” Rose protested, looking around the café at the half dozen people enjoying after-breakfast-before-lunch treats in hopes of using one of them as her excuse to escape.

“Anja, darling. Please entertain our guests.”

The exotic gypsy turned from the counter at the far end of the kitchen to give her grandmother a surprised look. She looked as if she were going to demand an explanation. As soon as her gaze landed on Rose, though, she frowned. Her gaze darkened and her expression turned sympathetic. Still, as she wiped her hands on a cloth, she tilted her head toward the ingredients on the counter.

“I’ve just started here.”

“I’ll continue the preparation and you can finish,” Odette said after giving the array of herbs, flowers and crystals a quick glance. “A new job talisman, yes?”

“Yes, thanks.” With that and an encouraging pat on Rose’s shoulder, Anja swept out of the kitchen.

Leaving Rose in a kitchen filled with intriguing scents with a darling little old lady she was now pretty sure was a witch.

A witch.

Just thinking it made her knees wobbly. Wobbly enough that she grabbed the nearest stool and sank into it without asking Odette’s leave.

It took her three long breaths before she could meet the other woman’s eyes and face the knowledge in those dark depths. Odette didn’t say anything, though. She simply moved through the kitchen with grace and ease, gathering this, heating up that, until she set a large pottery mug heaped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate in front of Rose.

“Enjoy.”

“Cocoa?”

“My special recipe. It lightens the thoughts, eases the burdens and mends the heart.” Odette gestured for Rose to drink up. “Have a few sips, let your mind settle. Then we’ll talk.”

She should leave. Rose reached for the mug, then let her hand fall back into her lap. She was expected at the office. Now that she’d lost her story advisor she had to rethink the progress of the game and figure out how she’d finish it alone.

And then there was the rest.

“Drink.”

Rose closed her eyes and drank.

The chocolate was rich and silky, spiced gently with a hint of cinnamon and swirled through with vanilla infused cream. On the whole, it was somewhere beyond delicious.

The first sip eased the tightness in her temples. The second, the knot in her chest. By the third, her nerves were soothed and her thoughts calmed.

Rose opened her eyes, not surprised to see Odette at the counter Anja had left. She watched for a long moment while the woman gently removed petals from flowers, rubbed seeds loose from a pomegranate and sprinkled brilliant green crystals into a marble bowl where she crushed it to dust.

“There, now,” Odette said without looking her way. “You feel a little better now. Drink the rest and you’ll feel much better.”

“Thank you,” she replied, offering the older woman a tentative smile. Despite how crazy Rose felt inside—as if everything she’d ever believed was spinning on its ear—she was comforted by the cocoa. And by the woman.

“Well, I do feel partially responsible for the confusion churning inside you, so a bit of comfort and chocolate is the least I can do.”

Rose jerked, shocked at both the words and at Odette’s direct approach. But if the older woman could be forthright, so could she.

She just had to take a cup of chocolate first.

“How do you figure that you’re responsible for anything?” she asked, deciding it’d be smarter not to mention the various reasons she was upset. No matter how nice the woman, she simply wasn’t comfortable talking orgasm induced flower falls.

“I’ve known Samson since he was a child. Always, the gift of story was his. So when he mentioned coming to California to see you, I encouraged him to stay here. I knew doing so would influence certain events.”

“What do you mean?” Rose asked, the nerves dancing in her stomach clear in her voice.

“Like attracts like. There is magic here,” Odette said simply.

“You knew I had this,” Rose pressed her hand to her belly, “this power?”

Torn between delight and terror, she waited with baited breath, hoping to learn more. Desperate to know.

“Your grandmother saw it there when you were a baby. She told your mother.”

“And my mother took me away,” Rose realized, clenching her jaw. “To keep me from it.”

“Your mother took you away to keep you with her,” Odette corrected gently, her gnarled fingers sprinkling the crushed crystals into a simmering pot of water. “She had her reasons, only some of which I can see.”

Rose watched as the older woman’s gaze turned opaque, as power rose in those dark eyes so deep that she could almost see the visions swirling there.

“She took you for love, for fear and for safety. She loves you deeply, never doubt. Her fear of magic is just as strong, and her vow to keep you safe goes deeper than you know.”

Rose felt the tight ball of anger toward her mother loosen a little in her heart, but she still shook her head.

“Safe, how?” Because working for Millicent didn’t have that comfy, cozy safe feeling in the least.

“Magic asks a price. By keeping you away from choosing that path, she gave you time to find your strength.”

What strength, Rose wanted to shout. She worked for a megalomaniac who’d done her best to crush Rose’s spirit, to keep her confidence so low it was practically comatose.

“Are you afraid to stand up for yourself?” Odette asked wisely.

“Of course not,” Rose snapped. But even as she bit off the words, she wondered. Was she?

“Do you fear pushing your own ideas forth, standing for your beliefs or speaking up when you feel you’re right?”

Rose opened her mouth to explain that none of that were the point. But they were, she realized, slowly clamping her lips together.

Odette nodded.

“Then you have strength,” she said simply. “Whether she meant this or something else to be the outcome, your mother served you well. Because it’ll take the ability to do all of that to be in power. The path of magic is rarely easy.”

