Page 57 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

“No, love. I’d never stretch the truth on a moment as meaningful as this.”

Brenna met his serious gaze, and confusion tugged at her brow. “You really mean it. How can you when I looked like an abandoned house cat left in an alley to fend for itself?”

“You didn’t. And like I told ya before, your beauty lies in your generous spirit, Brenna Sullivan.”

“So if I went back to those ghastly glasses, hideous clothing, and frizzy hair, you wouldn’t care?” she challenged with an arch look.

“Not one second of one day. I’m in love withyou, not your grand new face and hot-as-feck body.” He rubbed his fingers over his lips to hide his grin before saying, “But I’m not sayingI wouldn’t let you ride me like a cowgirl all the way to Monday, any way you wanted.”

“It was Sunday.”

“Aye, but today’s almost over, and I want the full five days of shaggin’ with ya.”

Laughing, she shook her head.

“I love you, too, Eoin O’Malley.”

Her telepathy came through loud and clear, and he wanted nothing more than to storm across the room and sweep her into his arms. But there would be time enough for embracing if Damian could reverse Odessa’s mischief. If indeed itwasBrenna’s aunt who had created their problem.

“Gran said neverto give my blood to anyone.” Brenna’s stomach was in knots. She’d been repeating that phrase like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man for the better part of an hour. The Aether could help, but only if she offered up the one thing she shouldn’t.

“It’s for the amulet, and Eoin will always have it in his care,” Damian explained with far more patience than she deserved at this point. “It’s the only work-around I have at the moment.”

“And if we show up on Odessa’s feckin’ door and demand she cancel her bleedin’ spell? What then?” Eoin demanded, likely as frustrated as the rest of them.

Alastair had arrived with Spring after spending most of the day searching for a cure for Brenna’s woes, and they were all ready to pull their hair out. Apparently, Succubus spells were close to indestructible.

“You could, and I’d gladly go with you. But Odessa is her strongest in her lair, where she can draw on her family’s ancient power.”

Brenna stopped pacing by the window and faced them. “But isn’t her magical line and mine one and the same? Wouldn’t I be able to outfight her if it came down to it?”

“You’re a novice, child,” Alastair said. “Even with youth and strength on your side, she’s had a hundred years of craftiness on hers.”

“I can’t understand this level of evilness. First stealing my magic, then killing Gran—her own sister!—and nowthis? That bitch!” She pressed her head to the frosty windowpane, trying to cool down. Her temper was close to the boiling point, and she was ready to do battle with Odessa regardless of the outcome. “Okay. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Brenna.”

She locked eyes with Eoin.

“You’ll be makin’ yourself vulnerable, love. Tread carefully here. No decisions need be made today, yeah?”

“I can’t explain it, but I feel like our time is running out. Like if we don’t do this now, we may never be able to.”

He appeared troubled by her words, running his hands through his hair and causing his bracelets to click together. The sound of bead against bead against metal was loud in the stillness of the room. “Jaysus. And what if we call Ronan Fuckin’ O’Connor? He’s a Guardian now. Can’t that scut do somethin’?”

“A Guardian isn’t stronger than the Aether, son,” Alastair explained. “The two can work in conjunction with their magic and, yes, easily defeat a Succubus in the process, but to break her spell, she’d need to die.”

“I’m all for that,” Brenna inserted heatedly. “Not that I’m bloodthirsty or anything, but she’s done enough damage to last a lifetime.”

Eoin grinned in the wake of her declaration. “Sure, and she’s angered the wrong woman, she has.”

“Damned straight!” She clenched her fists, ready to teleport to Odessa’s house and end this nightmare. Well, she would if she knew how to teleport, that was.

Alastair rose to his feet and crossed to Brenna. He took his time studying her face, making her wonder what he saw. “I understand your rage, my dear. More than anyone here, I think. But trust the process. Odessa Sullivan will get hers when the time is right.”

“She killed my gran,” Brenna retorted, still reeling from what she’d discovered about the events of that day so long ago.

“And she’ll pay. I promise you, she will.”

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