Page 2 of Twilight Echoes
Or so quick.
“Did you use black magic?” her sister asked.
Regan nodded.
“Please tell me you didn’t do something to Lady Avery,” her sister said.
Regan’s tongue was thick, like a brick. She could barely speak, much less move her head, but she managed to give it a slight shake.
“I’m calling Dad,” her sister said. “He might be able to reverse the effects of whatever black magic spell you cast.”
Regan’s heartbeat slowed to a painful pace. “It’s too late,” she whispered.
1
Darrell Hughes sat in the back of the auditorium. A vision of loveliness promenaded across the stage in a pair of nude tights, pink pointe shoes with matching leg warmers, and a white leotard with spaghetti straps crisscrossing in the back. He’d been waiting a lifetime to claim his mate, and Lady Avery Windsor wasn’t just any mate.
She’d been visiting him in his dreams for as long as he could remember. Not only was she beautiful with her long light-brown hair, dazzling blue eyes, and legs that reached for the sky. But she had a style and grace. She was poised beyond her years. Whenever she gave an interview—whether it be as a ballerina or as a member of the royal witch family—she did so with a dose of humility that always humbled him.
And she was kind and genuine. Always giving back to the community.
It was difficult for him to believe that the universe had chosen someone of her caliber to be his mate.
He winced as she favored her right knee, doing a basic grand pas de chat. Most people wouldn’t notice the slight deflection, but his seasoned eye had seen more than one ballerina a performance away from the end.
Not to mention the ache that twisted in his joints. If he hadn’t been dealing with this slow, debilitating pain for the last couple of years, he might believe he was suffering from sympathy pains.
But this was something more.
He’d seen a doctor years before the startling discovery with his pack, and they had no answers. They couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but it was one of the many reasons he’d switched from dancer to choreographer.
And, of course, there was the witch doctor.
That had been interesting—and devastating—all in one session.
Tucking his hair behind his ears, he shifted in his seat. He’d imprinted on her when she’d been only five years old. He’d been eleven and her partner for the audition that would change her life. She’d been so much younger than everyone else in her class, but she’d been a natural and all the girls resented her talent, something he understood.
Leaving his mark on her and then having to walk away had been one of the most challenging things he’d ever done. But he’d been a child. He hadn’t even come of age. Yet he’d felt the connection to her heart as if they were beating as one. And now, seeing her again, it wouldn’t take much for them to mate.
An intense gaze.
A tender embrace.
A passionate kiss.
However, he wanted to find a way to slow down that process. He needed to figure out what was wrong with him and deal with that before she connected to him in a way that bound them together forever.
She did a few turns and a leap.
He was mesmerized by her grace and beauty. Everything about her made him want to jump on that stage and declare his affection.
But that would have to wait.
She had a real knack for picking up the steps with perfect technique and very little correction. He knew back then, as did everyone, that she would be a principal dancer.
He’d landed his first significant role as one of the youngest prodigies in a local ballet shortly after their dance, but he’d left his heart with Avery the day he walked out of the studio.
Yanking his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out the picture of him and Avery that her technique teacher had taken that fateful year.
