Taken by Moonlight (35 page)

“Vivienne,
I’m not coming with you. I can’t,” Drew broke off and shook her head. Her eyes
were red and puffy as if she’d been crying recently, and she seemed…terrified.

Vivienne
looked around the living room. Conall was staring at her, but everyone else
seemed involved in some form of conversation or the other. She took a seat next
to her friend. “What—why?”

Drew shook
her head and fidgeted with the edge of her shirt. “Viv, I may not look it, but
I’m losing it over here, okay? We don’t know where Max is, or what’s happening
to him. He could be—” she broke off and Vivienne could tell from her face that
she meant to say ‘dead.’ “I’m not like all of you. I’m human and I don’t…. Viv,
I’m sorry. It’s just too much, okay? I’ve already asked your Mom to take me
into the city.” When Vivienne continued to stare at her blankly, Drew
continued, “You’ll still have my number, and when everything blows over, you
can come visit, or maybe I’ll come visit you. I don’t know how it works. And
you have my e-mail address…and I’ll give you my new address.”

“Wait,
Drew. What if they come after you?”

Drew shook
her head in the negative. “They won’t.”

“How can
you be sure?”

“They
won’t, Vivienne,” Drew said firmly. It was obvious she was trying to convince
herself of it.

“Okay.” She
forced a smile. “Where are you going to stay?”

“My aunt
lives in Brooklyn. I already asked her if I could spend a few weeks there until
I find a place.”

Vivienne’s
brows furrowed. “I didn’t know you had family in Brooklyn.”

“I do. On
my father’s side.”

Drew’s
father had been estranged since she was a baby. She never spoke of him, and
certainly never spoke of his side of the family.

“You can
stay with me until you—”

“Viv!” Drew
muttered, running a hand over her face. When she looked back to Vivienne, her
eyes were pleading. “Viv, I love you. You know I do, but I need normal, and
everything here is just not.”
You are not normal.

She didn’t
say it, but Vivienne heard it as if the words had been screamed aloud. “I
understand. I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“It’s not
your fault, Viv.” She clasped her hands together and said, “Can you call me as
soon as you hear anything about Max? I just need to know he’s okay.”

Vivienne
nodded and Drew gave her a tight hug. “Nothing’s going to change, Viv. I’m just
going to be a couple of miles away, that’s all.”

Max
groaned, barely managing to lift his head. How long had he been chained to this
wall? It felt like years, but couldn’t have been more than days.

He tried to
swallow and ended up coughing. His throat was dry, his stomach hollow. He
hadn’t eaten or drunk since his time in the cell. The human part of him had
long since slinked away, leaving his warlock to withstand the torture heaped on
him in hopes that he would cave. The pale blue of his body was marked with cuts
and punctures that had long since stopped healing. They were draining him,
weakening him. One thing was certain. His father intended to kill him.

The door
swung open, as it had countless times before, and he watched his torturers walk
through. His eyes hardened. If he ever got out of these chains….

“Have you
had enough, Maximilian?” The question came from the female, a bitch as
beautiful as she was bloodthirsty. She approached him and pushed his head to
the side, tracing a gloved finger down his neck.

“Have you?”
His voice sounded brittle but firm.

A cool
smile touched the female’s lips before she moved away. The male approached him,
and Max caught sight of the silver blade between his fingers. Just out of
reach, the male stopped and gestured to the female. The last time he’d gotten
too close, Max had almost taken his soul. He would have succeeded if the female
hadn’t amped up her mental attacks, forcing him to protect his memories and
release his hold on the other’s soul.

He prepared
himself for an attack from the female, barely wincing when it came, and tried
to concentrate on what the male would do. In his weakened state, the male’s
power was an overload, and before he could divest enough of his attention to
the male, the blade was slicing into him.

Max
screamed, his eyes tearing as the silver burned into his neck. He couldn’t last
much longer against these two, and if he couldn’t hold them off, he would be
completely overpowered by his father.

When they
finally left, Max slumped forward. Blood trickled from his new wounds, running
down his body in thin, gothic curtains. He made a decision. It was unlikely he
would last through another session and he couldn’t betray his friends to his
father. If Maximilian could do this to him, it was unimaginable what he would
do to Vivienne.

Calling
upon the last of his strength, which was not much, he pulled his memories
forward. Drew smiled up at him, large brown eyes beckoning him forth. Instead
of indulging in their usual childish barbs, he should have told her how he
felt, what she meant to him. His biggest regret. Vivienne waved to him. Five
years worth of memories surfaced in his mind, and the weight of them was enough
to give him a headache.

His lips
moved, chanting a spell he’d never used, one most witches refused to learn.
Blood beaded his brow and torso as the chanting grew louder. Through it all,
Max heard shouting. His voice crested, and light exploded before his eyes.

Max
collapsed against the wall, his warlock retreating as his human slumped
forward, dead.

“I was
beginning to wonder when you were going to show up again.”

Cassie
hadn’t seen Alexander in days, and had begun to wonder if he’d been a part of
her druid. The part that was trying to get her to realize what she was,
perhaps.

An easy
smile touched his lips but he did not speak. Alexander stood at that water’s
edge with his hands clasped behind his back. As usual, he was shirtless, and
the wind was blowing his hair back from his face. He wore knee-length cargo
pants, revealing muscular legs and perfect feet. If a photographer were around,
pictures would be taken.

Cassie took
a step forward, and stopped.

“So, let’s
say for argument’s sake, that this isn’t a dream,” she began slowly, noticing
that his lips curved even more. Of course it wasn’t a dream. If it was, then
she’d dreamed her mother had told her that she was a druid, that her similarly
druid sister had mated a wolf and had gone to his estate, that she was now
staying with her mother at a safe-house, that a psycho witch leader was trying
to capture both her and Vivienne….

