Stephanie Julian: Shades of Moonlight

Okay, so maybe he’d just go stand in the corner with Lia and—

Mara grabbed his right hand, her gaze once more glued to his. She had the most beautiful eyes. Dark, soulful. He had the feeling she saw so much more than anyone gave her credit for.

As if she’d read his mind, she tugged on his hand and drew him closer until he took the hint and sat next to her. When his ass hit the cushion, she released him and he had to clench his fist so he didn’t grab for her again.

Then Margie turned to face them. “We’re ready.”

This time when Mara reached for him, she didn’t let go.

Race’s hand felt huge and solid around hers and Mara didn’t know why she’d let him go the first time. Her feelings for him didn’t make any sense but then nothing in her life, except Arin, made sense these days.

She would do anything for her son, even undergo this potentially dangerous ritual. Was determined to take back some of what that bastard Ettore had stolen from her. And with Race by her side, she felt strong enough to do it.

The streghe were talking again but Mara had learned to look only at Margie. She usually spoke for the group and, for some reason, Mara could read her lips better than anyone other than Lia and Cat.

“Race, if it’s okay with you, we think Mara should maintain contact with you during the spell work.”

She felt Race’s surprise in the tightening of his hand on hers. She turned to look at him and found his gaze already on hers.

“You okay with that?”

Forcing herself to nod, she let her gaze linger on his lips. He had a beautiful mouth, set in a face she figured most women would consider too harsh, too rough. They’d write him off as a thug. She saw strength. And where other women might see crude, hulking muscle, she saw protection.

She lifted one hand and signed, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Turning back to Margie, she saw the other woman nod. “Okay then. Why don’t you two come over here and sit on the floor.” Margie motioned to the area in front of her. “Race, you sit behind Mara with her between your legs. We believe your inherent magic might absorb some of the shock of the spell when it breaks.”

The streghe took positions around her and Race in a circle but Mara shook her head as she lifted her hands. “Will Race be in any danger?”

She’d signed so fast only Lia had been able to follow her and she translated for everyone else.

Margie shrugged, her mouth twisting in a grimace. “We don’t believe so but you can never tell.”

No. Mara shook her head. She turned to tell Race to go. No matter what, she wouldn’t be responsible for his—

He gripped her shoulder and she found herself much closer to him than she’d ever been before.

His dark eyes held a steady resolve. “I’m not leaving.”

She shook her head. “I want you to leave.”

He reached for her hands, stilling their frantic motion. Then he spoke slowly and made sure she could see his lips. “I’m. Not. Leaving.”

Warmth flooded her chest, quickly followed by a chill. What if something happened to him? What if he was injured because of her? She didn’t want that. This had been a huge mistake. She would not be the reason anything happened to him. With magic, anything could and usually did happen, and it wasn’t always good.

If something happened to her… That would be par for the course. Up until this point, her life had been one giant free fall. But there was no way she would take Race down with her.

Even if she wanted to wrap her arms around those massive shoulders and cling.

Her head still shaking, she firmed her mouth and emphatically signed “No” over and over.

He just covered her hands with his, turned to Margie and nodded.

Frustration and relief warred in her gut and she wanted to scream. Only she couldn’t.

And when Race turned back to her, he separated her hands, clenched together in front of her, and laced her fingers through his. “Let’s get this done. Now.”

Ears still ringing, nerves twitching with pain, Race pushed himself into a seated position on the floor.

What the hell had hap—

Mara.

He shouted her name. At least he thought he did but no sound emerged. Or his eardrums were just that damaged. He couldn’t tell. His throat felt raw, as if he’d been screaming for days. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the smog clouding his thoughts.

What the hell happened? Where is she?

He had to find her. Blinking to bring the world into focus, he reached out, searching. Where—

His hand brushed against Mara’s arm. How he knew it was her didn’t matter. Only that it was. He forced his eyes to focus so he could see her then lifted her into his arms and crushed her against his chest.

Thank the Blessed Mother Goddess. She was breathing, but unconscious.

He released the breath he’d been holding. “Mara. Can you hear me?”

She didn’t move.

Drawing on every ounce of calm he had, which wasn’t much at the best of times, he took a deep breath and forced himself to check out the situation in the room.

Around him, the other women began to stir, picking themselves up from the floor where it seemed they’d all ended up.

He didn’t smell blood. At least not much. Good enough for now.

He returned his attention to Mara. Vaffanculo. He’d done a shitty job of protecting her from…whatever the hell had happened.

Which was a problem for another time and someone else. Right now…

“Mara. Open your eyes. Now.” He used his hard-ass growl, the one that made weaker men cower.

Easily holding her with one arm, he used his free hand to cup her jaw, keeping her face pointed toward his.

“Mara.” Her eyelids flickered but still didn’t open. He leaned closer to her ear, his lips only centimeters away. “I want you to wake up now. You have to wake up. Arin needs you.”

There. That did it. At the mention of her son, she shook and drew in a deep breath.

After at least another minute, her eyes opened. Dazed. Confused. Unfocused.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Blinking up at him, her eyes finally began to focus.

“Mara, can you hear me?”

Her eyes widened in shock and tears formed in her eyes. Then she nodded, smiling so wide it had to hurt.

Her lips began to move…but no sound emerged.

The joy drained from her face and she began to struggle, trying to get out of his arms. He released her reluctantly, ready to draw her back if she moved too far away. He forced back a growl, not wanting to frighten her.

Luckily she didn’t go far. She sat cross-legged on the floor next to him, breathing deeply, the most intent expression on her face.

“Can you really hear me?”

He couldn’t help but ask the question again and he wanted to pump his fist in the air when she nodded.

“But you can’t speak.”

He didn’t make that one a question but she shook her head anyway and her lips trembled as if she were going to cry.

He reached for her again, grateful that she didn’t pull away when he took her hand. “Then we’re making progress.”

The look she gave him was equal parts frustration and joy and her eyes filled with tears again.

Shit. He couldn’t handle her tears. What the hell did he do now? What did she want him to—

“Mara? How are you? Can you hear me? Can you say anything?”

Margie stood in front of them and Race scrambled to his feet, immediately towering over the women. When Mara reached up, he took her hand and pulled her up too.

“She can hear, but she still can’t speak.”

Mara’s hands began to move and, when she was finished, Margie shook her head. “I don’t know what happened but the fact that you have your hearing back is a great first step. Race, are you okay?”