“At least we will have that.” How could they not remain close after what they had endured these past few weeks.
He wanted her. Wanted all of Antonia. Ached for her.
So many nights on her bed was becoming a difficulty with his emotions so strong. He forced himself to sleep with his back against hers when what he really wished to do was crawl beneath the coverlet and curl his body around Antonia’s, but that was too intimate, and he also knew where it would lead.
He wanted to hold her close, caress, kiss and devour.
Philip did not dare do any of those things. At least not now. He wanted no regrets between them when the spell was broken.
“I sincerely doubt I will regret anything that I share with you.” Philip had to believe it to be the truth. How could he ache so strongly for her, desire her with such intensity, and love her without some of it being real?
“We need to know what is true.”
“You just do not want to kiss me,” he challenged.
The side of her mouth quirked. “You know that is not true.”
Yet, despite what either of them may have wanted, neither would act because they were afraid of what they yet did not know.
Antonia glanced up when Philip walked into the library. He had just undergone what she had hoped would be the last change. Except, they hadn’t found a solution and they had just under twenty-four hours before his condition became permanent.
She and his family of witches, along with Samantha, had read every journal, text, document, book, anything that had writing within the vault, but there was nothing to reverse the spell, or to save him from enduring nightly changes.
Her stomach tightened. A sickness and dread had begun to build and filled her being as soon as the last book was put away and they’d all stood there staring at each other.
A weight fell upon her shoulders as she made her way out of the vault and up the stairs. For a moment she had simply stood in the entry, not certain what to do.
She had failed.
“Come into the library.” Lady St. Alban had taken her elbow and pulled her in the right direction.
She was being very kind to Antonia, especially after what Antonia had done to her son.
“I am so sorry,” she said.
“We have discussed the matter. I am more to blame than anyone,” Philip insisted.
He was just trying to be a comfort to her, which she was grateful for, but she was the one who had recited the spell.
“What are you doing, Maia?” Philip asked.
Antonia turned to find Maia seated on a ladder, reading a book that she had pulled from the shelves.
“Are there spell books in here?” Antonia asked. If so, why hadn’t they read them before now.
“Greek history,” Maia answered. “Or mythology for those who don’t believe in gods and goddesses.”
“Why are you reading those?”
“Maybe there were more stories of Lycaon, or a different version of what we have read. Maybe the answer has been here instead of in the vault.”
Antonia had at one time believed the stories of Zeus, Hades, Athena, and such were simply fables and nothing more. That was before she came to Nightshade Manor and learned the ancestry of this family who had come from Greece. They were connected to and received their powers from the Goddess Gaia. Those gods and goddesses simply no longer interacted with humans. Which, she supposed, made it easier to believe that it had all been fiction.
“How many books are there?” Antonia asked.
“Most of these,” Maia blew out a sigh as she indicated to a long shelf. “The family has collected every book known on the subject of Greek Gods, Goddesses, the tales and stories…”
Antonia glanced at the long shelf filled with tomes, many of them worn and ancient. It was unlikely they’d find an answer within, but was also something that could not be ignored.
