Part One
Destined by Blood
Prologue
The restlessness wasalmost unbearable. For days, my body buzzed with energy. No matter how many spells I cast or how often I paced, it never abated. I couldn’t sit still, barely ate or slept, and my temper grew shorter and shorter. I practiced spells in hopes that the casting would drain my excess energy. When that was unsuccessful, I’d tried meditation in an effort to calm the maelstrom brewing inside my body.
Finally Finn had taken it upon himself to try to exhaust me. He’d made love to me so many times that my legs were still shaky hours later. Not that I would complain. I loved every minute of it, even if it didn’t resolve the problem.
Still, even after he’d fallen asleep tonight, I lay in bed, wide awake, just staring at the ceiling. After an hour I gave up and got out of bed, opting to make a cup of chamomile tea and putter in the library for a while. Maybe I could find a recipe for a sleeping tonic that would help. I’d tried all the potions I already knew and nothing worked.
I crept downstairs as quietly as possible. If Finn heard my footsteps, he’d get up as well. I appreciated that he cared so much, but I felt guilty about disturbing his rest. My insomnia shouldn’t dictate his schedule as it did mine.
The house was quiet. Peaceful. It was one of the reasons I insisted that we kept my mother’s country cottage north of the Dallas area. Though it was only an hour drive from the city, there was tranquility here. At times, it felt as though this property was thousands of miles from the nearest civilization. I often wondered if my mother had cast a spell on the land to make it seem so.
Fatigue plagued my mind even though my body refused to allow me the rest I craved. I resigned myself to another sleepless night, even as I relished the silence of the house as I made myself a cup of tea. Finn had noticed my penchant for herbal teas and installed an instant hot water tap next to the faucet so I didn’t have to wait for a kettle to boil when I wanted a cup. It was yet another way he took care of me, doing little things to make my life easier.
I carried the mug into the library at the rear of the house, leaving the lights off. Murmuring an incantation beneath my breath, I snapped my fingers softly and the candles set about the room flared to life.
I paced the perimeter of the room, slowly walking past the bookshelves while brushing the spines with my fingers. When I felt unsettled or stressed, I would often come to this room and spend time with the books from my mother’s collection. Invariably, I would find a text that spoke to whatever situation I was dealing with. Sometimes I felt as though my mother were there, guiding me to where I needed to be with the same wise hand she’d used during her lifetime.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I looked toward the door to find Finn leaning against the jamb in nothing but his boxer briefs, arms crossed over his chest. Though we’d been together for well over a year, my heart still thumped at the sight of his mostly naked body. His muscular form was relaxed while his golden skin glowed in the dim light.
It was the look in his gorgeous eyes that affected me the most. Not only the rare purple color of his iris, but the expression they held. He never hid his feelings for me, at least not while we were alone.
“No,” I sighed.
He straightened and crossed the room. Taking the cup from my hand, he placed it on a nearby table and pulled me into his arms.
“What’s going on, Kerry? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, tilting my head back to look up at his face.
“Wound up and restless. As if your skin is too tight.” He leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine. “I’m worried about you.”
I wrapped my arms around him, sliding my palms over his shoulders and absorbing the smooth heat of his skin. “I’ll be okay. I just…” I trailed off because I didn’t have the words to describe how I felt.
“Just what?” he prompted.
“I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen,” I murmured. “Like I need to be ready.”
It was then that I heard it; the high, clear chime of a small bell.
“Did you hear that?” I asked Finn.
“Hear what?”
The chime came again but Finn seemed oblivious. Immediately, I sensed it was coming from the bookshelf and looked in that direction. “That,” I repeated.
He grew still against me and I knew he was listening with more than his ears. When the chime came once more, he tensed. “I hear it.”
“It’s calling for me,” I murmured, stepping out of Finn’s arms.
“Wait,” he stated, putting a hand on my bicep. “We don’t know what it is or who it is.”
“I do,” I answered. “It’s from my mother.” I knew it with every fiber of my being. The bell might as well have been her voice.