“Just for
argument’s sake. Exactly who and what are you?”

Alexander
turned his head to the side to get a better view of her. She felt slightly
pleased when his eyes ran down her form more slowly than usual, taking in the
V-neck white sleeveless tee, and the little black shorts she’d slipped on for
the past days in hopes of returning to his dreamlike paradise. It wasn’t
because she wanted him to see her in these clothes—of course not—it was just…
warm.

When he
next lifted his gaze to hers it was to ask, “You’ve been made aware of your
heritage?”

Cassie
nodded, blushing a little. Funny that he should know before her. “Yep. Big
shocker. This whole druid thing takes a bit of getting used to.”

Another
small smile appeared, and he returned his gaze to the water. It was more
turbulent than she’d ever seen it despite the sunny day. “I would imagine.”

“So, who
are you again?” Cassie prompted.

He shrugged
his shoulders in a casual manner. “I am Alexander.”

“Nooo, I
thought you were Fabio.” Her sarcasm went over his head because his brows
furrowed, his face grew serious, and he asked in the coldest tone she’d ever
heard him use, “Who is this Fabio you keep mentioning? Is he your male?”

This time,
Cassie’s brows furrowed.
My male
? What era was this guy from anyway?

“No, he’s
not my ‘male.’ He’s a romance cover model. Long, blond hair, huge arms, wears
no shirt—it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head to emphasize how little it
mattered. “So, what are you? Are you some type of dream creature? ’Cause if you
tell me you are, I’ll believe you.” She’d believe just about anything at the
moment.

Alexander
stared at her for long moments before replying, “What I am is insignificant.”

“Look, you
brought me here, right?” She lifted a brow and balanced on a hip until he
finally nodded. “The least you could do is tell me what you are.” When he
stared blankly at her, she continued. “It’s common courtesy.”

“I thought
that fell under the exchanging of names.” He was unfazed.

“Alexander?”
she scoffed, barely managing to keep her eyes from rolling all over her head.
“There’s more than one Alexander, you know. Alexander the Great. Pope
Alexander. Alexander, the acne-prone intern at my job who makes cheap passes at
me.”

“Alexander
Petraeus. There is only one Alexander Petraeus.” He walked over to her. His
gaze held hers and Cassie found herself wondering if he could see properly. His
eyes were so very pale. They seemed even paler today. “Here.” His voice stunned
her so caught up was she in his eyes.

“What—?”

A book appeared
before her eyes. Yes, it appeared. One moment she was staring at his eyes, and
the next, the book blocked her view. It looked old, from the dark brown, almost
black, hard covers and the leather straps that bound it together. It wasn’t
overly large, not as large as the spell book her mother had, but it had volume.

“I don’t
understand. Why are you giving me this?”

“Take it
with you. Keep it with you. Always. You will need it.” His fingertips grazed
her cheek, sending comforting warmth where he touched. And then he was
blurring, and she became aware of another voice. Someone was calling her.

“Wait,” she
cried out, reaching her free hand to him. “You didn’t tell me what you are.”

When she
opened her eyes it was to find her mother standing over her, her hand pressed
to her forehead with her eyes closed. Cassie blinked. Where was Alexander?
Based on the pastel-colored wall, she was no longer in his domain, but back in
the real world. In one of her mother’s safe houses.

“Who didn’t
tell you what they are?” Evelyn’s voice was calm, but something about the way
she asked the question put Cassie on alert.

“I was
having a dream.” She didn’t know why, but instinct told her to keep her visions
of the man called Alexander to herself.

For some
seconds, Evelyn simply stared at her. Before long, a soft smile broke across
her face and she removed her hand. “You seem flustered, ma chère. Are you all
right?”

“Yes, I’m
fine,” Cassie said quickly, emphasizing how fine she was with a series of rapid
nods.

“I know the
past days have been hard on you and Vivienne. I wish I could have kept this
all—
this world
—from you, but I couldn’t.” She paused. “I want you to
know you can ask or tell me anything, yes?” After Cassie’s nod, Evelyn smiled.
“I will be right across the hall.”

As Evelyn
left, Cassie shook her head. Only her mother could make her feel guilty for
something she didn’t even know about. With a sigh, she jumped from the bed and
began a thorough search of her room. Where was the book Alexander had given
her? By the time she was through, all she could do was toss herself onto the
covers.

Alexander,
the arrogant, handsome
dream
guy had given her a book, and she actually
expected it to be in the realm of the real? A weak chuckle escaped her lips.
He’d told her he wasn’t a part of her dream, but what the hell was he? He’d
also told her about the druids before she’d found out from her mother. He had
to be real, relatively speaking.

As she lay
there, thinking about the book and its lack of appearance in her room, she
remembered a spell Evelyn had taught her. Well, it was worth a try.

The words
left her lips like a smooth breeze and she waited. For the zap. Or the pop. Or
something. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes. She’d just done a
revelation spell, meant to bring forth whatever was hidden. The ceiling was
still there. No book levitated before her eyes. With a laugh, she leapt from
the bed and looked to the door. She hadn’t eaten since her whole-wheat bread
and peanut butter breakfast, and she was starving.

She’d taken
a step to the door when she remembered to tidy the bed. Her mother hated messy
beds. Cassie turned, intent on doing a quick haul of the comforter over rumpled
sheets, and froze. Her breathing might have stopped, too, because in the next
instant a whoosh of breath left her body and she was gasping.

The book
lay in the middle of the bed, flipped open. Moving closer, she peered at
perfectly scripted writing on the rustic yet pristine page.