When the Starrs Align: (A paranormal menage romance novella) Page 2

  Women, prestige, power. The Starrs had it all. So why bother chasing her? Because they can, that’s why.

  Someone needed to stand up to these bullies and take them down a peg while it was still possible. She knew the elders on the council had safeguards in place to handle any mage too powerful to contain one-on-one. But she wondered if they’d factored in Chance and Warrick’s unique situation.

  Meh. Not her problem. As soon as she witnessed the ceremony, to make her father happy, she’d go back West. There she planned to join the Seattle coven. She’d been toying with the idea for a while. Life with too many magic users in Darkton hadn’t suited, but a life devoid of magic didn’t work for her either. Perhaps a mix of both would fit her in the grand scheme of things. Because being back here, even for two days, had shown her how much she missed using her skills without having to hide them. Well, at least from those not having the last name of Starr.

  “…and we’d be glad to have you stop by.”

  She blinked and realized both brothers and her father were staring at her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was wool-gathering. What was that, dear?” She had to force herself to add the endearment when she really wanted to knock the warlocks around. Nothing too harmful, just enough to see the Starrs endure a fraction of the humility she’d suffered.

  Her father answered with an odd expression, one that made her nervous because she couldn’t read it. “I was just telling the boys that you’d be happy to escort them home and pay a call on Lisabeth. What with Regan unable to come home now, it’s the least we can do to pay our respects.”

  Had the man lost his mind? She gave them a sickly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Lisabeth is a very important person. I don’t think she’d want me interrupting her during this vital—”

  “No, Ms. Olivia. Our mother thinks the world of you.” Chance nodded.

  That much was true. Despite being born a null—a witch unable to practice magic—Olivia had the wisdom and bloodline of the Rileys in her veins. Though Regan had gained her mother’s “freakish” shapeshifting talent, she too felt a witch’s power humming in her blood, a power she’d never been able to tap.

  “Well, if you’re sure,” she said more to her father than the guys.

  Her dad nodded, his smile too big for his face. She didn’t trust it. Then he was shoving her through the doorway, practically tossing the lot of them out of his house. “Bye, honey. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  She drew a deep breath then let it out slowly, more than aware that the brothers now flanked her, and that Warrick had a tight grip on her forearm. To help her or hold her hostage?

  The gentle smile he gave her told her he hadn’t yet figured out her charade. Best to go along until she could escape. “Regan” would remain out of sight until the blood moon ended. Period.

  They walked along the sidewalk heading for the heart of town, where Lisabeth and Theo Starr had a huge house. But then they made a few turns and instead walked back in the direction toward the brothers’ large plot—the one she’d run from not long ago.

  Chance asked, “So, Ms. Olivia, how’s tricks in Spokane?”

  “Oh, the book business is fine. Life is good. Slow, but good.” Perhaps their mother waited at their house? Regan slowed her step even more, in no hurry to see that witch Lisabeth. Both a literal and figurative description.

  “And Regan? How is your beautiful niece?”

  Beautiful? She stumbled, and Warrick righted her. “What’s that?”

  “You know, your stunning niece,” Warrick rumbled, and she felt the hum of his energy bleeding through their contact, where the weight of his hand seemed to grow heavier. “We’ve looked for her over the years.”

  Her heart raced, and she fought for calm. “Did you now? She was with me. Easy enough to find.”

  “Funny. The few times we stopped by, we had the sense she hadn’t been anywhere near you.” He sighed. “We were so awful to her when we were kids. Our magic turned us ugly. Really ugly.”

  Chance frowned at him. “Some uglier than others.” When Warrick shot him a glare, he continued, “But he’s right. We only ever wanted to apologize and explain why we’d grown so out of control. I’m sure it wasn’t the case, but we felt guilty that maybe Phil had sent her away because of us.”

  Wait. They had a reason for being immature little snots? “Well, you two were a handful.”

  “And we still are, I’m sorry to say.” Warrick’s grip grew tighter.

