Deception (17 page)

She went straight to her closet and skimmed through the clothes, trying to find something casual enough to wear to a mountain. If she wasn’t going with a couple of magicians, she’d wear chunky hiking boots, ripped jeans, a ragged t-shirt, and an oversized hoody, but her fancy new wardrobe didn’t contain such things.

Eager to be ready when her hero arrived with her coffee, she quickly shuffled through a small assortment of jeans, picking a pair with faded denim. Then she grabbed a white, spaghetti strap tank-top, and a sheer chiffon tunic. She would be cold, but that was part of the appeal, wasn’t it?

The thought of Quin warming her up tickled her tummy as she moved to her luggage, which was neatly stacked and organized thanks to him. She dug into the bag with her underwear, and her cheeks flushed as she pulled out one of her more promiscuous pairs of panties – black lace and barely there.

Slipping off her dress, she magicked the clean clothes on, hoping Quin would enjoy the change of scenery beneath the jeans. She was sure he’d be there any minute, and when she heard footsteps in the hall, she smiled and spun around. He was even faster than she thought.

“Hi,” Finley greeted, halting in the doorway.

Layla’s heart leapt into her throat as she stepped back and knocked over a suitcase. “Get out,” she demanded. “You're not welcome. And Quin will be here any second.”

Finley smiled and moved further into the room, flashing his gaze over the décor. “Quin's no longer a concern of mine. Did you get some rest? I heard you had a nightmare.”

She raised a suspicious eyebrow and stepped to the right. “Where did you hear that?”

“Quin,” he answered, turning his attention on her. “Didn’t you know? He threatened to kill me last night.”

Her nightmare flashed through her mind, knotting her stomach and spiking her heart rate. “I’d take his threat seriously if I were you.”

“Like I said,” he returned, “Quin’s no longer a concern of mine.”

He moved closer, and she fought the urge to back up, trying to appear strong, but she didn’t feel strong. “Leave, Finley. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

“I'm here to give you one more chance,” he offered, moving closer still.

She swallowed as her stomach churned. Damn it. She'd told Quin she’d be fine, and now this was happening. He’d never be able to let her out of his sight again. “I don't want your chance. Now leave.” Her voice cracked, pulling the plug on her confidence.

Finley kept coming, his narrow eyes glinting. “You misunderstand me. You have one more chance to consider my offer. Then your options are gone.”

Her throat tightened, weakening her refusal. “Good. I don't want them.”

He was an arm's length away now, and despite her effort not to, she backed up, quickly finding the wall with her shoulder blades. Shit. “Stop,” she ordered, drained of bravery and fighting tears.

He reached over her shoulder, pressing one hand to the wall as the other took her chin. “I’m asking for a mere inch, Layla, not a mile. Tell me you’ll give it to me.”

Her face flexed as she shook her head no.

“Why not?” he whispered, his cocky attitude faltering, but his gaze remained cold.

“Because,” she answered, trying to push him away, but his grip on her chin had become rough and his stance was solid.

“Because why?” he demanded.

She angrily met his stare to deliver the harsh rejection, hoping it would be her last. “Because I don’t want anything to do with you, Finley. Not even an inch of you. You make me sick.”

His features hardened as his grip tightened, and she tensed, expecting him to hit her or push her or shake her. What she didn’t expect was the way his lips came down, pressing into hers in an attempt to ply them apart.

She would have preferred he hit her.

A protest muffled in her throat as she pushed on his chest, but his grip became painful as his invasion endured. She narrowed her eyes, beyond pissed. Then she realized she lacked the ability to overpower him, and her anger warped into full blown panic.

She gave way to his trespassing mouth, letting his bottom lip slip inside. Then she bit hard while punching his chest and stubbing her toes on his shins. Coppery blood flowed over her tongue as he jerked back, spitting more blood across her face, and she summoned electricity to her chin, trying to shock his hand away. The fingers holding her jaw flexed, but his grip stayed firm as the electricity rebounded and jolted her muscles.

“We could have done this the easy way,” he hissed, pulling his hand from the wall.

She opened her mouth to scream, but the shriek died in her chest as the base of his palm hit the side of her head, spinning her vision into a blurry cyclone.

She felt herself falling as the room spun out of control. Then he caught her by the arm and touched her head. A whoosh of energy flowed from his palm, and Layla sadly discerned the use of magic before discerning nothing at all.

In an effort to provide Layla with space, Quin forced himself to swiftly walk rather than run or fly to her house. She'd left his sight less than eight minutes before, but his stomach was knotted as he carried her coffee in one hand and flexed the other.

He reached Layla's rose garden and looked up, finding Brietta exiting the house.

“Hey,” she greeted, stopping on the threshold.

“Hey,” he returned, taking the stairs in one leap.

Then they both spoke at the same time. “Where's Layla?”

The coffee disappeared as Quin maneuvered around Brietta and entered the house. “What do you mean? You were just in here.”

“Yeah,” Brietta confirmed, following him toward the hall, “but she isn’t here.”

“Layla?” he called, entering the bedroom. It was empty. He glanced at the dark closet as he flew to the bathroom – also empty.

His heart stopped as he looked around, finding a suitcase on its side next to the dress she’d worn the day before.

“Layla!”

He flew to the hall and flung open the door to the guest bathroom. Then he headed for the stairs.

“I'm telling you, Quin,” Brietta shouted, “she's not here. I've called her name and tried to mind-search her.”

He froze at the foot of the stairs. “You didn't find her mind?”

“No. She's definitely not in the house.”

He mentally shouted.
'Layla!'
Then waited two seconds. Nothing. He expanded his mind and searched for her presence, but she wasn’t there, not in the house or on the lawn. Shit. He flew toward the front door, shouting as he went. “Get Caitrin! Now!”

