Page 70 of Cursed Love
“No! There isn’t a chance in hell that man would leave you or my godbaby. He’s there. He’s probably unconscious. Find him.”
Her brows raised. “Your godbaby?”
Peter’s lips quirked up. “Fuck yeah!”
“Not if you’re going to have a potty mouth!”
Peter chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll work on that. Now, focus on Rye, and I’ll call Ethan for you.”
She watched him push to his feet, the muscles in his body tense as he raised the phone to his ear once again.
“You catch all that? Yeah, let the pack know. I’ll keep you posted on what she finds.”
Brandy’s body hummed, her magic and emotions colliding as anxiety built within her. She shut her eyes as Peter turned toward her again, and the faint sound of a phone dialing reached her ears. Sucking in a breath, she shoved Peter and Ethan out of her mind, as she told herself she was not alone.
“Rye? Honey? Where are you? Wake up! What’s wrong? Where did you go? Damn it, Rye!”She called, exuding her power to try to shake their bond like a limb that had fallen asleep.
She dropped her head to the back of the couch, more tears brimming along her lids when he did not respond. Shaking her head, she reminded herself Ryan would not give up on her. She refused to do it to him. “What would Rye do?” she whispered.
Peter glanced her way and smirked. “He’d move heaven and hell.”
“Damn were hearing,” she muttered.
Nodding at him, she leaned forward and closed her eyes. Ryan had found her by tracking her magic. If he was not responding to her, trying to track his magic was her next best bet.
She shut everything out, then sensed Peter in the corner of the room, the smell of earth and werewolf power swirling around him. She caught a trace of him over her shoulder, coming from the bedroom.
Moving her head to the sides, she cracked her neck and released another cleansing breath. She raised her hands toward the faint trace he’d left behind and pushed out her own magic. Using the memory of the fireworks their love had created, she muttered a string of words under her breath.
His face came to mind, watching her sleep before he stepped out of the room. She dug deeper and followed the tether of magic as he slipped from the condo and down the hall to the elevator. His image faded the farther she followed his trail.
Peter gasped. “Holy shit.”
Brandy’s eyes snapped open and met his, the connection to Ryan fading just as quickly. Awe filled Peter’s features as frustration consumed hers. “What the hell?”
Peter’s attention moved from her. “Your sister’s fucking brilliant.”
Her brows pinched together. “What? Why? I haven’t found Rye. I haven’t found shit.”
He cocked his head at her. “You haven’t?” he asked incredulously and nodded to the side.
She followed his gaze and stilled. “What’s that?” she asked, disbelieving she could have created it.
Faint strings of light flowed through the air. Dazzling sparks intertwined and shimmered. It moved in soft waves, begging to be touched. She raised her hand to do just that, and her fingertips brushed the nearest strands.
She gasped and pulled back as an image came to mind, of Ryan over her as they made love the night before.
“What is it, babycakes?” Peter asked, moving to her side.
“I-I don’t know. Touching it brought back a memory from last night.” Her brows creased as she tore her gaze from the shimmering strands. “Touch it. What do you see?”
Peter nodded and reached out. His usually strong, sure hands trembled before he took one string between his thumb and index finger. “I can feel it, but I’m not getting any images,” he said after a moment.
“You can’t?”
Peter shook his head, but before he could lower his hand, she reached out and touched both Peter and the shimmering colors. Her mouth popped open at the vision of Ryan creeping past Peter’s sleeping form and saying, “I know you’ll keep them safe.”
Brandy pulled back and wrapped her arms around her middle. A cold shiver ran down her spine. “What the hell, Rye?” she muttered to herself.