  Chance had his hand at her neck before she could blink, and the charm that should have been resistant to warlocks and witches alike vanished from her throat. “Welcome home, Regan.”

  Before she could turn into a snarling jaguar, Warrick pulled on her power and darkness overwhelmed her.

  3

  “Okay, I know that wasn’t the best way to go about instilling trust, but you won’t sit still long enough to behave,” Chance said with the utmost politeness.

  They’d been talking for hours, and Warrick still couldn’t tell if Regan was listening to his brother or not, because though her mouth had firmed into a grim line, her eyes seemed cloudy to him. Not the bright, glowing green that usually accompanied her smart-mouthed remarks, but a dull jade, as if the fugue of his temporal displacement spell hadn’t yet faded.

  “Assholes,” she slurred.

  “Ah, there you are.” Chance beamed. The idiot.

  “A word, brother?” Warrick felt safe to leave her be, tied in restraints in the chair and warded against shifting or use of magic aside from what they allowed.

  “What?” Chance didn’t leave his seat facing hers. He and Regan sat knee to knee in the living room of their home, where the little thief had earlier stolen his watch.

  “We’re not convincing her we’ve changed by tying her up.”

  “If we let her go, she’ll take off.”

  “He’s got that right,” Regan said with a slur and a grin.

  Damn, the woman had grown even better-looking since the last time he’d seen her. She had long brown hair threaded with bands of red and gold. Deep green eyes, a haughty nose, high cheekbones, and a mouth made for sin completed the picture.

  Those full lips had starred in more than one fantasy of his, wrapped around his cock while he surged deep. And her body… She had the nicest body he’d ever seen, and he knew she’d fit him and Chance perfectly. He swallowed hard and worked to control his responses.

  If he could have limited that attraction to only the physical, it wouldn’t bother him so much that she couldn’t seem to stand them. But he lusted after her laugh, her quick wit, her joy, her fucking soul.

  Sure, he and Chance had made mistakes with her. But shit, Warrick had been all of sixteen years old and perpetually horny when the nightmare of his obsession started. And while every other girl in school—hell, in town—had made eyes at him or thought him the best thing ever, Regan had treated him and Chance with disdain. Problem was, she was the only girl he’d ever wanted to notice him.

  And the woman still managed to piss him off, arouse him, and shame him that he didn’t act like a gentleman in her presence.

  “Same old Starrs.” She snorted, then laughed.

  “Chance.” Warrick waved at her—an unspoken order to Chance to sober her up.

  They always understood each other. A twin thing. Light and dark, two sides of the same coin.

  Of the same soul.

  A secret they’d go to their graves keeping.

  Chance sighed and muttered an incantation under his breath that reverberated in Warrick’s mind. Hmm, he wouldn’t have thought to call on air for aid.

  But it worked. He watched as Regan blinked and stared at Chance, then him, with a growing frown.

  “What the fuck did you two do now?”

  Chance smiled. “Well, well. Little kitty’s back. And so pretty.” He eyed the too-small slacks and tight, rose-colored sweater that fitted her like a glove.

  She’d grown out of the tiny shoes she’d worn and was now ba
refoot, her toes painted a sexy red. Small onyx stones in her ears were her lone concession to jewelry. No ring on her finger, as it should be.

  Without the charm that had hidden her true identity, she sparkled like a shiny weapon he longed to hold in his hands. And stroke, long and deep.

  “Why is he looking at me like that?” she said to Chance, keeping her gaze averted.

  “Who, Warrick?”

  “Yeah. He looks like he wants to eat me.” The moment she said it, she froze. “Uh, I mean, like he wants to beat me or something.”

  Chance’s lips quirked but he ignored the obvious entendre. Good man. “Look, Regan. We’ve been on the wrong foot with you for years. I think it’s time you heard us out.”

  “Typical arrogant bastards. How about you apologize for being such dicks? For making my life a living hell for the last two years I spent in this town?”

  Warrick flinched inside, but he didn’t budge from his stance next to his brother. The shy kitten who’d left town had turned into a hellcat. She’d need that to handle them. God, he was hard.

