Chapter 2

“Cleona?” Leander said, turning to glance at her over his shoulder.

Cleona shoved him to the side, but only because he let her, and the look he gave her said they both knew it.

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a sister,” Cleona said.

“That you knew of. My name is Maeve Brennan. This is my fiance, Orion Murdoch,” she said, laying her hand on his chest. “Can we come in, just for a moment? I’ll explain and if I can’t convince you, we’ll leave,” Maeve said, giving her a soft smile before reaching out and twirling a lock of her hair that lay over her breast.

This is what Cleona got for minding her own business. Everyone and their damn mother showing up on her doorstep at exactly the wrong time. “Fine, but Leander stays,” Cleona said, curling her hand over his forearm.

Leander held the door and let them in. The room that already seemed tiny, shrunk down to nothing as Maeve’s claim sucked out what little air was in the room.

Or maybe that was Cleona having a panic attack.

It was anyone’s guess.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t ask you to sit and instead insist that you hurry the hell up and say what you have to say,” Cleona said as she rested her hand on the towel wrapped around her other hand.

“We have the same eyes,” Maeve said, taking a small step toward Cleona, her gaze searching, her eyes hopeful.

“Lots of people have green eyes,” Cleona muttered, forcing herself to stand still when all she wanted to do was tuck herself behind Leander.

They caught her in a weak moment, and she didn’t appreciate it.

“True,” Maeve murmured. “I know it sounds crazy, but a few weeks ago, I had a vision of a meadow with a twisted, twenty-foot tree at the edge,” Maeve said quietly. She took a ragged breath, and Orion stepped up next to her, slipping his large hand into hers and giving her fingers a squeeze.

For a moment, just a moment, a flash of jealousy tore through Cleona. She wanted that. She wanted a man who just knew instinctually or with a look just what she needed and did it. Someone strong and steady so when she gave into a weak moment, someone stood strong behind her.

Even in her previous relationships, she’d never found a man capable of being that in tune with her, even when she did find a man that gave a shit about someone other than himself.

Maeve glanced up at Orion and leaned into him just a bit. “The roots grew in the form of a braid before sinking into the ground. A woman with a long, flowery skirt, tank top, and strawberry-blond hair, long and wavy like mine—like yours, sat at the base, leaning against the tree. Dying.”

Goosebumps rose up on Cleona’s skin. Leander took a step in her direction, right up behind her, the front of his biceps brushing her back. She closed her eyes and let herself absorb his heat, knowing that even though he showed her the care and concern she was just yearning for, she could never be with him, despite the attraction that lingered.

She had been a lot of things in her short past, but she’d never be the tenant doing her landlord. It was just too damn demeaning. “What does this have to do with me?”

“She was our mother,” Maeve said quietly.

Cleona crossed her arms, tucking her wounded hand under her bicep, and tapped her foot. “I have a mother.”

Maeve took a step toward her, lifted her hand, met Cleona’s eyes, and let it drop. “I do, too, but our mothers aren’t our birth mothers.”

Cleona looked Maeve up and down and raised her eyebrows. “And you want me to believe we’re twins?”

“We’re quadruplets. Fraternal quadruplets,” Maeve said, her hand going to some sort of Celtic symbol hanging from her neck that was too small for Cleona to identify.

“Is that even possible?” Leander said, finally breaking his silence, glancing between Maeve and Orion.

Maeve wrung her hands before her and glanced away. “It’s rare in humans. Extremely rare. But we’re not human,” she said, meeting their eyes.

“Okay, I’ve heard enough. Get out.” Cleona took a step toward the door just to have Maeve jump out in front of her.

She reached out and laid a soft hand on Cleona’s arm. “We’re wolf shifters, Cleona. The final four of the Moonstone Guardians Pack.”

Okay, so it’s not like Cleona hadn’t heard about magical creatures and shifters living among humans. There were whispers, but she’d never put much stock in any of it since she’d never seen it. Not that she saw it now.

What she saw was a pretty woman who could have a hell of a career writing children’s stories if she put her imagination to good use.

But something about her…the earnest look in her eyes that plead to Cleona to listen, as though she believed without a doubt every word she said. That’s the look that had Cleona hesitating to throw her out and curious for more despite every part of her that railed against the possibility.

Cleona had never been anything special. A hard worker, sometimes misguided, with more than her fair share of trials and tribulations, but most problems she brought on herself when she rushed headlong into situations before thinking about the possible negative outcomes.

Something niggled at her not to rush into dismissing Maeve. Just in case. “And how do you know that?”

“I realized I was something different when I fell and cut myself just to speed-heal a few moments later.”

So sometimes she should trust her instincts. Good to know. “You’re insane.”

“She’s telling you the truth,” Orion said, stepping up next to Maeve and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “She only just found out when she awakened on her twenty-fifth birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday. March sixteenth,” he said quietly.

Cleona scoffed. “Oh, you guys are good. I have to hand it to you. So, how did you know that? What did you do, go through my trash or something?”

“Listen, it’s a lot, we know it’s a lot, but—” Maeve started.

“How do I know you aren’t just stalkers trying to get something out of me?” Cleona interrupted.

Maeve glanced around and raised an eyebrow.

“Conning me and insulting. Awesome.”