“And if I don’t want to walk that path?”

“The choice is yours. But either way, you have questions to answer within yourself.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

She really wanted to know. With all her heart, Rose wished the wise woman would spell it out, tell her exactly what to do.

“I’ll read for you,” Odette said, coming around the counter to take Rose’s hand. She lifted it, palm up, and traced one finger over the lines and valleys. A warm current tingled from Rose’s palm all the way to her toes. Odette didn’t look at her hand, though. She simply stared into her eyes.

“Your magic lies in your heart. Open to your emotions and hear their truth. Family is key. You must open your heart and let each person sit there in emotional safety and feel the energy. Once you do, you’ll easily see the path for you.”

A part of her, the part reveling in the delightful energy she’d recently awakened, wanted to rush down that path. To embrace the possibilities with Sam and explore her heritage. To get to know her grandparents and enjoy their store.

But the cost was so high, just thinking about it made her stomach churn.

Before she could ask how she was supposed to get people to sit in energy—whatever the hell that meant—Odette continued.

“One path offers wealth and acclaim, approval and eventual acceptance. Another requires sacrifice though the rewards are beyond your imaginings. That’s the path that ends in marriage, with your prince offering his hand and heart. Both are right for you, but you can only choose one.”

Marriage? She’d called Sam Prince Charming. Did that mean he’d propose? Her heart jumped into her throat, so all Rose could do was cough.

“You will only find true happiness, true peace if you accept who you are,” Odette continued, the hand holding Rose’s beginning to tremble. “If you choose to embrace what you are, you will have to stand firm. Do not let anyone take it away. Not those who love you. Not even yourself.”

“How do I do that?” Rose whispered, wishing it were as simple as saying sure, give me a magic wand and let’s rock.

“You need to choose,” was all Odette said, folding Rose’s fingers over her palm then holding her hand closed. “Only you.”

Rose had no choice but to nod.

She’d faced the truth about her heritage this week.

She’d discovered magic and power.

She’d experienced a sexual nirvana beyond anything she’d dreamed, and opened her heart to a man who stirred and fascinated.

But choosing her own path?

Deciding what to do with the rest of her life? Choosing between the mundane and the magical? Her past and her present?

That scared the hell out of her.

* * *

Sam lay in the hanging wicker basket that Anja called a couch and stared at the smoke dancing around the coffered ceiling.

He’d blown it.

He hadn’t meant to dump everything on Rose like that.

Sam ground his teeth in frustration, so pissed at himself that he barely bit back a curse.

He’d had a plan.

A damned good plan. Carefully thought out, plotted and revised and polished to perfection.

Now, fogged in lust and emotions he barely understood, he’d blown it.

Worse, he’d let Leah and Stephen down.

All he could do was save as much as he could.

“Do you plan on hiding in here for long?”

His only reaction to Anja’s question was to slide her a single look before he returned his gaze to the ceiling.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company,” Anja continued as if he’d offered a chatty response. “But I tend to get lectured when I play hooky from work. I never mind a lecture, but I’d prefer my playtime be fun enough to justify it.”

Sam sighed. He pushed into a sitting position, and despite the swinging couch’s wobbliness, managed to sit with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest.

“I screwed up.”

“You screwed—”

Before she could finish what he knew would be a crude response, Sam shoved to his feet. The basket couch slammed into the wall behind him, ricocheted to hit him in the back of the legs, then bounced off the wall once more.

He never blinked. He was too busy glaring his outrage.

“Up,” Anja finally said, her expression saying that’s what she’d meant all along. “You screwed up. Why don’t you tell me how. Then we can find a way to fix it.”

“It can’t be fixed. Not by me. Not by you.”

“By Rose, then?”

Anja took both his hands in hers and tugged until he sat again on the unstable couch. She sat across from him on the ancient steamer chest she used as a table. From there, she looked deep into his eyes, letting him see the power in her dark gaze.

“It’s always been for Rose. Your instinct is to ride to the rescue, to be the hero who saves her. To be the man who awakens her.” Anja gave a slight shake of her head, dismissing those instincts. “But this isn’t about you. It’s about her. Now that she’s awakened to the power, she has to choose to accept the gift. She’ll learn to use it, or she’ll decide to turn away.”

“I don’t care about her magic, dammit. All I wanted was to bring her home, to reunite her with her grandparents and introduce her to that part of her family.”

“That part of her family is magic. Why do you think her mother took her away? Hid her away and handed her over to someone like Millicent Faire. Someone who’d drain that power until Rose was left a pale dream of what she could have been?”

The words carried Anja’s power of sight, but Sam heard enough practical truth in them to make him clench his teeth.

“She won’t let me help her finish the game. She’s going to end up stuck working for that woman for eternity now. And that’s my fault.” He pulled his hands free of Anja’s, anchored his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his fingers. “I wanted to lead her back to her family. Instead, I pushed her into Millicent’s arms.”

“No,” Anja corrected. “You gave her a choice. Now you’re stepping back and letting her make it.”

“Alone.”

“Yes. Because life changing choices have to be made alone.”