  “And what the hell, Warrick? Are you eating steroids for breakfast, lunch and dinner?” She sneered at him and said to Chance, “Your work-outs have given Fathead here some muscle for the first time in his life.”

  “See, that’s what’s always interested us in you, Regan,” Chance said softly. “You see what others don’t. How do you know that it’s Warrick who’s added muscle? You haven’t seen him in years.”

  “He’s the warrior, isn’t he?” she asked. “While you’re the mage half.”

  They stilled.

  “How do you know that?”

  She frowned then shrugged. “Who knows? Magic?” she said with a saccharine innocence.

  “No,” Warrick said, and her gaze shifted to him and stayed there. He felt the weight of it, as if she were touching him. By the blood, she made him ache. “You see us. You’ve always seen us.”

  She seemed shaken, then she tossed her hair, pretending indifference. “Whatever. Can I go now?”

  Chance gritted his teeth. “No. Not until you hear us out.”

  “Let me condense it, okay? You were assholes as teenagers. You bullied and tormented me my freshman and sophomore years of high school, after being my supposed friends while growing up. And now I’m to believe you only did it because puberty was hell on you, and you couldn’t control your magic. That it in a nutshell?”

  “Almost.” Chance looked at Warrick. “She nailed it. But now what? I’m not sure how to handle this.”

  “A first in your life.”

  “Shut up. You take over. She seems to listen better to you.”

  “Um, right here. Hello?” She wiggled her fingers over the arm of the chair she was tied to.

  Warrick continued to watch her, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “We wanted you to know how sorry we are.”

  “Apology accepted. Can I go now?”

  He unconsciously flexed in an attempt not to put his hand over her mouth to shut her up. Getting too close would be a mistake, because he couldn’t stop thinking about fucking her. Then he saw it. That telltale sign of interest. A flicker of her eyes as she lingered over his arms.

  “Yeah, I saw it too,” Chance said mind-to-mind, sounding excited. “Keep going.”

  “But you don’t mean it,” Warrick continued. “And I don’t blame you.” To his surprise, she seemed to be listening. For his brother, and for her, he talked more than he normally felt comfortable with. “We never meant to be cruel. We liked you back then, but our attempts at trying to be nice always backfired.”

  “Snakes in my room?”

  “Cats like to play with snakes. We thought we’d help you to shift. Had no idea you had a phobia until it was too late.”

  She scowled. “Setting my antique dollhouse on fire?”

  “That was all Warrick,” Chance said, pointing at him.

  Warrick shot him a glare then turned back to Regan. “I tried to fix up your doll’s dresser, and it backfired.”

  She still looked suspicious, but less tense. “What about Leo Treymore? My very first date. It was at the sundae shop in front of everyone. You turned him into a frog. Was that so I’d shift too?”

  “No. That’s because he was and still is a dick,” Warrick said bluntly.

  “What?”

  “He bet his friends you’d let him kiss you. The date was a setup. Didn’t you think it strange half the freshman class had shown up to the shop on the same day you did?”

  “I thought it weird to see you guys there.” She paused and nibbled her lip, and he barely swallowed a growl. “You know, I had wondered about the crowd, and why Leo ignored me after that. I mean, he knew I blamed you for it. But he seemed almost angrier at me.”

  “That’s because my dear brother threatened to smash his face in,” Chance said with a wide smile. “See, Regan, we didn’t want anyone kissing you.”

  “Nice. So, while I’m all virginal—”

  “You were fourteen.” Warrick couldn’t help it. He growled.

  “—you two were getting lucky every which way! Yeah, we all heard about the Swoony Starrs. How you were getting laid all over the place.”

  “So not true,” Chance denied. “Not until we hit nineteen. Then we were whores. I admit it.” He flinched when Warrick slapped him on the back of the head. “What? You wanted me to be honest with her. So I am.”