“I haven’t come just to uproot your life. We’re in danger. Our mates, they’re in danger, too, and as each of us awakens, the danger grows.”

Cleona flicked a glance over her shoulder to Leander whose mouth thinned into a grim line before glaring at Maeve. “Our mates?”

“Well…” Maeve winced. “Our kind mates with warlocks.”

Cleona shot a look to Orion. “So you’re a witch? Is that what she’s saying?” Cleona said, gesturing to Maeve.

“Yes,” Orion said with a nod.

Cleona pushed past them. “Okay, I think I’ve heard enough. My interest in fairy tales stopped when I hit double digits. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave,” Cleona said, opening the door and nodding toward the opening.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot, but please, talk to your parents. And if you notice anything out of the ordinary around you, or even physically, please contact me. We don’t have much time,” Maeve said, handing Cleona a business card.

Cleona glanced down at the lavender card stock for Crystal’s Closet and the cell number scrawled on the back. “Yeah, whatever,” she muttered before tossing the card on the table next to the door.

Leander rested a hand on her shoulder and with the briefest squeeze, he kneaded the tight muscles there.

Maeve stepped out first and Orion followed, but turned to them one last time, his gaze landing on Leander’s wrist. His eyes narrowed, his eyebrows snapping low over his eyes, and his mouth pinched. “Where did you get your cuff?”

Leander lowered his hand. “What business is it of yours?”

Orion held up his own leather latched around his wrist, with his moonstone set in the center. “Because there’s only one kind of man that wears the moonstone and these are handed down from ancestors. So I ask you, where did you get your cuff?”

“It belonged to my father,” Leander said. “Now go.”

Orion scowled, but dropped it and took a step onto the tiny porch.

Leander shut the door with a resounding thud and threw the dead bolt.

“Did I enter the damn twilight zone at some point on my walk home?” she said, unable to contain herself any longer and instead tore up the length of the living room to pace off her nervous energy.

“If so, it was you and me both,” Leander said, sliding the curtain over a fraction and watching out the window. “How’s the hand?” he asked, letting the lace flutter back into place.

She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. All of a sudden she had the desire to chop it off which was totally unreasonable. She’d loved her thick, auburn waves, but now it seemed a bit too coincidental that she had the same hairstyle as the woman claiming to be her sister. “I’m so mad, it doesn’t even hurt at the moment, but I better get burn gel on it and take some Advil before the pain rears its ugly head.”

“Come here,” he said, grabbing the first aid kit and dropping onto the couch, patting the cushion.

She took a seat next to him, but tried to maintain some distance between her bare leg and his hand. Too many lines had been blurred already and although the encounter with Maeve and Orion had been like a Gatorade cooler full of ice-cold water dumped on her libido, all it would take was one touch to send her back in the direction of heat and sex.

She missed both desperately.

Attraction and slow burn had been her and Leander’s dance for months, and it felt like the past ten minutes might have just driven them close enough that it might be impossible to find distance again.

“Here, let me see that,” he said, gently taking her wrapped hand and resting it on his thigh.

His rock-hard thigh.

She gulped.

Just a couple inches from—

“I asked you if you’re ready,” he said, his lips twitching at where her gaze had landed.

“As I’ll ever be.” she said, his words pulling her from her sex-deprived haze. She needed a distraction other than their chemistry.

Something.

Anything.

Her gaze landed on his wrist and the worn carved leather tied around it with the oval stone set in the center swirling with a golden hue. The thought of seeing her skin bubbled up had her stomach pitching so she grasped for the change of subject. “Did you really get that cuff from your dad?”

His hands froze as he’d just unwound the first layer. He glanced up at her. “It was my dad’s. He didn’t stick around long enough to give it to me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried,” she said, biting her lip.

“I expected you to ask. I have questions myself, but the answers might be a bit harder to find.”

“Why?”

“No father and my mother is dead,” he said quietly.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh.

“Don’t be. You ready to see the damage?” he asked with a quick glance.

“It might not be that bad,” she said, flinching.

He grazed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re not feeling pain which is a good thing, but Sam said you caught it on that burner good.”

She shook her head and straightened her spine. “Ugh, I’m being a baby. I’m not five. Just take the damn thing off and let’s see how much I’m going to hate the dinner shift.”

“You have to work again later?”

“I work the dinner shift five days a week,” she said, watching as he unwrapped another layer of towel.

“I didn’t know that,” he said, his dark brows rising on his forehead, his eyes widening.

“And why would you? You’re my landlord. It doesn’t matter how I make the money as long as I can pay the rent, right?”

He pursed his lips, glared, and unfolded the towel the rest of the way.

She didn’t look at her hand, and instead decided she would gauge how bad it was from the look on his face.

His shoulders flexed and grew rigid as he turned her hand back and forth, his eyes narrowing.

“Is it bad? Be honest. I can take it.”

“You better take a look yourself.”

She blew out a breath and forced herself to glance down.

Her jaw fell open.

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes roamed over and over her palm.

She blinked.

And when she opened her eyes, the skin still looked as it had when she first looked.

Like nothing ever happened.

“It’s healed,” she whispered.

He traced his fingers over her palm. “Yeah. You might use that number Maeve gave you after all.”