Claiming Trinity (2 page)

“I can’t, I’ve got my patients, and….” she lied.

Her business had dwindled over the months. The mundane were not in need of her unstable sessions. Who in their right mind, or otherwise, wanted to experience their therapist suffer from horrific flashbacks of post-traumatic stress disorder in the middle of their therapy? And when she picked up on their traumas in a visual play-by-play, it wiped out every ounce of resiliency she had left. Eight patients had cancelled in recent weeks. Sage and Cemil were her last two, and, after today, they were done. In essence, she had no practice left.

The sibs knew what they were talking about. Only six months ago, she’d foreseen her uncle’s brutal murder and been powerless to stop it. Her precognitive tears of blood had confirmed his death would be inevitable, just like with both her parents.

“You’ll need this, too.” Sage handed her a small object.

“What is it?” She examined the triangular, swirling symbol.

“It’s a triple spiral labyrinth.” Sage ran her finger over the carved detail. “It reminds me of you, beautiful, complicated, and unique, all in one.” She stepped back and the corners of her mouth retreated with a mischievous grin. “Everyone gets their exclusive charm to enter the portal.”

“Portal?”

“Yes, it’s how paras arrive to the island. Humans take the ferry. Portal transportation takes place at sunset at Portal Central in the para capital city. You can’t get on or off the island without this. It’s your boarding pass, so to speak.” Cemil folded her fingers over the trinket.

“I haven’t agreed.” She shook her head, tears blurring her eyes.

“The arrangements have all been made. We will see you next Saturday.” Sage handed her an envelope. “We sensed urgency for you to attend, so there will be no delay. Details are in there. We have two portal sites. Given your situation, we’ve all agreed it’s best to have you arrive directly at the Wiccan Haus where there will be less traffic and stimulation for you to contend with.”

With a deep breath and her Wiccan Haus charm in hand, Trinity folded her completed checklist of items to pack and shoved it into her pocket. She clutched the handle of her suitcase and mustered the courage to step into the portal.

In a flash, lights swirled around her, the sensation of gravity dissipated, her body lightened, and her limbs lingered in the air. She floated up, twisted, and spun on the spot. A faint but deep voice echoed in the distance. “Incoming.”

In the blink of an eye, she bounced through the end of the portal, crashing into three large, burly men and toppling over a dark-haired stranger.

“Whoa!” He stopped their rolling together and landed on his back. Warm hands gripped her as she came to rest on top of his rock-solid chest, face to face. He chuckled. “You okay, princess?”

The sweetness of his warm breath brushed her lips and tingles of electricity ran over her sides where his hands held her steady. A delectable aroma of amber and patchouli wafted past her nose. Trinity leaned closer to his neck and inhaled then jerked back, lost in the depths of his dark eyes and chiseled features. His stare penetrated her and his touch stirred something deep inside. “I’m…oh, my….” She bit her lip.

“Are you hurt?” He frowned.

“No.” She rested her palms on his chest.
But I don’t think I would notice if I was. My word, you’re handsome
. Warmth curled around her spine, followed by giddy tickles in her tummy. Her body responded to the contact and lulled her other senses. In the next instant, she snapped out of her lustful daze. “I’m so sorry.” She eased to sitting.

His hands settled on her hips. “I’m not.”

Trinity’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at the sudden realization she now straddled the stranger she had tackled. “By the gods, please tell me this did not just happen.” She slung her leg over to kneel on the floor and scrambled up. Another set of hands gripped her under the arms and lifted her to her feet.

“You landed pretty hard, are you sure you didn’t get hurt?” A second hunk straightened her glasses and brushed her shoulder off.

“I had a cushion to break my fall.” She smoothed back her hair to find her tight bun had loosened. She brushed away the rogue locks, and her focus landed on another delectable vision.

Damn her glasses. The rose lenses tinted the colors she tried to see, but she would bet her life she gazed up into a brilliant set of emerald eyes, and maybe his shoulder-length hair held an auburn hue? Tall, dark, and yummy. Her kind of fantasy come true.

“If that isn’t the most embarrassing entrance I’ve ever made, I don’t know what is.” She rubbed her temples and huffed with despair. Pressure pounded in her head and had worsened over the week. This situation didn’t help in the least.

