Page 7 of Which Witch is Willing?
Begrudgingly she stomped over and joined the hug. Now the smells of the south fused with high-priced complicated notes of the east. That was Aerin all right. Complicated.
They broke apart, and Tierra moved to shut the door.
“No!” Aerin and Moira yelled together.
But it was too late. The latch caught.
“Well, shit,” Aerin said. “We are now stuck in here.”
“How do you mean?” Claire asked.
“Near as we can tell, this room acts like a panic room. And believe me, there was plenty of panic going on. Turns out Aerin’s a touch claustrophobic.”
“I am not,” Aerin declared.
“Are, too,” Moira fired back. “That wasn’t me screaming and ruinin’ my manicure tryin’ to claw my way out.”
They had obviously spent too much time locked alone together.
“What happened?” Claire asked. “I thought I killed you. How did you get out and how come you didn’t send us a message that you were okay?”
“This room plum locked us away from the world. It’s like we’ve been shut away into another dimension. We couldn’t even access the door to the Standing Stones.” Moira gestured toward the magical door that Tierra had formed from the wood of the outside wall. It opened to the Standing Stones high atop the hill at Siren’s Cry, roughly tenmilesfrom the manor.
“Nothing was getting in or out,” Aerin supplied. “All we could do was wait until one of you thought to look for us here. Took you long enough.”
“Sorry,” Claire said. “We came as fast as we could.”
“So…how are the Horsemen? I know that they are all immortal and everythin’, but are they hurtin’?” Moira asked, her huge, healing heart on her sleeve. Well, not really on her sleeve as she never wore much clothing. But winter was headed their way, and Tierra was interested to know if Moira would finally cover up her amazing attributes. Currently, she wore skintight jeans with frayed hems, and holes in the knees, paired a blue tank that showed her bare midriff and set off her startling aquamarine eyes.
“How did you get out of the castle before it collapsed?” Claire asked.
“Aerin poofed us here,” Moira said. “It was awesome, like somethin’ out of Star Trek.” She turned to Aerin. “Think you could take me to the bayou to check up on Uncle Sal?”
“Me, in the bayou? I’d rather be caught dead in a flea market. Besides, I’m not exactly surehowI transported us here.” She tugged on her ebony, designer pantsuit, adjusting the lay of the center buttons. She’d probably picked up the outfit right off the runway in Paris or Milan, and it most likely cost more than Tierra’s pancaked Prius.
“Take us through exactly what happened,” Tierra prompted.
“Death had just flown off with you right after War dived off the balcony for Claire.” Aerin’s lips tightened at the memory. “Julian, that douchelord, was more concerned over some dusty trunk than my welfare. He left me there.”
“Now don’t be too hard on him,” Moira said. “He told you to transport us out of there.”
“I’ve never transported anyone before. What if I couldn’t do it on demand?”
“You poofed Julian to your bedroom for sexy times,” Claire pointed out.
“That was different.”
“I’d say,” Tierra mumbled.
“There was no pressure, no life and death if I fucked it up. And I’ve never had a passenger before.”
“He had faith in you. And he was right,” Moira said. “We’re here. We’re alive. I thought for sure we were going to be barbequed.”
Tears filled Claire’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought for sure I’d killed everyone. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I'd lost even one of you.”
“Now, sugar, dry up them waterworks, or we’ll all be cryin’ and this room will flood with all the emotion I’m trying to contain.” She sniffed. “Do you know what that twatwaffle Nicholas Kingswood did? Let me tell you. That immortal whip and chain-wielding, kinktastic, snatch hound didn’t even attempt to save me. Didn’t give me a backward glance as he hightailed his ass over to try and finish off Lucy.”
Tierra knew this could quickly turn into a Horseman vent if she didn’t stop it now. She had her own gripes regarding Killian’s controlling and over-possessiveness. While Claire was in the blush of love—poor thing—she was bound to get her heart broken. The Horsemen were immortal after all. How long did Claire really think her relationship with War could last? If they actually survived the end of days, what future would they have together when Claire aged? The same applied to her involvement with Killian. The length of time they had with the men was a small chapter or footnote compared to the span of their lives.
