“Mind? I can’t think when I’m with you.”
She pulled him down. “Lust is a selfish mistress. Enough talk.”
“Good. Because I’m out of words.”
Chapter Eighteen
Rowan awoke to a headache the size of New York, a clear sign that he had been under an enchantment. He’d had the craziest dream. And what was he doing in an alley?
“Good afternoon.”
He knew that soft, lyrical voice. Not a dream, then. He scrambled to his feet and checked to make sure he was wearing clothes. Relieved that he was dressed and not swinging in the wind, he spun around to locate her. She sat a short distance away, fully clothed, her knees pulled against her chest, her face lost in shadows.
She rose and moved toward him. Each liquid step was measured and slow, as though she were controlling time itself. After the day he’d had, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was. Clouds parted overhead, creating enough light for him to see her clearly.
He stepped back. Her hair color, eyes, even the shape of her face were the same as the enchantress on the island, but there was a difference. Something familiar. A face he’d thought forgotten. Amendment. A face he’d tried to forget. He touched the brand over his heart. He remembered telling the enchantress on the island that if their connection was a blending of two soulmates, he would recognize her even if she used glamours.
But it was much more than a joining of soulmates. He’d known her before. Loved her before. And when they told him she’d died, it had nearly destroyed him.
Anger welled to deepen his voice. “Hello, Morgan.”
Her face tilted. “How long have you known?”
“Just now. Always. Hell if I know. Pick one.”
“You are angry.”
“I’d have to calm down to just feel angry. They told me you died. Why did you trick me? I would have been happy to see you.”
She arched an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Dead, you say? You must have been relieved. The Talons and the Grey Council snapped their fingers, and you left me for them.”
He clenched his hands at his sides. “Now I remember why I left. You are the most infuriating woman. Wait. Why would I have been relieved?”
She waved away his comment. “It no longer matters.”
He reached for her shoulders to turn her toward him. “Obviously it matters. All of it. Why did you leave Bealtaine without telling me? Why did you seduce me just now if I’m such a bastard?”
“You saved the dog, and I wanted you.”
The air heated around him as he leaned toward her, a heart’s breath from her full lips. “You want me?” He drew back. “Wait. A test? I don’t know whether to be grateful or insulted. Because of a dog, you can trust me now?”
“It is a beginning. And you should feel grateful. I could as easily kill you.”
He drew back even more. “It’s all coming back, why we fought. And you could not trust me on the island?”
“There was too much at stake.”
“Ouch.”
“Do not play the wounded warrior. You do not trust me either. Come. We must talk.”
“Whenever a woman says those words, the news is always bad.”
She looped her arm through his. “This time won’t be any different.”
****
He tried to hail a taxi or an Uber as the steady stream of traffic edged past the sidewalk by the alleyway where Rowan and Morgan had made love. Morgan stood beside him, patiently waiting. She was giving him time to process. That was so like her. Morgan thought of others first, and her needs and wants last. Which meant that if she was here, instead of in hiding like the other female Wizards who had escaped the island, something was terribly wrong and she needed his help.