  She started to smile then saw him looking at her and cleared her expression. “Okay. So, you weren’t intentionally mean. I can understand that. You even, in your own weird way, tried to save me from disgrace. Which in high school might have been scarring. But why the no kissing?”

  Warrick let Chance take over. His brother was much smoother with words than he could ever hope to be.

  “Because, sweetheart, we were supposed to be your first kiss. And your last.”

  4

  Regan goggled at them, not sure she’d heard right. “Come again?”

  “We’ll get to that soon enough,” Chance said with a smirk.

  When she caught his meaning, she flushed. “Just explain what you meant. This isn’t funny anymore.” To think that all that time they’d been trying to help her, not hurt her, put a new spin on things.

  She didn’t absolve them of all their crimes, because they might have explained themselves long ago and saved her the heartache of moving. Then again, maybe all this was a joke. Get her to believe they were good guys then somehow force her to admit she’d had a crush once. And still did, despite knowing how stupid she was.

  “You’re right.” Warrick, the normally silent twin, said. He was the dark, brooding giant with fathomless eyes who always carried the weight of responsibility on his broad shoulders.

  Despite the men being twins, Warrick had always seemed taller and tougher, while Chance seemed happier, lighter, and not as mean. Anyone could tell by looking at them that they were identical in all ways except for their hair. Black, shoulder-length silk framed Warrick’s face, and cropped strands of white blond capped Chance.

  “Right?” she repeated Warrick.

  “About this not being funny. We’re Becoming, Regan. You know what that means.”

  “You’re coming into your full power.”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that. We need the connection, that special someone who will connect us to the Great Mother as well as to each other.” He sounded serious.

  “You are connected. You’re freakin’ twins.”

  Chance cut in. “Yes, but we’re not whole. We haven’t been for a long time. Not since you left.”

  She stared at them wide-eyed. “You want me to be your familiar?”

  Warrick blinked at her. Chance opened and closed his mouth. Then they looked at each other, and she felt the push of energy signaling their telepathy.

  Chance broke the eye contact and looked at her once more. “Our familiar? Not exactly.”

  “How exactly?”

  “In a way, yes, we want your he
lp. But it’s more than that. We figure we owe you more than we can say.”

  “Well, yeah, you do. I guess.” Bummer that they were stealing her thunder. She didn’t think she’d feel right about messing with them now. That’s if I believe them. Which I don’t, not yet. No. Don’t fall for their looks and charm and talk about missing me. Gah. Weak, weak woman.

  She swallowed hard, aware of their lingering stares that had begun to drift over her body. Her aunt’s sweater clung to her breasts like a second skin. And the pants made it difficult to sit without dying, they were so tight. Aunt Olivia weighed a good twenty pounds less than Regan on a good day.

  She took a deep breath and saw Chance lick his lips as he stared at her hard, traitorous nipples. “Right. So, now that we have this straightened out, how about you untie me? I swear I won’t screw with you again.”

  “My watch is a mess,” Warrick said, his face sour.

  She snickered. “Yeah. I bet.”

  Chance shared her mirth. Then a serious pall settled over the room. She scented undertones of longing and worry. Wait. What? Since when did she experience her cat’s sense of smell when human? Had she been feline, her whiskers would have been twitching, curiosity turning into understanding.

  “You want the truth?” Warrick finally said.

  Considering he didn’t normally do the talking, she nodded, inherently knowing he wouldn’t lie.

  “We want to prove to you we’re sorry.”

  She squirmed in her seat when he crouched in front of her and put his hands over hers, flattening her palms on the armrests of the chair. Heat licked through her, sensual arousal awakening in her the way it always did around him and his brother.

  “Okay, already. I accept your apology. This time I mean it.”

  “I know you do. But I’m not done showing you how sorry I am.” He kissed her before she could breathe, and she couldn’t do more than follow his lips and tongue, because her entire world came into focus in a way it never had before.

  Power lit her up from the inside out. Hands touched her hair, her arms, her thighs. But his mouth didn’t move, drawing forth the need she’d kept balled inside her for so long.