Jessica Andersen - Blood Spells

Glancing at him, she lifted an eyebrow. “You ready?”

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek in a soft, sensual caress. The warm glow of the penlight brought color to his face and lit his eyes, which were a deep, gold-flecked brown. He inhaled as if to say something, but stayed silent instead, and in that instant, she thought she caught a hint of reserve in his expression, the question of whether he dared share the adventure with her. But those were her thoughts, not his, she reminded herself. And there was nothing but the thrill of the hunt in his face when he grinned. “I’ve been ready since the moment I spotted you in the crowd.”

She laughed. “Lame.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m pretty sad in the pickup-line department.”

She didn’t believe that for a second, but the exchange had dispelled some of the tension, putting them back where they had been on the beach, daring each other to make the move. Then, he’d been the one to pull her into the darkness, headed for privacy. Now it was her turn to lead the way.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped across the threshold. And started down.

The air around them cooled as they descended the curving stone staircase in a silence broken only by the sound of his boat shoes, her sandals, and their cadenced breathing. The interlocking stones that surrounded them were uncarved and unadorned, and slippery with a layer of moisture that grew heavier as they went. The air, though, stayed fresh, suggesting that there was an outlet nearby.

“I can taste salt,” Brandt said from close behind her. She was very aware of the heat of his big body, the brush of their clothing, and the feather of his breath along her jaw as he looked over her shoulder, both of them depending on the small penlight.

“Maybe this leads all the way back to the lagoon.” She tried to remember if there was a cliff along the beach, someplace where the native limestone base ran down to the water.

“Or an underground river,” he suggested. “There’s almost no surface water in the Yucatán—it’s all subterranean except for where the cenotes punch through. The ancient Maya used to throw sacrifices into the cenotes, hoping to appease the gods, and—” He broke off. “And I’ll shut up now.”

She glanced back. “Archaeology student?”

He shook his head. “Architecture student. But a geeky one. Day one, when my buddies headed for the cantina, I hit the museum.”

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation that didn’t play, though she couldn’t put her finger on what seemed off about it, or why the realization kicked her pulse higher in a good way rather than bad. Then her pitiful flashlight beam showed that they had hit the end of the staircase, and she couldn’t think of anything except what might lie beyond, where the walls fell away and there was only darkness. She smelled brackish water and thought she heard a liquid drip up ahead, so when she reached the edge of the last step, she aimed the light down, making sure there was something solid for her to step onto.

Without warning or preamble, a crack-boom split the air, and fireworks lit an almost perfect circle far above them with yellow, orange, and red sparks. The illumination brightened the interior of what proved to be a high, arching cavern. Graceful stalactites dripped down, reaching toward a circular pool of rippling water. At the apex of the arched ceiling, a sinkhole had punched through, letting in the night sky, where blue-green pinwheels twirled outward in concentric firework rings.

“Holy shit.” Brandt stepped past her, trailing his hand across the small of her back as he moved onto the wide strip of soft limestone sand that separated the curving cave walls from the lagoon. He was staring up at the circle of sky. “I didn’t know there was a cenote at El Rey.”

“The door was hidden somehow. Maybe the sinkhole was too.” She came up beside him, looking not at the sky but at the swirling water.

The Maya—and the Nightkeepers living among them—would have sacrificed their most prized possessions into the cenote, imbuing the water with a power all its own. She stared into the dark pool, trying to sense the magic, which Hannah had described as a humming red-gold haze. She didn’t hear any hum, didn’t see any red-gold, but there was definitely something in the air.

The equinox was in full effect, the fireworks were building to their finale, and she was standing beside a man who fascinated her, compelled her, made her want. And, as he took her hand and twined their fingers together, she knew he felt the same—knew it deep down inside, the same way she wanted to believe that the two of them being there at that moment, together, wasn’t a coincidence.

He looked down at her, his eyes shining with the thrill of adventure and the heat that built between them. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice rasping on the words. “And so are you.”

The simple statement curled warmth through her as she reached for him and he reached for her.

They came together in unison for their first kiss, bodies flowing together naturally, aligning perfectly.

When their lips touched, the fireworks reached their finale, lighting the sky red and yellow, and making the earth tremble.

Heat flared through Patience; her center turned to liquid warmth, her muscles to pulsing need. Oh, yeah, she thought. Or maybe she said it; she wasn’t sure of anything beyond the feel of his body against hers, all hard muscles and a vibrant energy that called to something within her.

She heard a humming noise, though she couldn’t have said which one of them made the sound; it seemed almost to come from the air around them as it gathered and grew, seeming to circle them, going faster and faster.

What the hell? She grabbed on to Brandt, digging into his solid strength when the spinning buzz gained traction, becoming a vortex that sought to pull her away from him. She screamed and clung, but he was already gone. Then she was rushing, spinning, moving at incalculable rates of speed while somehow staying still.

Gray-green whipped past her, scraping off the layers of innocence and enthusiasm, and aging her six years in the space of a few seconds.

Not yet! Patience cried in her soul. They needed to know what happened next, how the two of them had gotten their marks when the barrier was sealed, the magic disabled. They needed to know about Brandt’s debt, and why the Triad magic had stalled. What was more, she wanted to know what their first time had felt like, what they’d told each other in the aftermath. Maybe remembering the past would help her figure out what the hell had gone wrong in the present.

She didn’t return to the vision, though. Instead, her body took shape around her with the tingle of neurons reawakening to the real world. But as it did, she realized that she had brought a piece of the vision world out with her: desire.

Heat raced through her veins, lighting her up, making her feel things she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. Excitement thrummed through her as the memory of her and Brandt’s first kiss morphed to the sizzle of a new one in the present. Her lips were locked to his, their blood, power, and heat mingling. Exultation flared as a shudder ran through his body and he awoke, a testosterone-laden Sleeping Beauty coming to life beneath her kiss.

Oh, thank you, gods. The etznab spell had worked.

Relief hammered through her, but before she could say anything, he deepened the kiss, going from participant to leader between one breath and the next. Flames danced behind her closed lids as his free arm came up to wrap around her, catching her in a hard embrace that lit her senses with urgent desire.