The dog whimpered again; this time the sound was weaker. The animal wouldn’t survive without help.
“Damn.” Rowan let out his breath, turned around and headed in the direction of the animal’s distress call. Aid cars and police and fire trucks were descending on the scene. No one took notice when he knelt and stroked the dog’s matted fur. The animal’s breathing was shallow and labored. “Easy, boy.”
The dog’s tail thumped once on the ground as though that was all the strength he had left. He was a beauty, with fur the same midnight black as a raven’s feathers. But he didn’t have a collar, and his ribs pushed against his chest. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe the dog had followed the woman into the street, begging for food, or from a primal instinct to protect her.
The animal turned his gaze toward Rowan. The dog’s brown eyes were filled with pain. Rowan glanced toward the crowd. Their attention was focused on giving their report to a police officer who’d appeared on the scene. Rowan would have to make this quick before the officer decided to include him in his investigation.
He pressed his hand over the animal’s chest, transferring the healing warmth of his touch to the dog, hoping it would be enough. When he was younger, he’d healed his cat when she got into a fight with a racoon, and also a half dozen water sprites, three flower fairies and a baby Troll. His method didn’t work on anything larger and resulted in giving the victim false hope. Healing humans or Wizards was not in his bag of magic tricks no matter how many times he’d tried to hone the skill. He’d learned that the hard way when he had tried to heal Lyons’ foster mother after she was attacked.
The animal’s breathing smoothed out and his heart rate grew stronger just as someone pointed in Rowan’s direction. Rowan scratched the dog under his chin. “That’s all I can do for you now, boy. Hope it was enough.”
Rowan rose, and with his hands in his pockets, he headed toward a densely populated sidewalk. Disappearing into a crowd was one of his talents. Being identified as a hero complicated that objective. He’d read somewhere that the words “hero” and “tragedy” were linked together all the time. Made sense.
The Superman character was the perfect example. Like the man of steel, Rowan could move at the speed of light. But whether you donned a cape or put on the persona of a Fire Wizard, the outcome was the same. You were on your own.
A woman wearing a raincoat brushed his side. It was the human he’d saved. He tensed, catching her exotic scent. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Blurred memories roared past, each one more difficult to grasp than the last.
Her mouth tilted at the corners in a smile. He knew that smile. But how?
“Thank you, Fire Wizard.”
He swore under his breath. There could be only one reason she’d seen him for who he was. She wasn’t human. How had he missed it? Were the traffic lights, the damsel-in-distress, the dog, all an elaborate trap? He shook his head in self-disgust. And who was she?
He’d rushed right into the deception like a novice Wizard with a green wand and a heart filled with idealism. Someone must be laughing their ass off. In the name of all the scum-sucking bottom feeders he’d hunted down, why hadn’t he known she was magical?
She stood there, waiting. Green eyes, heart-shaped face, hair piled in soft curls on top of her head.
He knew it fell past her shoulders and felt as soft as silk in his hands.
He knew she tasted like strawberries and honey and smelled like an ocean breeze off the coast of the enchanted Irish island of Hy-Brasil.
He knew how her naked skin felt against his, how the curve of her breast filled his hand, how her naked hips moved…
Without warning, the brand over his heart, the one he’d received during Bealtaine, started to burn. He took a ragged breath. “It’s you.”
****
One minute Rowan was on a busy street corner in Seattle, and the next he was in an alley, draped in shadows and heat. Only a distant hum of life outside the sanctuary managed to penetrate. Rowan wasn’t sure how it happened. Didn’t care. He held the woman from the accident in his arms as memories flashed back in a storm of light. He knew her name and every inch of her body.
“Morgan? What are you doing here?” he breathed against her lips, cupping the back of her neck in his hand.
“I’m glad to see you too.” Her smile was intoxicating as she leaned in.
He pressed his mouth against hers and inhaled her fragrance, drowning in her scent. He’d never met a woman like her. She was everything. Every cliché he’d ever heard, every love song ever written. If he was a poet, he… But he wasn’t.
He was a Wizard. And cursed to love forbidden fruit. Every fiber of his being screamed they were not meant to be together.
His thoughts blurred as though he’d been thrown into a cloud bank. He had a vague sense she was controlling his thoughts. Spell? Glamour? Then, somehow, they were naked. How had that happened? Did he care?
Hell, no!
He wanted something soft to lay her on. The alley was a poor choice for someone like her, used to silks and velvets. As soon as he’d expressed the thought, a bed of pillows appeared beneath them.
She lowered herself onto them and motioned for him to follow.
“You’ve enchanted me.”
“Do you mind?” A soft shadow flitted across her face. He reached out as though he could brush it away. He couldn’t stand to see her sad.
