Spells Cast In Shadows

Warning SEX RATING: SIZZLING/SCORCHING This book is for sale to adults ONLY as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

SIREN SEX Rating SENSUAL: Sensual romance with love scenes comparative to most romance novels published today

STEAMY: Heavy sexual tension; graphic details; may contain coarse language SIZZLING: Erotic, graphic sex; explicit sexual language; may offend delicate readers SCORCHING: Erotica; contains many sexual encounters; may contain unconventional sex; will offend delicate readers

SEXTREME: Excessiveness; many instances of unconventional sex; may be hardcore; not for the faint-hearted

Gracie C. McKeever

Spells Cast in Shadows Driven by recurrent dreams to take an ill-advised predawn ride around her ranch, Montana Freeborn stumbles across something in the road from those wildest dreams: a real live centaur. At least she thinks so. By the time she reaches the supine figure trampled beneath the hooves of her prize Appaloosa, she begins to wonder if her eyes deceived her, since before them now is a man, a magnificent, unconscious and very naked man. Cast out from his tribe as a punishment for causing the death of a fellow Sapphiran, Seth Phoenix is an arrogant young centaur of royal heritage infatuated with the human race, and now, after a twist of fate, forced to count on one of its ranks for his survival. His one chance at redemption––brokered with the Black Elf by his desperate mother, Thyra Phoenix––could be the key to his mother's freedom, or his own downfall…

SPELLS CAST IN SHADOWS Gracie C. McKeever

Siren Publishing, Inc.

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SPELLS CAST IN SHADOWS Copyright © 2006 by Gracie C. McKeever

First E-book Publication: July 2006 ISBN: 1-933563-33-8 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. All cover art and logo copyright © 2006 Siren Publishing, Inc.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Spells Cast in Shadows By Gracie C. McKeever Copyright © 2006

Prologue Lake Cenon, Border between Sapphira and the Human World Twenty-Three-Years Previous Seth Phoenix pulled to a sudden stop at the forest’s edge when he heard the desperate cries and splashes from the lake. He stood beneath the lush canopy of a large aspen and peered out at the clear waters where he saw a tiny brown head briefly breaking the surface before sinking below again. A human child! He could not make out its sex from where he stood, but he could not let him or her drown without at least trying to help. He was not a barbarian or a mountain elf, after all. Seth dropped the sack containing the leaf and fruit specimens he had so far gathered on his data collecting expedition and ran toward the water’s edge. He kicked off with his powerful back legs and dove into the lake, quickly paddling out to where he had seen the child last. He glanced around him for several seconds in vain, wondered if perhaps he had actually seen a child drowning or if it had been his imagination coupled with his desire to make contact with a human. His father could not understand Seth’s preoccupation with the species and had told him time and time again that humans would eventually be his undoing. Seth always easily ended the discussion by bringing up how his father met Seth’s mother.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth now spotted bubbles on the surface of the water a couple of feet away from him. He dove beneath the water where he saw the little girl—eyes closed, arms helplessly pointed at the sky—as she slowly descended. He dove and swam down to her, grabbed her in his arms, and kicked his way back to the surface. Seth paddled to the lake’s edge, climbed up on dry land, and carried the child in his arms to the forest bordering his world and hers. He positioned her on her back in the grass to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He'd almost lost hope of reviving the little girl with conventional methods. He went through the multi-step process—pinching closed her nose, breathing into her mouth before applying compressions on her chest—several times before the child coughed up a mouthful of water. The first words out of her mouth upon opening her eyes and seeing him were, "I knew you were real! I knew I saw a pony-man!" Seth smiled at her childishly confident delivery, taken by the intelligence shining out of her dark brown eyes, and wondered when she had ever had a chance to catch sight of him before today. He knew it was a mistake to stay in one place too long, especially long enough for her to get a good look at him. Seth was breaking more than a few of the elders' codes in letting a human, regardless of her age, see him. He should have left her at the lake's edge as soon as he revived her, but something in him wanted to stay, see her almond eyes stare up at him, and acknowledge his existence as he acknowledged hers. She flung her arms around his neck as he knelt beside her, almost cutting off his oxygen. Her grip was so tight. He had not thought a human capable of such strength, especially one so young, small, and delicate. "Please don't go. I want Mommy and Daddy to meet you. They think that I only made you up.” "I'm sorry, but I must leave, little one." She pouted, tears instantly gathering in her eyes, making them glisten more and adding to their natural luster. Seth put a palm against her face and thumbed away a tear as it rolled down her cheek. He would give anything to stay with her a little longer, learn from her and teach her all that he knew, for so ripe and open a mind he had never encountered, not even among his clan. It was for the very sake of his clan, however, that he could not risk further exposure. "Can't I tell anyone about you?" Seth should have told her no outright. She could and should not speak to a soul about him, but something held his tongue. Perhaps it was the fact that to forbid her would only give her permission and free rein. She was, after all, a child, and could not be expected to keep such a secret. He would have been negligent if he did not say anything at all, especially since it was evident that the child had already spoken of him. So, he said the only thing he could under the circumstances. "My existence must remain our secret, little one." Perhaps knowing that no one 2

Spells Cast in Shadows would believe her in the end prevented him from invoking an amnesia spell or from taking other more definitive measures. He could not bear to trifle with or alter the child's mind in any way. Something inside him wanted to be remembered. She nodded her head and hugged him again as frantic adult voices shouted for her. Footsteps ventured deeper into the grove, coming nearer with each passing second. "Good-bye, little one. Be good and stay well." "Bye-bye, Pony-man!" Seth kissed her forehead, stood, and raced for the dense undergrowth several yards away from the child as two adults—whom Seth assumed were the little girl’s parents—burst through the copse. He watched from his hiding place when the man and woman—their skin paler than the child’s—smothered the little girl in sheltering embraces and cried in relief at finding her alive and well. A lump grew in Seth’s throat while he watched the poignant tableau, both happy for the familial reunion and relieved by his own close call. He had missed being discovered by her parents by only mere seconds. Seth paused before turning to go further into the woods and saw the little girl staring past her parents at him. His heart drummed in his chest at what she might say to them and wondered if she would give him away. He knew that he could outrun any human and make it to Sapphira before any of them caught clear sight of him, but he preferred not having to flee the scene as if he had done something wrong. He had not, after all, and neither had the child. The only way both of them had erred was in being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Standing his ground would necessitate invoking three amnesia spells instead of one. Seth preferred not to use his abilities in this way if it was not absolutely necessary; indeed, his race was raised to avoid casting spells on humans at all cost. They left this sort of intrusive behavior to the elves. “Montana, you gave us such a fright, child!” “Don’t be too hard on her, Dusty. She can’t help her adventurous soul. She’s a Sagittarius after all, like her daddy.” Seth watched as the child’s father smoothed a hand over her wavy brown hair. He held his breath as he peered into her dark eyes. His heart tripped when he saw a flash of himself with her—Montana, as an adult—in these very woods, him naked, her fully clothed and leaning over his unconscious…fully human form! He shook his head at the intensity of the vision. He’d never been plagued with anything like it before. His gifts, like those of most centaurs, were self-healing, and spell casting, though Seth’s abilities expanded into the realm of the Oreias elves to include healing others as well. He had never, however, manifested the ability to see into the future. Montana dragged her eyes away from him to look at her mother and father. She took each of her parents’ hands in her small ones and squeezed.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth’s heart stopped in his chest. Goddess, this child is going to give me a heart attack! “I’m sorry I scared you, but I just want to go home now. Can I, please?” “Then home we go.” The man picked Montana up and flung her onto his back, galloping in place. Montana wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled and squealed at his antics. “I swear you spoil her rotten, Michael,” Dusty said, obviously trying to hide a smile. Seth grinned at her efforts and watched as the man trotted away. The woman followed behind them, shaking her head and chuckling. Montana glanced back at Seth over her shoulder, gave him a tiny, secret wave, and mouthed, “I won’t tell,” before grabbing onto her father’s neck again with both arms as her human family departed the forest’s edge. Seth finally headed into the forest toward his home, strangely disappointed at the little girl’s parting message and anxious for the future he had seen in her eyes.

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Spells Cast in Shadows

Chapter 1 Sapphiran Colony, Somewhere In Colorado Twenty-Three Years Later, Present Day Seth gaped at Nyssa who lay supine in the grass; he was frozen in place seconds after the rifle shots had taken her down. Goddess, he had led his best friend to her death! He rushed now and knelt beside her broken and bullet-ridden body. Crimson blood stained the rich green of the grass beneath her. He pressed his palms to the wounds and his hands became soaked with her life-fluid as he closed his eyes and concentrated. Heat from his glowing hands surrounded her midsection, but she continued to bleed out, too badly injured even for Seth’s skills. Goddess, what sort of ammunition had the humans used? He feared not even Sapphira’s more experienced healers would be able to help her. Seth hooked his arms beneath her. He had to move her quickly before the hunters came to claim their kill. He lifted her into his arms and carried her just beyond the edge of the woods, glancing out to see the two shooters break through the forest on the opposite side. They charged into the clearing, rifles at the ready. Panting, the camouflaged-clad men frantically glanced around, looking for their prey. “Where the hell did it go?” one asked. “It couldn’t have gone far. Look at all the blood.” The other pointed to the large spot of red in the grass where, only moments before, Nyssa had lain. Seth ducked further into his hiding place as they circled the area. Alone, he could have made it back to Sapphira unseen, but he could not leave Nyssa, and carrying her would slow him down and endanger them both.

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Gracie C. McKeever Goddess, he had to wait for the barbaric oafs to leave! How could he have breached the boundary between worlds and allowed harm to come to his own kind? How could he have risked discovery yet again, only this time with much more disastrous results than letting a human child catch sight of him? Had he not learned anything after his close call with the little girl more than two decades ago? Seth had a flash of his few moments with Montana at the lake before Nyssa’s weak voice pulled him back to the present. “Seth…” He shook himself guiltily at thinking of another female—a human no less—while Nyssa lay dying in his arms. “Do not fret, Seth. It was not your fault.” “You are too forgiving, Nyssa. This is all my fault.” She reached up to touch his face and he swallowed hard at her tenderness. “All will be well, Seth. I am not your destiny. I know that now. I wish it were not so, but…” Nyssa coughed and her entire body wracked with the effort. What did she mean, she was not his destiny? Had she had a vision of his future? Had she seen someone else meant for him? Montana. The name flashed through his mind even now with him at his depths of despair, a constant harbinger of a future he was sure now he would never live to see. Nyssa caressed his cheek and smiled despite her agony. “My beautiful, sweet Seth. Always searching for…answers…always curious…” “Do not speak, Nyssa. Save your strength.” “There is no help for me, Seth. I am dying. We both know it.” “But—” “Tell my parents I love them and…that they should not blame you for this.” He had about as much chance of convincing Megara and Arion Theron of his innocence in this affair as the Black Elf, Demogorgon Loxias, had of passing as a centaur. No, Arion—one of the principals of the Directorate along with Seth’s father—would ask for Seth’s head for the death of his only daughter, and he would probably get it, considering Seth’s blemished history and anti-establishment views. Seth knew all this, and he was ready to accept his punishment, indeed deserved whatever sentence the governing body of his people saw fit. Causing Nyssa’s death was a far more serious transgression than allowing a child to see him, and he well knew it. He had been warned numerous times about getting too close to the human world, about the dangers he courted each time he went out gallivanting—as his father called his excursions—in the woods. “One day, someone will be hurt and pay for your folly, Seth. I only hope the damage will not be irreparable…”

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Spells Cast in Shadows His father, sadly, had been proven right this day. His folly had killed Nyssa. Now he would have to return her body home to her parents for a pyre rite and turn himself in for judgment by the Directorate. “I love you, Seth.” His throat constricted, preventing him from returning her sentiment. He was ashamed that even at her death he was not able to give her what she had so craved in life: his love. He had trusted her implicitly with all his innermost dreams and fears and hopes. Next to his mother, she was his only confidante, and he loved her as this and a friend. But he did not love her as a centaur male loved his female mate. “Good-bye my sweet Nyssa…” He choked back a sob as he watched her close her eyes and breathe her last breath. She had spoken of his destiny. What good could his life possibly come to now without her? What destiny awaited him now, besides a quick execution? **** "Cercyon will not beg for our son's life." Thyra Phoenix paused and stared at Demogorgon, willing him to read her mind so that she would not have to go any further, so that she would not have to tarnish the reputation of her mate's royal lineage by prostrating herself before his enemy. The Black Elf only stared at her, his dark eyes depthless and unreadable. She took a deep breath, bowed her head, and closed her eyes before murmuring, "But I will." "You have always been the more idealistic of the two. Perhaps it is your human half." Thyra shook her head, not wanting to remember the pastor to dwell on things that had not been for a long time and could never be again. "I'm neither an idealist nor a human, just a mother who wants to save her child." "Nevertheless, perhaps Cercyon does not plead because he knows I will not hear." Thyra averted her eyes. She and Demogorgon both knew how true his words. The Black Elf would do anything to have her, to punish what he saw as her betrayal. He had said as much a lifetime ago when Thyra had turned her back on him to find love with his nemesis. Demogorgon Loxias had a long memory and an even lower threshold for frustration. He did not like to lose, especially not to one he thought beneath him, especially not to the then young prince, Cercyon. "Please do not take out on my son your feelings for his father and mother." "You think me so petty?" She raised her chin and met his gaze without flinching or saying a word. Finally, he rewarded her with a resonant laugh that sent shivers down her spine. Never had the Black Elf's mirth been received with such fear and loathing than right then. "You know me well, Thyra Phoenix."

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Gracie C. McKeever "Demogorgon, you cannot let the Directorate execute my son." She treaded dangerously close to overstepping her bounds with the Black Elf. Thyra knew he did not take orders well, not even from someone for whom he had a soft spot in his dark heart. He especially had not been receptive to her opinions since the truce between the mountain elves of Oreis and the centaurs of Sapphira when he had gained decisive power in the Directorate. He could overturn Seth's sentence. Only he could save her son from certain death. Thyra had briefly considered seeking out Alyosha, the Fair Elf, a being as powerful, if not more so, than Demogorgon. The Fair Elf was one of a very few beings to whom the Black Elf deferred, it was said. But no one in Sapphira had ever seen Alyosha. His name was spoken only in hushed, reverent whispers throughout the colony and the mountains of Oreias. Half the colony believed Alyosha a myth that the mountain elves had concocted to intimidate surrounding regions as insurance against attacks. The other half believed Alyosha to be as self-seeking as Demogorgon. The latter was more a result of Sapphiran's long-standing and innate distrust of elves in particular and other fairy folk outside of centaurs in general. The motion and vote that had brought Demogorgon to Sapphira, so far the lone Oreias representative on the Directorate, had been split down the middle but for one Council member. Thyra Phoenix had cast the deciding vote in favor of the Black Elf joining the Directorate's ranks. She hoped now he would not give her reason to regret her advocacy. Demogorgon's seat on the Directorate had come not only with Thyra's blessing, but also with concessions from both Sapphira and Oreias and at no minor sacrifice to either. Since the truce between Oreias and Sapphira was still in its infancy—and despite the Sapphiran regent's support—it would not take much to imperil either the truce or Demogorgon’s incumbency. This meant Oreias and Sapphira yet ran the risk of spiraling towards their former strained relations, if not outright war. On the subject of Alyosha, Thyra was in a camp all her own. She believed that where there existed evil and dark, so existed their antipodes—good and light. By Nemesis, she could hope! Demogorgon now invited her deeper into his tent. Reluctantly, Thyra took several steps into his opulent surroundings, a lavish dwelling that could rival that of the Sapphiran king himself. Deep shades of red and gold, and rich textures abounded. They suited the Black Elf who sat ensconced among a stack of silk embroidered pillows strewn across the Persian carpeted ground. Demogorgon produced a decorative phial and offered her a drink. Thyra shook her head, closing the space between them. She seated herself just out of his reach as he poured himself a goblet of the rich, amber liquid. "'Tis aquila. You do not know what you are missing."

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Spells Cast in Shadows She knew exactly what she was missing, and wanted to keep her head as clear as possible during this encounter. She could not allow him to get the upper hand by rendering her head foggy with Oreias elixir. "I would feel much more receptive to your appeal if you joined me." Demogorgon raised the phial again. Thyra reluctantly assented, knowing better than to refuse for a second time. The Black Elf was not one to take no for an answer. Demogorgon poured a healthy amount of the liqueur into a goblet. He handed it to her and arched a brow, waiting for her to imbibe. Thyra tried not to frown as she took a generous swallow of the solution. It burned its way down her throat to warm her belly with sweet fire. "That was not so bad now, was it?" "Demogorgon—" He moved close enough to reach out and brush a cheek with the fingertips of his free hand. "You were saying?" "Please…" She cringed and choked back a sob, ashamed that he could elicit such panic in her heart, ashamed for the first time in centuries of her centaur body. "Quite frankly, I was considering going to the Directorate before your arrival to suggest an alternative punishment." "Yes?" "Rather than execution, I would suggest banishment." "Banishment?" For someone like her son, it might as well be death. Seth thrived on companionship and clan ties. He brought life and light as well as absorbed them. Where would he go? No other tribe would accept him. Of course, that was the whole point of this sort of punishment. That left only one place… "You sentence him to death nonetheless." Demogorgon knew this as well as she did. Her son would not survive in the human world for more than a minute. The second he was seen, he would be destroyed, if not imprisoned as a freak. He would be destined to a life beneath the glare of a magnifying glass, the subject of scorn, fascination and experimentation, which would have been Nyssa's fate had Seth not managed to transport her remains home after the fatal shooting. Demogorgon put a finger under her chin. She felt the tears but vowed, as she had before coming, that she would not cry in front of him. She would not shame herself or the house of Phoenix in that manner. "You cannot hide from me. Especially not your heart." "You take my son from me." "I do no such thing. He brought this upon himself, my beloved Thyra. I just provide the means to his destiny." "You may comfort your conscience in elaborate lies. I see through you."

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Gracie C. McKeever "It will not be so horrible for him. He will not suffer or die." "How can you promise this?" "Of course, we would not send him to the humans unprepared. Before he is exiled, he will be appropriately…made ready." "No!" Thyra gasped. She knew exactly what he was suggesting and she was unsure why she was so horrified by the possibility. Seth would be returning to his roots after all, the roots of at least one of his ancestors. However, Seth was not like Thyra. He was male, first of all, and a centaur—more arrogant and brash than most. He could probably rival Demogorgon in some of his proclivities. Though his fascination and curiosity with the humans had gotten him into his current straits, she did not think that her son would survive among them. His ego would not allow it. "You are displeased with my idea?" "To say the least." "You try my patience, Thyra." "And you are cruel." "Enough!" Demogorgon sprang to his feet, slashing the air between them with a splayed hand. "I am being more than magnanimous. It is banishment or death. You decide." How could she send her son to his death when Demogorgon offered an alternative? She would be a fool, as heartless as the elf. "I want my son to live." "And you, dearest Thyra, what are you willing to give me for my tender mercy?" She had known she would not get something for nothing. "What is it you require?" Demogorgon leered, lifted the goblet to his lips, and swallowed some aquila before he told her. Thyra frowned, her stomach dipping and churning as each ominous word fell from the Black Elf’s mouth. Cercyon might very well try to kill Demogorgon before allowing her to fulfill this proposed contract. Her mate might very well kill her. **** Seth’s mother stood beside his father. Tears that she refused to shed glistened on the surface of her brown eyes. His father was stony-faced but his Adam's apple wildly leaped in his throat as he gulped down his grief. His brother, Endre, also swallowed hard before turning his back on the proceedings, the execution of his younger brother’s punishment evidently too unbearable to witness. Seth stood tall and firm, his hands folded behind his back as he stared into the distance. He gave away nothing of the anguish coursing through his veins. He remained stoic like his father while the Directorate handed down the decree exiling him, one of Sapphira’s favored sons. He would not give the governing body the satisfaction of seeing him grovel.

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Spells Cast in Shadows He was a Phoenix after all, a clan of fearless, proud warriors from centuries ago that had, unfortunately, been watered down through the decades by politics and the need for selfpreservation. Were they as a race safer from mankind since they had put down their arms for anything other than hunting and gone into hiding? Were they any better off than had they let themselves be known and tried to co-exist? His father would have said yes, believing the separatist way was the safest and smartest way of survival. Nothing good would come of going to war, as they might have centuries ago, or of fighting over a piece of land to which they already freely laid claim. The centaurs were few, numbering barely in the hundred-thousands, too few to ever win in a battle with man. Nor could anything good ever come from fraternizing with the humans. Seth’s father had never condoned his youngest son’s field trips taking students out to study humans; he thought it dangerous folly. Seth could believe that humans were dangerous if he considered only what had happened to Nyssa. But he did not want to—could not—discount the goodness and viability of an entire race because of the tragedy that had merited his exile. Perhaps he had gotten his forgiving nature and broad view of the world from his mother. She, after all, did not loathe all centaurs, though she had every right to hate the species and wish them damned to Hades. Seth watched his mother now as Arion Theron called the Black Elf from his place at the edge of the gathering to stand before Seth. He turned from his mother and peered at Demogorgon Loxias, imprinting every feature of the hated elf on his mind right before the Black Elf stepped forward and bracketed his face with both large hands. Seth tried to pull away. “What—?” “Shh, young centaur.” Demogorgon leaned in and kissed each cheek. Seth just barely stopped himself from cringing. He did not want the Black Elf to see him cower, especially not in front of his parents and Endre. Demogorgon leaned close to whisper in his ear. “You have no idea what your mother has done for you, Seth Phoenix, but before this is all over, you will. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.” “Loxias! Do not dither so. Please get on with it.” At Cercyon’s command, Demogorgon abruptly released Seth, stepped back, and gesticulated with both hands before casting a spell in his native tongue. Seth only caught some of the words before vertigo overtook his senses and he collapsed, disappearing in a spiraling blue vortex. The shocked gasps and cries of his family and the rest of the gathering plagued his last conscious thoughts.

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Gracie C. McKeever

Chapter 2 Freeborn Ranch, Colorado Springs, CO—Current Day Montana Freeborn had the dream again, and this time she finally lost her virginity to the pony-man right before he was taken from her in a flash of whirling blue haze. She grew wet now between her legs remembering his naked, muscled torso drenched with lake water, droplets glistening in a neat bush of copper ‘locks, his silvery gaze shot with gold. At twenty-eight, she’d experienced various, immature slap and tickle sessions with a few high school and college boys but had only once come close to losing her virginity. She had never, however, delved into the logistics of what mating with such a being as her pony-man would entail. She had only lost herself in her dreams and the feelings her pony-man evoked. She’d just been concerned with how his hands felt on her skin, firm and gentle as he stroked and opened her. She cared only about the rough silk sensations of his tongue between her legs, licking the insides of her thighs before his lips finally landed on her pussy and lapped at her wetness. Montana moaned and writhed in her sleep as her nipples grew hard and painfully tight. Her eyes finally flew open to stare at the LCD display on her clock radio. Eager to get in her pre-dawn ride and escape the sensual remnants of her dream—especially since there was nothing she could do to sate herself now—she reached out to cut off the alarm and leaped out of bed fifteen minutes before it was set to go off at five o'clock. Montana used to have visions of the pony-man frequently during her childhood and teen years, especially right after he’d rescued her from drowning, but never anything as erotic and vivid as what she’d woken up from just now. She shook her head to clear the fog. She needed to get a move on if she wanted to catch the sunrise. In a few weeks when her kids arrived at the ranch for the summer mentoring

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Spells Cast in Shadows program, she would be deprived the privilege of any early ride just for enjoyment. She had to take advantage while she could. Peppa nosed his way into her bedroom. The large German shepherd pushed past the mahogany door and padded over to her king sized bed to stand at attention, tail gently thumping the floor to convey his eagerness to get a move on. Montana stood and stomped her feet into her boots, then crouched before her dog. She took his face between her hands and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "I know how you feel, baby. Can't wait to get some of that fresh country air into your lungs and your heart to pumping with a nice run." Since she'd been a little girl, growing up in nature's midst, Montana made it a habit of waking up to watch the sunrise whether she had to get up early or not. And since there was always something to do on a spread the size of the Freeborn Ranch, that usually meant she had to get up early. Sunrises and sunsets in the Rocky Mountains were two of the things she'd missed most during her summers away in the Junior Forest Ranger Program and at the Auburn School of Forestry in Alabama. Watching nature's wonders was her favorite way to start off a day, and she took advantage of the sights as often as she could since she'd graduated and come back ‘home,’ a relative term as she'd been living out of suitcases since she'd started work several years ago with the Department of Agriculture. Montana gave Peppa one last pat before standing to go. "Let's hit the road, boy." She headed down the carpeted spiral staircase as quietly as she could, mindful as if she weren't the owner of the ranch and lived in the big house all by her lonesome. She really only needed to worry about bumping into one of the night hawks or wranglers once she made it to the stables to retrieve her horse. Now that would be just her luck She let Peppa out in front of her, pausing on the doorstep to inhale the fresh air and enjoy the spectacular scenery. Rich rolling hills abounded as far as the eye could see, bordered by thousands of acres of national forest. Montana's heart twisted whenever she remembered the lives and property lost to a busy and destructive forest fire season almost two years ago. Wildfires had burned millions of acres of public and private woodlands during that summer, leaving in their wake a crisis of forest health from which the western U.S. was still trying to recover. Peppa froze in his tracks several yards away from the house. He turned back to Montana, his tail wagging frantically. She abandoned her dismal thoughts to follow the dog to the stalls round back of the main house where Sunspot waited. The bay leopard stallion stood at attention as if waiting for her arrival, as eager to get out for a gallop as Montana and Peppa. "Hey, Sunny, ready for a little trip?" Sunspot nodded and whinnied, and Montana rubbed his head. She then offered half an apple as an added incentive that the horse eagerly accepted. Sunny was her baby. The exquisite Appaloosa had a quick mind and a willing puppy-dog disposition. He was not only beautiful to look at, but a joy to ride. 13

Gracie C. McKeever Montana couldn't describe the feelings of euphoria that overcame her when she took Sunspot for a jaunt, merging with his long-muscled movements, his graceful neck and powerful shoulders sublime beneath her. She led the stallion out of his stall and saddled him up, looking forward to a vigorous workout for both of them. Her limbs fairly hummed in anticipation. Perhaps she could work out some of the kinks—in her body as well as her mind. Montana easily mounted her horse, vestiges of a restless night clinging to her consciousness like a jealous ex. She guided Sunspot down the smooth red terrain leading away from the ranch and passed the guest and staff cottages without bumping into anyone. Crowned by a salmon-hued crack of dawn, the Rocky Mountains stretched clear across the eastern horizon. Montana urged Sunny into a gallop and Peppa ran behind them, barking at their heels. Nearing the edge of the grove where the forest began and the ranch ended, Montana raised her face to the dimly lit sky, reveling in spring's airy fingers gently lifting her hair and lightly brushing her face. She hadn't closed her eyes or taken them from the road for more than a second before the shadow appeared out of the darkness without warning. Sunny instantly reared up, blowing rollers as he tried to avoid colliding with—Pony-man. "Whoa, Sunny, whoa, boy!" Montana gripped the horse's reins, squeezing her thighs tight against his flanks as she tried to calm the animal. Good thing she wasn't having one of her clumsier moments, or she'd have taken a header off the horse right to the hard ground! She looked on in horror, heart pounding in her ears as Sunspot's front hooves came down, knocking the creature over and pounding his torso into the ground. She watched him roll from his side to his back. As he moved, his lower half transformed, changing into two human legs before her eyes. She couldn’t believe it. Had she really seen a half-horse, half-man? Sunspot grew quiet beneath her, prancing and walking a wide berth around the figure on the ground. Montana leaned forward and rubbed his glistening neck, gently murmuring to the horse. "It's all right boy. Everything's going to be just fine." When she was sure he was okay and hadn't hurt himself, she carefully dismounted and crept to the stranger's side. What struck her first wasn't that he was indeed a man and not the centaur she had initially seen—and she knew that she had—but that he was naked, just completely and totally na-ked. Montana pulled in a deep breath as she crouched beside him to check for injuries. Her fingers glided over the hard, smooth curves of his chest and abdomen, all the while trying to avoid that sizable area of his anatomy several inches lower and resting peacefully against one thigh. God, he was magnificent! Not that she'd been exposed to that many naked men before, except maybe when she indulged in her guilty pleasure, watching hunk-inhabited soaps every once in awhile. Or when she'd splurge on one of those novelty beefcake calendars embellished with pictures for every month of shirtless cowboys clad in snug jeans that hugged all the right curves.