Ignoring Brietta’s response, he mind-searched the guard to the west, his grandpa Lann.
‘Is Layla at her parents’ memorial?’

‘I’ll check,’
Lann replied.

‘Now! I need you to check now!’

‘I am, Quinlan. I’m almost there, but I’m not sensing her.’
After a short pause, he spoke again.
‘She’s not here.’

'Layla,'
Quin mentally shouted. Still, nothing.

He mind-searched the remaining guards as he launched himself off her porch, fighting the bile churning his stomach and burning his throat.

None of the guards had seen her and were now shouting questions at him. He closed them out and mentally searched for his great grandpa Catigern, who'd been charged with keeping an eye on Finley.

'Where's Finley?'
Quin demanded.

'He hasn't left his tent all day,'
Catigern answered.
‘Why?’

Quin ignored the question and attempted Layla's mind again, but he didn’t get a response, and he still couldn't get a read on her location. Shit, shit, shit.

“Finley,” he thundered, landing next to the tent.

He threw out a hand, and the canvas ripped open, fluttering to the grass in tiny pieces. Empty. No supplies. No bedding. No Finley.

“NO!”

The roar ripped from Quin’s chest and tore through his throat, bouncing off houses and tree trunks on its way to the cloudy sky. Fingers stretched and flexed, his muscles rolled over boiling rage, and his broken heart caught fire. She was gone.

Chapter 12

Consciousness found Layla with a throb to the head, and she flinched, her muscles achy, her brain disoriented. All she could comprehend was freezing wind slapping her pounding face.
What in the hell happened?

She opened her eyes, and her confusion escalated. She could see, but there was nothing to see, just cloudy sky. She didn’t have a body, and looking for it made her queasy, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on her other senses. She was in someone's arms.

Her head thudded particularly hard and realization hit. Finley. Oh god. No!

She pushed and tried to flip away, but he tightened his grip as sizzling electricity rippled through her veins. This magic was nothing like the pleasurable shocks Quin had treated her to in the shower, and she violently convulsed before going limp. She could barely twitch her fingers.

“Bad move, Layla. There won't be any of that.”

He was on edge, she could tell, but there was no mistaking his wariness for hesitancy. He was determined to take his obsession further than she ever thought he’d go.

She slowly opened her sore lids, but she couldn't see him, only gray sky. His concealment spells had hidden them both, and his aura was gone as well. No shimmers at all. She fought against her paralyzed body, but to no avail. She couldn't even talk. It had taken a ridiculous amount of energy to open her eyes.

No… How could this be happening? Where was he taking her? She closed her eyes and withdrew into her mind.
'Quin.'
Was there even a chance he'd heard her? She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious. She could be an entire state away by now.
'Quin!
' No answer.

She tried harder, imagining the mental plea traveling miles and miles through towering timber and over rugged mountains, searching for its intended target.

'Quin!’

Her head and heart throbbed as her mental energy waned, and since she couldn’t even cross her fingers, she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped.
Please hear me
. . .

Quin's devastated roar still pulsed through the lawn when Layla's grandparents shot from Caitrin’s front porch, closely followed by Brietta.

Morrigan caught Quin’s gaze and faltered, losing height dangerously fast, but Caitrin swooped down and caught her, pulling her to his chest as he continued toward Quin.

“She's gone,” Quin raged, meeting them halfway. “Finley's gone.”

Morrigan and Daleen burst into tears as Caitrin and Serafin growled. Then Catigern approached with his hawk on his forearm. “Finley’s gone?”

“Yes,” Quin barked, his ire spreading in every direction.

Zenith screeched and soared away, and Catigern bowed his head. “I had Zenith posted on him every second, Quinlan. His concealment spells must be flawless.”

Quin curled his fingers into fists, wishing Finley’s neck was in one of them. “Of course they are.”

“How long?” Caitrin and Serafin asked.

Quin slammed the base of his palms to his forehead, trying to see beyond the panic. “Ten minutes or so.”

All four of her grandparents closed their eyes and tilted their faces to the sky.

“She's not answering,” Quin objected. He knew what they were doing and it was a waste of time. “Figure something else out. Now.”

He jerked his head up, lungs frozen as his heart stuttered to a stop. He'd heard it – Layla’s sweet voice
. 'Quin!'
Then nothing.

He called back to her.
'Layla!'
No answer.
'Layla, can you hear me?'
Nothing. Shit. She was too far away. Finley was fast.

Quin’s unfocused gaze cleared and landed on Caitrin. “I heard her.” Then he shot into the air, keeping his mind open to her voice. It had come from the north, so that's the way he flew.

“Quinlan, wait!”

Quin glanced over his shoulder, finding his mom and dad following him, along with Layla’s grandparents. Good.

Kemble was the one who’d shouted, but Quin had no intention of obeying. “No.”

“Damn it, Quinlan. You have to stay with us. You won't be able to best him by yourself.”

“I don't care. As long as I give her time to get away.”

“We won't know where to go,” Caitrin added. “At this rate, we'll lose you, and she's not calling to us.”

Shit. He had a point, but Quin couldn't make himself slow down. “Mind-search me if you start to lose sight of me, and I'll let you catch up. Only if you start to lose sight of me. Leave my mind open for her otherwise.”

They didn’t object, so Quin concealed his body and hit top speed.
'Come on, baby, call to me again.'

Silent minutes ticked by, fifteen of them, torturing him with all sixty of their seconds. Then he heard her again. Her voice was much weaker this time – sad sobs as soft as teardrops – and he clutched his heart as he carefully listened.

'Quin. It's Finley.'
A brief pause
. 'Oh god, Quin. Please hear me.'

'Layla,'
he called back, his fingertips turning white.
'I can hear you. Can you hear me?'