Chapter Fourteen
Brooks
The more I’m around Gwen, the deeper my suspicion that we’re fated grows. Every smile, glimmer of amusement, soft word from her makes me crave her more. And now, as I watch her sit in the center of a circle surrounded by Heather, Rachel, and Anya, I wonder at what she would look like at full power.
“Calm your mind, Gwen,” Anya says. “You’re too tense. There’s something blocking your power. Your inherent gift shouldn’t be tied to your magic.”
Gwen takes a long breath and forces herself to relax her brow. “I…I have had a few visions over the last week.”
“Good. That’s great. Okay, what were you doing when that happened?”
Her cheeks go pink. “One was more a flashback to my past. I cut myself on Excalibur.” My heart lurches at the knowledge of her being hurt. Why wasn’t Lancelot there, with the sword stowed safely?
“And the others?” Heather asks.
“I was riding in the car to come here. And then I had one after Lance and I…got close.”
Jealousy boils near the surface. Close? How close?
“Oh, you two are an item, then?” Rachel cocks an eyebrow.
“No. No. It was a mistake.”
The brunette witch shakes her head and glances at Heather and Anya. “Love is never a mistake.”
“I don’t love him. We’re not…it can’t be like that.”
“Which is it? You’re not or it can’t be?”
Gwen’s expression is distraught and I want nothing more than for this conversation to be over. “Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?” I bark.
Heather takes a hand of each of the women in her coven and Anya joins hands with Rachel. “You’re right. So, Gwen, first we need to unlock your visions. Then we can trace your magic from there.”
Gwen nods and closes her eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Place one hand over your third eye, the other over your heart.”
She follows the instructions and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Now, you let us do the rest.” Heather looks from woman to woman and nods. The three of them raise their faces to the ceiling and begin softly chanting, an incantation I can barely make out. Soft blue light emanates from each of them, swirling around until it raises over all of them and collects into a brightly shining ball of magic. Their words grow louder until, as one, they stop.
The sphere of light hangs over Gwen and then Heather whispers a single word and it bursts. The magic falls onto Gwen, surrounding her and disappearing into her being.
“Fuck,” I whisper. The four of them get to their feet, all smiles, and I can’t help but go to Gwen. “Are you all right?”
I take her hands in mine and stare into those beautiful eyes of hers. “Maybe? I don’t know. I feel fine. Normal.”
“Normal is good.”
She smiles and doesn’t take her hands from mine, but the knowledge that she and Lance were…close, still burns in my mind. Can I compete with Lancelot? He’s her knight. All the stories say so. If anyone is fated, wouldn’t it be them?
My heart picks up speed when she releases my hands and leans into me, wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you for bringing them here,” she murmurs. “Thank you so much.”
I can’t help it. I trail my fingers through her hair. “Gwen,” I start, wishing the coven would leave us. “I know this isn’t the right time, but I have to say something.”
She pushes away and stares at me, her gaze searching. “What?”
“I feel this…pull. There’s something here. Something fated.”
Her eyes go wide and she backs away. “No. Not now. We can’t.”
Shit. I knew this wasn’t the right thing to do, but if Lancelot has thrown his hat in the ring, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to add mine. I pull her close again and drop my lips to hers. Soft and pliant, her mouth is exactly as perfect as I imagined. Then I back away, releasing her and giving her space.
Her mouth is swollen from my kiss and my heart is racing. She looks like she’s about to say something, but I can’t let her. “Listen to me. I’m not saying now. I’m saying that when this is all over, you and I will be having a conversation about us.”
She takes her lower lip between her teeth and a frown furrows her brow. “I don’t know. It’s not…I’m not sure.”
“You don’t have to be sure now. But I need you to know I’m in this. Just like him.”
Shaking her head, she stands in the doorway. “There is no this. There’s no me and Lancelot, just like there’s no me and you. Right now, there’s a looming apocalypse. That’s it.”
“We’re going to win. You’ll see.”
She presses her fingertips to her lips and nods once before heading down the hall. From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow in the doorway that leads to the library. Lancelot stands there, eyes blazing, hands curled into tight fists.
Gwen might think there’s nothing between any of us, but she couldn’t be more wrong.