Spanish Nights (2 page)

Armand mumbled under his breath and grabbed the black silk pants. He shoved his legs in and pulled them up to settle on his hips. “Better? Now tell me what you know.”

Crone stood and produced a crystal decanter of amber liquid and two glasses. He filled each halfway then handed one to Armand. “Cyndel has sent you to earth.” He sipped. “To be exact, we are sitting right below our home. She has stripped you of all your power.” His brother stepped in front of him; sympathy swirled in his eyes. “With the exception of your immortality and ability to heal … you are human.”

Armand growled and threw the crystal against the floor. Shards of glass mixed with a pool of amber liquid. “I assume father is working on the situation?” His chest heaved. Certainly Efrain would have this fixed and he would soon be back home.

“Of course he is, but Cyndel has gone into hiding and no one can locate her. Her family claims they have no idea where she is.” Crone shrugged. “I spoke to her briefly before she vanished. It was apparent while she was severely pissed, she didn't want your death. I was allowed to come attend to your needs and see you settled here on earth. However, I can only stay for twenty-four hours before I'm ripped away. Then I can visit once every six months. You will have to make do on your own.”

Armand set his jaw. “I don't suppose the bitch told you how to break this curse?”

“Afraid not.”

Armand turned away from his brother. He didn't want the younger Jinn to see his panic. Instead, he focused on the flames and watched them consume the log like a starved hound. He tried to reach out and grasp the fire with his power, roll it in his palm and call to its strength, but it no longer recognized him as its master. It ignored him like an obstinate child.

The pain cut through him like a hot blade. Everything he knew was gone: his way of life, his family and his very being. However, he was Jinn and prince of the House of Reviana. He would not allow himself to indulge in self-pity.

He pulled back his shoulders and turned to face Crone. “Search every corner of the universe if you must, but find a way to break this curse.”

Crone tipped his head. “You know I will never stop.” He faded away leaving Armand alone.

He clenched his fists. “Cyndel, you should have killed me because if I ever break this spell, I will destroy you.”

Chapter
Two

Makayla stared at the blinking curser on her laptop, it mocked her and reminded her of how useless her life had become. Many years ago, she'd been a New York Times best selling author and at the top of her game, but she hadn't written a word in two years. She tried. God knew she'd tried everyday. Perched in her chair, she’d open her laptop and watch the page go from white to fuzzy gray. After a couple of hours, she'd give up and walk away in frustration. The truth was it scared her shitless. If she didn't produce something soon, both her agent and publisher were going to drop her like yesterdays news.

“Maybe you need to take a vacation. Some place exotic?”

She snorted and looked over the top of her computer at Nikki. The two had been best friends since high school, but Nikki had followed a modeling career while Makayla worked hard to get her first novel published. Fatal Desire had been a dark romance between a dragon shifter and his demon mate. She'd been fortunate to find an agent who'd sold her manuscript to a large New York publisher. The book had been an instant success and put her on the bestseller lists. Three books followed in the series along with a marriage to a man she had considered her soul mate.

That was four years ago.

A year after they vowed to love and honor each other, she caught Eric sleeping with another woman. She'd been devastated.

Nikki closed the magazine she'd been flipping through and tossed it on the glass coffee table. She slipped in behind Makayla and rubbed her shoulders. “A blank screen.” Nikki sighed. “I have a friend who owns a home in a small village in Spain. It's remote and beautiful. The people are wonderful. Let me call him and see if it's available.”

Makayla pulled the lid closed on her laptop knowing there would be no words written today. Hell, she hadn't written since the divorce. The bastard had broken her heart and taken her muse. “I don't know. A trip does sound wonderful but Spain? That's just crazy.”

Nikki spun the chair so they faced each other. “Seriously? Kayla, you need to see this place. You'll fall in love, and the best part is it's rent-free. You only need to get there.”

She chewed her lip. It was tempting, but she'd never left the country before unless she counted Canada.

“I can hear your brain rattling. Stop looking for an excuse.”

“I don't need an excuse. Spain is a long way away from home and I don't know anyone there.” If she were honest with herself, it both scared her and excited her at the same time.

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Oh for god sakes, Kayla, take a risk. You took one a long time ago, remember? You wrote your first story and sent it off to that list of agents. Remember all the rejections you got?” Nikki sighed. “You didn't give up. You went back out there with a new list and started over.”

Sympathy pooled in her friends eyes.

“Take a risk again. Don't let that asshat ex of yours ruin your life. Take it back, sweetie, and have the last laugh.”

Makayla's pulse raced. Her friend had a point. If she got away from here, maybe her mind would finally clear and she could write. She rubbed her hands together and tried to warm them. “You're coming with, right?”

Her friend shook her head. “I'd love to, but I have a big shoot coming up. Besides, maybe for once in your life you can be warm. The weather there is beautiful.” Her bottom lip curled upward. “Who knows, you might meet a handsome Spaniard who will heat your bed and give it to you good.”

Makayla rolled her eyes and shoved her friend out of the way. Standing, she headed toward the kitchen for a glass of wine to take the chill off. The doctors never figured out why her body stayed cold even in the heat of the summer. Great Nana had said she needed the fire to complete her. Kayla had never understood the old woman and her crazy tales. “I'm perfectly fine not having sex.”

Nikki snorted. “No woman is fine not having sex for two years. It's just not natural.” She followed her to the kitchen. “Besides, how can you write a steamy romance when you've forgotten how to fuck?”

She unscrewed the cap to the bottle of Moscato and filled her glass to the rim. Setting the bottle on the counter, she pushed it toward her friend. Nikki was like a sister to her. She'd stop in and stay for as long as she could between assignments and she'd been there when Makayla had to go to court for the divorce. Nikki had been her rock. She took a long sip of wine, letting the sweet taste coat her tongue. God, her friend was right though. She'd let Eric ruin her life, but could she pick up the pieces again?

“It's not that I don't want sex.” She closed her eyes trying to remember what it felt like to be wanted and realized she had no idea. Eric certainly hadn't needed her. Did a man exist that could make her the center of his world or was she living in a fairy tale? “You're right. How can I write romance when I've forgotten what it's all about?” She opened her lids to find her friend staring at her, a twinkle in her green eyes.

“Then I can call?”

“Why not? I've got nothing to lose.” Makayla raised her glass and the girls clinked the cheap crystal together. Maybe this would be the turning point she desperately needed.

*****

After a nine-hour flight and four hours on a bus, Makayla was exhausted to put it mildly. As they reached the top of the mountains and headed into a small valley, the village came into view. Her excitement grew. She’d never left the country before and truth be told, Spain had always been at the top of her wish list. She was lucky to have such a good friend in Nikki; even more so that Nikki had friends in high places. She would have never been able to afford to rent a villa in this sleepy, little town.

As she gazed through the dirty window, she noted how the homes were sprawled out from the town square and grew bigger in size as they reached the outskirts. It was obvious the people with money either lived or vacationed here.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they pulled into the local service station that doubled as the bus station. Darkness would be upon them soon. Kayla departed the bus and searched for the people designated to take her to the villa where she’d be staying.

A young man, who appeared to be in his teens, stood with a sign in his hand that read: Makayla. She approached. “Hello, do you speak English?”

The boy’s face lit up. “Oh yes,
senorita.
Are you Makayla?”

She giggled. “I am. I just need to get my bags and then we can go. So what’s your name?”

“Lucas, and I will help you with your cases.”

She smiled. “Your English is very good. Oh look, they’re unloading now.”

The pair walked back to the bus and grabbed the two suitcases she’d brought. “Okay, lead the way.”

Lucas waived his hands in the air. “No. No. Let me carry those for you.”

“Okay,” she laughed and followed him to a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle where he popped open the trunk and shoved her bags inside.

With a slam of the lid, he smiled. “Get in and I’ll drive you to your villa.”

She folded herself into the passenger seat and in no time they were buzzing along a winding street dotted with white stucco villas. After ten minutes, he pulled in front of a small one-story building surrounding by a wrought iron fence.

“This one is yours. The Nolan home.” He jumped out of the car and pulled her bags from the trunk. With one in each hand, he rolled them up the walk and unlocked the door.

Makayla followed him inside, pulled some cash from her purse and stuffed it into his hand. “Thank you very much.”

He nodded and gave her a wide smile.
“Gracias, señorita.”
Then ran back to his car.

She shut the door and flipped on the wall switch. The living room and kitchen were one big room covered in terra cotta tile. A brown suede sofa sat facing a large screen TV. The kitchen, with its brightly painted cabinets lent a perfect contrast.

She stifled a yawn, grabbed her bags and headed to find the bedroom. Jet lag had set in and she desperately needed sleep. Too tired to unpack, she climbed into bed and fell asleep to the scent of Jasmine carried in by the breeze.

Morning brought sunlight filtering through the vanilla colored sheers. She stretched and threw off the covers. Looking across the room, she remembered she hadn’t even unpacked yet so she rolled out of bed and made her way down the short hall to where her luggage still stood by the front door. Pulling the bags behind her, she stopped mid-way to the bedroom.

“Oh, coffee.” She eyed the machine sitting on the counter and prayed there was something to put in it.

After a quick look in the refrigerator, she found the coffee and set the pot to brew while she headed for the shower.

Thirty glorious minutes later she was clean and sipping a steaming cup of caffeine in the tiny courtyard to the rear of her villa. Colorful garments floated in the breeze on a clothesline behind her and were framed by white-capped mountains. The scene was surreal. Next on the list, a walk around the neighborhood and then she’d unpack.

Chapter Three

Armand stared out the window and looked down the hillside at the village. His village. A place that had first been his purgatory was now his home. As if he'd had a choice. Cyndel had condemned him to the Pyrenees Mountains of Spain but his real home was high above the mists.

Stripped of his Jinn magic and unable to leave the mountain range, he had built a life here as best he could. A modest cabin had turned into a tiny village and now it was a small town with all the modern-day conveniences. Because he'd retained his immortality, he had to be resourceful so the people here wouldn't become suspicious. They believed his forefathers were the original founders and builders of their small community. That meant he had to make an excuse to leave for several years then venture into a cave his brother, Crone, had carved out for him with his magic. There he lived until the locals grew older, and he would come back stating he was a relative of the deceased and start his life over again.

It was a lonely existence to say the least, one he hated and had been his hell for the last thousand years. No matter what his family had tried, they had been unable to break the curse, but Armand refused to give up hope. There had to be a way to return him to his former life, though he wasn't sure he even remembered how to be a Jinn. Armand hadn't felt his Jinn stir since he'd been imprisoned here. Often the heat was so unbearable he would lie in a tub of ice just to cool down. Being unable to release his power or shift to smoke was like keeping an animal in a cage. He was slowly suffocating.

After a few hundred years, Armand had finally grown accustomed to living as a human and had come to love the people of his community. They relied on him and he threw himself into looking after their needs. There wasn't a building in this town he hadn't assisted with either financially or physically. Thanks to Crone, who brought him gold and jewels during his visits, he had at least been able to live comfortably.