Page 45 of Charmed

Up went the Minister's brows. "I have a feeling my useless heir has a crush. Pitiable, considering."

"Aww," she drolled. "You have feelings?"

Riley looked torn between wanting to laugh and needing to scream. She could relate. Even if he did go or call for help, Ceara was the only one of them left on the island at the moment, and by the time she got here, it would be too late.

Plan B. "I'll hold them off. Run. Ride your motorcycle straight up the alley. Don't slow down or stop. I'll jump on."

"You want me to what?"

Minion closed ranks and Gregory reached in his breast pocket.

Time was up. They had to move.

Fiona closed her eyes, long enough to summon her gift and pull magick from within. Her blood hummed and her limbs vibrated. Heat infused her core, radiating outward. She drew air into her lungs, balancing elements and becoming one with them.

Straightening her right arm, palm out, she conjured a cyclone around the hunter and slammed him against the adjacent brick wall in front of her, securing him there with wind. Using her left hand, she followed the same pattern with the Minister, pinning them both in place ten feet off the ground.

Her hair whipped around her head and slapped her cheeks as she met Riley's gaze. "Trust me," she pleaded. She braced her feet farther apart, arms extended while her dress billowed in the maelstrom. "Hurry. I don't know how long I can maintain the element."

Jaw ticking, he darted a swift glance at the men, then back to her. A nod, and he sprinted toward the rear of the alley.

While the hunter's expression was panicked, the Minister's seething glare proved how pissed off and shocked he was that she had her powers back. His suit coat flapped, exposing the witching blade he had secured inside the pocket. If she'd waited just one more second, he would've had the opportunity to use it on her, possibly killing her and stealing her magick. Worse, he could've hurt Riley.

She and him were fighters, had trained, but they'd been caught completely unaware today. They'd persevered thus far by the skin of their teeth, yet if anything happened to him, she'd never forgive herself.

She wasn't at one-hundred percent, either, and she shook with force, doing her level best to keep the men imprisoned. Straining, she hissed and curled her lips. They slid a foot, then two down the wall as she lost a margin of control on the air. Her lungs burned and tears stung her eyes. Cold sweat laced her forehead, her arms. Her energy dwindled, wavered, and she pulled Riley's image to mind as a reminder of what she could lose if she failed.

Just as she was about to break, his motorcycle came barreling around the corner. Hunched forward, he revved the engine and gunned toward her. As she'd requested, he didn't slow down or stop. His determined gray-green eyes locked onto hers a fractured beat before he reached her side and he extended his arm.

Drawing in her power, she called back the wind and grabbed Riley's bicep. Momentum shot her forward. She slung her leg over in time to straddle the seat behind him. Dizzy, she wrapped her arms around him, fisting his tee for all she was worth while her heart pounded right out of her ribcage.

At the mouth of the alley, the bike's rearend swerved left. Tires screeched. The engine purred. Riley dropped his foot to the pavement, guided the abrupt turn onto Puritan Street, and straightened them out once more.

She craned her upper body to check behind them, and caught a blip of the two men sprawled on the ground before the buildings blocked her view.

Riley turned his head and yelled over the noise. "Are they following us?"

"No. We're good."

He nodded, slowing the bike a margin.

Dusk was descending, but summer was a busy season on the island and people were out walking, window shopping, or taking in the sights. He wove through traffic on the cobblestone street, seemingly calm and mindful of his surroundings, while she attempted to decompress.

Dang, that had been too close.

He'd trusted her. Flat out, no questions asked, trusted her. He'd done exactly as she'd told him, and because of his actions, they'd escaped. In a way, it was their first test as a unit. They were both upright and in one piece, so she'd call it a victory.

The woodsy scent of his cologne blended with that of freshly cut grass, the sea, and assorted food vendors. She found an odd sort of comfort in it. In him. The solid wall of his back as she held onto him, the ropey strain of muscles in his arms while he gripped the handlebars, the way his black hair danced in the wind... Familiar and new.

Suddenly exhausted, she rested her forehead on his nape and clenched her arms tighter around his torso. It was a blatant show of weakness, but she couldn't muster the energy to give a darn. For once, someone else had her back, had put her in their care, and she surrendered. She could beat herself up about it later.

He braced one arm over hers across his abs. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, not bothering to lift her head.

He must've understood because he squeezed her hand, stroked her fingers, and let go. "I'll get us home in under ten minutes. Lean into the turns. I've got the rest."

Emotion clogged her throat, threatened to escape in the form of tears. Behind her ribs, relief mixed with appreciation and something dangerously close to affection. Her chest pinched.

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