The first guy she knocked down had gotten to his feet. There stood a strapping, six-foot-two, rugged man—perhaps six inches taller than her—with broad shoulders and sculpted arms. His skin-tight ebony T-shirt left little to the imagination as muscles rippled beneath the flimsy material. His fitted cargo pants showcased muscular thighs. Black work boots added to the rugged appeal of this virile stranger. Streams of black ink peeked out from beneath his collar and both sleeves—possibly some serious tribal tattoos? He had the face of Adonis, shoulder-length hair as black as night, and full lips.

“Trinity.” A third man approached, another unfamiliar face, with piercing amber eyes, dark hair, and dressed all in black with work boots. “I’m Rekkus, head of security.”

“Oh…hello.” The Rowans’ description of the large tiger with an edge was bang on. “I’m sorry to crash your party,” she muttered as her cheeks blazed.

Trinity glanced around the small room, horrified to discover her suitcase had tumbled, too, along with a few duffle bags. Her belongings lay strewn across the floor. She scampered to gather her clothes and stuffed them into her case. All three men helped.

“Thanks.” She bit her lips and held her breath. The crash victim handed her a collection of her bras and underwear. “Guess I’ll need those, too.”

She shifted her gaze to the floor to avoid their penetrating stares and found she had also managed to destroy a rack of brochures. “Good grief, I’m on a roll.” Trinity sulked and reached to pick up the scattered papers.

“It’s okay.” Rekkus gripped her wrist. “I’ve got this. Let’s get you checked in before you take out any more of my trainees.”

“Trainees?” She blinked at the men. “What are you training for?”

“We work…in the forces….” Hunk Number Two stammered.

“We’re here for extra ass-kicking by the drill sergeant-major here,” the first one chimed in and waved with a smirk to Rekkus. “Hi, Trinity, my name is Arawn.” He held out his powerful hand.

“It’s so great to…um, bump into you.” She accepted his handshake.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He didn’t release his grip but locked his hungry gaze on hers.

Her core rippled as she penetrated his mental shield, his lustful wishes an open book to her. It felt a little dirty to explore his thoughts without his consent, but oh how easy he made it to read him, more so than most paras she’d encountered.

Rekkus cleared his throat with a tinge of impatience. “And this is Kane.”

Trinity turned to the second man who had helped her up. “Kane.” She accepted his handshake as well and drank in his enchanting stare. Clothed in the same attire as the first guy, he sported a similar physique, just a tad taller and a little leaner, but every muscle as defined and chiseled as the first one.
Damn!

He inspected her from head to toe with wide eyes. “Wow, you’re gorgeous.” He cleared his throat. “I mean…your glasses…gorgeous.”

Butterflies pole-vaulted in her stomach with the simple touch of his hand. His continued gaze into her eyes caused the apex between her thighs to warm.
Oh, Hades, another one filled with lust?
What had she stumbled into, a sailor’s shore leave? Two horny men with forward, wanton desire oozing from their pores, both easier to read than clients who sought her out and paid for her intuitive services. If only she could not know everyone else’s thoughts, she might actually get to relax on this island.

“I’ve, uh, wow! I gotta go.” She snatched up her suitcase and bolted from the room.

“Down the hall to your right. Check in with Myron,” Rekkus grumbled after her.

No way could she handle any more run-ins with gorgeous, testosterone-filled muscle men. What she wouldn’t give for magical headphones to drown out the thoughts she eavesdropped on, especially because she couldn’t turn her ability off when she needed to most.
Luscious hunks from the forces here for training, probably for a quick lay for the week. Work hard, play harder.
There was no way these perfect specimens of virility would have any interest in her. The island, she was sure, would be filled with beautiful women they could pick and choose from, and that would be the end of it. Their internal lust had to have been momentary. She’d been the only woman in the room, and, in absence of any other females, the math worked in her favor. Besides, she wasn’t here to get laid, she was here to heal and get a grip on her unmanageable abilities.

Trinity reached the reception desk to find a short line. She took her place at the end and waited. Three attractive ladies crowded around the desk, speaking to a woman with fire engine-red hair, who sat in the chair and flipped playing cards.