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Spells Cast in Shadows As far as beefcake and shirtless went, her unconscious stranger was beautifully formed from head to toe. Long, lean-muscled flanks curved up into a slim waist accented by a sectioned abdomen and well-defined pectorals. He had a swimmer's body, elegant, poised, and powerful, even in repose. Her clit swelled beneath her jeans, and Montana simultaneously squeezed her eyes and her legs shut as if this could stop her tsunami-force lust. She bit her bottom lip, contemplating. Heart speeding, palms moist, she itched to touch him, feeling like she was about to do something intrinsically illicit as her hand drifted of its own accord, closer and closer until her fingertips caressed one male nipple. She brushed her hand across his chest, acquainting herself with his smooth pecs, then drifted further down to his abdomen….lower, lower until she made contact with the hair around his cock. She froze. Montana's eyes shot open when she realized what she was doing. Shit, she was horny! How else could she explain this instant hot attraction? Why did she have a sudden uncontrollable urge to molest an unconscious man as he lay injured? Montana stopped gaping long enough to scold herself for her unconscionable act as she berated her foolishness in not heeding Jason's warnings about riding around the ranch in the dim light. She could just hear the I-told-you-so's now, which gave her some pause. She needed to get her injured stranger some help, but how to do that without going back to the ranch and submitting to an interrogation or righteous censure? She certainly couldn't lift him herself. True, she was made of sturdy stock at five-nine, one-fifty, and was in pretty good physical condition having worked hard all her life on the ranch and at various positions with the Forestry Service, but this man had to be six-four and twohundred pounds of solid muscle. Dead-weight muscle at that. Not to mention he was naked. Montana realized she had more qualms about the latter than the idea of actually trying to lift and carry an unconscious and injured man to the house by her lonesome. She pivoted and marched back to Sunspot to retrieve the heavy blanket from beneath her saddle, returned, and crouched beside the stranger before gently covering him with the coarse material. The stranger. Her stranger, she thought, feeling connected to him and oddly possessive, as if he belonged to her and she to him. Montana pulled the cell phone from her belt, flipped it open without much hope of getting a signal. She had to walk several yards away toward the ranch until she was out of a dead zone and able to get an open line. She dialed 911, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sunspot and her stranger were okay. He’d disappeared. "Police operator 169528. Where is the emergency?" Montana gaped and broke into a run toward her horse and the empty patch of grass where she'd left the stranger at Sunspot's hooves. "This is 911. Do you have a police, ambulance or fire department emergency?"

15

Gracie C. McKeever "Sorry. I dialed a wrong number." She killed the connection, dropped to her knees and patted the ground in a sweeping motion as if her darting, questing hands would make him appear as suddenly as he had the first time. "I don't believe this," she mumbled, beginning to think her old junior high school girlfriend correct in calling her a freak all those years ago. Montana got to her feet and shook her head in confusion. She now understood the bewilderment and disbelief she'd seen in the past on more than one friend or acquaintance's face at any allusion to her unusualness. These reactions had only been the tip of the iceberg. If she went as far as to tell someone what was going to happen to them, or what was in their future, the reactions went from incredulous to suspicion and revulsion in a heartbeat. Human nature didn't brook differences well. It balked at and fought what it didn't understand. She'd learned this early on, gifts and freakiness aside. Should she go back to the house and forget what she had seen, act as if nothing had happened? If anything had happened. If she had seen anything… She had, dammit! Her blanket was gone and the impression of her stranger's body was a distinct outline of his big male form in the patch of dirt. He'd been here. And now he was gone, injured somewhere in the forest. Montana raised her eyes and glanced towards the dense grove, squinting, trying to pierce the clump of trees and darkness. Something in her feared going further to investigate. She shook herself, as if to shake off the fear, angry for feeling anything but the basic concern and curiosity. She took several steps towards the trees. His ribs had taken a pounding beneath Sunspot's horseshoes. He couldn't have gotten very far in his condition. Sunspot suddenly neighed behind her, and Peppa barked and growled at the horse's hooves, as if each animal were trying to warn their mistress of danger. Montana froze at the forest entrance, more from the energy seeping out to her from the trees than her animals' anxiety. She knew and respected that trees were living things. She probably appreciated this fact better than the average person did. They turned toward and soaked up the sun like any other living thing, and emitted essential elements into the atmosphere that made it possible for humans to live and breathe. Trees and humans fed off each other. There was something decidedly more than familiar nature and symbiosis going on in that grove that Montana couldn't quite put her finger on. There was something eerie happening that she'd never before noticed all her years living here. She reached out a hand. Warmth radiated from her fingertips to her elbow when she paused. A little further and the heat crawled from her elbow to the top of her shoulder as her arm disappeared into the grove. The limb actually disappeared as if severed from her torso. She froze, absorbed the energy, and reveled in the heat. She closed her eyes as if to better home in on the energy, home in on her stranger. He was nearby. She knew that if she followed her arm, she would find him and probably much more than she was ready to deal with. The braying and barking reached fever pitch behind her until it was all she could do to jerk her arm out of the black hole and bring it back to her side.

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Spells Cast in Shadows What would happen if she just took a step forward and followed her arm into the forest? What was generating the energy? What had swallowed her arm? Montana shook her head, peered into the trees, then pivoted on her heels and headed back to Sunspot and Peppa. She mounted the horse without niceties and consolations. She needed to get away and get back home before she was missed. With the way things were going this morning, she didn't think the latter was that much of an impossibility. Montana almost laughed at her melodrama and wondered how close a call she’d just had. **** Seth watched her ride away. He admired the way she easily urged the stallion into a gallop, skillfully maneuvering the animal across the red dirt and rich grass. He liked the elegant curves of the animal and the way woman and horse melded into each other, moving as one. There was a certain rhythm there, a flow that came from working and playing together hard and often, a synergy of flesh and spirit. He envied the animal. The scent of its mistress still lingered in the air around him, an earthy, exotic mix of sandalwood and myrrh and the woman's own subtle pungent-sweet musk. There was something innately familiar about her, especially about her scent, something that made him want to trade places with the horse and have the human female riding him. Only she would not be riding his back, but straddling his front with his cock cradled between her long soft thighs right before he plunged his hard shaft deep into her hot wet depths. Seth had never been so aroused by the sight and smell of a human female before. Granted his contact with the race had thus far been limited—through no fault of his own—but he had been around and seen and studied his share, though they had never been aware of his presence. As a rule, he was cautious near the human element. He had learned that to be otherwise could result in disaster as when he had seen the little girl by the lake more than two decades ago and she had seen him. Disaster had been avoided this time, but not when Seth’s negligence had cost Nyssa her life. He had been so tempted to grab the woman's hand and pull her into the woods with him. Had he a place in mind to take her, had he a home to which to bring her, he might have done just that. He was, however, a man now without a home or a family. He was a cast-out centaur alone. He thought of his mother, once a human who had suffered at the hands of marauding outlaw centaurs. She had been abducted from her people, raped and ravaged, and left for dead before she had been found and brought back to the Sapphiran village and his father. Their story was legend. Everyone throughout the region—centaur and elf alike—knew how Cercyon had appealed to the Directorate to save Seth's mother's life, the drastic forbidden steps that had been taken to keep her and her unborn child alive. How could he entertain the idea of taking the woman against her will, of doing something even remotely similar to what had been done to his mother? Seth closed his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to enjoy her lingering smell. His breath hitched in his chest and his lungs constricted behind his shattered ribs. He glided his fingers over his right side, unsure of how long it would take him to repair the damage or whether he would be able to heal himself at all in his new form. 17

Gracie C. McKeever A human. They had changed him from a mighty and renowned centaur into a weak and ungraceful man. As much as he admired the race's ingenuity and spirit, as fascinated as he was with the lives men led, mankind was not the most desirable company to find himself in. He had learned this the hard way, learned it at Nyssa's expense. Seth swallowed hard at the memory of his childhood friend's beautiful supple body turned to a rigid mass of blood and shattered bone by a hunter's bullet. Man was cruel, crueler than his own kind had ever been in the past or present, crueler and perhaps more warlike than any centaur. Nyssa had suffered at man's hands. Because of him. His arrogance. His benightedness. Should he be glad that his human form was as far as the transformation had gone? Should he be glad that the Directorate had been merciful in not killing him? They could have turned him into something more aberrant. A female, perhaps? This was surely in their power as well as their tyrannical, sadistic natures. Why else the transformation? Why else the sudden change of heart? Did they think they did him a favor in letting him live? He would rather have died a centaur than endure this ignoble existence. They had taken what he most enjoyed and valued in life, his existence as not just a member of the royal family of Sapphira, but his existence as a centaur, a teacher, and a healer. Seth pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, inhaling the raw scent of stallion and female. He drifted out of the forest and followed the same route the woman had taken. He would find her. She would help him. She was obligated to him for at least that much. She owed him.

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Spells Cast in Shadows

Chapter 3 Montana took a circuitous route back to the house, trying to clear her head, and searching the grove as she rode. She felt as if she'd left something terribly important undone. Short of gathering a search party and starting an all out hunt, she didn't know what else she could do to find her stranger. If he wanted to be found. If he existed at all. The more she thought about the incident, the less she believed what had happened. By the time she reached the ranch, she doubted that she'd seen the pony-man as a child, much less on the road with Sunspot and Peppa. She’d begun also to doubt her abilities, which was easy to do since she hadn't exercised them in so long. She was so preoccupied with work and her dilemma with the ranch she'd buried what came by her naturally. She wondered now if she had ever had second sight at all. Montana had never been the same after that first encounter, searching for the pony-man behind every bush, every tree, in every body of water. She'd given up tilting at windmills in her teens, feeling strangely abandoned for the second time in her life. The sun had risen over the horizon by the time Montana neared the stalls. Several cowboys and rosin jaw—the hired men who did all the non-horseback work—were up and around, starting with their daily chores. When she spotted the ranch's jigger boss roping the cowboys' horses for the day, she knew that Jason was probably up and about in the stalls working with Freeborn's newest foal. The smells of home cooking wafted out to Montana from the cookhouse where the guests and some late-rising staff would soon be gathering for a family style breakfast. Several groups of ranch guests from varying cottages were already gathered around three separate wranglers explaining what was in store for the horseback riding lessons. Montana paused when she spotted Jason in one of the stalls with a horse wrangler preparing one of the foals for his first trim.

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Gracie C. McKeever She sat in the saddle watching the intent look on her cow boss's face as he stroked each leg from the hindquarters to the hoof in progressively increasing steps until he had touched the entire leg. Jason Makepeace was as good with critters as he was with people, letting his actions speak rather than words. The foal sensed it, too. It stood cooperative and still as the cow boss exposed it to new sensations without overwhelming and the wrangler gently put pressure on the lead that restrained the young horse. Montana admired not only the interaction between the foal and his handlers, but especially Jason and the flex of his arm and shoulder muscles beneath his white T-shirt, the delicate dance of bones and tendons beneath deep bronze skin as he tended to the yearling. The young wrangler noticed her first. He nodded to Jason who turned from his work and smiled up at her. "Just back from one of your early morning rendezvous with nature?" She felt her face flush, prepared to tell a white lie, but finally decided against it. Jason would see right through her. "Getting an early start on the day." "Likewise." She paused for a moment longer, hungry for human contact after the incident on the trail, hungry for a taste of normalcy. "Need any help with the fencing this afternoon?" she asked. "You offering?" "Sounds like it." Jason grinned, revealing deep dimples beneath the overnight stubble on his cheeks. "Could always use a pair of extra hands out there." "I've got a horseback riding session this morning. I'll let you know when I'm back and we can ride out and check the fences then." Jason shrugged as he went back to his trim training session with the foal. "I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth." Montana grinned, clucked her tongue at Sunspot and guided him back into his stall to be unsaddled and settled in for his feeding by one of the wranglers. She was eager for Jason's company, his ear. Next to his tactfulness, Jason was an incredibly good listener, good to bounce off her ideas and not worry about censure or bad advice. Sometimes his advice wasn’t popular, but it was never bad. She couldn't count the number of times she'd spent whiling away hours bending his ear as they worked around and surveyed the ranch. Montana made her way back to the house after dropping off Sunspot. Once inside, she slowly mounted the spiral staircase. Peppa ascended the thick pile carpeted steps with her. It didn't seem like almost two hours since she'd gotten up and dressed for her ride. It didn't seem like she’d had a life altering moment out on the trail. At least, it had been life altering for her. For her stranger, the experience might have been life ending if he had been injured as seriously as she thought he might have been. Guilty twinges crowded her insides again.

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Spells Cast in Shadows It wasn't like her to walk out on a job, to leave things unfinished. It wasn't like her to turn her back on someone who needed help. But what if that someone didn't want her help? The stranger’s getting up and leaving certainly indicated he was someone who didn’t want help, at least not help from Montana. Or maybe she was just trying to assuage her ego with the rightness of her decision to leave the injured man behind. Montana tried to keep her cool, focusing her thoughts on what she needed to do before her horseback riding session and the time she would be spending with Jason mending fences. She took a deep breath and released it as she opened her bedroom door and stepped inside. Peppa noticed the difference, the presence, seconds before she did and barked a warning as the door slammed shut behind his mistress. Startled, Montana turned, eyes widening at the sight of her stranger—blanket draped across his broad shoulders, slightly bowed legs firmly planted apart, fists on his hips. He looked like a superhero, new-penny brown skin glistening under the light of the room, a spruce bush of thick curly 'locks crowning his head like a copper halo. Usually she didn't go in for what she thought of as the grunge, new-age look. She wasn’t particularly fond of braids or 'locks on men. But on him…God, he looked even better than he had on the forest floor. "You," she blurted, her gaze unconsciously drifting down his chest to his bruised abdomen. This time she wasn't looking at him at her leisure, and this time nothing about him was in repose. She could see that much from her peripheral vision and vaguely wondered why she hadn't called for help or tried to run. Montana moved her gaze back to his face. The flecks of topaz in his silvery eyes caught her attention and held it. The silent appeal shining there touched something deep in her core, touched where her dreams of him dwelled and made her vaginal muscles clench at the memories. "You will assist me." His deep baritone washed over her like warm molasses. Despite the hitch in his breath, he delivered the command as if she owed him something, as if he owned her. She put a hand on her hip, courage kicking in as she confronted him. Peppa still barked intermittently at her heels. "Why did you disappear? And what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?" He took several steps forward, wrapping the blanket tight around himself. Montana took several steps back, sorry now that she hadn't screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as she'd seen him. It wasn’t too late to call for help. Was it? Why hadn't Peppa attacked? Did the dog sense her fearlessness? Or was it foolhardiness? Or was it just something in the stranger that the animal instinctively trusted, as she did? "You mustn't scream." Gorgeous and a mind reader, too? A dangerous combination. "How did you find me?"

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Gracie C. McKeever He grinned as if at a secret joke then pulled the blanket closer. He hunched his shoulders and he stared at her. "It was your horse that…injured me." She heard the catch in his voice again, and her heart softened at the sound of his shallow breathing. Her chest filled with embarrassment at his not-so-subtle accusation. "Please," he said. So he wasn't a complete tyrant. For a moment there, she hadn't been sure, especially when she glimpsed the regal carriage beyond his pain and heard his nonchalant tone. His voice reminded her of Yul Brynner as Pharaoh in The Ten Commandments, a king addressing his subjects. Whoo, boy, if he weren't hurt, she'd have given him a piece of her mind a long time ago! "I'll get you help." She started past him to the door, but his hand shot out, caught her by the wrist. She stopped and glanced down at his long, elegant fingers. They were surprisingly strong when considering he was bent at the waist and gasping for air. What would those fingers feel like inside her, teasing and brushing before sliding completely inside to stimulate rarely used nerves? How would her body react to his passionate gasps against the shell of her ear, rather than the gasps of pain he was now emitting? Montana closed her eyes and arched her neck for his phantom kiss, growing wet, her pussy muscles tightening in anticipation as she imagined him kneeling over her right before he— "No. I need…I need you…" Her eyes popped open and she shook her head as if to clear it. She tried to pull her hand free, but despite his injury and obvious weakness, his hold was vice-like, a death grip. Death grip? Her horny-dog imaginings had overridden her logic and short-circuited her humility and shame receptors. Her lust had diminished the reality that he could actually die. Oh, God, don't let this strange man die in my bedroom. He collapsed to his knees on the carpeted floor, dragging her with him. Montana winced as she tried to extricate herself, glaring down at him as he stared up at her, silver eyes hot and dark like storm clouds. "You must help me," he said before he passed out, finally releasing his grip on her. For a long moment she stood, gawking at him before she finally paced a wide berth around his unconscious body, wondering how she was going to handle this. He'd tracked her down to help him. When she'd offered to get him help, he'd stopped her. No. I need…I need you… He needed her…to do what? Montana crouched at his side, touched three fingers to the side of his neck and felt a weak pulse. Her gaze traveled down the length of his body again, pausing on the bruises that seemed to

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Spells Cast in Shadows be fading even as she watched. She lowered her head to his chest and listened to his shallow breathing for several long seconds. Then his exhalations leveled off, began to sound almost normal. Not that she'd know exactly what "normal" was for someone like him. She crawled around him, positioned herself behind his head, hooked her arms under his, and dragged him over to her bed. She was breathing heavily but not out of breath by the time she reached the foot, glad she'd kept herself in shape all these years. Had she been less so, or of smaller stature, she never would have been able to handle his hard-muscled length. Peppa silently stared at her from the bedroom door, tilting his head to one side, looking frustrated that he was being left out of the fun. "If you could help me, Pep, I wouldn't hesitate to ask." Montana took a few deep breaths then heaved her stranger up onto the bed beside her. She pulled and dragged him as gently as she could under the circumstances, then drew down the comforter to cover him. She flipped open her cell phone—not sure when she had decided to keep him here and not call an ambulance—dialed Dr. Marcus’s number by rote. How would she possibly explain this to him? He had been her family's doctor for as long as she could remember, and he was the soul of discretion. Whatever else this situation called for, privacy was at the top of Montana's list at the moment. And not just for the sake of her reputation—which she didn’t give a flying fig about after everything that she'd been through the last several years—but more for the thought of exposing a centaur-turned-man to the world at large. **** "You're sure he's going to be all right?" "Monty, I'm not in the habit of giving false diagnoses." She wasn't in the habit of taking in strange injured men, but desperate times called for desperate questions. "I'm sorry, Dr. Marcus. It's just that he gave me a scare, passing out the way he did. I didn't know what else to do." He nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walked towards the staircase. "I understand your concern. He was a mite banged up, but from what I could see during my examination, he seems to be recovering quite nicely on his own, bruises almost totally faded, no broken bones. Are you sure that Sunny came down on him full-force?" Montana nodded, incredulous herself. No broken bones? Bruises almost faded? How? She knew more than a few of his ribs had been broken in the accident, had heard them crunch beneath Sunspot's hooves. She also remembered the bruises fading before her eyes. Dr. Marcus gave her a pat on the back. "You shouldn't worry, Monty. He's the healthiest trampled man I've ever seen. Healthy as a horse, actually." If you only knew. Montana grinned to herself, holding in a hysterical laugh. "Who's healthy as a horse?" Jason appeared at the bottom of the staircase as Montana and Dr. Marcus neared it. Montana handed the older gentleman his coat and hat from the nearby coat rack. 23

Gracie C. McKeever "Give me a call if his condition changes. Otherwise, just make sure he doesn't strain himself inordinately and that he gets as much bed rest as possible." Marcus paused in front of Jason and tipped his hat. "Jace." "Doc." "I'll see myself out," he said over his shoulder. "Thanks for coming out, Dr. Marcus." "Wanna tell me what in Sam Hill is going on?" Jason asked. "Someone was injured out on the road." "Was it one of our guests? How?" She'd been rehearsing for the last hour how she was going to explain this to her astute and concerned cow boss. Now that the moment was upon her, she couldn't find the right words to lie. "I did it when I was out riding with Sunspot earlier." Jason's sharp blue eyes flicked up to her closed bedroom door. "How badly is he hurt?" "You heard Doc. Badly enough for bed-rest but well enough to make it up here to the house before collapsing." "Why didn't you say something when you got back?" She shrugged, heart pounding in her throat. She hoped he couldn't see the pulse jumping in her neck. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure what had happened. It…it was dark, and by the time I'd dismounted he was… gone." Stick as closely to the truth as possible, she thought. The best way not to get tripped up. She hated lying as much as she hated liars. Jason caught her by the shoulders. "I was worried about you. When I heard Doc had been called up to the house and you hadn't made it down for your horseback riding session…" He shook his head, pulling in a deep breath. "I didn't know what to think." "I'm fine." "I warned you against those pre-dawn rides." "I know, and please don't scold me now. I feel bad enough already. Besides, everything turned all right." "This time." He frowned. Montana watched him as he released her. He took off his hat and raked a hand through rich chestnut waves. She wondered what was going on behind those deep blue eyes that made him look all the world like a young Clint Eastwood when he squinted at her. "So, is this guy an unaccounted-for guest, Monty, or some slick drifter out for a free ride? Either way, I don't think I need to tell you we could be looking at a lawsuit." Montana gawked. That was the most she had ever heard him say at one time since he'd been at the ranch. "I don't think I need to tell you how much you sound like Richard." Jason flashed her a grim smile. "As much as I don't like the gunsel, sometimes he has a point about covering your sweet patooty."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Thanks for that wonderful, if also quaint graphic." "Pleasure." Montana grinned at his customary laconic tone, then turned from him to head up the stairs. When he called up to her, she stopped and turned back. "You still coming out with me to check the fences later?" "I said I would." "And what about your new houseguest? What are you going to do about him?" Distrust and petulance colored his tone. She knew that she'd have to make a stand now on behalf of her stranger. Their association had to appear proper and above reproach. He had to appear decent and safe, a man under her protection and the umbrella of her kindness and concern, certainly not a mythological being she'd almost killed out on the road. Montana turned back to Jason and descended the couple of steps to stand before him. He was roughly an inch or two shorter, several pounds lighter, but basically a physical match for her stranger. The last thing she wanted to do was raise any more of his suspicion. The first thing she needed to do for her stranger was get him some clothes. "Jace, I need a favor from you…"

25

Gracie C. McKeever

Chapter 4 Seth threw off the comforter and got out of the bed as soon as the healer, what the woman called a ‘doctor,’ had left the room and closed the door behind him. He stood at the door and listened to them discussing his condition for a moment before a third voice joined them as they walked down the stairs. The third voice was a human male. He sounded younger than the healer who had seen Seth and very much possessive of the woman. Seth scented the man's desire through the closed door, scented his jealousy and virility. He might well have given a centaur in heat a run for his mate. He smiled. He knew what drove the young man. Having only been in the company of the woman less than a few hours, he had himself fallen prey to her allure, fascinated by her strength and spirit. He wanted to experience each of these turned on him, wanted to experience what it would feel like to use his new alien equipment with her. Granted this new cock was much smaller than what he had originally been blessed with from the gods, but it was surely suitable for a human female's tight dimensions. He hoped it would be particularly suited for Montana's wet folds. Seth pressed a palm to the door and closed his eyes, calling forth erotic images of him and her naked, arms and legs entangled as he thrust his cock inside her. Words and phrases for the act of mating and the human parts involved suddenly assaulted his brain. Words and phrases that he had never before heard or experienced imprinted themselves on his mind in a rush of telepathic energy—clit, cunt, pussy, dick… He had never felt anything like this, had never bonded without physical contact. It was as if Montana were force-feeding his brain all the information that he needed to know in order to mate with her. Was Montana the source, or were the images coming from somewhere else? Someone else? Had his inherent centaur abilities been added to and enhanced by the ones who had changed him? 26

Spells Cast in Shadows Seth sucked in his breath, jerked his hand back, and turned away from the door, absently massaging his injured ribs. He had not been sure whether or not his abilities would be effective in this new form, but he need not have worried. He’d had to concentrate a little harder than usual since his natural aptitudes seemed to have been hindered by the suddenness of the change and this new environment. Fortunately, he was able to repair most of the damage before the healer had arrived. What the woman had witnessed as his collapse into unconsciousness as a result of his injury was, in fact, a remedy, his body's way of repairing itself. He wandered his enormous surroundings now, admiring the rustic furnishings. The occupant's preferences were apparent in every natural wood accessory. He felt at one in the room, surrounded by the earthy, Native American designs and colors of the bedclothes and floor covering. Drawn to the artwork, Seth drifted past the bed to peer at the wall above the head posts. The depictions of centaurs—various poses of his kin at work and play—elicited a gasp of surprise at their accuracy. His heart had barely registered the shock and pain of his exile. One plaque in particular, held the image of his father on a hunting excursion, right down to the headband restraining his long mane of black hair. Seth recognized the beard and mustache accenting Cercyon’s strong features and the bow and arrow drawn for employ. Seth leaned closer to read the inscription below the picture, a testament to this ‘archer,’ summarizing the characteristics of the Sagittarius sun sign: original, artistic, active, athletic, daring, charitable. He had noticed the same sort of illustrations and writings throughout the house when he first arrived, stumbling through the woman's abode in the dim light of day and searching for refuge inside. He had early on sensed the woman's affinity for nature and his kin, finding himself at ease in her presence and strangely trusting of her. A picture of the little girl at the lake flashed through his mind like a lightning bolt for the first time since Nyssa’s death. He had tried to forget the only other time in his history when a human, besides Nyssa's killers, had spied him. It was the only other time he had risked his clan's whereabouts and existence. Had it not been for the fact that his witness had been a child barely escaping death from the water's embrace, he could have gotten in far more trouble than had been the case that day. It had been enough he had escaped with a thorough dressing down and a warning from his father that rung in his ears to this day. Human beings cannot be trusted! Seth ran his fingers over the blond wood frame of the picture as if he could capture the memory of his father, absorb the man into his skin from the image. He swallowed hard remembering his last day in Sapphira. Seth shook his head, uncharacteristically overcome with the hopelessness of his situation, trapped and totally out of his element. He had nowhere to go; he was at the mercy of these people—what his father deemed the fairy nation’s natural enemy—who could do with him as they saw fit. He did not have clothes, knew all too well about the laws of man frowning upon nudity, when it was the most comfortable state in which a centaur could be.

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Gracie C. McKeever How far would he get if he left before a law enforcement officer took him in for indecent exposure? How long before another ‘doctor’ examined him and something in his altered anatomy alerted the man or woman to his essential uniqueness? Seth clenched his teeth with impotent rage. His centaur pride and royal heritage would get him nowhere here. In this realm, with these people, he was a no one, or worse, a minor annoyance, what the young male had called ‘a slick drifter out for a free ride.’ He did not completely understand the statement, but he comprehended the basics enough to know he had not been spoken of well. The woman had lied to protect him, and whether she did it out of the kindness of her heart, or just as another form of self-preservation, Seth's chest filled at her custodial conduct, again feeling the alien need to trust her. A picture of her face greeted him as he closed his eyes, pulling on his memories of the little girl at the lake and the beautiful woman into which she had grown. He knew each was one in the same, felt the link of recognition the minute she had retrieved the blanket out at the forest's edge and covered him with it, drawn in by the tangy scent of her caramel skin, the intensity of her dark-eyed gaze, the softness of her long brown hair. Montana. She reminded him of his mother—strength, tenderness and wisdom all combining in a potent feminine cocktail—a woman that it would have taken a Herculean task to deny or rule. Seth smiled at the thought of trying to master her and started when the doorknob turned. The door opened a second later, and he braced himself for her appearance. **** Montana gaped when she saw the empty bed, then gasped as she caught sight of him standing by the wall behind the door. She didn't know what unbalanced her more, that he was up and around and looking poised, as fit and striking as an Olympic swimmer, or that a smile lit his eyes when he saw her. "What are you doing out of bed?" she asked. He turned to face her, a grin slowly spreading across his features. He had straight white teeth that Montana imagined grazing against her neck, nipping the soft skin there before moving further down her body to hit her other erogenous zones—breasts, nipples, clit, and labia—nothing escaping the path of his teeth or tongue. She noticed his light mustache and beard, too, and wondered how the coppery whiskers would feel skimming her cheek and chin during a nuzzle or a passionate kiss. "Ah, my hostess." "You haven't answered my question, Mr…?" She went to him, aware of his closeness once she tipped back her head to glance up into his variegated eyes. He reached out a hand to palm her cheek. "A mite familiar of you, considering I don't know your name," she whispered. What she really wanted to do was take his familiar hand and guide it to the hot crotch of her jeans where her pussy was already wet and the muscles throbbed with immodest eagerness.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "I am Seth Phoenix, son of Cercyon and Thyra of the House of Phoenix of Sapphira." "Well, of course you are! How remiss of me not to have known!" She rolled her eyes. So she had been right. He was some kind of royalty. Why did this fact and his introduction put her on the defensive? For some reason the fact he could account for his lineage in terms of his people and his parents and his place of origin with such certainty and conceit irked her. Perhaps it was his supercilious tone or the underlying meaning of his introduction: I know whom I am, who my people are and where we come from and I am proud. Montana could lay no such claims. The product of a young, unwed Mexican mother and absentee African-American father, she had been adopted at only weeks old. These details of her heritage had been fed to her from adoptive parents who prided honesty and trust above all. They'd always given her the option to know about her mother, had never hid the woman's identity from her. Whether right or wrong, she appreciated their openness, even if she'd never had the desire to search out or meet her birth mother. She'd always thought maybe one day, but so far, one day had never come. She doubted if it ever would this late in the game. "Did you bring those for me?" Seth pointed at the jeans, shirt, and boxers in her hand. Montana shook herself, glanced at the white terry towel riding low on his lean hips. She was glad and yet disappointed that he had surrendered to common courtesy and propriety to cover himself. She offered the clothes, and Seth readily took them. She gawked, mouth watering when he dropped the towel and stepped first into the boxers, then the jeans without turning from her or batting an eye. By the time he had donned the shirt and had fastened a few of the buttons to just below his breastbone, leaving exposed a teasing expanse of smooth copper skin lightly dusted with copper hair, she had come back to most of her senses. Montana dropped her gaze to his bare feet, watched his toes gracefully curl against the Navaho pile. Sheesh, she had it bad. Even his feet turned her on! Self-castigation didn't stop her perusal, only made her admire him more. Slowly raising her eyes, she glanced over the firm lines of his long legs in the snug jeans, up to where his arms were busy tucking in his shirt. The open button at the top of the dungarees almost undid her. "So my hostess, what shall I call you?" She dragged her eyes from his long fingers, forced herself not to imagine them fondling her body, and glanced into his eyes. She pulled in a deep breath, taken aback by the directness of his stare. The beauty of his long curly lashes might have seemed feminine except there was no softness beneath the thick lashes, only undeniable masculine power and deadly charm. She was sure he'd batted those magnificent silver eyes at more than a few female centaurs to get his way. How many women? Was she the first to make his acquaintance? "Hostess? Your title?" "My name is Montana Freeborn, daughter of Dusty and Michael Freeborn of the Freeborn Ranch of Colorado Springs." 29

Gracie C. McKeever "Are you mocking me, Montana?" She felt heat immediately rise to her cheeks at his deep baritone. Her face was surely red. She could barely raise her glance to meet the reprimand she knew gleamed from his eyes. Dammit she hated that he could make her feel as if she were a child who had just misbehaved! Especially when she knew he couldn't be much older than herself, at least not in human years. Hmm, what was he in centaur years? Did the centaurs calculate age the same as humans did for horses and dogs? Montana reined in her rambling thoughts, hazarded a look at him. His eyes held the humorous twinkle of an indulgent parent used to dealing with the wild tirades and temper tantrums of a recalcitrant child, a parent used to having his way in the end. Now who was mocking whom? He seemed unfazed as he turned from her and headed back to the bed, giving her a bird's eye view of the most perfect male butt she had ever seen— tight, muscular and nicely rounded in all the right places. God, it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to notice the beauty of the male form! Despite being surrounded by the most rough-and-tumble collection of masculine, sexy cowboys day in and day out, she hadn’t enjoyed looking at a man as much as she enjoyed looking at Seth. Jason didn't count, of course. He was like an overprotective brother. The rest didn't belong to her, but Mr. Seth Phoenix did. For however long she could keep him here, for whatever reasons had brought him here to her, he belonged with her, to her. Seth took a seat on the foot of the bed, leaned back on his palms, and stared up at her as if he had not a care in the world and being almost stomped to death beneath the hooves of a horse was an every day occurrence for him. She never would have thought from looking at him that he'd been near death's door only hours before. "I have to apologize to you for what happened out on the road." "'Twas an accident." His accent was not only reminiscent of royalty, but he had that same proper Old World vocabulary. It was going to take some getting used to, especially when she was used to listening to the warm southwestern twang of cowboy slang all day. "Come. Sit with me." Seth patted the space on the mattress beside him, obviously expecting her to obey, which Montana did without pause. She left a half a foot between them for propriety's sake, but that made no difference at all when she could feel the heat of his body and scent his powerful male aroma—a tangy combination of her deodorant soap and his own natural musk—wafting out to her from across the room. Everything about him called out to her—his raw sensuality, his male arrogance—in a way no other man had before. Was it because he was her pony-man from the past, someone she had been waiting for all her life? Was he a dream finally come to fruition? Or was her attraction to him founded in something different, something more than just being in the same room with him after the close calls they shared? "Thank you for helping me," he murmured.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "It was the least I could do." She meant this in more ways than one. If he was her ponyman, then he had saved her life once. He stared at her as if searching for the right words, then raised a hand again to cup her face in a possessive manner. He seemed to like touching her—comfortable with the intimacy her acquiescence afforded—unlike Montana who shied away from human contact. Too many humans had shied away from her. All except her parents but even they had looked at her with wary eyes towards the end, especially after her warning. "I'd better get going," Montana said. "You will leave now?" "I have work to do around the ranch." "I will accompany you." She had yet to hear the man make a request for anything, just commands and statements. Oh, he had down some of the basics of good etiquette. At least he could say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ She was beginning to wonder who had come to whose rescue, who was at whose mercy. Montana rolled his demand around in her mind, testing the merits of ‘letting him loose’ as it were. It had never occurred to her that he would want to roam and work on the ranch, not to mention the fact that she'd have to explain his presence again, not only to Jason, but also to any of the other guests and wranglers they might come across. She would risk it, just to keep him nearby, wanted to keep her eye on him. Besides, there was so much she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to learn. Did he remember her? Was he really her pony-man from the lake or just a figment of her imagination, her second sight gone awry? He sat up straight, reached for her hands, and grasped them firmly in his before she could object or pull away. She had to fight not to scream at him to let her go—No! Not my hands, you can't touch my hands—but finally closed her eyes, giving in to his strength, giving in to her gift for the first time in so many years she couldn't remember how long it had actually been. She had always been afraid to be touched, afraid to touch others. She was, however, more afraid than usual now. She did not want her visions to answer all the questions she didn’t want to ask Seth—such as where was Sapphira, how had he come to be in her world and how long did he plan to stay. She didn’t want his answers to threaten his already tenuous reality. What if he confirmed all her suppositions and threatened her tenuous hold on sanity? She knew she would have to question him sooner or later, but she just didn’t want to do it now, couldn’t do it now. “Montana.” Her name rolled off his tongue in that strange combination of command and caress to which her body could not help respond. Her insides heated and turned to mush as he squeezed her hands. Montana looked into the silver eyes that were already becoming too familiar, their variegated intensity sizzling and liquefying her center. As quickly as she pulled in a breath to say something—anything to distance herself—Seth’s aura stole it away.

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Gracie C. McKeever He was all male—all consuming, all commanding and visceral—metaphysical fingers and lips reaching out to her until Montana felt as if he had thrown her down on the carpet and made love to her right there. Shivering, she looked at him and tried to dispel what she had seen and felt, tried to recall the spell that the Black Elf had invoked as if she would need it for future reference. Did Seth know what had been done to him, done for him, to spare him from execution? Did he know the sacrifice his mother had made on his behalf? “I’ll get you some boots to wear out on the trail,” Montana whispered. She tried to pull her hands from his and stand but he held fast. Oh, this man was trouble—past, present…she didn’t even want to consider his future, especially if it was without her. The vision came at her more forcefully now, intensifying, as real and solid as Seth rising out of the darkness this morning. It pulled her in, raised her pressure, and sped her heart with its strength. She saw him in the forest, at a ceremony, just before his exile. Despair and desperation clouded the air. His clan—the women tearful, the men pokerfaced—are present, witnesses to his leaving. On the edge of the ritual, just outside the circle of kin, the Black Elf lurks, a dark fairy who has brought this all to pass. The Black Elf has plans for Seth Phoenix, his twisted heart bent on revenge, hungry for justice. And through his enemies' progeny he will have them both—justice and revenge, and the one he has coveted for centuries but has been denied. Thyra Phoenix. She has wrought Seth's lenient sentence at great personal cost to herself and her family. Her hope is almost gone. In the background dwells another, the Fair Elf, a luminescent presence, not as corporeal as the Black Elf, but his inner power more than a match. And he's waiting. Montana firmly snatched her hands out of Seth's grasp, panting as she stumbled to her feet, and stared down at him from a safe distance, afraid of what she'd seen, afraid of what she'd discovered. The Fair Elf was waiting for her.

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Spells Cast in Shadows

Chapter 5

Sapphiran Colony, Somewhere In Colorado Thyra stood just outside the flaps of the royal tent overlooking the crystal waters of Lake Cenon. She imagined Seth on the other side, through the thick forest, just out of her reach. Her youngest son was gone, her child lost to her now, lost to Sapphira. True, in centaur years he was close to two-hundred-years old, but little more than two-and-half-decades in human years. He was a man, but still her child, and he would always be her baby. Cercyon eased to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on the side of her throat. "You cannot bring him back." "You do not need to remind me of this." He sighed and waited a long moment before murmuring, "I miss him also, Thyra." She heard his sincerity, knew that he was not just trying to make her feel better. However, nothing could ease the ache or fill the emptiness that had been forged at Seth's departure. Could Cercyon ever understand her loss or why she had done what she had done? Thyra leaned into her mate, folded her arms across her stomach, enclosing his arm, pulling it closer against her body. She tried to garner comfort from his closeness, tried to garner strength before her meeting with Demogorgon later. She had never considered how easy it would be for her to submit, to sell her soul to the Black Elf. No one in the colony had guessed at the true nature of their rekindled friendship or the deal she had brokered for her son. Thyra swallowed the guilt that suddenly rose up, threatening to choke her. She assured herself there was no need to worry, not yet. Nothing had happened. Yet. For now, Demogorgon

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Gracie C. McKeever was content to wait. Indeed, he had all the time in the world. She told herself he was only soliciting her company within the bounds of friendly propriety, at official gatherings. But at the end of two full moons… Cercyon abided their association, just barely, and she knew that she would not be able to keep him or Endre in the dark much longer, certainly not for the time that Demogorgon was allowing for Seth's atonement. Her husband was too possessive a man to allow her sudden allegiance with the Black Elf for much longer without questioning her. Thyra did not know what her response would be when he confronted her, other than Council business. Her youngest could not know how much was riding on the back of his success or how important his redemption was to his mother and father. Thyra was forbidden to tell him or even contact him before the deadline was reached. She had gotten herself into this, and Seth would have to get her out. He would either profess his love for a human woman in the required time or he would not. If he failed then Thyra was doomed. She sent up a silent prayer, not that the Black Elf would have mercy and free her from her promise but that her son would succeed and render her promise null and void. **** Seth followed behind Montana as she marched out of the house down to the stalls, eyes drawn to her rear end. Her full, round hips gently swayed from side to side beneath the tight leggings she wore. She had called them ‘dungarees’ or ‘jeans,’ but Seth called them heaven-sent. He was both jealous of the material hugging her curves like a glove and glad for their creation. Montana's dog joined them as they neared the first stall where Montana's young man was grooming a horse. The animal playfully nipped and barked at Seth's heels, begging for attention from his mistress's newest companion. Seth briefly gave what the dog sought, squatting to rub the German shepherd's head. For a moment he lost himself in the sensation of the soft, dense fur beneath his hands. "Jace, we're ready to check those fences." The man paused in his work, then stood, rubbing his hands against the thighs of his dungarees before putting out a hand. "We?" "Jason, this is Seth Phoenix. Seth, this is Jason Makepeace, Freeborn Ranch's cow boss without whom we'd never survive." As strong as Jason Makepeace's emotions were, Seth doubted that Montana was aware of the man's feelings for her, especially when he recalled the tone with which she addressed the other man. Her voice held the affection of a sibling but not a lover. Seth was certain Jason had other ideas, wanted more than the big-brother/little-sister relationship that Montana fostered. Seth put his hand into the other man's, scenting both the other man's desire and love for Montana. He shook the proffered hand, emitting his strength and receiving an equal amount as he stared into blue eyes as deep and clear as Lake Cenon. Seth was taken aback by the uncommon masculine beauty of Montana's male; his looks rivaled those of some of the fairy folk and were not unlike the elves of Oreias. "Heard you had a little spill outside of the ranch. Hope you're feeling better." 34

Spells Cast in Shadows "The hostess was kind enough to tend to my needs." "Is that a fact?" Jason cut a look at Montana. Seth watched Montana's caramel skin flush. He had never had the pleasure of seeing a female blush so often. Her burnished complexion shouted for the touch of his hand. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to her, sensed her discomfort once again at being touched. Goddess, she had pulled away from him with such a shock of energy that his hand still tingled. His erection hadn't yet gone down since the encounter. He immediately missed the contact at her withdrawal—the soft feel of her hand in his, the warmth and slight moistness of her small palm against his large one. Seth wondered what had made her pull away from him. He had visions of his colony's soothsayer, reaching into the hearts and minds of the sick to help in the healing process, foreseeing futures of good health, illness, or death. Next to the mountain elves, especially the Black Elf, who sat on the Directorate, and healers like Seth, the seers were more revered than a healthy harvest and as feared as any of the natural misfortunes that could prevent one. Was it possible that his Montana possessed the gift of second sight? Rarely did the gift of divination touch humans, certainly more rare throughout mankind than in the fairy community. However, empaths and clairvoyants did exist among humans. Seth did not believe he could be attracted to someone totally devoid of magic. "We'd better get going, hadn't we?" Montana said. "I'll saddle up a horse for our friend here. You can ride can't you?" "I believe I can handle one of your thoroughbreds." Seth grinned as he followed Jason further into the stables. He felt Montana watching him as he went, felt her anxiety. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, assure her that he would do nothing untoward around or in front of her cow boss. There was another part of him, however, that wanted to keep her as off-balance as he was, keep her as ill-at-ease as she had been making him since he’d met her. Seth needed to keep his distance. He did not want to feel more than the basic gratitude toward Montana or get attached to someone who could be snatched away from him as easily as he had been dropped into her life. He did not want to lose one more woman that he cared about. Yes, better to keep his distance and make sure that Montana Freeborn kept hers. **** They had been out on the prairie for three days already, and Montana was finding it increasingly difficult to avoid Seth. With another evening of socializing around the campfire fast approaching, she didn’t know how she was going to survive the attack on her hormones. Even with all the other ranch guests and cowboys participating in the cattle drive, and despite Jason’s overprotective, watchful eye, she found herself bumping into the enigmatic Sapphiran more than was comfortable for her burgeoning libido. Montana had specifically volunteered to drag ride the cattle this trip—following the trail herd and keeping the cows and young calves moving—so that she would have as little contact 35

Gracie C. McKeever with Seth as possible. She had been doing a reasonable job avoiding him this way, what with him lead riding the herd with Jason. She needed to keep her distance or she would wind up doing something totally inadvisable, like letting her guard down around the relative stranger and giving free rein to her already growing affection. Jason sidled up beside her now and pointed his chin in Seth’s direction in the distance as Montana stood by the chuck wagon and sipped the last of her evening coffee. “He’s really coming along well on the trail.” “You sound as if you like him.” “He’ll do,” Jason drawled. “He follows directions well, adheres to cowboy codes without complaint. I wouldn’t mind adding him to the buckaroo crew if that’s what you’re getting at.” “Wow, that’s a seal of approval from you.” Jason shrugged, downed the last of his own coffee. “He’s a good worker, with solid skills.” “And you didn’t think he would be?” “I don’t know enough about him to make that judgment. But you seem to know him, and I guess that has to be good enough for me.” The thing was, she didn’t know Seth as well as she wanted to. She should have been making it her business to learn everything she could about him, at least learn more than what her heart and memory already knew. She should be following not just her instincts, but common sense logic that would have her questioning his sudden appearance in her life and his motives. Montana watched Seth now roping his horses in the distance, and delighted in the play of his shoulders and back muscles as she had with Jason a few days ago. But with Jason, there had only been a mild feeling of aesthetic curiosity and admiration, the kind she’d have for a beautiful painting in a gallery. Her admiration for Seth’s body went much deeper than aesthetic appreciation, though there was that. It went down low to the core of her, where all her primal lusts and hungers for the opposite sex lived and breathed. Montana shifted her weight from one leg to the other as her panties moistened at the thought of Seth’s strength unleashed on her. Heat uncoiled in her pussy and made her inner muscles spasm in anticipation. “I’m going to go touch base with the night hawks and wranglers before supper. I’ll see you later for cocktails?” The last thing she needed was to have her mind cloudy with an intoxicating substance while that Sapphiran was around. He was intoxicating enough. “Uh-huh.” Montana nodded and looked at Jason. “I’ll catch up with you.” He peered at her a moment, then followed her glance to where Seth was, and shook his head. “Are you sure?” “Of course. Why would you ask?”

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Spells Cast in Shadows “Because you’ve been going out of your way to keep to yourself in the evenings. T’aint right you being the ranch owner and all. You’re ‘sposed to circulate and socialize with us common folk. Especially our paying guests.” Montana playfully elbowed him in the ribs and he wrapped his arms around her in a friendly hug. “T’aint nothing common about you, Jason Makepeace.” She returned his hug and chuckled as he squeezed her. He leaned in to kiss her on the lips. His mouth lingered a little longer than was usually within the bounds of their friendship, but Montana didn’t have chance to dwell on it before he released her and turned to go. She watched his receding back for a moment then turned to head for her tent where she bumped smack into Seth’s solid chest. He caught her around the arms and her heart about leaped out of her chest at his light grasp around her biceps—just enough to hold her steady, but not enough to restrict her. It made her wonder how he would be in bed, what his style of lovemaking would be, and whether or not it would mesh with hers. Slow and gentle? Rough and demanding? Not that she had a style with her limited experience, but she was sure she would know what she liked. She was sure she’d like Seth any way she could get him. “Are you all right?” he asked. “I’m fine. What about you?” “I am quite well.” He released her and pivoted to go. Impulsively, Montana caught his arm and he stopped in his tracks. His biceps flexed beneath her fingers. He seemed wound up, like he was in pre-attack mode or fighting to keep his temper in check. “Seth?” He turned to her and frowned at her, silver eyes hot and intense, as if a small fire was burning inside him, just below the surface, ready to rage out of control at a moment’s notice. “I mean, are you…happy here? Are you liking your time out on the trail?” “It has been…refreshing.” “Refreshing?” He said it as if the cattle drive was similar to doing time on a chain gang instead of a ‘refreshing’ experience. True it was hard work, but he made her feel like his jailer rather than his ‘hostess.’ Why was she so timid with him? If he were anyone else, she’d just come right and ask him what his plans were, but the possibility of his departure, of his leaving her life as suddenly as he had come into it, filled her with a sense of loss she hadn’t felt since her parents’ deaths. She found herself not wanting to tempt the fates that had brought him into her life. At least she didn’t want to tempt them more than necessary. Seth cupped her chin and drew her gaze up to his. “Is it the habit of the cow boss to violate his employer?” He sounded so much like a jealous suitor, she gaped.

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Gracie C. McKeever Was he jealous? And is that why Jason had kissed her like that? Had he noticed Seth watching them and wanted to challenge the new rooster in the hen house? It wasn’t enough she had to deal with Seth’s effect on her, she had to deal with macho pissing contests to boot. “Jason wasn’t violating me, Seth.” “So, you enjoyed his attentions?” “Jason is my friend as well as my employee. He’s like family.” She poked a finger in his chest to emphasize her point. “You’d better learn to deal with it if you’re going to be hanging around these parts, pardner.” She thought she might have pushed his arrogant male buttons too hard as soon as the words flew out of her mouth. And when Seth caught her hand and dragged her forward to fall against his chest, she knew it. He bent his head, his mouth covering hers in a blazing hot kiss that made Montana’s hair stand on end before he even slid his tongue into her mouth. She snaked her hands up his back, fondling muscles in her wake before grabbing hold of his shoulders and pulling him closer. Seth tunneled his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss as he darting his tongue between her lips as if in a game of seek and conquer, finally winning when he sucked Montana’s tongue into his mouth and moaned low in his throat. He bent his knees slightly, hands sliding down to her ass as he drew her closer and aligned his hard cock with her pussy. Montana rocked against him for several long moments, gasping as she rubbed her swollen nipples against his chest and tried to devour his mouth. But Seth pulled away suddenly, catching his breath as he stared down at her. She returned his heated gaze, confused and holding onto him tight to keep herself upright, legs noodling beneath her. She wanted to explore him further, now, in her tent, wherever she could haul him off to. Now that she’d tasted him, she wanted to lick him everywhere her tongue could reach and come back for seconds. “This is…not right.” “Who says?” Montana panted. “I would be no better than your cow boss if we did this.” “When did this become a competition between you and him?” “The minute I arrived.” He cupped her face with one hand and murmured, “We will discuss this later.” She couldn’t come up with a response for that, so she just stood mute as she watched Seth turn on his heels and leave. Well, hell’s bells, was she doomed to watch men’s backs tonight? **** Later did not come, not for Seth. He would not allow it. He sat several yards away from the main camp on an outcropping of rocks and watched Montana and Jason entertain and regale their ranch guests with stories of life on the prairie. His heart squeezed with possessiveness, fists clenched as he thought how comfortable Jason and Montana looked together, how like a bonded couple they acted. 38

Spells Cast in Shadows There was shared history between them, a man and a woman with intimate knowledge of the other’s likes and dislikes; they had an understanding of each other’s lives. Seth had no such history with Montana, and at this rate he would not obtain one. Montana laughed at something Jason said, drawing Seth’s gaze to seek hers out in the dark. Their eyes met, her dark ones lit by the wavering firelight as a blush instantly colored her cheeks. Seth’s cock twitched in his jeans. He’d had little respite since his earlier encounter with Montana, had been hard most of his stay at the ranch, in fact, alternately going from hard-harderhardest depending on Montana’s proximity at any given moment of the day. She leaned over to say something in Jason’s ear then stood on wobbly legs as he steadied her with a hand beneath her elbow. Montana waved off his offer to escort her to her tent, giggling as she tottered across the grass- and dirt-strewn meadow in Seth’s direction. She was obviously under the influence of all the cocktails she had downed in the last hour, could not have been more inebriated had she partaken in a glass of the mountain elves’ famous aquila. Was she trying to give herself courage to face him when surely it was him who needed courage to refuse her? Seth stood as Montana reached him. He caught her as she stumbled the last few steps into his arms and glanced up with shimmering eyes that made his blood turn to liquid fire. “What’s a good looking cowboy like you doing in a place like this?” “I do not understand, Montana.” She stood up straight and poked him in the chest with a finger in a manner that was already becoming achingly familiar to him. “There’s nothing to understand, cowboy, except that I want you and you want me. The next question on your lips should be your tent or mine.” “Is this all a part of one of your human mating rituals?” “Gosh, you ask a lot of questions!” She stood on her toes to plant a sloppy wet kiss on his lips that made Seth’s breath hitch in his chest at the sweet tangy taste of her. If he had not promised himself to keep his distance, he would have thrown her down on the forest floor and rutted with her like the male centaur he was. But he had promised. “Montana, you are inebriated.” “Hell yes I am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want you.” “Perhaps you need to lie down for a while.” “I thought you’d never ask!” Montana flung herself into his arms and nuzzled his neck. Seth shuddered under her onslaught. He did not think she realized what she was doing to him, for if she did, she would be running for the mountains for refuge and safety. “Want me to take her off your hands, Phoenix?” Seth peered over Montana’s head at Jason and shook his head. 39

Gracie C. McKeever “Monty, you should get to your tent and try to sleep off some of those cocktails.” “Well who died and made you m’ daddy, Mr. Makepeace?” “Mon—” “I will take her to her tent.” Jason folded his arms across his broad chest, braced his legs apart, and planted his feet as he glared at Seth. Montana, pulled her face out of Seth’s throat, hooked an arm around his neck instead, and turned to face Jason. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Jace. You know I love you, too.” “Yeah, that’s the problem,” Jason mumbled. “I will take care of her, Jason.” Jason glanced from Seth to Montana and back again, jaws working as he clenched his teeth. “If you do anything to make her regret—” “I will not.” Jason looked at Montana once more, curtly nodded his head then turned and left. “He cares about you,” Seth said, suddenly realizing more clearly the relationship Montana and Jason shared, understanding that it was much like his and Nyssa’s relationship had been. Only in Jason and Montana’s situation, it was the male who wanted romantic love and Jason’s feelings were unrequited. Seth’s heart twisted in sympathy for Jason and grief for his own dead friend. “Come…” Seth lifted Montana into his arms and she immediately curved her own around his neck and cuddled close to his chest. “Now we’re cooking with bacon grease,” she murmured. Seth chuckled and shook his head. He did not think he would ever get used to this southwestern human ‘slang’ she spoke. He carried her to her tent, and laid her down on her bedroll. He was in the midst of covering her up when she caught his hand and jerked him forward to fall across her chest. Seth righted himself, balancing his weight on his palms on either side of her face. She was so close, and so very tempting. His blood sizzled in his veins on its way straight to his quickly burgeoning cock. The erection that brushed against her thigh was demanding and painful. “Kiss me, Seth. Kiss me like you did earlier and make me feel like I belong to you…like you belong to me…” He looked at her serene face—her eyes already closed, the long lush lashes just brushing her high cheekbones, her full lips puckered and waiting. He hissed through his teeth and lowered his head, anticipating the sweet taste of her mouth right before he teased the seam of her slightly parted lips and…heard her snoring! Seth pulled back slightly to stare down at her. “Montana?”

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Spells Cast in Shadows She did not respond except to lick her lips in her sleep and sigh. Seth frowned as she turned on her side, facing away from him and tucking her folded hands beneath her cheek. “Any time now, Seth. I’m waiting for y…” He pushed himself off of her, rolled onto his back and softly laughed. He was about to tell himself Montana’s drunken stupor was for the best, before his cock throbbed and he pressed the heel of his palm against it to try and calm his longings. Seth closed his eyes, unzipped his jeans, snaked his hand inside and took his hot erection in hand. He concentrated on Montana’s light, even breathing beside him as he stroked himself straight towards an erotic fantasy featuring his favorite passionate ranch owner. Montana-in-his-dreams grasped his pulsing shaft with one hand and wrapped her luscious full lips around the head of his penis, sucking firmly. Seth drifted to sleep with a smile.

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Chapter 6 Montana woke to footsteps padding down the staircase long before her alarm was set to go off. Still fuzzy-headed a day after her morning-after hangover, she stumbled from her bed, wondering who had invaded her home, before she remembered her houseguest. One would think that after almost a week she would by now be used to Seth’s habit of rising so early. Montana staggered back to her night stand and turned off the alarm. She sat on the edge of the bed and yawned and stretched her arms overhead, head lightly pounding. Self, never have more than one before-supper cocktail over the campfire. She felt her cheeks heat at the memory of her last night on the trail. She couldn’t figure out if she was blushing because nothing had happened or because she had made a complete ass of herself trying to make something happen before she’d fallen asleep in her tent beneath Seth. Montana threw her terry robe on over an oversized T-shirt, slid into her slippers, headed out the door, and padded down the stairs, following Seth's earlier path. She had no idea what she was going to say to him once she got downstairs, not that it actually was the morning after. They’d arrived back at the ranch yesterday afternoon with the rest of the group and gone through the return rituals by rote. The wagon had been unpacked, horses had been released, and then there had been the evening banquet, story telling and award ceremony. And through it all, Seth had kept his maddening distance, never once alluding to how she had fallen asleep after throwing herself at him. What an infuriating man! Well, there’s no way for you to keep your distance now, pardner, so let’s get ready to saddle up! Montana made it down to the kitchen in time to see him taking a seat at the oak-topped center island and reaching a hand down to offer Peppa a piece of the left-over steak she'd served the previous night for dinner.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Seth hadn't partaken, settling instead for the vegetables and potatoes Montana had prepared, but none of the meat. She'd teased him about his vegetarian bent, told him that no selfrespecting cowboy would be caught dead without a slab of beef on his dinner plate, but secretly she respected his stand. Seth had only smiled at her ribbing and silently eaten his meatless dinner. Montana now leaned against the doorjamb, quietly folded her arms across her chest, and watched with a smile as Peppa ate out of Seth's hand. She was not sure whether to be jealous or alarmed that her dog had taken to a newcomer so easily and quickly. Peppa was the first to notice her and happily barked as he abandoned Seth to run to his mistress. Montana crouched low to give the dog a hard hug, then rubbed the top of his head before releasing him to walk over to the island. "You're spoiling him." "No more than you do." That much was true. She wouldn't let him know it, though. She took the barstool opposite Seth, noticed the bottled concoction beside his plate and pointed her chin at it. “What’s that?” “Jason dropped it off on his way to the stables this morning. He mentioned something about ‘a hair of the dog.’ He said you would know what that meant.” Montana’s face heated again. Leave it to Jason to remember that her hangovers lasted two mornings instead of the requisite one. Sheesh, the last time she had tied one on like she’d done at the cattle drive had been after her break-up with James in college. She didn’t even want to remember how she’d soaked Jason’s shirt through with her drunken bawling then. Had to be almost a decade ago. A lifetime. Montana folded her hands atop the island, leaned forward, and gave her guest a long, hard look. So many things she wanted to say to him. So many questions. "Listen Seth, we need to talk." "Are you perturbed because I did not attend your banquet?" "No, nothing like that." Not that he really cared if she was perturbed, she was sure. Seth struck her as the type of man who did as he pleased, when he pleased. Hence, he had not attended the banquet or a recent horse branding session. Montana could still picture him stomping off in a huff during the latter activity, proclaiming the practice barbaric. He thought shoeing horses only a little less so. "We need to talk about you…about us…" "Us?" "Well, what we're doing here. How long you're going to stay. Why you're here." "I am here because you want me here." Montana frowned, rolling that around in her brain for a minute. Did he mean she'd wished him here? "I'm not sure we're on the same page, pardner." "Page?" "I don't think we're seeing things the same way."

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Gracie C. McKeever "What other way is there to see things? I am here. You are my hostess. I will remain here and work on your ranch for as long as you wish it." As if he existed at her mercy. "What about what you wish?" Seth averted his eyes and she watched his Adam's apple bob several times as he swallowed hard. "What I wish is no longer of consequence." He sounded like some sort of martyr. Montana didn’t know about him, but she did not wish to play hostess to someone who saw himself as a condemned man with no other way out of his current situation except to comply. "Seth, I want to know who and what you are. How did you come to be on the road when—?" "You know who and what I am." "Yes, Seth Phoenix of the House of Phoenix of Sapphira. That tells me nothing, especially since the place you speak of isn't on any map in the world." "Your world." She didn't need to ask him what he meant, she'd known from their first meeting. "Seth, you're not like other men." "You have known this from the beginning." "I need to know more." "You ask too many questions." Montana arched a brow as he stood and tried to pass her. Before she had a chance to stop herself or think about what she was doing, she reached out a hand to catch him by the arm. Seth stopped, glanced down at her. She searched his face, his eyes, for any weakness or indication of anger. There was curiosity and grudging admiration. She imagined his look exactly mirroring her own. "Seth, this is the first time we've had a moment, a really quiet moment alone to sit and talk with each other. And I intend to take advantage of it." "I will not tell you my life story, Montana. It is not necessary for you to know. You know me, and I know you. Here and now. And that is the way it is." Montana gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. God, she had never met a more arrogant or stubborn man! She wondered again if it was his royal heritage or his being male. "I do not need to tell you what you already know." No, he didn't need to, but she wanted him to, knew he was hiding something from her, and wanted to hear his tale in his own words. She wanted to know what his plans were before she allowed herself to fall any further than she already had this last week. She hadn't come close to this hunger, these emotions, since almost losing her virginity in her third year of college not long after her parents had died. That paled in comparison to the depths she felt with Seth. She felt as if she'd already shared her body with him. She certainly already belonged to him spiritually if not physically.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana had no idea she felt this way, had fallen so far so fast, until this moment. She just knew that something big, something important, was happening to her, between her and Seth Phoenix. Just as she knew the something could be snatched away as easily as it had appeared. God, no wonder he shied away from her! She was acting desperate, and she hated herself for what she saw as a weakness she could control if she put her mind to it. Montana looked at her hand holding his arm. She sensed he was in no great hurry to escape her but released him anyway. Seth turned to her, stepped closer, and slid a hand under her long waves to cup the bottom of her skull. He drew her closer, leaned in to tease her lips with his tongue. Montana gasped at his boldness, gasped at the urge that had her stepping into his embrace to return his kiss. She drank her fill like a woman who'd been deprived of water for too long. His lips were soft and rough, searching and leading as his thrusting tongue dueled with hers. She moaned against his lips, and he swallowed the soft sound, devouring her mouth. God, it had been so long since she had been kissed like this—with passion, with fire and heat. Not a love peck on the forehead like she used to get from her dad. Not a gentle hug and a kiss on the temple from Jason when he was comforting her from her latest break-up. This was sensual and steamy, full of danger and promise. It made her hungry for so much more. Montana closed her eyes, sinking deep. She lost herself in the feelings and braced herself for the inevitable moment when something from Seth's past life or something in his future popped before her mind's eye like a warning beacon, something that would make her sorry, especially if she mentioned it out loud. It had happened so many times in the past. The unwanted visions, the premonitions that had left her breathless within a lover's embrace with her blood pressure rising from fear instead of desire, her body flushed with anxiety rather than anticipation. Montana was determined to make this different. She wanted to know what it felt like to belong to someone body and soul, to have his cock inside her and feel its hardness filling her, pulsing and vibrating against her sultry inner walls. Seth put his hands on her ass, lifted her off her feet and sat her on the island top. He looped his fingers through the belt of her robe and had it untied and off of her before Montana could blink. His hands caressed her from breasts to hips and back again. Montana gasped as Seth spread her legs and stepped between them to take her in his arms and kiss her hungrily, fiercely. She returned his kiss and his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as she ground her pelvis against his erection and hot moisture soaked her panties. Suddenly he pulled back, panting as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Wha—what is it, Seth?" "I want you." "And I want you, too. I don't see what the pro—" "I cannot do this. We cannot." 45

Gracie C. McKeever Was there something wrong with him that prevented them from making love? She knew he'd shifted forms somehow—from a centaur to a man—but she didn't know how or why. She felt the most important part of him, however—hard and seeming to function like any normal man's—throbbing against her. She was sure if she opened his jeans and touched him, guided his penis right where it was meant to be, they could work through whatever problem he thought he was having. Montana unwrapped her legs, sat back on the island top and took one of his hands in hers. She directed it beneath the bottom of her T-shirt to the sodden crotch of her panties. "Feel me, Seth. I want you inside me. I need you inside me." He growled and pressed her back against the island to lay supine, one palm on her stomach holding her still, sliding down to push her panties aside. He roughly inserted two fingers of his other hand inside her. Montana shuddered and spread her legs wider, shamelessly offering herself. Seth wiggled his fingers, thrusting in and out, thumb flicking her clit in simultaneous rhythm until he had her writhing on the island beneath his surprisingly skillful manipulations. The kitchen phone jangled on the wall a few feet away, the chime shattering the silence that had only been interrupted before then by Montana's and Seth's mindless pants and murmurs. Seth reluctantly removed his fingers and stepped away from her. "You must get that." She sat up and gaped at him, didn't know how he could be so calm and detached when only seconds ago he'd had his fingers in her hot pussy, on the verge of bringing her to her first orgasm! She reached for one arm, squeezed, and felt his muscles twitch beneath her fingers. She saw the tension in his jaw muscles as he gritted his teeth, the perspiration gathered on his forehead and upper lip, and knew that he wasn't as unaffected as he acted. Good! It was at least nice to know she wasn't alone with this horrible, empty, and throbbing ache assaulting the center of her. "Montana…" She took a deep, shaky breath and hopped down from the island. She pulled her T-shirt down over her hips, then went to retrieve the phone with as much dignity as she could muster considering she’d been a step away from letting a strange, mysterious centaur-turned-man fuck her on a piece of kitchen furniture. "Have I caught you at a bad time, Freeborn?" It was David Mendelsohn from the Forest Supervisor Offices. The man kept obscene hours. His motto was, "Preservation is a 24/7 job." For a time, it had been hers too, before she'd lost her parents, before she'd come back to the ranch. Montana took several deep breaths to center herself. She couldn't believe how close she had come to letting Seth make love to her on her kitchen island top. "No, David. What's up?" she asked and listened as he outlined the assignment he had in mind for her. She’d have to be at the airfield in a couple of hours. Spontaneity, travel…she used to thrive on them but not lately, not since Seth had made an appearance.

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Spells Cast in Shadows She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He stared at her but made no move to leave or give her privacy. "Gotcha, Dave. I'll be there for the pick-up in a few hours." Despite her earlier denials, Montana felt the blood rushing through her veins and knew her face was flushed, the familiar excitement taking over. "Are you well, Montana?" She glanced at Seth, saw genuine concern on his face. She was still confused as to what had just happened between them, or, more like what had not happened between them. Grrrr…blasted phone call! "I'm fine. I just got a call for an assignment." The location wasn't as far away from home as some assignments she'd taken on, but far enough for her to have to take a Forest Service Cessna. "Seth, I'm going to have to run." The more she thought about it, the better she felt. She needed this assignment for more than just keeping her skills fresh and a getting a dose of excitement. She needed it to put some space between her and Seth and try to figure out what this thing was growing between them. "You are leaving now?" Montana nodded. "I have to pack." He frowned as he followed her out the kitchen to the staircase. "I will accompany you." Montana froze in her tracks, had to hide a smile as she turned back to him, one hand gripping the newel. She shook her head, chest tightening from more than just a lack of sexual satisfaction. "You can't come this trip, Seth." "Why not?" "Because…you just can't." She could just imagine how much work she’d get done with Seth along. The lack of production would probably make David question why he kept her on the payroll. "You sound like my mother when I was a yearling." It was the most he had said about his family since she had known him, and Montana wondered at his timing. “Your family must miss you,” she said, trying again to get something personal out of him, not that he had been very forthcoming in response to subtle hints so far. Seth sighed. “I was exiled, Montana.” Now that he had given her this much, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest. Exiled for what? “By your…family?” “I was exiled by the governing body of my people for causing the…death of another Sapphiran. Rather than execution—which I sorely deserved—my sentence was commuted to banishment and—” “Becoming human was part of your punishment.” Silently he nodded; his expression grim.

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Gracie C. McKeever She knew from her previous vision that his mother had gotten his sentence converted. Had she also been behind Seth’s physical change, or had that been the work of his government? Maybe the work of the Black Elf? “You can’t go back.” “I cannot go back.” “Is that the only reason you’re staying here with me?” He cupped her face with one hand and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. “Do you not want me here?” “I want you here, but only if you really want to be here.” God, she couldn’t believe she was talking in circles like this. She hadn’t been so retiring since her first aborted sexual encounter, but at least then she’d had an excuse. “I mean, you practically fell into my lap, Seth. It’s not like you had much choice.” He nodded. “True, but now that I am here and have tasted your hospitality and warmth, I am not particularly eager to go elsewhere.” “You say that now, but what if—?” “Perhaps it is you feeling trapped and without choices?” “Sheesh, you’re good at turning the tables!” He grimaced. “Turning the tables?” “Do you think I’m afraid of you? That I’m afraid of my feelings for you?” “Are you?” “I’m not the one who said ‘we cannot do this’ five minutes ago.” “True, but that was said out of deference to you, not out of my lack of desire.” “I’m not as innocent as you think I am,” she shot back. “I’ve been dreaming about you ever since that first time I saw you, Seth, ever since you rescued me.” He stepped closer, hooked an arm around her waist, and nuzzled her neck. “Dreaming about me?” “Dreaming, having visions, whatever you prefer. And they haven’t all been the innocent musings born of an awe-struck five-year-old.” “Hmmm…No?” He licked her neck then circled the outer shell of her ear with his tongue. Montana closed her eyes and shivered in his embrace, legs feeling like overcooked spaghetti. She leaned into him for support—or so she told herself—but when he pressed against her, teasing her slit with the tip of his hard cock, she realized she didn’t want support as much as she wanted completion. “I have thought about you too, Montana.” Seth wrapped her in both arms now and moaned against her throat. “Goddess, you have no idea how much I want you.” “Then show me.”

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Spells Cast in Shadows He pulled back to peer at her for a long moment before he bent his head to tease her slightly parted lips. Montana opened her mouth to him on a long moan and flung her arms around him, almost throwing him off-balance. Seth planted one palm against the wall adjacent them and lowered her to the carpeted steps with his free arm. He pushed her legs apart with his knee as she wantonly sprawled across the several bottom steps, then he cupped her moist pussy with a palm. “Shall I please you before you take your leave?” “Yes, Seth. Please…” She grasped his soft ‘locks with both hands and held on as he lifted her T-shirt up past her breasts. She writhed beneath him anticipating the feel of his lips on her a second before he wrapped his hot mouth around one nipple. “More, Seth. I want more of you…” His hair was like cotton balls in her hands, and she reveled in the soft feel against her palms, reveled in the musky clean scent that wafted up to her from his skin and hair as she inhaled deep and held him tight. Seth slid a hand into her panties, slowly eased two fingers into her wet pussy, and Montana immediately clamped down on the two digits with her inner muscles, desperate for more. He laved, nipped, and sucked both nipples until they stood at attention, then found her engorged clit with his thumb and flicked it. He scissored his fingers inside her, working them in concert with his thumb and making Montana shudder. She gripped his hair so tight her knuckles hurt, and still he tortured her. “If you want me to beg, Seth…” She gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive area deep inside her. “I will. Please…” “I only want you to feel.” Seth slowly licked his way down from her breasts, to her stomach until his mouth was poised over her hot center. Montana felt his heated breath against her even through the satin of her panties. She pumped her hips in rhythm to his manipulations right before he ripped her panties off and buried his face between her legs. “Oh, God…” She didn’t know whether it was the sound of her panties shredding beneath his hands or the insistent way he caressed her pussy with his tongue, but she almost came on the spot at his gentle brutality. He covered her pussy with his mouth, teasing her sensitive nub with his tongue before pushing it deep inside her and stroking her wet folds. Montana sped the gyration of her hips against his mouth as he licked and sucked her into an uncontrollable frenzy. She had never been so desperate to get to the end of something. Just this once, she promised herself. She needed him, needed to come now. Next time, she would take it slow. She would. But now, she hungered, needed… Montana moaned long and low in her throat, couldn’t hold back, her climax crashing down on her with such sudden ferocity. She stiffened in his grasp with the force of it, then shuddered with what Seth had done to her and the idea of how easily she could get addicted to him, to his body.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth sat down beside her on the stairs and pushed moist tendrils of hair away from her eyes as she lay panting, her entire body hot with her blush. “Must you go?” "It's my job, Seth, with the—" "Forestry Service." She gaped, and he grinned. "Jason told me about it. The profession where your heart dwells." "I enjoy it." "More than the ranch." "Not that anyone's making comparisons." "Jason does." How much had the two men been talking about her and the ranch behind her back? Had Seth been grilling Jason? No, he’d never do anything so undignified. "Jason doesn't think I can do both." "And what do you think?" "I know what I want to do. And I know what I need to do." "And they are not in agreement." He had to pick now to be so insightful and want to talk? She wanted nothing better than to sit down and discuss her passion. But it had to be a two-way street, and though he had given her so much more information just now than he ever had before, so far sharing himself was not a road that Seth seemed to want to travel. "What about you?" She tried again to get through the wall, and immediately saw his shield go up, not that he had ever lowered it. Not too far anyway. "Me?" "Your passions. What did you do back in Sapphira?" She didn't really expect an answer, especially not one so down-to-earth from someone of highborn background, so when he opened his mouth to respond, she felt herself gaping and leaning forward as if to capture his words with her tongue. "I was a student, a teacher, and a…a healer." Something told her that he still was each in varying degrees. "What did you teach?" "I studied human nature." Broad subject. It could have meant a lot of things, but Montana took it to mean exactly what she wanted to study. Not just study human nature but study his nature, explore her desires, and test the limits of his restraint. She impulsively reached out her hands to capture each side of his face and leaned in to plunge her tongue into his unresisting mouth. Before she retreated, she nipped his full lower lip hard enough to let him know she meant business. “I want to know more about you, Seth, and we’ll talk when I get back.” She watched him gape at her for just a second before he recovered and nodded.

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Spells Cast in Shadows If she had thought he was about to back down from her, she knew she had another thing coming when he murmured, “I will be here, Montana. Do not doubt it.”

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Chapter 7 Sapphiran Colony, Somewhere in Colorado Minor concern nibbled on the edges of his consciousness as the Black Elf watched Thyra's second-born. He was not overly worried; one heated session of fornication did not equal love. He knew Seth Phoenix as well as he knew himself, and he did not think the young centaur had it in him to fall in love with anyone, much less one female on an isolated ranch, too hungry for adventure and variety to settle down. However, he had to admit that the human female, this Montana Freeborn, was a wild card. She was no more pretty or enchanting than Nyssa, who had held Seth's heart longer and stronger than any female in Sapphira. The pair had shared a rare relationship of trust and devotion akin to what Demogorgon thought he had with Seth's mother. Yet there was something there, something this Freeborn woman possessed which Seth found attractive, something that could upset the delicate balance and the Black Elf’s plans if allowed to blossom. Demogorgon was not a stupid elf, nor was he an elf that left things to chance. The matter of Seth Phoenix's love life was no different. The woman, he knew, was already halfway in love with Phoenix. She did not need much more provocation than another kiss and touch from the centaur. But the minute Seth neared the same level of emotion—and this was a big if upon which he knew his beloved Thyra was counting—the Black Elf’s second spell would go into effect, retroactively rendering the centaur regent's son incapable of returning his intended's feelings or acting on his own.

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Spells Cast in Shadows He might mate, but finding true love outside of the physical, much less marrying, would be just beyond his reach…unless Ms. Freeborn had some bestial proclivities of her own. Poor Thyra counted on the possibility that her son could find love in his new state and situation, putting her faith in his human half to save her from her fate with Demogorgon. There was no salvation for Thyra from the Black Elf; the game had already been fixed against her and Seth long before the young centaur’s banishment had begun. He had been more than generous enough to allow Thyra her ridiculous stipulations. Demogorgon told himself, by putting off the inevitable, relenting to his soft spot for her, he might ensure his own mastery. The Black Elf glanced into the crystal sphere atop his golden lectern, watching now as a human male arrived. This one was far different in appearance than the cowboys and wranglers who inhabited the ranch. He pulled up in a fancy, shiny vehicle. He carried a briefcase in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other, and was clad in an expensive looking suit and tie. He was as much out of place on the ranch as Seth was to the human world. The Black Elf watched as the man walked up to the large house, bypassing the stables and the wranglers, barely greeting anyone in his path. Here was a man with a purpose. He was a man with possibilities! This human male was not like the lovesick cow boss, standing discreetly in the shadows, waiting for the woman he loved to notice him. He was not one to swallow down his desire or settle for scraps that might be thrown to him. No, this man was more like Demogorgon himself, out for what he could get for himself and willing to do what he had to in order to get it. Love was not a part of this man’s makeup, not his motivation. Revenge was. Hmmm…. He rubbed his chin with a finger, watching. This man deserved a more careful and comprehensive look. His character was ripe with the possibility for corruption. The Black Elf closed his eyes and explored. Daring a glimpse into the new arrival's heart, he found it as black as his own, an aura cloudy with spite and jealousy. Possibilities, indeed. Thyra's offspring would have more with which to contend than just falling in love, mating, and finding happiness with his Montana. Demogorgon chuckled to himself as he turned off the sphere and poured himself a goblet of aquila. He almost pitied the young centaur, yet hoped that Seth would fall. He wanted to see his reaction when Demogorgon's spell took effect and he changed. If this new human male did not get to Seth first, that was. **** Montana glanced up from her BLT to see David staring at her. She sensed his concern. It had been five years since her parents had been killed, but he never failed to ask how she was coping. She hated that he thought she was so fragile, but she appreciated his concern.

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Gracie C. McKeever Instead of doing as she thought he would and asking how she was, however, he leaned across the table, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her on the forehead. She felt the light pressure of his mouth, the gentle compassion behind the gesture, and closed her eyes as she swallowed hard and tried not to cry. "To take your mind off of the flight." She chuckled to cover her chagrin. Maybe she wasn't fragile, but she certainly was transparent. No matter how often she traveled, Montana never got over her anxiety about flying. It was actually more like terror, which had grown since her parents’ deaths. She especially hated going up in a Cessna. The feelings of claustrophobia intensified exponentially as the plane's altitude increased. “It’ll help.” She smiled. His concern would help as much as their just completed assignment had helped take her mind off of Seth. She and David had been so busy in the field, ground ‘truthing,’ taking aerial photos, collecting satellite data, and analyzing infrareds she hadn’t had much time to think about Seth or the ranch. She almost regretted that the change detection project was so short-term. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed all the field and technical work and David’s easy quiet company while she did it. Twenty years her senior, David had been her mentor all through college, and she'd worked directly under his supervision throughout her career with the Service. If there was anyone besides Jason who knew her qualms and quirks as well as she did, it was David. He had kept up a steady banter since she'd arrived at the airfield five days ago, joking about her part-time status, teasing her about when she was going to give up the Bonanza life and come back full time to the Service where she belonged. Montana wanted to believe that needing her expertise on this project had been his only motivation in calling her. “Have I taken you off-guard?” Montana shrugged, cheeks suddenly heating. She wasn't usually so retiring. She halfblamed Seth for her uncertainty. Since he'd appeared at the ranch, her feelings had been way out of whack in relation to men, specifically him. She wondered if she'd have reacted to David’s kiss any differently had she and Seth not come so close to consummating their relationship on the kitchen counter the other day. The vision of her spread out on the island like a banquet in which Seth was ready to partake dogged her this entire trip and had her anxious to return and pick up where they had left off. God, the man was more dangerous than she'd first thought. She felt as if she were under a spell, compelled to return to him, work and mentor be damned. "You know I'm here for you, whenever you need me, Montana." "I know that, David."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Do you really?" "David…" She paused, wondered if she was missing something and jumping to conclusions like she was known to do. The frown that David was giving her said that she might be. “You’re not thinking that…Do you believe I was making a pass at you, Montana?” Well, now, she just felt downright silly, and she was sure she had that man, Seth Phoenix, to thank for this. He made her so hot and horny, even when she was away from him, that a man she had only seen as a father figure for more than a decade was easy game to her hormones! What was wrong with her? Montana put a hand on David’s resting on the table top. “I’ve got a lot on my mind with the ranch and my upcoming mentoring camp, David. Don’t mind me. I didn’t mean to misinterpret and put you on edge.” “I should be apologizing to you for making you think that my being attracted to you is so totally preposterous.” He laughed, the deep sincere sound washing over her and easing her discomfort. “Actually, I’m flattered that you’d even think along those lines at all, though my time for a beautiful woman your age has long since past.” Black haired and clean shaven, he wasn't a bad looking man. She just didn't see him in a romantic light, never had. He was her mentor and like a second father figure to her, far from what she saw in Seth and different from what she felt for Jason. She wished she could feel something more for David, that maybe he did feel romantically for her. A romance with someone as mature and settled should certainly be easier to handle than someone like Seth. David was so open and accessible—no deep dark secrets that she knew of, no tortured soul. But she had to take the hard road. She wanted the mysterious and noncommunicative, the not-completely-human Mr. Phoenix. Hell, even Jason would be a better bet, but she didn't want him romantically, either. David turned his hand over to give hers a gentle squeeze and peered at her with his skyblue eyes. “Besides, I could never compete with all those young cowboys at the ranch anyway but especially not with that cow boss of yours,” David said. “Jason?” He nodded. “To tell you the truth, I'm surprised Mr. Makepeace hasn't tried to make an honest woman out of you yet." She arched an eyebrow. "Jason?" He frowned and sat back in his seat, shaking his head. "You really don't know?" "Know what?" She had a niggling suspicion, growing by the moment, especially when she remembered that kiss Jason had given her on the cattle drive. "Heck, I've only met the man a handful of times myself, and even I can see he's headover-heels for you." "He's like a big brother!" "I don't think he sees you as a little sister. Maybe he did at one time, but not now."

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Gracie C. McKeever How could she think for one second that David might be attracted to her but totally discount Jason? Was she blind? She'd thought she was pretty savvy where relationships were concerned, not that she'd had that many, but still. Jason? In love with her? She thought of all the times she'd spent weeping in his arms after her parents' deaths, his broad firm shoulders always there to support her. And after James dumped her, when she'd come home from college to lick her wounds, Jason had been there. He’d listened to her preach the man's funeral, deeming James unworthy of a woman like Montana once she'd given Jason the floor to speak. Never once had he ever given any inkling. Never once had he made a move that would lead her to believe he felt anything but sibling affection for her. Or had he? Was she just in denial? Montana would have more than enough to keep her thoughts occupied on the plane ride home now. **** "Falling down on the job over there, Phoenix." Seth glanced up to see Jason smirking from astride his mustang. "Have I missed something?" "Probably the same thing I’m missing." Jason steered his horse in Seth's direction and stopped a few feet away. "You and I haven't really had a chance to talk, man to man." Seth grinned. This must be his week to endure interrogations and heart-to-hearts. He was still on edge wondering what Montana would have to say when she returned and could only imagine what Jason had to say to him now. "I'm only going to tell you this once, and one time only, Phoenix…" Seth raised an eyebrow. "You hurt my girl, and I'll make you sorry you were ever born." What would Jason say if he knew what Seth and Montana had been doing several days ago right before she had been called away? He did not think Montana's young cow boss would be very pleased at all. "You cannot make me any more sorry than I already am." “Don’t count on it, Phoenix.” Jason grimaced, tightly gripped the reins on his horse. "What really happened to you out there on the road? Did she knock you down, or were you faking it?" "What did Montana tell you happened?" "She's a mite skittish with the details." Seth shrugged. "Whatever she told you happened is what happened." "Hmph." "Jason, I do not wish Montana ill. I would never harm her." Any more than I already have. She was a virgin—despite her allusions to her experience—and Seth did not need to mate with her to know this. He had felt it when he’d had his fingers inside her, tempted to breach her

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Spells Cast in Shadows sheath completely with his cock, but knew there would be no turning back for them once he did. He had wanted to mate with her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He had wanted to submit to his bestial half. Back home in Sapphira, it had been nothing for Seth to mate with several willing females in a sennight. But he was not home, and Montana was not a centaur but a human female. With her he had been comparatively chaste, the liberty taken days ago his first and only. But he knew he could not maintain this chastity much longer, not living under the same roof with a female so sensual and ready. He knew that if he stayed something would eventually happen between them, something that he knew Montana would regret despite her professions to the contrary. What did he have to offer her that Jason or one of the other cowboys on her ranch could not? He certainly could not offer her normalcy and stability. "Just remember what I told you, Phoenix. You hurt Montana, and I’m coming after you.” Seth shook himself and stared at Jason. "I remember, and I understand." He would give anything to know why Jason Makepeace was so protective of Montana. Who had hurt her so badly in the past that she needed his fierce guardianship now? His demeanor was more than that of an older sibling, more than that of a lover, more like that of a mother lion over a cub. Jason nodded, and clucked his tongue at his horse as he turned and spurred the animal towards the open range. Seth shook his head, chuckling at the man's jealousy. He was glad that the human was more reasonable than most centaurs in the same position, otherwise he knew he and Jason might have come to blows. He did not want to harm Montana's friend. He knew how much she cared about Jason Makepeace. In fact, he was jealous of the relationship they shared despite it being devoid of sexual feelings on Montana's part. He knew how the male sex operated, knew how persuasive a man could be when he fixed his libido on a female. Seth turned his horse in the opposite direction from Jason and headed toward the lake. It should have been the last place in the world he wanted to be, but something in the area drew him, had always drawn him since he was young, especially after he had glimpsed the child. To this day, Seth did not know how a young Montana had stumbled across the boundary that separated Sapphira from the human world. He could not fathom how she had been able to penetrate the imperceptible barrier. By the time he had discovered her, she'd already been struggling and gasping for breath, sinking beneath the waters of Lake Cenon for the final time. Seth had shared his encounter with the child with only one individual in Sapphira besides his parents, and he knew that individual had taken the secret to her grave. He glanced out over the lake, watching the rippling surface with longing. This was the first time he had been alone with his thoughts, near his place of banishment, since he had met his little girl grown up. This was the first time he had to think about why he had been punished. He swallowed hard against the grief that threatened to overwhelm him at the memory of Nyssa's dark, exotic face. He remembered her sloe-eyed heated gaze as they'd argued at the edge of the lake before the first rifle shot shattered the afternoon.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth had thought he'd been cautious, had thought he'd kept well back from the barrier. But somehow he had lost track and overstepped the safety of Sapphira to encroach on the human world. And Nyssa had paid for it. Sweet, trusting Nyssa. He had gotten her killed. She’d been the one female centaur who understood him as much as his mother, the one centaur in their clan who respected what he was trying to do with his students. Nyssa understood the passion he had for learning as much as he could about the clan's friends and foes, near and far. She had been a true student of human nature, of all nature, always willing to learn. She possessed an open mind to rival the great thinkers of their kind, her wisdom and gifts reminding him of his father's idol, Chiron. Her curiosity and faith were on a level with Montana Freeborn's. And now she was lost to him, at least on this plane. Seth glanced at the sky. He wondered if Nyssa were looking down at him. He had never had a reason to put any credence into the afterlife before now. Despite a centaur's physical longevity, now more than ever he wanted to know that life existed on another level than just in Sapphira and here in the human world. He wanted to know that Nyssa's light had not gone out forever. He steered his horse back towards the ranch, stabled and fed the stallion, then headed up to the house for a shower before he would join the rest of the staff and campers in the cookhouse for supper. Peppa stood sentry outside, barking at the front door. Seth crouched to give the animal a pat on the head and glanced into the dog's frantic eyes. "What is it, boy? Someone in there that should not be?" The dog barked twice in quick succession. Seth slid the fingers of one hand through the dog's collar as he stood and led the way into the house. When the door opened, Peppa broke free of Seth's grasp, catching him off-guard as the dog ran into the house towards the dining room. "Peppa! Peppa, come back here, boy." Seth followed the dog through the living room, alert to a possible intrusion. The dog seemed too agitated for there to be nothing or no one in the house. Seth came up short in the dining room where a man stood with his back to the china cabinet, wielding a bouquet of flowers like a sword and holding a briefcase in front of his chest like a shield. He was about Seth's height, give or take an inch, and maybe ten pounds lighter. Unlike most of the cowboys on the ranch, he had mahogany dark skin, dark-brown eyes, and was cleanshaven with curly black hair neatly trimmed around his ears. He smelled of malice and money. Seth disliked him on sight and from the glare the stranger gave him, Seth could see his feelings were mutual. "Want to call off this mangy mutt?"

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Spells Cast in Shadows "I would ask you to identify yourself first." "Wha—Who the hell are you?" "My identity is not at issue here." "The hell it isn't." The stranger sighed. "Now look, I don't know about you, but I belong here." "Are you an acquaintance of Montana's?" The stranger smirked. "I'd say she and I are a little more than that." Seth fisted his hands at his side. He did not appreciate the stranger's innuendo, and he intended to discover his purpose in coming. "Look, just call off the dog and we'll talk." There must be a reason Peppa was so antsy around the gentleman, and Seth only used this term loosely. He could think of several other expressions that would fit the stranger much better, none of them complimentary. "Peppa, come here boy!" The dog stopped mid-bark. He gazed longingly at Seth then back at the stranger as if he couldn't decide whether it would be worth his trouble to take a piece out of the stranger's anatomy before obeying Seth. "Peppa…" The German shepherd ran back to Seth and heeled at his side. Seth slid his fingers back under the dog's collar, determined not to let Peppa take him by surprise again. However, if the stranger gave him reason to, then Seth would just let the animal rip. "He listens to you, huh? That's a miracle. I can barely get the mutt to behave, much less sit or stay." "Perhaps if you stopped calling him a mutt." The stranger glared at him then made a move to approach. Peppa growled and barked before trying to break away from Seth's grip. Seth held firm, waiting. The stranger helplessly threw up his hands as if in surrender. "Can I at least have a vase for these?" He waved the flowers around. “You are free to help yourself.” Seth held Peppa and watched as the stranger got a crystal vase from a cabinet beneath the island, filled it with water and put the bouquet inside. He placed his briefcase a top the island beside the vase, took a seat on one of the barstools to arrange the flowers as if to their best effect. “They make a nice centerpiece, don’t you think?" Seth simply nodded and said, “I suppose.” “Montana will like them. They’re her favorite.” The stranger waved at the vase indicating the ‘nice centerpiece.’ Seth fisted his free hand at his side. That this man obviously knew his way around Montana’s abode. That he knew enough about Montana to make such a statement about her likes

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Gracie C. McKeever and dislikes sent hot jealousy shooting through Seth’s heart and radiating out until his entire upper body felt flushed. Swallowing down his irritation, Seth offered a hand, his parents' training kicking in when his own instincts told him to throw down a gauntlet, declare war on the stranger, and pummel him into the ground. Restraint won out. "I am Seth Phoenix." "I've never seen you here before. What are you, a new ranch hand or something?" "Or something." "Hmph." Seth glared at him. . "I'm Richard Wheeler…" He finally put a hand in Seth's, gripping it firmly before he leered. "Montana's fiancé."

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Chapter 8 Montana pulled her Ram pick-up around back of the main house, parked, and took several deep breaths after turning off the engine. She didn't know what she was going to say to Jason when she saw him, or how she was supposed to act around him now. Could she be natural after what David told her? After several moments, Montana got out of the pick-up and greeted the wranglers in her path as she headed up to the house. She didn't see hide nor hair of Jason or Seth and hoped everything was all right between those two. Jason could be more than a little protective of her, and after hearing David's observations over lunch, Montana wasn't so sure leaving the pair alone together had been a good idea. Of course, it was too late to do anything about that now. All she could do was hope that they hadn't come to blows while she'd been gone. Peppa greeted her as she reached the front door, eagerly barking and circling her legs as if he had a big secret to share. Montana bent at the waist to pat his head before she opened the door. Peppa dashed past her, nearly knocking her over with his enthusiasm. Warily, she followed him inside, surprised to find the house so empty, quiet, and…intact. She didn't know why she had expected a war zone, but nothing prepared her for the complete orderliness of the living room and dining room as she sauntered into the house. She hung her jacket and hat on the coat rack at the bottom of the stairwell. "Why did you not tell me you were betrothed, Montana?" She jerked around to see Seth leaning against the doorjamb on the threshold of the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, long legs haphazardly crossed at the ankles in front of him. He looked for all the world like a disgruntled parent waiting to dig into his kid. The image sent Montana's heart fluttering with familiarity, had her smiling when it was the last thing she wanted to do.

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Gracie C. McKeever She swallowed hard at the sight of him. She had almost forgotten how breathtaking he was. She had halfway convinced herself during her assignment that if she never laid eyes on him again, she'd be better off. Her pussy clenched and moistened in protest, labia pulsing to the tune of liar, liar, pants on fire between her legs. "Betrothed? Who gave you that ide—?" "I did, of course." Montana watched as Richard passed Seth to enter the vestibule and pause in front of her. "Richard, what has gotten into you?" What was this, her day to be claimed and harassed? "So, you do know this man?" "Of course I do. He's my parents'…my lawyer." Seth peered at her, unfolding his arms from across his chest and making his way over to her and Richard at the stairwell. "He says he is your fiancé." Montana turned on Richard, saw the leer, and knew he'd been up to his bossy tricks again. Ever since her parents had died, he'd appointed himself her personal guardian and business manager. He knew how her parents had felt about him, had felt about him and her together. They had been all for a union between their daughter and their trusted lawyer. He'd been taking full advantage of that knowledge and trust since they'd died. He’d proposed to Montana several times since her parents’ deaths. That was all well and good for her parents, but Montana didn't want Richard Wheeler in that way and she knew that he didn’t want her for anything except the connections her family name might afford him. There was no love, no passion—except for the mighty dollar and finer things in life—but certainly not for Montana. There never had been. She knew this and accepted Richard for the cool, calculating businessman he was, for the efficient lawyer he had been to her parents and was to her. Montana wanted passion, needed love; she knew she would get neither from Richard Wheeler. "Well, Montana?" She blinked, glanced at Seth as he glared down at her, and realized that here was what she'd been missing in one wide-shouldered, virile package. Here was passion, jealousy, anger, tender possessiveness all seething beneath copper skin, heat building and emanating as if preparing to assuage and fill a void. "Well what?" "Is it true? Is this man your betrothed?" "I'd like to know what gives a ranch hand the right to question our relationship," Richard said before she could respond. Montana felt like she was chair umpire in a tennis match and had just made a bad call. How had her homecoming turned into the Spanish Inquisition? "Richard, a proposal doesn't make an engagement. I'd have to say yes for that." 62

Spells Cast in Shadows "That's a matter of time, Monty. I know it and you know it." God, he was so arrogant! "So, you are not engaged to this man?" Speaking of arrogant…Montana stepped to Seth and jabbed a finger at his chest. "First of all, who are you to give me the third degree about my relationships?" The man was a walking, talking enigma who had popped into her life out of thin air, and he wanted to dictate to her who should and shouldn't be in her life? She barely knew any more about him today than she did when she'd run over him. He, on the other hand, knew all there was to know about her. Almost, but not quite. That claim to fame went to Shana, her ex-best friend from junior high school, and her almost first sexual experience in James Roddick. Shana had avoided going to a rave with her boyfriend because of one of Montana’s visions and warning. She had lived to fear and resent her friend for saving her; her boyfriend had not been so lucky. James had been a different kind of betrayal. He’d initially been gallant and sympathetic after their aborted encounter, only to turn on Montana and spread vicious rumors about her on campus. After James, she'd promised herself she'd never let anyone get close enough to hurt her again. She'd forgotten quickly enough at the advent of Mr. Phoenix, however. Montana straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin an inch and glared at him now. Seth raised his eyebrows, easily answering her challenge before he reached out, caught her by the wrist, and scowled as if to intimidate her. "Please excuse us, Mr. Wheeler." He led her away from the stairs. Montana gasped and pulled back as he dragged her toward the library. Rather than look like a spoiled brat in front of Richard, she finally gave up her futile struggle long enough to call over her shoulder, "Be right back, Richard." Once inside the library, Seth promptly closed and locked the door behind them. She should have been nervous. After all, she didn't know very much about Mr. Phoenix, except that she wanted to do things to him that were probably illegal in at least ten states. Right now Mr. Phoenix had a furious look on his face that said he might want to do a few illegal things himself, one of which could have been commit murder. "We must talk." "We were talking before you dragged me off like some caveman, Tarzan." "We were arguing. And I refuse to participate in your domestic discord." "You refuse to—?" Montana advanced, tried to get by, but Seth didn't budge. He stood before the door, arms folded across his chest in a familiar stance meant to intimidate as well as block her. She glanced around the room, searching as if for a weapon. Her eyes fell on her father's Louisville slugger propped against a corner of the bookshelf, its solid presence at once

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Gracie C. McKeever emboldening and heartbreaking. She remembered many a day swinging at her father's pitches at the local ball field, remembered many a Memorial Day and Fourth of July picnics spent fielding fly balls off of her father's bat. Those pictures juxtaposed one of his broken and badly burned body in the wreckage of the private Cessna and lodged a lump in her throat. She missed her parents so desperately. Montana craned her neck to stare at Seth, weighing her options, strangely unafraid. She supposed if she really needed to, she could commandeer the bat and put it to good use. Though that would be too drastic a move against Seth, she couldn't think of a reason under the sun why she would have to defend herself against Mr. Pony Man. She knew that he would never hurt her. He might growl at her, make demands in his arrogant King-and-I tone maybe, and refuse to answer a direct question. He would definitely make her panties hot and wet just inhabiting the same room as her. But he’d never hurt her. On the other hand, she suspected Richard could be another matter altogether, and the intensity of that thought frightened her. Montana shook her head as if to expel the sudden image of her parents' long-time lawyer harming her, hands around her throat, roaming her torso, pressing his body against hers… She shoved her palms against Seth's hard chest, trying to ward off the image, as if Seth were the threat instead of her image of Richard. "Let me out of here so I can straighten things out." "You have things to straighten out here first." "With you?" He nodded and Montana huffed. She retreated several steps and threw herself back into the stuffed leather recliner near the bookcase. "First of all, it's not my domestic discord. I didn't cause this misunderstanding." "Mr. Wheeler is under the impression that you did." "That's his and your problem, not mine." He peered at her. "It is our problem, Montana." His voice was a deep caress, as if he were trying to calm a spooked horse. For some reason, Montana's hackles rose. "I've had about enough of this." She rose from the chair and advanced again. Seth caught her by the shoulders and held her in place. "Let me go." "Is that what you truly want?" No, it wasn't what she truly wanted, but it was what she needed, and soon, or she'd embarrass herself and melt into his arms like the weak and helpless female he and Richard seemed to think she was.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "You've obviously got something to get off your chest, so shoot, Tarzan." "Who is this Tarzan to which you keep making allusions?" "Another arrogant male chauvinist who liked manhandling females," she mumbled, instantly regretting the words that had him releasing her as if she was on fire. Montana missed the simultaneous possessiveness and security of his grasp; he stood only an inch away, but the heat of his body lingered despite letting her go. "I didn't tell you I'm betrothed because I'm not. Richard is a friend of the family. He served as my mother and father's lawyer, and now he serves in the same capacity for me since their deaths. Satisfied?" "Are you?" "Hell, what difference does it make whether I am or I'm not!" Montana threw up her hands, pivoted, and stalked across the room. Seth was tight on her heels, and when she turned to make her way back across the room, she bounced off of his chest like a rubber ball. Seth reached out to catch her around the shoulders before she took a tumble. He lifted her an inch off the floor as he pulled her close against his chest. "It makes a difference to me," he murmured before swooping in to seize her lips with his. Her first instinct had her clamping her teeth against entry. When he released her shoulders to fist her long hair and held her firmly against him, she automatically opened her mouth beneath his onslaught. Seth plunged, hips mimicking the thrust of his tongue in a slow sexy grind against her pelvis. The movement made her groan and push her tongue out to mate with his. She pressed herself close as his arousal sought her moist center like a heat-seeking missile. God, she wanted him! She wanted to feel his skin against her, warm and hard. She wanted to know all his secrets, painful and happy, even at the risk of alienation; she wanted his hard shaft to fill her, fill the empty endless spaces inside that were primed and waiting for him. Someone knocked on the door, and Montana broke from him quickly. Seth, she noticed, seemed unashamed, and unwilling to let her go, as if holding her in his arms was his due. He pulled his head away only enough to stare at her so long and hard Montana thought he was trying to hypnotize her. She needed to get away before he succeeded. "I should probably answer that." "We have not finished this yet, Montana." She almost slipped with her loose Sagittarian tongue and asked if that were a threat or not. She didn't want to rock his boat anymore than Richard's sudden appearance already had. The man was smoke-coming-out-the-ears upset as it was. "Montana?" "I heard you," she said at the stern tone of his voice. God, he sounded like her father reprimanding her. Though that was as far as the resemblance went. Because she certainly didn't

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Gracie C. McKeever have the same reaction to her father's timbre as she did to Seth's. No, she had never gotten wet from the mere sound of her father's voice. Seth nodded as if satisfied with her answer. He finally stepped away from her, and Montana went scrambling to the door. **** Richard paced outside the door, listening through the heavy mahogany . He could barely make out their lowered voices, exchanging secrets to which he should have been privy. Lovers' secrets. Lovers' language. He frowned and balled his fists at his sides, itching to punch out Phoenix's lights. His fingers tingled with the need to wrap around Montana's throat. How could Montana bring another man into the house in his absence, trust another man with what belonged to him? Christ, the man had 'locks! What was she thinking? She'd been raised better than that; at least Richard had thought so. He had promised her parents that, should anything ever happen to them, he would take care of Montana and the ranch. Only Montana seemed determined to sabotage his efforts, wanted to do and have things her way. She couldn't see what was good for her—an intelligent, successful stable brother—when he was right under her nose. The woman was too independent and smart for her own good, except in matters of the heart. If she had a lick of sense about who and what was good for her, she would have accepted his proposals by now, and they'd have been married and on their honeymoon months ago. But it appeared that Montana wanted to sow her wild oats with some wandering Neanderthal. Richard replaced his sneer with a smile as the door unlocked, and Montana came out of the library trailing Phoenix. Just like her parents, the woman had a soft spot for the poor and downtrodden, running that summer mentoring program for inner city and urban youth on the ranch for instance. Her parents had made the mistake of taking him in as a teen, after his parents had died, helping him through school, and getting him into college until he felt he owed them more than they deserved, until he realized that he had gotten himself through school. He had succeeded, and would have without any help from the high-and-mighty Freeborns. Lying thieves and killers of dreams. He had put a stop to the do-gooders, Dusty and Michael Freeborn, and he would put a stop to the madness with their daughter as soon as possible, show Montana the error of her ways and put Phoenix back in his place out of her life. Just like he'd done with her parents.

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Chapter 9 Montana spotted Jason at the bottom of the stairwell as she exited the library. Despite what David had said about him, her heart leapt, she couldn't help it. "Jason!" Montana ran across the floor to Jason. She threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek before whispering against his ear, "Thank God you're here to rescue me." "When have you ever needed me to rescue you, darlin'?" he whispered. "Right now.” He chuckled and put an arm around her waist. They both turned back to the two men approaching. She was waiting for an inkling, some electricity to alert her that the touch was different, that Jason was different, that he felt about her more than she'd thought. But there was nothing, just the warm security and comfort that had always been there since her parents had died, since James had trashed her, since…Montana couldn't remember a time at Freeborn when Jason hadn't been there for the major calamities in her life. He was only three years older than her, but he'd been at the ranch since his early twenties when Montana had been coming into her own with her passion in forestry and working the ranch when she was home from college. "You guys been harassing my girl?" Montana heard the menace beneath the playful tone of Jason's words. Her chest filled with familiar emotions of trust and safety. Admittedly, she didn't know much about his past except that his widowed father had died in a bronco busting incident that left Jason an orphan at eleven. Shuttled from foster home to foster home for the next five years before he became an emancipated minor, Jason had the same checkered past as her kids. It made him more than capable of defending Montana against a pompous angry lawyer who wanted to claim her like a piece of property. However, she had her doubts how successful he’d be in a showdown with Seth. At the thought, Montana glanced at Seth, caught his frown, and saw his jaw working. She lowered her gaze to catch his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and instantly became wet at the heated look he threw her when she raised her glance.

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Gracie C. McKeever She felt the intimate touch of those silver eyes like fingers between her legs—searching, thrusting, raiding her pussy—felt the heat all the way down to her toes. Her entire body flushed from his silent scrutiny as if he had stripped her and fucked her in the presence of the two other men. The tension was thicker than London fog, laden with a triple dose of testosterone. Montana wondered how long Richard had been at the ranch trying to stir up trouble, and how the three men had avoided coming to blows. "Not harassing her, catching up, Makepeace. We haven't seen each other in quite a while, and there are some things Monty and I need to discuss." Montana felt Jason's fingers tighten around her middle at Richard's use of the moniker. She saw him clenching his teeth from the corner of an eye. Jason and some of her camp kids were just about the only ones who called her ‘Monty’ besides her parents, and Richard knew it. "Sorry, I've got dibs on her now, guys. Ranch business," Jason said. Richard stepped forward. He looked ready to rip Jason a new one. Montana ran interference and jumped in front of Jason. "We'll be right back." She hooked an arm through one of Jason's and led him out of the house before either of the men could argue. "Gettin' a mite stuffy in there." "Suffocating." Montana led the way towards the forest, away from the ranch, setting a leisurely pace as Jason fell in beside her. "Mind telling me where we're going?" "I just needed a few minutes away from the house." "Ganging up on you, were they?" "You know Richard and his proposals." Jason grimaced and Montana knew she needed to change the subject. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss proposals and marriage or anything remotely related to the loss of her parents with Jason. True, he understood loss. Instinctively, she had always known this. Perhaps it was the most important reason why she'd always found it easy to confide in him. But she didn’t want to burden him with her romantic and business woes, especially now. “Is there anything else bothering you that I should know about, Monty?” Jason asked, making it hard for her not to confide. Montana suddenly saw him in a different light—saw the strength and determination buried beneath the kindness and patience, saw the honesty and concern beneath the reserve and tactfulness. She couldn't see the desire that David claimed was there and thought that her supervisor had misread Jason the way she had misread her supervisor or that Jason was more secretive than Seth. Or maybe she just didn't want to see, didn't want things to be different, because then she'd have to admit to herself that she'd been blind all these years and had ignored a good man when he was right under her nose. She'd have to submit to the idea that Jason wouldn't be at the ranch much longer and would eventually leave—for his own piece of mind, if not for hers. She'd have 68

Spells Cast in Shadows to reconsider selling Freeborn. “Nothing a good communing with nature won’t cure,” she finally said. He held her gaze for a long moment before asking, "So, how'd the project go?" "Fantastic!" Montana gushed, finally on comfortable territory. She warmed to her subject immediately, describing the area, and her work fact-gathering in the field. Jason nodded and hmmed in all the right places, a kindred spirit despite his layman status. He'd always understood her ardor for the land, for nature, and he shared it. Montana paused near a towering aspen tree. She leaned against its trunk and glanced up at him. "Did you really have ranch business to discuss or was that just a ploy to get me out of there?" "A little of both." Jason looked toward the house, gripped Montana by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "We've got company coming. But when we have more time, there are some things I need to talk to you about." Montana's stomach dropped at the intensity in his voice. "What things?" "Not now. Later, I promise." Jason turned her around just in time to see Richard and Seth stalking towards them. **** Hours had past since Montana had returned to the house from her walk with Jason and had just as quickly left it again to accompany Richard to dinner with more explanations about their needing to talk business. It seemed everyone had business to talk over with his woman except Seth. His nostrils flared now as he scented Montana close by. He knew Wheeler's vehicle approached the ranch, and he waited to hear it pull into the driveway. He tried to steel himself for her appearance, preparing the words he would say to her once she got into the house, but nothing came to mind, despite the few hours he’d had alone to think of an approach. Perhaps he was at a loss because he had spent the first hour after Wheeler and Montana's departure wasting time seething. He had avoided the cookhouse, not in the mood for mixed company, especially not that of happy couples and families involved in the mundane activities of modern living. Not even the possibility of sparring with Jason Makepeace had been lure enough to draw him out of the house. Seth no longer saw Jason as a threat, and not because Jason wasn't a formidable rival with all the prerequisite physical and mental attributes of a suitable mate, but because he knew how Montana felt about him. Seth knew that she was his soul mate and not Makepeace's or Wheeler's. He nonetheless enjoyed the confrontations and conversations he had so far had with Makepeace, found the younger man down-to-earth, his intelligence refreshing and a challenge in a manner reminiscent of his older brother, Endre. Wheeler was another matter entirely. Although Richard did not threaten Seth in the romantic sense, Seth did not trust the man and knew that, unlike Jason, Richard Wheeler meant no good to Montana or the ranch. Convincing Montana of this was not going to be easy when he himself was barely an acquaintance, one in whom she had not yet fully placed her trust. He did not want to rush her or

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Gracie C. McKeever raise her ire and suspicion by talking ill of someone to whom she was so close, someone predating his arrival by years and whom had been intimate with her beloved parents. To do thus would only have her look at Seth with a jaundiced eye, something he could not risk unnecessarily. Seth had nonetheless balked at Montana's leaving with Wheeler, his raw possessive nature barely contained as he had bade them a pleasant evening out rather than seizing Montana from Wheeler's grip and dragging her upstairs to the nearest bedroom to ravage her. Where once he had loathed the idea of his human form, he now looked forward to being with Montana. He wanted to do so many things to her body, explore his own new flesh, explore the new limits of pleasure that it might provide him; he wanted to revel in the new pleasures he could afford his mate as a human male. He half blessed the day of his punishment, thanked the elders for their actions—whether motivated by a sincere need to teach him a lesson or mere meanness—for they had brought him to the Freeborn Ranch and Montana. Then in the next breath, he cursed them for the changes they'd wrought on his person, yet uncomfortable in his new skin, yet uncertain of its merits. He was certain of one thing: Montana belonged to him. She may not have known it, but Seth had already staked a claim in spirit and would do so in body soon. He would make Montana see that he was made for her and she was made for him and that their coupling was just a matter of time. He knew she was running from him—using excuses of needing to "touch base" with Freeborn's lawyer after his prolonged absence—allowed it only because he knew he would have her in the end and that Montana would relish every minute as much as he would. The problem was getting her to that point, getting close enough to where she belonged to him with her body and mind as well as her heart and soul. He had faced worse and more rigorous challenges in Sapphira numerous times, during his own initiation into adulthood, for one. Or convincing his father and the Directorate of the merits of his teaching methods, gaining permission to take his students on various field trips to observe the humans in their natural habitats. Many was the time when Seth and a group of eager young Sapphirans faced as close a call with the humans as had he and Nyssa. But not until Nyssa's death had any Sapphiran paid the ultimate price for his or her curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Peppa nosed his way into the bedroom and padded across the thick pile carpeting to the rocking chair where Seth sat by the window observing Richard Wheeler as he helped Montana out of the passenger side of his sleek silver vehicle. Peppa nudged a hand with his wet nose as if to alert Seth to Montana's imminent arrival, inviting a reciprocal pat on the head. Seth forced himself not to stalk down the stairs to retrieve his mate. He did not want to make a scene and cause her any more embarrassment. This restraint, of course, would not last for long. He would soon have to assert himself, do as he was bred to do—with her, to her— regardless of her association with Wheeler or what anyone thought of his own intimacy with Montana. Were he back in Sapphira, their completion would have already been a moot point. Once a male scented a potential mate and staked a claim, consummation was a foregone conclusion.

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Spells Cast in Shadows But as he was not back in Sapphira—he needed to respect the codes of Montana's culture or surely suffer the consequences. He did not fear the consequences, only wished to respect them and pay homage to Montana. Not that he would ever take a female by force. Never had he done so in Sapphira— despite the acceptance and prevalence of the practice, especially in villages outside of his home—and he would not start now. He knew only too well what could happen when one was forced into a situation not of his or her choosing. He had seen how his mother grieved. He’d witnessed her pain in the dark corners of the night when she thought she was alone and cried in solitude. He knew she loved her life—her husband, her sons, and clan—but he also knew what she had forfeited and left behind in her former life, her melancholy once severe enough to make her consider taking her own life. Regardless of his father's intent, the nobility of his actions, he had taken away Thyra Phoenix's choices. Seth had vowed long ago that he would never do the same, would never deprive another of his or her choices. He could not imagine what it must be like to be imprisoned—despite amenities and riches—in a world not of one's making. "Come on, boy." Seth sprang from the rocker, passivity too easily seeping into his bones with evil intensity. He led the way downstairs to the front door, Peppa hot on his heels. He felt like a parent in one of the sitcoms he had caught on the television—a "great cultural wasteland" according to Montana who'd walked him through the pros and cons of the visual contraption. Except that this was not TV, and Montana was not his child to be reprimanded but a woman he wanted so fiercely his fingers itched to caress her. His arms burned to hold her. Seth made it downstairs to the door just as Montana unlocked it and stepped inside. He watched her intently as she lifted her head, started, and grabbed her chest at the sight of him. "Sheesh, you scared the shit out of me!" Seth grinned. "How was your date?" "It wasn't a date." "I was under the impression it was." Montana arched a brow, bent to pat Peppa’s head, and motioned to pass Seth but he shot out a hand to catch her by her arm. Peppa barked two times in quick succession but made no move to intervene. "I do not trust Mr. Wheeler." "You and Jason. Join the club." Montana glared up at him. "Are you going to let me go so I can catch a shower and get ready for bed?" His entire body tightened at the fire lighting her dark eyes, at the anger behind her words. He had an image of her standing under a warm downpour, droplets of water glistening on her caramel smooth skin, sending blood and heat straight to his groin, making his shaft harden and rise.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to accommodate a sudden raging erection. No female had ever affected him this way, and he was not yet sure he appreciated that Montana Freeborn could incite him to such painful proportions with merely a word or a look. In fact, he was quite sure he did not like this power she held over him. He wondered if perhaps his new body were overly sensitive to Montana's allure, if perhaps he would be just as excited were he still a centaur, or were Montana another female. Mating between the species was forbidden though not unheard of, usually the result of abduction and force, as was the case with his mother. The offspring of such a union were destroyed at birth, if not sooner along with the mother, as an abomination. Endre had been spared at Cercyon's intervention and authority as the king's son. What would a child of his and Montana’s be? Would it be a throwback to his ancestors or a full-bred human with the sort of access to his mother's kind that Seth had always craved? "Earth to Seth Phoenix!" She waved a hand in front of him, and Seth jerked his gaze back to her face. "Are you going to let me go?" "I do not like your Mr. Wheeler." "Big newsflash, Mr. Phoenix: It. Is. None. Of. Your. Business! Now let me go." She yanked her arm from his grasp and stalked up the stairs. Seth followed her, came up short when she stopped in her tracks on the third step and turned on him as if she’d had a sudden epiphany. "What gives you the right to judge who I associate with? You’re a guest here. I barely know you." "You know me, Montana." "Hmph." She folded her arms across her chest. "Some wouldn't see it that way. And let me tell you one other thing, there are some people at Freeborn who aren't too crazy about your being here either." "Who? Your Mr. Wheeler?" "Will you stop calling him 'my' Mr. Wheeler? He doesn't belong to me, and I don't belong to him. Nor do I belong to you, contrary to popular opinion." "Popular?" Seth grinned and reveled in the flush of color that rushed to her cheeks. "So you have no romantic feelings for Richard?" "Not that it's any of your business, but no." Seth released a breath. Despite his confidence in her feelings for him, he’d had to ask, had to know for sure. Because if there was anyone who could get in the way of him being with Montana, he needed to be prepared to deal with them—in a civilized manner, of course, but he would deal with any threat briskly and decisively. "I'm not going to discuss my love life with you anymore tonight, Seth." That left the discussion open for another day. Seth did not think that Montana was aware of her phrasing, and he decided not to enlighten her. 72

Spells Cast in Shadows Montana sighed and turned to continue up the stairs. "I'm tired, and I need to get ready for my kids tomorrow." He had heard mention of ‘Montana’s kids’ coming out to the ranch this sennight, but had not paid much heed. "Your kids? Is that a figurative term, or are they actually—?" "They're part of my mentoring program. For one month during the summer a group of kids come up from the inner city to stay here on the ranch at Freeborn's expense. I've been running the program for a few years now." Her kids would certainly be another infringement upon their time together, another diversion. Could he begrudge her this when he knew how much she had and needed to give to everyone around her? Could he begrudge her time with these kids when he knew how much she missed her parents and needed to fill the void? He wondered if his own clan was missing him as much. Or perhaps he was becoming as vague a memory to them as they were becoming to him. Certainly his mother, and perhaps Endre, gave him a passing thought. Seth was not quite sure how his father was taking his departure and wondered if perhaps he was glad to finally be rid of his perpetual thorn. "Any more questions?" "Not at the moment." She smirked and turned again to continue up the stairs, muttering under her breath about arrogant, bossy, supercilious centaurs the entire time. Seth chuckled, but immediately sobered at the memory of the dark circles under her eyes. She did look weary, and he accepted part of the responsibility for her condition. He refused to feel guilty about keeping her, however. He felt more guilty for allowing her to leave with Richard in the first place. He vowed to correct that error in judgment and make her forget whatever time she had spent with Richard—or Jason for that matter—this evening. He vowed she would go to bed with only thoughts of him on her mind. Seth followed her up the stairs and caught her around an arm. “Montana…” “What is it n—?” He bent his head and slanted his mouth across hers before she could get out the last word, swallowing the low groan that she released when he slid his tongue between her lips and into her mouth. Montana slid her arms around him and when she pressed close, Seth growled and returned her hug, deepening the kiss as he ground his hard erection against her center, eager to feel the inside of her squeezing around and holding him. His cock throbbed at the idea of it. When Seth finally pulled away several seconds later, they were both breathless. He smiled down at her wanton look, her dark eyes catching and reflecting the overhead light and making them look as if a fire lit them from within. Seth reached for her kiss-swollen mouth with a thumb and slowly ran the digit over her full bottom lip, shivered as Montana followed his thumb with her tongue. “Is it something about these stairs that gets you all hot and turned on?”

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Gracie C. McKeever He shook his head. “It is something about you,” he confessed. His reasons for wanting to ravage her had changed in the span of seconds, Seth realized. He no longer wanted to imprint himself on her to eradicate the other men from her mind—her life. He wanted her for himself; he hungered for and needed her but more, he wanted to please her. Once again, her inexperience held him back, however. If he took what he needed, what he wanted…Seth shook his head. He could not consider that now, would not consider taking away the one treasure she had to give to a proper mate. There will be no other mates for Montana. She is yours! Seth swallowed at the alien possessiveness. As a centaur, he was accustomed to mating with whom he wanted when he wanted and his partners were free to do the same. He had never felt any sort of ownership with any of them, certainly not to the degree that he wanted to possess Montana. She reached up to cup his face with her hand. “Don’t make me go to bed alone tonight, Seth,” she whispered. “Montana—” “I’m not asking for anything. I just want to feel you next to me. I just need to know you’re there.” Did she know what she was asking? Did she know he wanted to share a night with her more than anything in the world but was sure he would not be able to stop at just being next to her? Being in the same house was torture. Being in the same bed would be more than torture and not nearly enough to appease the longings that had been simmering inside him since he’d started living at Freeborn. Peppa barked at their feet, breaking the tension as if he knew they needed a moment of respite. Montana took his hand, and Seth let her lead the rest of the way upstairs to her bedroom, Peppa trailing behind them. He understood the laws of her world. Montana had explained them to him in some detail and, along with his own knowledge of Twenty-First century human etiquette, he knew that his living under the same roof as her, alone, was suspect to most people and improper. Even with him sleeping in the guestroom downstairs, Seth knew that her staff and associates on the ranch were talking amongst themselves, if not to others. That Montana had risked her reputation and standing in the eyes of her people had never escaped him and should have been enough to stop what he was about to do, for what more damage would be done to her psyche this night if they stayed together? Montana let him enter before her and closed the door behind them, locking her cherished pet out. He had started this, and now he did not know how to finish it. He had known how he wanted to finish it but Montana’s acquiescence brought to glaring light how wrong his decision was to take her.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana took his hand again, led him to the bed, then faced him as they stood at the foot of it. “Before I went away, I said we would talk.” “Yes, you did.” “But I’m finding I don’t want to talk with you as much as I want to do other things with you.” Seth’s breath hitched in his chest at her innuendo. She sat down on the bed, and patted the space beside her as he had done the first day they had met. “Please.” Seth could not refuse, and perhaps this was an inherent weakness in his makeup. He had never been able to say no to Nyssa either, except when it had ultimately counted, and she had made her feelings clear to him that the position of platonic companion in his life was no longer one she wanted to occupy. “You’re tense, Seth. You need to relax.” He let her push him back on the bed. “And you think to relax me by touching me?” The thought was ludicrous, for when she put her hands on him, he could be nothing except excited. Relaxed did not come into the equation. He could not, in fact, think of one single thing that would make him relax around Montana. When he was around her, all he wanted to do was be inside her. Perhaps once he had achieved this, he would relax. She pulled up his T-shirt and commenced to kiss her way from one flat male nipple to the other, nibbling and laving each nub until Seth thought his erection would burst free of his jeans. She left his nipples to start a trail of licks and pecks down his chest to his belly to his— “Montana, what are you doing?” “What do you think?” Surely she would not…It had never occurred to him that she would do to him what he had done to her. But of course, before he had become fully human, he had never considered doing many things he wanted to do with Montana, like the fine art of cunnilingus. He had read and heard about this activity, but no centaur to his knowledge had ever engaged in it. It had been much more pleasant than he had expected, but perhaps this was because Montana’s scent and taste enticed him to distraction, and not to have sampled her sweet-spicy juices on his tongue would have been a transgression against nature. Montana peeked up at him with mischief gleaming out of her dark eyes as she unbuckled his belt. “I told you I’m not as inexperienced as you think.” But perhaps he was. Seth gasped as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans in an instant, sliding her hand inside his boxers and stroking his pulsing shaft within before he could object. “I thought about doing this the entire time I was away. I can’t tell you how difficult working was with you on my mind.”

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth arched a brow, surprised that she admitted her desire to him. She had spent so many days denying his existence and avoiding him on the cattle drive, and then after with her detection project, that he was sure she could have cared less whether he left Freeborn or stayed. Her actions confused him, but then he was sure that his confused her. Montana moved to pull his jeans down, and he automatically helped her, lifting up enough for her to get the jeans and boxers over his hips. When she sat back on her heels to stare at his erection jutting toward the ceiling, Seth felt his entire body heat with a blush. No female had ever looked at him thus, as if she wanted to devour him from head to toe. She licked her lips, and Seth trembled beneath her hot gaze. He felt like a yearling instead of a worldly, centuries-old centaur. “When I first saw you, injured and unconscious on the forest floor, I thought of doing this…” She closed her mouth around his cock and slowly sucked. Seth groaned. Goddess, he had never felt anything like this in his life! How had he survived almost two-hundred years without experiencing this ecstasy? He tunneled his hands through her soft brown hair and Montana released him long enough to make him whimper at the loss before she stuck her tongue in the slit at the head of his cock and lapped at the liquid that was gathered there. “I wondered what this would feel like…what you would taste like,” she murmured before taking him in her mouth again. The way she gorged on him, stopping only after she had reached the base of his shaft, Seth assumed he was palatable. He closed his eyes and listened to her little moans and hums as she sucked and pulled on his cock as if on the sweetest elixir. Seth mindlessly pumped his hips, the head of his penis bumping the back of her throat. He thought to stop before he harmed her with his enthusiasm, but she grasped his buttocks and pulled him closer, sucking harder, as if she were on a mission that she intended to see through to its logical conclusion. She slid one hand beneath him to squeeze his testicles and Seth thought he would jump out of his skin. “Goddess!” He was going to climax without being inside her, without having her in his arms the way he had envisioned it since he’d stolen into her bedroom weeks ago. He could not let that happen! Seth tried to pull away as his balls tightened and pulled up close to his body. He groaned as Montana drew him in and sucked him to completion. His seed surged into her mouth, and she greedily drank him down. Montana licked her way back up his body, following the trail she had earlier taken down. She laid her head against his chest, idly circling a nipple with her fingertip as Seth caught his breath and wrapped an arm around her. “You should not have done that.”

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Spells Cast in Shadows “Talk about ungrateful.” “I am very grateful, it is just that—” “You have a problem with blow jobs?” “Is that what humans call…what you just did to me?” Montana chuckled, and returned his hug. “I’ve never done that to anyone before. I’ve never wanted to.” “I should hope not.” She popped up her head to look at him doubtfully. “Didn’t you like it?” “More than you could ever know.” And he wanted more, so much more of her. He feared, however, that their desire and the consummation of it would only lead to disaster for both of them, that it would ultimately be the end of him. Did this knowledge come from him or Montana’s gift transmitting to him?

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Chapter 10 You should not have done that. When Seth had initially said it, Montana had been hurt. Then she had thought that Seth had been covering up his confusion about his feelings by trying to act as if he didn’t care about what she had done one way or the other. Montana knew better, had felt his shudders and the tenderness in his touch when he held her; she had felt his reluctance to let her give him what she had enjoyed so much from him, sensed his fear of hurting her. She finally came to the conclusion that his statement was born of an arrogant, big-headed centaur-turned-man who didn’t like not being in control. It made her feel better to put last night into this least damaging perspective to her ego. Montana frowned now as she tossed on her side to find the other side of the bed empty. So, he had left her some time during the night. Well, it was a good thing she hadn’t wanted to cuddle and engage in a little pillow talk, wasn’t it? She should have been accustomed to desertion by now. No one she loved stayed in her life for long—unless she counted Jason. Why should a strange, mystical being be any different? She needed to start making some moves anyway. Seth be damned. She wanted to get an early start on the day and seeing her kids. This morning she planned to catch breakfast in town at Big Bob's and kill some time at his diner waiting for the bus to drop off the kids. Perhaps she could catch up on some gossip, of which she knew she and her mysterious guest at the ranch would be the subject. Montana took a quick shower, dressed, and crept down the stairs with Peppa at her side, ever her diligent watchdog and companion, except, that is, when it came to Seth Phoenix. The man could have dragged her off to God knew where last night, and she doubted the dog would have made any effort to stop him. He was actually a lot like her in this respect, so how could she fault him?

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana frowned at the thought and came up short at the threshold of the dining room when she heard bustling noises in the kitchen. "I am preparing breakfast, Montana. Join me." No "Good Morning, Montana, won't you join me for breakfast, please." No, because everything with that man was a command, never a request. Montana gritted her teeth as she headed for the kitchen. She half-considered ignoring him. Since he hadn’t bothered to stay around for a floor show this morning, she had been hoping to sneak out of the house without another confrontation, but didn't want to be rude. Besides, she wasn't too crazy about giving him the impression that she was afraid of him. No way. She just wasn't sure yet how to deal with their morning after, though her body knew exactly how to react to his innuendo and hungry looks—warming and tingling all over. Montana paused at the doorjamb and watched him scrambling eggs at the stove. Even with a flower print calico apron on over a red checked flannel shirt—sleeves rolled to his elbows and hem tucked into a snug pair of blue jeans—there was nothing soft or domestic about him. Damn, he looked sexier than a chaps-clad, shirtless cowboy in the saddle. Montana imagined herself in the saddle with him, his hard shaft nudging her ass as they bounced on Sunspot's back while the horse galloped across the green pastures of Freeborn. She watched now as he transferred the eggs to two plates already set on the island. She knew the plate with sausages and pancakes was hers; the one with only the eggs and pancakes was his. She watched him remove the apron and hang it up. He was a quick learner, and she silently commended him when she noticed he cleaned as he worked. He washed the frying pan he'd just emptied and put it in the dish rack on the sink, then turned to her and smiled. Montana closed her mouth and averted her eyes, but she knew it was too late. He’d caught her staring at his ass. Why else the arrogant smirk, unless to show off those beautiful deep dimples to their fullest effect? Would he smile if he knew what thoughts she harbored? Would he smile if he knew that she'd mentally stripped him naked in the time it took her to arrive downstairs and him to notice her presence? Sheesh, she was already soaked and ready for him to slide his rigid cock inside her right there on the kitchen floor with no more provocation than an innocent smile and question. Would he be amused or disgusted by her wanton feelings and thoughts? You should not have done that. The words haunted her. She knew he wanted her physically, but what about the rest of the package? Did he want the baggage that came with her? Could he deal with a clairvoyant, emotionally scarred, twice-orphaned ranch owner torn between her career and her duty to her late parents? "I will accompany you into town to pick up your children, but I thought perhaps we could share a hardy breakfast before we leave."

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Gracie C. McKeever "I was planning to have breakfast in town." She knew she was being unnecessarily contrary and had no intentions of wasting a perfectly delicious looking meal much less let his efforts go unrecognized. She just didn't want to let him think he could order her around so easily. "Nevertheless, breakfast is prepared, and I do not think you would see it wasted out of mere pique." Montana bit back a retort and silently took a seat as Seth sat down on one of the island barstools opposite her. She lightly buttered and put syrup on her pancakes, speared a corner, put the hotcakes into her mouth, and slowly chewed. She closed her eyes to better savor all the flavors on her tongue—the butter, the fluffy cakes, the syrup—and unconsciously moaned. "They are good." God, the man was too smug! Montana shrugged. "They're okay." He chuckled. "Perhaps you always moan when you eat, then." “You would know,” she murmured and watched him flush. Yes! She mentally pumped a fist in the air to think she had finally gotten to the man. Montana dug into a sausage, speared some eggs and found them just as delicious as the pancakes. She then washed down the mouthful of food with a swallow of orange juice. "What time will we be departing?" Montana sputtered, coughed a few times to catch her breath as she put down her glass. The man just did not quit, and his recovery time was just a little too fast for her. "Are you well?" "I'm fine," she croaked. "But what gives you the idea that you're coming with me?" "Why should I not?" "I didn't invite you." "I have invited myself. I thought you could use my assistance." She raised her brows. “What gave you that idea?” “Jason said he and some of the other wranglers pitch in with the kids. I thought I would also.” Unlike Richard who looked for every reason under the sun to undermine the mentoring camp and, as he described it, Montana’s efforts to save the world. “What else did Jason say?” Seth shrugged like a little boy caught in some devilment. “He mentioned you had doubled the amount of children coming out this year from last year. I thought perhaps the amount might be a bit much for you to handle alone, and Jason agreed.”

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Spells Cast in Shadows “Jason needs to mind his own business,” she mumbled, though it was true that without his and the other cowboys’ generous support she never would have been able to take in this summer’s twenty kids. “He is only looking out for your welfare.” “Since when did you two become so chummy?” “We are not. We just…see eye to eye on this issue.” “What? That I’m a helpless female?” It wasn’t enough that Richard thought her ten original applicants too much for her to handle and Freeborn to accommodate, now Seth thought she needed ‘assistance.’ So he was a teacher in his former home. What did that make her? Chopped liver? “No one believes you are helpless, Montana. But there is nothing wrong with accepting assistance when it is offered.” She clenched her teeth at his calm tone, the one that made her feel like a recalcitrant child, the one that made her want to oppose his advice and logic more than not. “You know what? You, Jason, and Richard can just shove your good intentions. I can take care of myself and my kids just fine without any input from an arrogant royal, an overprotective cowboy, and a tight-fisted lawyer who’s only interested in the bottom line.” “Richard does not approve of your program, I take it?” Montana snorted, noticed he’d only focused on the latter half of her rant. “That’s putting it mildly.” Richard thought the program a waste of time that could be better spent putting the ranch on the market and straightening out her affairs, specifically a closing. He told her she was over-extending herself with her duties on the ranch and working part-time with the Service, said that something had to give. Montana was determined that something would not be her kids. “So, we are decided that I will accompany you.” "No, we are not, and you can just uninvite yourself." "For what reason should I do that?" "Because maybe I don't want your company!" Sheesh, she had to give him a reason? She didn't answer to anyone else in her life the way he had her answering to him. She basically came and went as she pleased. Not even Richard bossed her around, or exasperated her as much, even when he was at his most helpful, penny-pinching self. She knew that Richard thought he was advising her for her own good, the lawyer incapable of doing anything less, looking at all the financial and legal angles to her best advantage. She owned Freeborn. It was her home and would be until she said otherwise. Montana glared at Seth across the table, saw the innocent look lighting his silver eyes. He thought it was perfectly normal and obviously saw nothing wrong with questioning a grown woman about her comings and goings. Well, he had another thing coming! "You are upset." Maybe it was some idiosyncrasy peculiar to Sapphirans, but Montana noticed that Seth rarely said anything in the form of a question unless it was absolutely necessary, or he was uncertain, another rarity for him. "Yes, I'm upset." 81

Gracie C. McKeever "I do not understand why you are being so illogical." "Illogical?" "What is this problem you have with me accompanying you? You do not want me to meet your children?" "You'll meet them once they arrive." "Exactly my point. Why not meet them sooner rather than later and become acquainted with them as they will be here at the ranch for an extended period of time?" He had a point, but she was loath to admit it to him. "Fine, you can come." "I thought so." Montana gritted her teeth. At this rate, she would grind them down to nubs. She turned her attention back to her meal and decided to concentrate on enjoying it rather than letting Seth bait her with his arrogance. She couldn't wait to get on the road now since the kitchen had turned into an emotional pressure cooker. Like being on the road would be any less emotional with Seth sitting inches away from her in the cab of her custom twenty-plus passenger van. God, she was already wet just thinking of the inevitable proximity the vehicle's interior would afford, his well-muscled denim-clad thigh and broad shoulders so close to her in the cramped space she'd be able to smell his natural spicy musk mingling with the detergent and fabric softener he used on his laundry. Montana would be lucky if she didn't have an accident on the highway. **** They reached the depot an hour before the bus was scheduled to arrive. The early appearance left Seth and Montana an hour to wait in nearby Big Bob's diner where several patrons sat scattered at tables and booths, nursing hot mugs. Seth had not yet developed Montana's caffeine addiction and doubted that he would. He had tried a cup of the aromatic liquid and did not like the way it made him feel— jumpy and on edge. He wanted to be in control of all his faculties this morning. It was enough that Montana had downed two cups of the elixir forty minutes into their wait. He sensed Montana's nervousness and did not know whether it was due to his presence or the imminent arrival of her children. He thought that it must have been a combination of both and wondered why she had been so adamant against his joining her this morning. Seth caught her glancing at her watch for the third time in the last ten minutes. "It is only several minutes since the last time you checked." "Checked your sun dial, did you?" Seth shrugged. "I can tell." Of course he had only been estimating, but he was pretty good at doing so. He had only mentioned the time, alluding to Montana's compulsion, because he liked stirring up her dander. He enjoyed the way her eyebrows crinkled, the way her cheeks colored and her teeth clenched when she was irritated.

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Spells Cast in Shadows He struggled to find something neutral to say to keep her occupied—to see her lips move in conversation, to make her smile—but the first thing that popped into his head was something more likely to cause melancholy than a smile. "Tell me about your parents." "Where did that just come from?" "I would like to know about the people who raised you." "Why do you say it like that?" He grimaced. "Like what?" "Like I didn't really belong to them." "I do not understand what you mean. Who else would you belong to?" He sensed more discord than her usual ire and was curious about its source. "If you must know, I was adopted as an infant." He had half suspected something of the sort from his memories of the man and woman in at the lake and how Montana had not really looked like either of them. "Your parents were not your real parents?" "They were as real as any parents could be." "You know to what I am referring, Montana. You were orphaned, and they took you in." "Something like that." Seth stared at her, waited for more, and when it was not forthcoming, he reached across the table to catch one of her hands. He regretted bringing up such a disturbing issue for her but was unable to stop prying. "What happened to your biological parents?" "Do you mind? I'd rather not discuss this right now." "Then when?" "Seth." She rolled her eyes. He sensed her shame, and could not understand it. She was not responsible for the circumstances that had brought her to the Freeborns. Surely she did not blame herself for whatever misfortune had led to her adoption. After a long moment of silence, Montana released a drawn-out sigh. "I never knew my biological parents. A young unwed mother abandoned me, and I don't know anything about my father. Satisfied?" "I am sorry." He squeezed her hand, but she pulled her fingers from his grip. "I don't need your pity." "I never said that you did." "You don't have to. I can see the look in your eyes." She crossed her arms over her breasts in a defensive manner that was becoming painfully familiar to him. "We can't all be as well acquainted with our family tree as the Phoenix clan of Sapphira." He had heard the bitter tone that first morning of his arrival. He had thought that she had been mocking him, but he knew now that she had been mocking herself. Self-mocking and

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Gracie C. McKeever something else, something so familiar in her eyes and body language that it sent a sharp pain of recognition to his heart: self-condemnation. Why and over what? Whom? It pained him to see her in such distress. He could not imagine what she was going through, the agony of not knowing from whom she came. His own family was so close-knit, and he expected that his parting had created an unprecedented rift in the House of Phoenix. Despite all the differences of opinion that he’d had with his father over the years, he had always known that he could count on Cercyon the King and Cercyon the father for support. His mother had always been a tireless proponent of most of her sons' endeavors since their childhood. She could always be counted on to face down any obstacles that she thought too insurmountable, but she was savvy enough to allow a loose rein for them to learn, grow, and become the type of self-sufficient centaurs of which her mate could be proud. Seth could not have asked for finer parents or a finer clan. He would wish the same for anyone he cared about, especially his Montana. "It is not pity you see in my eyes, Montana." She stared at him for a long silent moment, and he would have suffered a thousand more banishments to know what was going on behind her dark eyes. Finally, she released a breath, gave him a self-conscious grin that took at least ten years off of her already youthful face, and made his heart nose-dive to his stomach. "You know you pick the darnedest times to do your interrogating." "Will there ever be an appropriate time?" "You have a point, I just don't have to agree with you." Seth smiled and sat back in his seat. "You have been very disagreeable of late." "You've known me less than a month." "Nevertheless, I know that this petulance is not natural for you." "What can I say?" She shrugged. "You bring out the worst in me." He winced and Montana leaned forward in her seat, hands folded on the table, regret shining out of her eyes. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that." "Who among us deserves anything in this life that comes our way?" "So philosophical." She peered at him, searching. "What happened to you that you didn't deserve, Seth?" He grinned, heart drumming. He was beginning to learn how very adept his Montana was at, as she called it, ‘turning the tables.’ She was much better at it than she had accused him of being.

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Spells Cast in Shadows At his prolonged silence Montana said, "The same way you want to know about me, I'd like to know about you. You can't keep grilling me, and expecting to satisfy your curiosity without giving at least as much back. Or are you incapable of confiding?" "What is it you wish to know?" It took every ounce of restraint to reply without pause and give her an inkling of his hesitation, despite how close to the truth she had come. Montana leered, rubbing her hands together as if sitting down to a succulent banquet at which Seth was the main course. "For starters, I'd like to know what brought you to my ranch, besides your four hooves of course. I know the why, but how? And whose death were you responsible for?" Seth smiled at her allusion to his previous form, then instantly sobered as he looked at her across the table and saw her piercing gaze. She was not going to let this go. Maybe she would not push it now, but she would bring it back up later. Could he really blame her? He was living under her roof, benefiting from her generosity and so much more. How could he keep denying her? She was so close, he could reach out and touch her face, but the distance between them— the differences in ancestry and life experience—was an impossible chasm that he was not sure they could ever bridge. And yet, did they not share a similar history? Had she not, for whatever reasons, been exiled from her people as a child, forced to fit in where she evidently did not think she belonged? Had she not grown up an outcast, whereas he had been cast-out? Montana had been punished just as he, except that her penalization had been unjust, undeserved, whereas he had earned his. The latter acknowledgement reminded him of just why he should not trust Montana with his secrets, though he deeply wanted to. She might see him differently, deem him unworthy. Would trusting her end what was growing between them before it even began? He was a coward if these were his reasons for not telling her about Nyssa. Never could he have been described as such, at least not before now. "God, I've never seen a man take so long to answer a simple question!" Montana threw up her hands and flung herself back against her seat. "If you don't want to answer, just say so." "That would not please you." "If it was all about pleasing me, I'd know your entire life story by now." "That would please you?" "For starters." How to put into words that he was responsible for his beloved friend's death? How to look in the eyes of the woman he was growing to care more and more about every day, and tell her that he had escaped a death sentence by some unknown miracle—fate, chance, divine and/or parental intervention? How to tell her that he had been thrust kicking and screaming like a newborn infant into her alien world by the Black Elf?

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth glanced out the window to his left, searching for and finding refuge when he saw the Greyhound bus pull up outside and begin disgorging its passengers. He turned back to Montana and pasted on his brightest grin. "I think your children have arrived."

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Chapter 11 Montana could have leapt across the table to strangle the man! The only thing that kept her from violence was the sight of her kids getting off of the bus and gathering around Rashawn Wallace, one of her favorite old-timers from the mentoring program. What could Seth be hiding that would make him so evasive? She didn't think it could possibly be as bad as her own transgression, letting one's own parents go to their deaths. But then who knew about this Sapphiran whose death he had caused? Had it been a friend? A lover? A mate? How important to Seth had this person been and was his or her loss what caused Seth’s hesitation in making love to her? Montana watched Rashawn’s lips move while he pointed to each kid and took a head count. "Let's get this show on the road." Montana got up from the booth, dropped enough money on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip, and headed for the door. Seth walked by her side, so close she felt the heat of his body reaching her skin through her clothes. She clutched her clipboard against her breasts with both arms as if it were a shield that could ward off the desire already flooding her center, as they made their way out of the diner and across the depot to where the teens and pre-teens congregated. "Aw-ight, guys, settle down and make sure you've got all your belongings off the bus." Montana grinned at the authority in Rashawn's deep voice. He was turning into such a wonderful young man, the kind of industrious and responsible teenager of which any parent would be proud. She crept beside him, tapped him on a shoulder, and beamed when he turned and graced her with a priceless white smile. "Yo, Monty! What up?" He threw his arms around her in an affectionate bear hug that took her breath away.

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana chuckled and squeezed the biceps on one arm. "Been lifting weights over the winter or what?" "Nah, nothing like that. Just regular strength training and stuff. Nothing heavy. I'm on the track team. Have to keep lean and mean." "So you've given up on joining the Circuit?" "No way. I still plan on giving Mortensen some tight competition." Montana smiled at his choice of hero. She'd seen Dan compete several times, always amazed at his athleticism and skill. Not to mention he was a nice guy to boot. "Keeping your options open, huh?" "Oh, no doubt." "Talked Mama Betty into it yet?" "I showed her how much money Mortensen made in '98. I think I'm getting through. And I took your advice and mentioned his college history. So I'm getting in the higher education and money-making argument in one fell swoop." "Slick. I like it." Montana smiled. "Now, introduce me to your new and old friends." "Bet…" Rashawn clapped and rubbed his hands as he turned to his co-counselor and their charges. "Sasha, you already know." "Hi, Montana. How ya been?" "Better now that you guys are here." Montana put an arm around the teenager's shoulders and squeezed. Sasha had been coming to the camp as long as Rashawn, her tough background only differing from his in that she was a white female and had been in a gang. She had tattoos and piercings in places that Montana never would have dreamed of tattooing and piercing. Otherwise, she was a pretty levelheaded young woman and growing into as much of a leader as was Rashawn. Montana knew that Sasha had a mammoth crush on Rashawn—so far too shy to say anything about it to him—and that she wanted to be a doctor. It would certainly be an interesting pairing, a professional rodeo competitor and a doctor. Sasha could give Rashawn all the TLC he'd certainly need after a horse or bull threw him. Montana turned to the balance of kids and started roll call. She was so wrapped up in getting her kids situated that she had forgotten all about Seth— a near impossible task under normal circumstances, and the circumstances certainly weren't normal. Montana turned, searching for him and one of her camp attendees who was yet unaccounted for. "Where's…" She glanced down at her attendance sheet, then back up at Rashawn. "Jamal Wilson?" Gibes and sighs abounded from the group, making Montana's eyebrows raise in question. "He was around here a few minutes ago," Rashawn said.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "There he is outside that diner with some strange dude," Michelle, one of the first-timers, said as she pointed towards Big Bob's. "Hmm, more like fine dude," said Fantasia, a third-year attendee. Her observation was followed by several estrous sighs of agreement. Montana didn't even have to turn around to know they were talking about Seth, and she felt the green-eyed monster prying at her chest. Sheesh, teenage girls! She'd thought that their tastes would run more towards the latest puerile hip-hop, gangstah rap acts, not for Montana's mature man so obviously outside of their league. But then she remembered crushes she'd had on some of her professors in high school and college and stopped her train of thought in its tracks. She'd noticed the affect Seth had on the opposite sex, specifically the female guests and wranglers at the ranch. Married, single, young, middle aged and old, they all reacted to him the same way Montana did but tried to deny—guests and now her kids falling over themselves to be noticed by him. Montana had never seen women flirt so shamelessly. And Seth ate it all up with his usual aplomb—never giving away that he noticed their admiration, but gracious enough to accept it for the gift that it was and flirting back with as much dignity as his royal heritage allowed. Even in the diner, Montana had to stop herself from ripping out several pairs of brazen female eyes. Where had this newfound jealousy come from? When had she started to feel so possessive of Seth? Would she ever get over the way women threw themselves at him? God, she'd known from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him that Seth was going to be trouble, and he was proving her right, stir-frying her brain with doubts of his fidelity when he and she had yet to come together in the intimate way she'd been imagining since seeing him in the altogether on the road near her ranch. And now after tasting him, and having him taste her, her desire and proprietary attitude had grown three-fold. He had touched her—with his lips, his hands and fingers—and he had brought her to life. Montana couldn’t wait for him to do it all again. She slowly turned now to where the girls' attention was directed, braced herself to see what fresh trouble that man was getting into. **** Seth had watched Montana approach the young man, saw her instant reaction to him— face lighting up with a blinding smile—and his own body tightened with desire and anger because he was not the one who had put that light in her eyes and the smile on her lips. The young man's reaction had been just as instant, just as enthusiastic as he'd turned and smothered Montana in a firm hug. Seth had some doubts as to whether or not the manchild was one of her ‘kids.’ The stripling in question was tall, towering over most of the other children, especially the girls, and standing head-and-shoulders above Montana. The hair on his face—a small goatee and

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Gracie C. McKeever mustache much like his own—belied the youthfulness of the rest of his smooth features. Seth was hard-pressed as to guess the young man's age, especially calculating in human years. Had the youth been a centaur, Seth would have put him at a hundred-and-nineteen, several seasons past when a male in Sapphira would have gone through adult rites. He watched as the young man and Montana started taking attendance, Montana officious yet approachable and down-to-earth, clipboard and pen at the ready as she checked off names and greeted each child with either a hug or a friendly grin. Once Montana and her young friend had things well in hand, Seth drifted back to the diner where a young man sat on the wooden bench to the side of the entrance. He had not seen the youth before, but assumed he was part of Montana's group. The youth was clad in the same invariable fashions as were the other boys and some of the girls: illfitting blue jeans, a colorful jersey reaching his knees, and pristine white leather footwear with which Seth was so far unfamiliar. He also had a set of headphones on over his intricately parted and braided hair, bobbing his head up and down, feet tapping and shoulders jerking to some imperceptible beat. Seth drifted over to where the strange boy sat, the sounds coming from the headphones becoming more distinct, if not completely intelligible, but for several random curses and threats of murder and mayhem. He sat down beside the boy without speaking, thought that the youth would surely go deaf before his next birthday from the music blasting at him from the headphones. After several moments, the boy glanced at Seth from the corner of his eye and pulled off the headphones to rest around his neck. "Yo, what up?" Seth frowned. "What up?" "Why you over here in my mug?" "You looked as if you might have been lost." "This ain't no Neverland sleepover, so pedophiles need not apply. Step off." And with that the boy put back on his earphones and turned up his music. Seth stared at him, mentally going over the strange words he had spouted. He only recognized a couple of them as belonging to the English language with which he was familiar, thought that the rest of his phrasing must belong to what Montana had described as urban ‘slang.’ Strange. He reached over and gently removed the boy's headphones, offered a hand. "I am Seth Phoenix." "What do you want? A dog biscuit?" "I am trying to make your acquaintance. You are with the camp, are you not?" "What are you? A truant officer?" "I am not familiar with that term."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Yo, homeboy, I said step off." He turned his back and replaced his earphones. Seth tried once more to reach him. He could not believe a child of Montana's would be this uncivilized and rude. He tapped the boy on the shoulder. The boy snatched off his headphones and stood to stare down at Seth. "Yo, man, you messing with my groove and I ain't appreciating it!" The boy had to be several years younger than Montana's other young man and more than several inches shorter, but he braced his feet apart and clenched his fists as if he intended to take Seth, as if he could. Seth admired his spirit, saw the trauma and pain beneath the tough pose and wondered if living in the ‘inner-city’ had caused the hurt, the feral gleam shining out of the boy's eyes. Montana came over as if to rescue Seth—or the boy, he was not yet sure—and stood between them before turning to the boy. She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "You must be Jamal Wilson." "Yeah. What of it?" "You're missing in action, homeboy. We've been looking for you." "I had better things to do than hang around with those whack-ass campers." "Like it or not, you're one of those 'whack-ass campers'. And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the language down to a minimum." Montana proffered a hand and as he'd done with Seth, Jamal ignored it. Montana didn't let it faze her, and Seth grinned at her fortitude. "I'm Montana Freeborn, proprietor of The Freeborn Ranch." "Whip-dee-doo." "I see you met…one of my staff, Seth." As he stood, Seth held back a smile at her pause and description of his role at the ranch and in her life. Montana finally gave up on propriety and lowered her hand. "Yeah, we met. Old dude was trying to come on to me." "I'm sure you're mistaken." Montana glanced at Seth and frowned. "I was merely trying to be polite. Something with which Mr. Wilson seems to be unacquainted." Montana cleared her throat and wrapped an arm around Jamal's resisting form, only a few inches shorter than her own. She led him away from the diner and towards the overhang where the rest of the kids congregated. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, wasn't it, Jamal?" "Yo, whatever." Seth followed Montana and the young man, thinking that Jamal Wilson needed to be turned over a knee and paddled until he cried Zeus. He smiled as they neared the other kids, tried to picture Montana meting out that sort of punishment to the rebellious youth with more audacity than sense. Montana made the introductions of Seth to the kids, and Seth immediately recognized the girls' attraction and the boys' suspicion. 91

Gracie C. McKeever He especially noticed how closely the youth called Rashawn Wallace followed Montana, his body language plainly telling Seth to keep his distance and ‘step off’ as Jamal had put it. Seth was certain that the youth was not even aware of his proprietary behavior, only knew well the trait in himself and recognized it when he saw it in others. He would not have blamed the young man except for the mere fact that Montana was his, children or not. After Montana got the kids settled into the van, she pulled Seth to the side of the road on a patch of grass near the chain link fence that enclosed the bus depot. "What exactly did I break up when I came over earlier?" "I do not understand what you mean, Montana." "Ooh, I just hate it when you play coy." She gritted her teeth and glared at him. "You know exactly what I mean. What were you and Jamal talking about?" "It is as I said. I was trying to be polite and introduce myself to the young man." "And nothing else happened?" "Other than your young man showing his ill manners?" "I'm sure he wasn't that bad. Was he?" Montana glanced at him, biting her lower lip, and Seth wanted to give the same attention to her slightly fuller top lip—suck it, bite it, love it. He shrugged, answered her question with one of his. "Are they all as impolite?" Montana winced as if he had slapped her. "It's more complicated than that." He arched a brow, stared at her. "It sounds as if you are making excuses for them." "No, I wouldn't do that," she said. "It's just that…look, these kids have been through a lot. Most of them come from broken homes, or were abandoned as babies. A lot of them have been abused or neglected, some as early as in their infancy. Others got involved in the street life. Drugs, prostitution, gangs, you name it. They've been beaten down by life, parents, the system, and I—" "Provide them refuge." "That and I want to give them a chance." He did not have to hear what she did not say to know the truth. He did not have to hear that she was trying to give them a small part of what her parents had given her when they had adopted her, that she was trying to give her kids hope. She had such a big heart, so much inside of her to offer. He wanted to be the one in whom she found refuge, if she would let him. Seth reached out a hand to push a wavy tendril of hair behind one of her ears. His palm lingered on her cheek as he thumbed the tender skin below a dark almond eye. He leaned forward, paused a hair's breadth from her lips to the delight of her kids in the van. Seth froze and glanced at them hanging out the windows, catcalling, clapping and chanting, "Monty's got a boyfriend! Monty's got a boyfriend!" at the top of their lungs.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana blushed to her dark-brown roots, grabbed Seth's hand and led him to the passenger side of the van. "Let's get a move on before you give them anything else to talk about," she mumbled and stalked around the front of the van to the driver's side.

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Chapter 12 Montana sat back in her executive leather chair and rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. She felt a pounding headache coming on. She'd been up several hours, going over applications for next summer's mentoring program already, calling candidates, talking to referrals. So many kids, so few slots. Richard had already told her that if she took on one more kid over the twenty, he wouldn't be able to reconcile the expense, not even with the charitable donations she'd been receiving since last summer. "Times are hard. You've got to learn to say no sometimes, Montana." He'd made this statement soon after her most recent proposal to have a social worker on staff full-time during the mentoring program. She’d rather that than say no to a needy kid or two. Montana had to admit, especially with this most recent batch of kids, that the program was growing and moving into directions she had never considered, had taken on a life of its own. She'd been able to handle the previous campers only because of her dedicated staff of wranglers and cowboys who cared, some coming from the same sort of troubled homes as the campers. She didn't want to admit, however, that Richard might be right, and she had taken on too much. Montana sat forward in her seat, picked up Jamal's file—which had grown by leaps and bounds in the last week—and started going over it again, despite knowing the boy's history backwards and forward. His background, though no more spectacular than any of the other kids'—similar in fact, to most of their hardship stories—tore through everything in Montana that was maternal. Born addicted to crack, Jamal spent several weeks in the hospital after his birth detoxing. Upon his arrival ‘home,’ he faced years of neglect from his mother and physical abuse from a steady stream of her intolerant and violent boyfriends.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Jamal's application had appealed to her in the same way as had Rashawn's. There had been a personal touch, showing at least one person who cared deeply about this kid and wanted to help him the same way Montana did. But this past week, she was beginning to doubt her ability to help the kid. Among the other ten newcomers, he was finding it the most difficult to fit in. He constantly started fights, or, if not started, was always in the middle of some altercation either with the program kids or kids of the ranch guests. She at least hadn't had to deal with any of Richard's I-told-you-so rhetoric as he was off on another business trip, this one taking him to Europe and far enough away from the ranch not to be a complete nuisance with his advice. The man was worse than a politician with a budget in the red, going through all of Montana's finances with a fine tooth comb and looking for things to slash, fat to cut. She appreciated his expertise but was not in the mood to hear what she should and shouldn't do with Freeborn's money or what she should or shouldn't do with her time. Montana closed Jamal's file and replaced it in her desk drawer. She was almost ready to admit she'd finally met her match in the program. Almost but not quite. Not as long as there was a chance she could get through to Jamal and show the boy someone cared beyond the monetary gain his presence brought. Someone knocked on the door, and a second later Jason opened it a crack and peeked in. "Got a minute?" Montana threw herself back against her chair with a sigh of resignation. "What's he done now?" The Fourth was a little while away, too far for Jamal and his cohort, Devon, to start shooting off fireworks, though the sudden idea of explosions in the hands of those boys sent a particular and familiar shiver down her spine. Jason grinned. "Seth took Jamal and the rest of the kids into town for a shopping spree." "Shopping?" She wasn't sure Seth was ready for such an undertaking, knew one or all of her girls had finagled the excursion, and the boys had gone along for the ride. She was absolutely certain that her pony-man had relented only to get the kids out of her hair for a while. Thankful for his thoughtfulness—something to which she had grown extremely accustomed of late while watching how he interacted with her kids—Montana was yet concerned about Seth with Jamal. The man's tolerance with the boy was exemplary, but even Seth had his limits, and right from the beginning Jamal had rubbed him the wrong way. Montana couldn't blame Seth. He came from a different culture, one where disrespecting an elder the way Jamal habitually did probably warranted a more severe punishment than just not being able to partake in the dude ranch activities. "C'mon in. I've got more than a minute for my favorite cow boss." "Yeah, sure." Jason sauntered across the room, an official looking manila envelope in one hand. He took a seat in the leather chair adjacent to Montana's desk. There was regret and a rare touch of criticism beneath his boyishly handsome grin that made Montana frown as she steepled her fingers beneath her chin. "What's up?"

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Gracie C. McKeever Jason took a deep breath before looking her square in the eyes, as if he was bracing himself to deliver some bad news. Just what she needed. "Have you looked into Freeborn's earnings and ownership lately?" "You're not going to start in on me too, are you?" "Please don't compare me to that pettifogger on your payroll." "A bit harsh, don't you think?" "You'll think differently when I tell you what I have to tell you." Montana leaned forward in her seat, heart pounding. "You've found another position and you're leaving Freeborn?" Saying the words out loud left her feeling hollow. She'd thought she'd been prepared for this moment—should have been prepared after her conversation with David— but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of Jason's departure. He was so dependable, so solid, she just always thought he'd be here at Freeborn running things, like he was meant to. But she knew better than anyone that nothing lasted forever. Jason raised his brows. "What would give you that idea?" "You mean you're not leaving?" "You're not getting rid of me that easily, and neither is he." Montana sighed and relaxed in her chair. "I thought when you mentioned Richard, that he had finally gotten on your reserve nerve and—" "I'm not leaving, Monty." He sounded like he meant it but looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted as if he were having second thoughts. "Unless you want me to." She didn’t know why she had jumped to the conclusion in the first place except as a way to beat him to the punch and not be surprised if and when he did say he was leaving. Damn, you’ve got some serious abandonment issues, woman! Why Jason or anyone else put up with her damaged psyche was a mystery to her. "Jason, you're as much a part of Freeborn as I am. You're family," Montana said now. He winced. "I wish you wouldn't say that." She knew what he meant, but decided to play dumb rather than encourage him. She'd done enough encouraging already. "I'm not family and neither is Richard. The quicker you learn that, the better off you'll be, Montana." "O-kay, now that you've gotten that off your chest…" Jason shrugged. "Just something that needed to be said." "Obviously." Montana took a deep breath, leaned forward in her seat, and folded her hands on the desk. "Jace, what is it?"

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Spells Cast in Shadows "This is a mite difficult. Now that I've worked up the nerve and finally have you alone, I don't know where to begin…" God, he wasn't going to profess his love for her was he? She didn't know if she could deal with that right now. She needed to head him off at the pass. "If you're about to propose, Jason, I have to say no. I love you like a brother, but—" "I'm not Wheeler or that other highfalutin Yankee from your college days." "Meaning?" He glared at her. "Meaning, I wouldn't take advantage of a grieving young woman and the memory of her dead parents in order to get her into bed." "What?" Jason leaped to his feet, paced the office as he raked a hand through his hair. He turned to look at her from across the room as if the distance helped him keep his hands off of her. "Look, I didn't mean to come at you like that." "You think Richard and I—?" "It doesn't matter what I think. It's what he thinks that seems to matter." "We're not sleeping together." "Are you going to marry him?" "You sound like you have a vested interest," Montana said. "I don't—not in the way you think. I just…I just don't want to see you get hurt." "I can take care of myself." "I'm not so sure about that." Montana folded her arms across her chest, really didn't like where this conversation was going, hadn't since Jason had insulted Richard and her by proxy. "I think you'd better say what you came in here to say before we both say something we're going to regret." "Seems like I already have." "Jason—" "Wheeler's making some moves on paper with Freeborn that don't look too kosher to me, Monty. I think he's moving in for a takeover." "That's impossible. He can't!" "He's a lawyer, honey. I wouldn't put anything past him." "Is that your jealousy talking?" "Yes, but it doesn't change the facts." His candor wasn't unexpected, but it still left Montana speechless, gaping at him across the desk for a long silent moment before she responded. "You really don't trust him, do you?" "Never have. His being a lawyer is just the tip of the iceberg."

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana got up from behind her desk, took a seat on the edge of it and motioned to the manila envelope in Jason's hand. "Show me." The dirty, sneaky, lying shyster! It wasn't enough she'd had to fight off her father's racist parents in a bid to contest the will and take Freeborn from her after the plane crash. Now she had to fend off the machinations of the lawyer who'd helped her keep the ranch in the first place. Montana threw Jason's envelope—evidence of Richard's dishonesty—onto the desk. Tears of rage and frustration filled her eyes and she held them back as best she could, did not want to let Jason see her lose it, especially after she had just assured him she could take care of herself. Crying would mean she couldn’t handle a dishonest man on her payroll, and what kind of example would that set? She didn’t want to have to use his shoulder like she had so many times before either. Obviously, she'd been depending too heavily on him, on all the men in her life, giving Richard free rein to steal her ranch, her home, right from under her. If she had had the inklings of a headache before Jason had come in with his doom-andgloom news, she was on the verge of a full-fledged migraine now. Jason put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Monty. He covered up his movements like the expert he is. I’d hazard a guess he’s been doing so for a long time. I probably wouldn’t have noticed anything had I not been looking,” he assured. Montana only grunted, almost shrugged off his hand before she realized that would be killing the messenger. What Richard was doing wasn’t Jason’s fault. She couldn't believe Richard was trying to destroy her like this, that he had been covering his larceny and fraudulent activities with concern and well-intentioned advice, but all along he'd wanted only one thing from her: her parents' ranch. She wondered now if his proposals had only been another ploy to get Freeborn, knew it had to be true because he certainly didn't care about her, or anything she lost sleep over. He wouldn't be trying to take away her passions and concerns if he did. He wouldn't succeed; no way in hell would she let him get his hands on her parents' legacy. She'd been blind; she'd been naïve, but no more. “What made you look?” Montana asked. Jason flushed, shuffled his feet, and averted his eyes as if he were the one who had done something wrong. “You know how I feel about your friend. I don’t trust him.” "He’s not my friend.” At least not anymore, that is if he ever was. “You were right not to trust him. I wish now I hadn't." "You didn't have any reason not to trust him. Your parents trusted him after all." That left Montana to wonder how Richard had pulled the wool over their eyes. Her parents had been astute business people, in the ranching profession since before she'd been born. And they'd trusted Richard. Not only trusted, but had taken him under their wing, treated him like a member of the family. Montana flung herself back into her leather chair, feeling completely exhausted, as if she'd just run a marathon, and totally defeated and exasperated with her gifts for not showing her

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Spells Cast in Shadows Richard's treachery. It was one of the reasons she didn't always trust her visions because they were so fly-by-night, never manifesting when she needed them to, always seeming to make an appearance at the most inopportune times. From the beginning her gifts had caused her nothing but trouble and heartache. What good were they if not to serve as an early warning system of danger? Hokay, she needed to get a grip and put the blame squarely where it belonged, not on failing supernatural powers, not on Jason’s keen attention but on her inattention. It wasn’t as if Jason hadn’t tried to tell her before. But she'd been too busy to listen to him—too busy with the Service, too busy with her kids, too busy with day-to-day ranching to concern herself with what she considered petty paperwork issues. She had no one to blame but herself. “Montana, what are you thinking of doing?” She glanced up at him standing on the other side of her desk, a familiar frown of concern on his face. Had she put those little worry lines on his forehead? “Monty?” “I’m going to get his side of things and make a decision about…what to do with Richard’s services.” “Tarnation woman, you’re going to give him a chance to weasel his way out of this, are you?” “I’d like to handle this as professionally as possible.” “Not that he deserves the consideration,” Jason mumbled. Montana grinned despite her turmoil. Leave it to Jason to bring one out at the most unexpected times. She knew how he felt about Richard and what he had done, but everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt. She wouldn’t have been Dusty and Michael Freeborn’s daughter if she didn’t believe that. She'd let Richard explain why her forged signature appeared on documents turning over Freeborn Ranch and all its holdings to Venture Realty, LLC and who exactly was behind Venture Realty, LLC. She'd hear him out, and then she'd give him the boot like he deserved.

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Chapter 13 Seth returned from horseback riding in the mountains less drained than he had after his jaunt into town with Montana's children. He preferred the somatic release of riding rather than the mental stress of trying to corral a dozen obnoxious and divergent human teenagers. He couldn't remember his own students being so contrary and difficult to deal with and he'd often taken much larger amounts than Montana’s twenty on cataloguing and hunting trips through the forest. He entered the house now to a waft of her special scent, and Peppa greeted him with his usual panting, tail-wagging enthusiasm. Seth straightened to his customary proud height. His heart swelled at the idea of Montana’s beautiful face, anticipating her mood and having to convince her that she could trust him with whatever ailed her, that he would be there to help her cure it. He climbed the stairs and stopped at the threshold of her bedroom, totally unprepared for the sight of her clad in a stunning black lace dress that flowed over her feminine curves in a way that made his heartbeat quicken and the lower half of his anatomy stand at attention. The frock fell an inch above her knees, showing a glimpse of firm, shapely thighs. Tall suede boots perfectly complemented the look and accentuated her strong, lean calves. Her attire was as far away from battle armament as silk was from steel, but there was no doubt in Seth's mind that Montana was prepared for combat. His first thought was that she had caught wind of any number of cross words he and Jamal had exchanged out on the trail and that she was raring to give him a piece of her mind. But that did not explain the unfamiliar sensual apparel nor the smile she graced him with when she spotted him beside the doorjamb. "Hey Seth, I was wondering when you'd get back." "Where are you going?" She smiled again, and it was the most beatific expression anyone had ever bestowed upon him, which led Seth to the most obvious conclusion: Montana was up to something. 100

Spells Cast in Shadows He would never have known it from her outward appearance—guileless and approachable—but he knew Montana, knew her insides and how her mind worked. "Where are you going?" She fixed him with a long, hard look that made the pulse in his neck throb. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat, prepared for a fight, prepared for her usual none-of-yourbusiness response, and ready with a retort of his own. He'd be lucky if he could keep his hands off of her long enough to answer. She surprised him when she took one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed. "We are going out to dinner." Seth arched a brow. "We are?" She laughed, the sound a musical lilt riding down his spine. "Don't look so surprised. I wanted to take you out to celebrate how you're handling all the changes going on at the ranch, among other things. Especially your work with the kids." He glanced at her through lowered lashes, knew he did not deserve the commendations she was apparently prepared to bestow, and wondered what the ‘other things’ were. "Look, we've all had a rough adjustment, and I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you've been doing. Especially how you've been handling Jamal." Was this woman telepathic as well as clairvoyant? "I have not done that much." "I've seen you with him. You do more than you think." "I do not think he likes me." Montana burst out laughing. "The boy worships the ground you walk on." "I seriously doubt that, Montana." "Seth, that's how they operate." "They?" "Teens. Well, boys specifically. Rather than tell a girl they like her, they'll treat her mean, pull her hair, taunt her. You know, you only hurt the ones you love?" Did Montana realize that she could have been talking about the way she and he treated each other? "I think I have heard of the saying." "Well, in your case, Jamal acts the way he does—fresh, talking back—because he wants your attention, he wants to impress you, his hero." At the moment, Seth felt as far away from the noble picture Montana was painting of him as it was possible to be, but did not know what else to say to show her the error of her ways. He did not have more time to think about it as Montana dragged him through the bedroom and led him to the master bath. "I know you guys only need a few minutes to get ready. Unlike we ladies, even the tomboyish ones like me. So I won't have long to wait while you get off those dusty trail clothes, shower, and dress."

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Gracie C. McKeever "But Monta—" "No buts." She slanted a finger across his lips and it was all he could do not to take her in his arms, fling her down on the thick pile carpeting, and rip that sexy, sheer vestment right from her body to find out exactly what she was wearing beneath. Whatever it was, was too much, he decided. Her subtle, tangy musk was making him lightheaded. "I'll wait for you downstairs," she said before turning to go. She paused at the door, turned slightly to talk over a shoulder. "Your outfit's hanging in the closet. I think I got the measurements right." Then she was gone. **** Montana watched Seth get out of the driver's seat of her red Dodge pick-up, unfolding and stretching his long legs before standing to greet the young valet poised at the curb. He handed over the truck's keys, and pressing a generous tip, compliments of Montana, into his hand. She'd just that day decided to let him take the wheel, knew his assimilation skills would make him more than equal to the responsibility. She'd noticed the attentive way he'd watched her in the van when they'd gone to pick up the kids, his keen eye missing nothing. The only stumbling block was a license—and could have been major had they been pulled over for any reason—but Seth navigated the road like a man who had decades of driving experience under his belt. It helped that it was a weekday and the roads into town were mostly rural with not much traffic. Montana got out on the passenger side after the valet had opened the door and sauntered to the front of the truck where Seth waited for her to fall into step beside him. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side as they headed into the Mountain Smoke House, fingers lightly yet possessively caressing her just below her breasts. Montana's nipples hardened at the contact, the heat from his fingers generating up and encompassing her as if he had taken a naked breast in his hand. "If I have not mentioned it yet, you look beautiful this evening." "Just this evening?" "You are always beautiful to me." She hadn't expected such candor from him, and didn't know why since Seth was nothing if not forthright, as well as arrogant and bossy, of course. But she was sure he wasn't writing checks that his body couldn't cash, indeed couldn't wait to take him to the bank and soon. "I could say the same to you." He blushed as he opened the heavy oak door to let her enter the restaurant in front of him. Montana chuckled, admired the flush of color to his copper-colored cheeks before she preceded him in and headed for the hostess' lectern.

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Spells Cast in Shadows She had meant the compliment more sincerely than he would ever know and felt guilty at her other reason for taking him out tonight. Montana's eyes drifted down his body as they had earlier when he'd descended the stairs twenty minutes after she'd left him, clad in the designer suit she'd splurged on for him and filling out the expensive charcoal gray material far better than she could have imagined he would. The tailored jacket hugged his broad shoulders as if custom-made for him, clinging to his muscled back and arms, and the dark red silk shirt beneath set off his complexion and the variegated appearance of his silver eyes. He didn't have on a tie, she hadn't left him one, had known it would ruin the overall effect, taming something that was utterly untamable, binding a force that shouldn't be bound. He was beautiful, even more so now beneath the light of the restaurant entryway where his hair appeared several different shades of copper, burnished red and brown streaks accenting the neat bush. She admired the smooth strong column of his neck rising out of the shirt collar, further down to the light dusting of hair peeking at her from the two open buttons of his shirt. The man was magnificent in clothes or out. It was scandalous how much she wanted him. The rawness of her desire frightened her. Montana tried to settle her nerves, reminding herself of her reasons for the night out. She'd needed a diversion to take her mind off of all that was going on at the ranch, take her mind off of Richard's betrayal and his imminent removal. Being with Seth in an environment other than business and ranching went a long way in taking her away from the ranch, and not just physically. This was an outing she thought they both needed. She was hoping some of his audacity and strength would rub off on her, wanted to be with him to bolster her courage before things irrevocably changed after her inevitable encounter with Richard. Montana didn't want to think too closely about why she'd come to this particular restaurant, knew she'd have to deal with Richard sooner rather than later, and wanted to do it on her terms, not his. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the evening for what it had to offer, wanted to forget about the deceit and avoidance that had been ruling her life the last several days. She wondered vaguely if he had guessed why she needed to see him. Any other time, he'd have flown back, driven out to the house, taken a boat, a bike or skateboard, to see her. But not this time. Richard had answered her phone calls on the go as he ran from one meeting to another and her e-mails had been met with a brief line and promise of meeting with her as soon as he was back in town, ignoring her proposals. He was probably off meeting with his Venture scam people, assuming they actually existed, or trying to put the finishing touches on taking Freeborn Ranch. He had another thing coming. Montana had already gone to another lawyer, John Samuels, a referral from Doc Marcus, to discuss what was going on and get his opinion. Disbarment was at the top of Samuels's list for punishment, right in front of taking Richard to trial and putting him in jail for fraud. At the very least, Samuels thought Richard would be made to pay a hefty fine.

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Gracie C. McKeever She was all for monetary punishment, but balked at taking away the man's livelihood, not as bloodthirsty as she had originally thought despite Richard's betrayal. What she wanted most was to put the entire incident behind her and get Richard out of her life as quickly as she could. Then she could concentrate on what was really important in her life: the Service, the ranch, and Seth, not necessarily in that order but each vital to her in its own way. She peered at Seth from the corner of her eye as the hostess led them through a maze of tables and diners. The hostess finally stopped at a choice booth near the tasteful plate glass windows overlooking a darkening salmon-hued sky bordered by the alpine view of Pikes Peak. It was the perfect backdrop to Seth’s image of masculinity. The man lived up to his surname in every way. The sinuous grace of his walk, his wide, hard shoulders tapering down to a slim waist around which she craved to wrap her legs, and sweeping down into a firm male butt and lean-muscled thighs that she wanted to feel between her own when she straddled him. Seth waited for her to slide into the booth first before he slid into the sumptuous turquoise leather bench and took the seat opposite her. Watching him across the table reminded her of their time at Big Bob's waiting for the kids to arrive, except that their surroundings now were swankier, with the hustle and bustle of waiters and waitresses defining the expansive dining area as they serviced the largely cosmopolitan clientele. Montana had never felt comfortable surrounded by the cost and splendor of Mountain Smoke House. She was more at home loafing in a Big Bob's, or working on the ranch or in the forest in jeans and her favorite tee or sweat shirt, rather than trying to relax in the environment of feigned sophistication and success boasted by Mountain Smoke House. She did, however, enjoy watching Seth fit into his milieu, seamlessly blending in as if he belonged. The man couldn't be invisible in a room full of GQ models clad in identical outfits, his aura too strong to remain unobtrusive, his essence a powerful lure. The hostess left them with menus that Montana ignored, too enthralled by her table mate to give thought to filling her stomach. She wanted to fill so much more in so many ways that it made her wonder how she'd done without loving someone for so long, how she'd done without being with a man in the most intimate ways she wanted to be with Seth Phoenix. "Decide what you want?" she asked and felt blood warm her face when Seth raised his eyes from the menu to stare at her. Her stomach dipped at his heated look, skin tingling as if he'd touched her. "Everything looks so appetizing." "It is." "Is this where Richard brought you on your date?" She gawked, surprised by the shift of subject, not surprised, however, by Seth's astuteness. She should have realized that she wouldn't be able to hide her motivations from him. This was exactly the spot where she and Richard had come on his last homecoming, the restaurant where he often brought other clients and conducted business lunches.

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Spells Cast in Shadows She was determined to do a little business with him tonight herself, determined to confront him and force his hand. None of these thoughts fully crystallized until Montana saw Richard approaching their table from across the room clad in his usual expensive business attire—this one a tailored heather gray suit, crisp white shirt and red silk tie. Montana seethed to think that her money—her parents' money—had paid for his rich tastes in clothes and mode of transportation, had helped him get to the point where he felt cocky enough to stab her in the back and think he could get away with it. She quickly calmed herself as she watched him approach, a confident jaunty strut punctuating his every move, belying his lies and secrets, a walk to make a casual observer think he had absolutely nothing to hide. Montana wasn't a casual observer. She knew better. And she was ready to take the gloves off.

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Chapter 14 Seth watched Montana's attention transfer from him, saw her take a deep breath as he felt the intruder's approach behind him. He turned seconds before Richard Wheeler arrived at their table, started to slide out of the booth before Montana caught his hand and held firm. "Easy Seth." He opened his mouth to speak, peered into her eyes for any signs of fear or subterfuge, and found none. He decided to wait and see what unfolded and how she was going to handle Wheeler. Sliding back onto the bench, he felt at a decided disadvantage when Richard paused at Montana's side and he had to look up to face the man. "Fancy meeting you here." Richard leaned in to peck her mouth. Seth fisted his right hand beneath the table and gritted his teeth. Richard must have felt him simmering at his back, for he turned with brows raised and offered a hand. "Seth, how are you this evening?" "Quite well, thank you. And yourself?" he responded in the same cool tone, shaking the man's hand in a grip just short of crushing. "Pretty good. Better now that Montana's here." "Certainly you jest," Montana muttered. "Now Monty, I hope you're not feeling slighted at my brief e-mails and phone calls. I told you I'd catch up with you in more detail as soon as I got back into town. I only just returned to Colorado this afternoon. I was coming out to the house to meet with you tomorrow." "Which one of your clients is getting the royal treatment tonight instead of me?" Richard chuckled. "It's not like that." "Venture Realty, maybe?" Richard twitched, an infinitesimal movement that Seth felt rather than saw, and knew that

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana had hit her mark. His earlier feeling that she had been preparing for battle when she'd been dressing for the evening, returned full-force, made him believe that she had orchestrated this encounter. Seth glanced at her face again, detected no nervousness or surprise at Richard’s arrival there, just cool resolve. He was certain that she had come here with a purpose, he just did not know what this purpose was. "Venture Realty?" Richard asked. "You have so many clients, perhaps they must have slipped your mind. Or maybe it's something you'd rather discuss with me in private when you have a moment." "Of course. When I meet with you tomorrow we can discuss it all." Montana nodded as if satisfied, but Seth could see that she was far from pleased. He watched her lift her menu and begin perusing the choices, all but dismissing Wheeler. "I'll talk to you then." "I'll be at the ranch all day, whenever you're ready." Richard leaned in to peck her cheek again, one hand grasping Montana's shoulder, and it took every ounce of restraint in Seth to keep him for dragging the man off of her. "What was that about?" Seth asked as soon as they were alone. "In a sec." Montana glanced up as their waitress approached. She wasted no time in ordering for both herself and Seth. He let her, enjoying the sound of her self-assured tone; her mellifluous voice was a soothing balm against his tightly wound nerves. "I hope you didn't mind my ordering for us. I didn't want to wait any longer." "That was fine." Seth leaned forward in his seat. "I am more concerned about your encounter with Richard Wheeler." "The one just now, or upcoming?" She was a slippery one, his Montana. "Both." "It's nothing to concern yourself with, Seth." "But I am concerned." "I invited you with me for an enjoyable dinner and night out. Here and now is the last place and time in the world to discuss ranch business." "I will not continue to be shut out of your life, Montana." "Sheesh, Seth, I'm not shutting you out. I'd just prefer not talking about this right now. Do you mind?" "I do."

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Gracie C. McKeever "Well, you know what? That's too darn bad." Montana tossed the napkin from her lap onto the tabletop, slid from the booth. "I'll be right back. I need to go to the ladies' room to cool off." He caught her hand as she tried to pass. "We will discuss this when you return." "Think again, pony-man." She jerked her hand from his and stalked towards the restrooms at the rear of the restaurant. Seth grinned, holding in a laugh. Montana's ire never failed to bring a smile to his face. He liked pushing her buttons, knowing that he could bring her around to a smile as easily as he annoyed her. Making her laugh after was half the fun of making her angry. The waitress brought over a basket of warmed rolls and filled their glasses with ice water. The aroma of fresh garlic and bread made his mouth water so, Seth couldn't help digging into the breadbasket, slicing in half, and buttering a soft flaky roll before bringing it to his mouth. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the warm bread and butter melted on his tongue. His earlier time horseback riding came back to him in blinding clarity as his stomach grumbled and he realized his last meal had been taken out on the trail with the kids earlier in the afternoon. The kids and most of the other ranch inhabitants had sat down to a hardy dinner a couple of hours ago already. He had a lot of catching up to do. Seth reached for his ice water and washed down his second bite of buttered roll with a big swallow of water, body tingling with anticipation and something else on which he couldn't immediately put a name. Alarm. Evil was here, somewhere in the restaurant. Seth felt the presence. He’d had these inklings on several other occasions in his life and those were usually times preceding an appearance by Demogorgon. He understood their relationship went back long before either he and Endre were born, but never understood why his mother continued to affiliate with the Black Elf after the arrival of her sons. He was surprised his father had not put a complete stop to it, but for Demogorgon's position on the Directorate. The entity he sensed now was nowhere near as powerful or malevolent as the Black Elf but intense in its subtlety. Seth twisted in his seat, following the path Montana had taken several minutes ago. According to his clock, she should have been back by now, and his heart tripped at the idea that something might have happened to her. He had a flash of Nyssa's broken body at the lake before his clan had retrieved her. He remembered his panic at the realization that he had caused her death, that he would no longer be able to share with her his confidences, that the one person in his life he trusted above all others next to his mother, was gone.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Until now. Their relationship was yet undeveloped, still growing, but were something to happen to Montana, Seth knew that he would miss her as intensely as he missed Nyssa, that the void in his life would be just as great. He tried to soothe himself with the notion that they were in a public arena with people all around them. Seth had no idea of the layout of the restrooms or the surrounding area. There might be an opportunity and place to engage in depravity. He glanced toward the area where Richard had earlier appeared behind him and did not see his nemesis seated at any of the tables. Seth spotted a table with a lone woman. Like Seth's and Montana's table, there was a basket of bread in the middle, and place settings for two. Which meant the woman had company. Where is he? Seth searched the entire floor of the dining area, eyes peering at every patron, muscles tensing. He slid from the booth, slowly rising, giving Montana time to get back before he panicked for no reason and went in search of her. The waitress returned with his and Montana's orders and gave him a questioning look when she saw him standing by the table. "I shall return shortly," he said before hastening toward the restrooms, heart pounding in his chest. Seth knew Montana was in trouble. He only hoped that he reach her before it was too late. **** Richard paced the hallway, frowning, a ball of pent-up emotions waiting for an outlet. Who did she think she was, throwing down a gauntlet in front of her homeless charity case, challenging him with her veiled threats? Richard would show her the error of her ways and teach her the lesson she so richly deserved. The same way he had taught her parents. He doubted she would have talked to him as she had in the dining room, so uppity about her ranch, if she'd known what had happened to the last people who had treated him like less than he was worth. She definitely wouldn't have treated him so shoddily had she known of what he was capable, had she known that her parents had made the same mistake. She might have thought twice about disrespecting him, might have thought twice about what she said to him and how she said it in mixed company if she knew he meant business. He would make her realize that he wasn't just a lackey in existence to do her bidding. Montana's parents had deserved everything they'd gotten and more. In fact, they had gotten off easy, gotten off far easier than his father, who had put a bullet in his own head after losing his land to the Freeborns. They had gotten off far easier than his mother, drinking and

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Gracie C. McKeever drugging herself into a stupor not too long after her husband's suicide, until she'd finally overdosed on drugs and her own grief. Richard had spent every waking moment since planning his revenge, how he was going to get back at the rich landowners who had taken what his father had built, and what would have belonged to him when he came into his own. Instead, he'd had to settle for institutional life in his teens until the Freeborns, his saviors, had rescued him, until the couples' collective guilt had gotten the better of them and forced them to do the ‘right thing.’ Michael Freeborn had been as astute a businessman as Richard’s father had been incompetent, reaping all the benefits of well-tended land where Ramsey Wheeler's heart and soul, blood, sweat and tears dwelled in every blade of grass and grain of dirt. Freeborn should have rightfully passed down to Richard and would have had Michael and Dusty's deluded and duty-bound spawn not decided to prove herself and take over the family business, in addition to her charity and Forestry work. Richard cursed Montana's superwoman complex, coming into full bloom at the most inopportune time. Like she could handle the ranch as well as he without the help of that interfering lovesick cow boss of hers? As if taking in and hiring all her pathetic little urban riff-raff and drifters with sob stories—continuing the Freeborn helping-hand, their tradition of taking on every imaginable charity case—could wash away her parents' sins? Richard gritted his teeth and fisted his hands at his sides as he watched Montana sway into the alcove just outside the ladies' room, totally oblivious to him until it was too late. He came up behind her before she could open the ladies' room door. "Richard! Wha—?" He seized her mouth in a crushing kiss, palming her face with both hands as he ground his pelvis against her, erection hot and heavy behind his zipper. Heady power, like that at hearing of Dusty and Michael's death, filled him, suffused his limbs, making them move of their own accord, doing things about which he had only fantasized. Montana pushed against him with both hands, struggling against the embrace, the kiss, but he held her fast until she sunk her teeth into his lower lip and drew blood. He pulled back far enough to leer down at her, held her loosely around the waist. Montana looked madder than a stepped-on rattler, chin jutting forward, glaring at him as she backed against the wall, breasts heaving behind that sexy black lace dress when she panted. Good. She was angry, but fear ran a close second. Richard could see it in her eyes, the doubt about what he was capable of, doubt about what he would do to her. Too late poor little rich girl. "What do you think you're doing?" Richard glanced over his shoulder before pulling her closer.

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Spells Cast in Shadows The hallway was deserted, and he was banking that it would be for several minutes. He knew he was taking a chance that no one would soon need the bathroom, but chance had become his middle name the last few years, and he'd come too far to turn back now. Richard had wanted her this way—to dominate, to hurt her—for as long as he could remember. He'd wanted revenge against her parents even longer and could no longer distinguish between the two, no longer wanted to. Domination, revenge, retribution…they were all one and the same for him now. And Montana was the center of all three passions. "I thought we could get a head-start on tomorrow's meeting." "Have you lost your mind?" She gawked. "After this stunt you'd be lucky if I don't call the police on you. Our meeting and my firing you is the least of your worries." "Firing me? You think so?" "I was going to wait until tomorrow, get your side of things, not that there's any defense for what you've done to me. But after this stunt, you can forget about benefit of the doubt, or being employed by Freeborn Ranch. There's no reason for me to wait to fire you." Richard gritted his teeth, took two more steps towards her. "What exactly do you think I've done to you?" "Not think. Know. You tried to steal Freeborn. But Jason got onto you." "Good ol' Jason. Ever-faithful lap dog." Montana frowned and shook her head. "I don't know what your problem is with Jason besides jealousy, and I don't care. I'm finished with you, Richard." "Is that any way to speak to your fiancé?" "I was right the first time. You have lost your mind." "I've lost a lot more than that. And I don't intend to lose any more, Montana." He caught her arms, drew her close. He wasn't worried about her yelling or otherwise drawing attention to them, knew that she wouldn't. She was too proud to ask for help. She stared at him, alarm warring with curiosity, the latter probably the only thing keeping her tongue still. "I let you hold onto Freeborn so much longer than I should have." "Let me?" Richard continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I thought you'd come around eventually, that we'd get married and you'd happily turn Freeborn over." "To you?" "Where it rightfully belongs." He watched her frown, took exquisite pleasure in her confusion. He liked watching her brain work behind those dark eyes. She'd never make the connection, at least not until he was ready for her to, and Richard knew it. "Why are you doing this, Richard? What have I ever done to you? What have my parents done to you that you'd do this to them? Their memory?" 111

Gracie C. McKeever He lost his cool then and shook her. "Don't talk to me about memories! You have yours of them, and I have mine. And trust me, they don't resemble each other." She grimaced, struggling against his grasp, and Richard flattened her against the wall, insinuating a knee between her thighs. He was nearing the danger zone, losing control of his emotions, of the situation, and conscious of his slipping the entire while it was happening, but couldn't help himself. He wanted to hurt someone for the injustices that had been done to him. And Montana Freeborn was the closet candidate. "Richard…Richard, stop this!" He saw the violent gleam in her eyes and fed on it, smiling as he held fast. He released her only long enough to drag her arms above her head, imprisoning her wrists in one large hand as he lifted the bottom of her dress with the other. Richard worked his hand into the waistband of her panties, and Montana squirmed beneath him, against his intrusion with all she was worth, gasping when he palmed her mound and slid a finger toward her opening. She twisted from side to side, trying to get up a knee, but he blocked her, dodging out of her reach. He slanted his lips across hers in a brutal kiss meant to brand her, meant to show her who was boss, meant to hurt. Too occupied with getting his due, Richard barely heard Seth’s approach behind him. **** Montana squeezed her eyes tight as Richard probed her with his fingers. Stinging tears wet her cheeks as he snatched his other hand from her wrists to grip her throat. She immediately pushed against his chest with her fists as soon as her hands were free. She tried to scream out, but the pressure against her windpipe strangled any cries. The decorative stucco abraded her back through the lace dress as he pinned her against the wall. Disbelief hovered on her consciousness, running a distant third to anger and outrage. Montana tried to tap into the latter two, use them to fuel an escape, but no matter which way she turned or twisted her body, Richard blocked and held her fast. His hands and legs seemed as if they were everywhere all at once, but the most important location was at her throat, cutting off her oxygen. She fought dizziness, bright pinwheels of light flashed before her eyes as her world became darker and smaller until she thought she would pass out. She marshaled her strength, desperation fueling her moves as she twisted her lower body and launched a knee into Richard's crotch with as much force as she could muster. She sensed the satisfying crunch of his testicles beneath her knee. Relief wasn't as immediate as she had hoped. Montana continued to slip towards unconsciousness. Then suddenly, the pressure at her throat abated—as if Richard had a delayed reaction before he realized he was in pain—the probing in her vagina ceased, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Montana stumbled to one knee when he released her, vaguely aware of another's presence as she coughed, gasping for breath and rubbing her neck with one hand. She held onto the wall for support with her other, then blinked several times to focus her vision. She saw Seth hovering

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Spells Cast in Shadows over Richard's inert form, one hand clutching the other man's collar, his other hand clenched prepared to land another blow. She leaped for him, caught his fist before he brought it down, felt the muscles in his arm and back flex and tense. "No, Seth. Don't!" Her voice came out as a raspy whisper. Seth released his grip on Richard's collar, turned, and took Montana into his arms. "Are you well?" "I'm fine. I just…" She glanced over his shoulder to see Richard stirring, thankful that the man wasn't dead. Had she come around a few seconds later who knew how far Seth would have gone for retribution. But would death have been such a bad thing for the sleaze? Richard certainly deserved some injury for what he had done to her. Death was too good for him as far as Montana was concerned. "He will not hurt you again." Embarrassment flushed her body as suddenly as Richard's assault and Seth's rescue. "I want to leave," she said. She'd been attacked, violated, was confused as to why. Neither could she explain why she wanted to slink away as if she were the wrongdoer, as if she weren't the victim in all this. She knew only that she felt weak and insignificant, couldn't face another person knowing what had been done to her, how she had failed. Seth was enough. Too much. He gathered her close, caressing her hair with one hand as he pressed his lips to the delicate shell of an ear. "This was not your fault." Montana didn't know whether or not to be relieved by his uncanny mind reading abilities. She pulled away from him, grabbed his hand. "Please, Seth. Let's just go." "He needs to be punished." "He's been punished enough. I don't think he'll try anything like this again." "I would rather make certain." "Seth…" She stared at him pleadingly. How could she make him understand? It wasn't just her about whom she was concerned. How would she explain him to the police? They'd ask for ID, they'd dig into his history. What then? Better to leave now, before this went any further, before Seth's existence, his freedom, was anymore threatened. She knew Richard wouldn't report this, had as much, if not more to lose, than she or Seth did. His reputation, his business…Yes, better to leave now. Richard groaned behind them and staggered to his feet, nose and mouth covered in blood. Seth turned and seized his collar again, holding him against the wall with one hand, his other arm around Montana's waist. "You are fortunate that Montana does not wish to press this issue any further. And if you know what is good for you, you will not push it any further, either." 113

Gracie C. McKeever "This isn't over, Phoenix." Richard calmly pulled a handkerchief from a suit pocket, wiped his bloodied nose and mouth. Seth tightened his grip, pulled Richard close, the muscles along his jaw working, and Montana thought she had never seen a more frightening and determined profile. "It is over." Montana caught Seth by an arm and pulled him towards the mouth of the alcove. She looked both ways, saw a couple of men leaving the men's room several yards away and two woman making their way towards the ladies' room. "Seth, let's go." He released Richard and followed her out of the alcove. Montana smiled at the women as they passed, glanced back over a shoulder and saw Richard straightening his tie as he stood between the men's and ladies' rooms, grinning at her as if nothing had happened.

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Chapter 15 Seth drove back to the ranch in silence, mind whirring with what had happened back at the restaurant, memories of his mother making his throat tight, making it hard to breathe. He steered on automatic pilot, glad for Montana's silence, if not the causes behind it. He needed time to digest what had happened, understand what he had seen. Understand why it had happened and what to do to prevent it happening again. In Sapphira, Wheeler would have been dealt with decisively and swiftly, anywhere from gelding to banishment, usually the former. But here in this world, even if Montana had reported Wheeler to the proper authorities as Seth understood it, Wheeler would have gotten off with a mere ‘slap on the wrist.’ It did not sound nearly appropriate, or serious enough, not for the crime that the man had committed against Montana. Seth glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. His mother's face superimposed over the younger woman's for a brief moment. His stomach lurched at the likeness. He had never realized until now how much Montana resembled his mother—same caramel skin, same wavy brown hair and deep, dark-brown eyes. The similarities, however, did not stop here. Spiritually, each woman was more alike than not, both passionate in their beliefs, affectionate with and supportive of their loved ones, always willing to make sacrifices for them, and independent to a fault. It was the last that concerned Seth the most, the characteristic that he feared would prevent Montana from allowing Seth to handle Wheeler in a suitable manner. Already he had acted against his nature, leaving the scene without properly disposing of the situation, without punishing Wheeler further, when what he wanted to do was pound the man's face into a gory pulp. The blood of his ancestors called for retribution. The man had put his hands on her, touched and violated what belonged to Seth. The more he considered it, the more he realized that there was no punishment severe enough for Wheeler. Not even death would wipe away what had happened, could make Seth forget seeing Montana pressed beneath the other man's bulk, struggling and at his mercy.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth didn't always approve of the changes his clan had undergone over the years. He only grudgingly respected the elders' sagacity on the issue, the choices his father and the Directorate had made over the centuries for the good and survival of their kind. His respect, however, did not negate him lamenting the death of his clan's natural inclinations, the watering down of his species' authority, the transition from warlike to peace loving. Some situations demanded action, stringent discipline and not the complacent mercy of civilized society. The ranch rose up out of the evening horizon, catching him off guard with its proximity. He had not nearly worn down his anger, and did not know how he would react in mixed company. "I don't want anyone else to know about this, Seth," Montana said. He turned to see her staring at him, her expression both demanding and pleading, a face to which he could not say no, as much as the secrecy pained him. He did not like lying any more than he liked backing down from an altercation or dare. "Seth, did you hear me?" He swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak, knew that this would test his resolve sooner than later, especially if Jason met them at the house. Seth's chest filled with profound guilt at the thought of his promise to the other man. He had sworn that he would never harm Montana. He had not, but he had allowed harm to come to her, which was as bad, if not worse. Montana got out of the truck before Seth had brought it to a complete stop in the driveway. She flew towards the front of the house, was met and followed by Peppa as she unlocked and opened the door. Jason greeted Seth as soon as he cut off the engine and got out of the truck, cornered him against the side panel, blue eyes glacier cold. "You did it, didn't you? You did exactly what I told you not to." "It is not what you think." "The hell it isn't!" Jason reared back to hit him. Seth should have been prepared after his own attack against Richard, but it was as if the earlier experience had dulled his reflexes, and he took the other man's fist under his right eye, a stinging blow to the cheekbone that quickly stirred Seth's blood. He had just enough time to feint and block Jason's next blow, caught the younger man's hand mid-air, and twisted his arm up behind his back, forcing Jason to his knees. It was the only thing he could think of to do short of retaliating in kind. He did not want to hurt Montana's friend or take out on Makepeace what belonged to Wheeler. "Will you listen to reason?" "I saw her face when she got out of the truck. What did you do to her?" "I did not do anything and cannot say anything more about the issue." "This is bullcrap," Jason muttered, tried to rise, and Seth pushed his hand further into his back until the other man winced and stopped struggling.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Seth!" Montana rushed out of the house and back down the walkway, skidding to a stop in front of them. "What are you doing?" "We had a misunderstanding." "What happened to you, Monty?" Jason asked. She pulled her shawl tighter around her body, averted her eyes. "It had nothing to do with Seth, so if that's why you two are playing white knights you can make nice-nice now." She stared at Seth as she finished, flinched at the bruise beneath his eye. "Please let him go, Seth." Her voice was low and tired. Seth would have done anything to please her, erase the frown lines creasing her otherwise smooth brow. He released Jason. As soon as he did, rather than renew his attack on Seth, the younger man rushed to Montana, caught her by the shoulders. Seth restrained himself by sheer force of will when he noticed her wince, this time from her own pain and not his. There was no telling how badly Wheeler had hurt her before Seth had gotten to him, and no way for Jason to know that Montana had been injured. Silence and secrecy left a bitter taste in his mouth, and Seth didn't know if he could hold his tongue for much longer. Jason, if no one else on the ranch, deserved to know the truth. "I'm okay, Jason. Please believe it, and let's just leave it at that." "You expect me to stop worrying about you because you 're all grown up now?" Barely dormant jealousy bubbled in Seth's chest as he watched the tender looks Jason and Montana exchanged, looks that excluded him. Jason's words alluded to a shared past that did not include Seth. How much of this was he expected to take? And was Montana perhaps leading them all on? Seth hated to think so dishonorable a thought, but she was human after all. She belonged to a race of untrustworthy, violent people who would cut their own kind's throat over a piece of land, as savage as his own kind had once been—before the growth and change. How much could he really trust her? Had his father been right all these years, warning of man's many defects and vices? "Jace, I'm tired. And I expect you to let it go, and let me get into the house to get some sleep. That's what I expect." Seth felt the same. He was tired, more mentally than physically. He wanted this entire evening behind him, wanted to be alone with Montana, though he was in a quandary as to what would happen once he was. The possibilities caused him distress. Jason released her, and Montana turned and went into the house without another word. Seth started to follow her and stopped at Jason's hand on his arm. "Am I wrong in trusting you with her?" "You are not." 117

Gracie C. McKeever "So help me God, if you—" "I would not harm Montana. I gave you my word, and I meant it." As for keeping his word to Montana about not pursuing the situation with Wheeler, Seth could make no such promises. **** She should have seen it coming, should have seen the signs. Though she had never had any real control over her premonitions—how, where, or when they came to her—when she did have them, they were always accurate. She had lost her best friend from junior high school because of this very accuracy. When Montana thought about it now, the situation with Shana had been lose-lose. If she had played it safe, stayed silent and decided not to warn her friend of what she had foreseen happening to her, then Shana would have died. Montana had instead taken the chance of exposing her abnormality and telling Shana that if she went to the rave with her boyfriend that evening as they'd been planning for weeks, she and he, along with several others, would be trapped and die in a horrible club fire. Shana had listened and foregone the trip, gaining the ire of her beau—who had gone and died as Montana predicted. Shana had been less than thankful to Montana for saving her life. Things were never the same between the friends afterward. Shana blamed Montana for her boyfriend's death rather than being grateful that she had lived. Never wrong. She should have paid more attention to that earlier vision in the library. What happened tonight had been spelled out for her. The fact that she hadn't taken heed, that she no longer took her abilities seriously, had her more frustrated than confused. She wondered if she should open up and give free rein to her gifts rather than strangling them with concentrated and conscious disuse. She had no one to blame but herself for tonight—and the besotted brute who had attacked and bruised her—doing more harm than good trying to contain a natural force that couldn't and shouldn't be contained. She needed to stop denying who she was and what she could do. Montana suddenly realized that she had not paid serious attention to her visions since foretelling her parents' deaths, as if she had erected a mental block around that part of herself in response to the trauma, stalled at one of the earliest stages of grief: denial. She glanced at herself in the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door and winced. She was a mess. She'd always bruised easily, but had never let this stop her from pushing her body to its limits with hard physical labor. But this was different, marks inflicted on her biceps and back that she hadn't invited, under circumstances she hadn't sanctioned. Montana turned this way and that, saw the scrapes on her back, the bruises marring her upper arms, her horror growing with each view, until finally she moved her gaze further down her body and gasped when she saw the blood between her legs.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Violated. The word echoed through her head, only now registering, taking on a life of its own. He had blindsided her like a blitz against an unprotected quarterback, his assault so quick, Montana had no idea that he had done so much damage, that his fingers had delved so cruelly, so deep, that he had penetrated her at all. She wondered if shock had shut down her pain receptors, numbing her to the full extent of Richard's assault. She stood staring at herself for a full minute, turning this way and that in stunned humiliation. She was shopworn goods. God, he'd taken not only her dignity but also her virginity. Something she'd been holding onto against the odds, for what seemed like forever, for someone special. For… Seth. Montana listened to him burst into the outer room just then, as if summoned. She had a moment to cover herself with a towel, flinching beneath his heated gaze as he stalked into the bathroom. "We must talk." She watched him standing at the door, his right hand gripping the knob, angrier than sin and twice as mean. He looked totally implacable, and she knew that he wasn't going to let what happened go tonight if ever, wasn't going to let her go—to sleep, or anywhere else—until he'd had had it out with her. Montana's own anger rose. She was not in the mood for his bullying! She'd had enough of that for one night. "Do you mind? I'd like some privacy." "For what purpose?" She gaped, stopped short of questioning his sanity. "I want to take a shower before bed." He caught her by a wrist as she tried to close the door, and the towel came loose. Seth did not miss the blood. His gaze raked down her body and froze when it landed on her thigh. He reached out with his free hand to snatch away her towel. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "You wish to wash away the evidence?" "I don't have to answer to you, Seth. And I told you before, I don't like you manhandling me like some caveman." "Did you mind being manhandled by your Mr. Wheeler?" Her hand shot out so fast and hard, she didn't realize what she had done until she felt the sting reverberating from her palm up to her shoulder. Montana didn't know what infuriated her more, that Seth didn't blink an eye, or that he caught her around her waist and pulled her against him in a grip that she couldn't break. A dull ache of déjà vu pervaded her stomach as she shoved against his chest, but Seth only held her firmer. "Let me go."

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Gracie C. McKeever "I will not." "Damn it, Seth!" She tried to kick out with her legs, but they dangled an inch above the floor. Montana finally huffed, and stopped struggling to stare him in the eyes. "Are you forgetting that I was the victim tonight?" "I have not forgotten." He lowered his face to her throat, inhaled deeply as if trying to gather strength from her scent. He was silent for so long Montana wondered if he'd fallen asleep while searching his brain for the right words to apologize. "You are mine," he murmured. Not exactly the apology she was looking for. "I don't belong to anyone, Seth." "You do not belong to Wheeler or Makepeace." She pushed against his chest with her palms. "Seth, I don't want to do this tonight." "What is it you do want?" "I want you to let me go! