Page 78 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

She stepped in front of the imposter as a fireball shot from Loman’s palm. With her lids squeezed tightly shut, she waited for a searing pain that didn’t come. With one eye, she peeked—and almost wet herself.

Everything and everyone around her was frozen in place. Weapons were suspended halfway to the mercenaries’ shoulders. Reggie and Eoin were back to back, arms raised in anticipation of another attack, raw determination stamped in their immobile features. But more importantly, the fireball designed to fry her savior was paused midair less than a foot from her. The spiteful glee on Loman’s normally attractive face made him positively freakish.

“What the hell?” Brenna whispered.

“Let me guess. You’ve never seen time suspended before,” Fake Ronan said dryly from behind her. His accent was distinctly American in nature.

She squealed her surprise and spun to face him. Only this time, he didn’t look like Ronan at all. At first glance, she thought Loman O’Connor had fooled her, but the energy was off for it to belong to a man so evil. And maybe she should’ve feared the stranger, but she didn’t. “Youdid this?”

Amusement danced in his light-blue eyes as he approached her. “Did you thinkyoudid?”

“I’m discovering more abilities with each passing moment.”

“Only a select few have my talent, sweetheart. It’s doubtful you’re one of them.”

She tilted her head back as she looked up at him. “So who are you, really?”

“First, tell me how you knew I wasn’t Ronan before Loman did. How well do you know him?”

“Just in passing, but your aura is darker. And not as widespread as his.”

“Darker?” It appeared she surprised him with that comment.

Closing her eyes, she hummed a note and concentrated on the stranger’s energy. When she looked at him, he appeared dazed. “Sorry. I forgot to warn you first.”

“What the hell did you just do to me?”

“Nothing lasting. It’s a way I have… I… to look at you…or rather,intoyou…” She shrugged off her lack of manners and control. It must’ve felt like an invasion of his privacy, not to mention the icky feel of another person poking and prodding all his hidden depths. How did she explain she was merely scanning his soul, looking for the cause of the darkness clinging to him? “I really am sorry.”

Curiosity lit his face as he stared down at her. “What did you see?”

“Your wounds are self-inflicted. You beat yourself up over mistakes of the past.”

“That’s a freaky little gift, sweetheart.” He shook out his arms, most likely to dispel the tingling sensation she’d created when she psychically explored his body.

“It’s new, but I like it.” She grinned when she registered he wasn’t angry or put out by her soul scanning.

“Fair is fair, and I promised to tell you who I am.” He only hesitated an instant before holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Ronan’s uncle. Alexander Castor.”

Castor. She’d heard the name in passing. She tucked the small pot and bracelet into her side, and careful to keep her thumb on the amulet, she offered her hand in return. “Not an O’Connor? Because you look eerily similar to Loman.”

A grimace flashed across Castor’s compelling face.

Was everyone in that family hot enough to be an underwear model?

She suspected they were.

“He’s is what you would call my evil twin. And apparently alive and back to his underhanded ways, which was all news to me until a short while ago.” He swore and ran a hand through his long white-blond hair. Blowing out a breath, he said, “I am an O’Connor by birth, but I was fortunate enough to escape the horrors of my family early on.”

She glanced behind her at the dangling fireball. “Um, how long can you suspend time?”

“Not much longer without consequences. It’s probably best you step to the side while I deal with my malicious brother.”

Consequences sounded bad. Scooting out of range, she glanced over her shoulder at Eoin and shoved aside the building dread, prepared to take action. “Can we level the playing field first?”

“I think Ronan has that covered.”

One by one, the weapons turned to metal scraps in the hands of the mercenaries as black tie wraps appeared from thin air and bound their wrists.

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