“Who made these arrangements with you? I didn’t take this reservation.” The woman narrowed her eyes at the trio of women making up the short line. Their curly locks of blonde, copper, and brunette fell to above their waists.
These three would catch the sailors’ eyes without a doubt
.

“We spoke with a woman. Not sure who she was.” The brunette flashed a mischievous grin over her shoulder at Trinity then returned her attention to the receptionist.

“All right, everything you need is here. Your classes for the week, all booked together. You’re in rooms four, five, and seven. Take elevator number two, only. Be sure to come down on time for dinner.”

“We are gratified with your assistance,” the blonde replied. They strolled off to the elevators. The sassy redhead pushed the button.

Trinity readied herself to approach the desk, and the woman held up a finger. “One moment please, miss.”

“Sure.”

The receptionist walked to a door behind the desk and stepped into the room. Words were somewhat muffled, until Trinity overheard a brief raise in volume. “Who are they?”

“Sisters,” another woman’s voice replied, irritation tinging her voice.

“I saw something dark in the cards, but it was blocked. I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” the receptionist said.

“We need to tell Rekkus,” the second woman ordered. “He’ll be back in a few minutes. Talk to him when he’s done at the portal.”

While the back office debate went on, the trio of women gathered at the elevator whispered to each other. They glanced in Trinity’s direction and giggled like schoolgirls. Each had high cheekbones, eyes dark as night, and the perfect features cover models would kill for. Their spilling cleavage bested any competition that would vie for the attention of any man or living creature on the island this week. Just when Trinity didn’t think it possible to feel any worse about herself, they proved her wrong. These women were magnificent. She hated them.

Trinity tried to push the internal rumblings of insecurity in her head away. How could it be she was able to read everyone’s thoughts on this island, except these rude women? Even worse, why did she care? On a good day, Trinity wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but their bad-mannered stares and giggling haunted her. A dark veil shrouded them from her acute perceptions. The lack of perception proved a new experience for her—one she had always fantasized to be a blessing—but her wish had quickly been proven wrong. This circumstance befuddled her, and their incessant stares and laughter annoyed her. What in the world could she have done to warrant such catty behavior? Was it her white hair, or perhaps her rose-colored glasses? The elevator dinged, and they crowded into the box, much to her relief.

“I can help you now.” The lady at the desk waved her over.

Trinity approached and peeked at her name tag. She scrunched her nose with confusion. “You’re not Cemil?”

“Oh goodness, no. It’s the only name tag I could find today. I’m Myron, and you are Trinity McWraith.”

She nodded.

Myron flipped another card. “You’re well named, for sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Trinity? You’re surrounded by the number three.”

“I am?”

“You are. In fact, you’re a triple threat.”

The words stung a little. “What do you mean?”

“Smart, beautiful, and funny. Those guys don’t stand a chance in your presence.”

“Oh.”
What guys? And beautiful?
With stark-white hair, pale skin, and a bit more buxom than the average para woman, Trinity never viewed herself as beautiful.

Her uncle had argued against her view every time he tried to encourage her to get out and find herself a mate. The one thing he didn’t want was for her to find another banshee. He went as far as to outright forbid it but never explained why. She avoided men in general. The only person she’d allowed herself to care for since her parents died was her uncle, and even he had met a brutal and untimely demise. Her life experience had taught her the ones she loved would die a horrible death and she was cursed to foresee it. Besides, she was no siren—her talents didn’t include timeless beauty which lured men to her bed or their deaths. Trinity shuddered at the thought of romance.

The redhead flipped another card. “Oh, my….” Her brows puckered and distress filled her eyes. “This won’t do, not at all,” she mumbled. “Sarka will see you in her office.”

Trinity bit her lip. “I’ve only been here five minutes. I couldn’t possibly have done something wrong yet.” Then, she recalled her awkward arrival and a wave of regret shot through her stomach. “My mistake. Where is she?”

“Right through this door, follow me.”

Although the receptionist tapped her foot with impatience while she waited at the door, Trinity didn’t rush to see the curt oldest sister who’d snubbed her before she even had a chance to introduce herself. This sister chose not to arrive at all for the sibs’ first therapy session, which sent a very clear message of how much she valued Trinity’s professional services. She’d heard plenty about Sarka’s edgy side and dark demeanor, a bold contrast to her two more gentle siblings who persisted to find resolution with their grief.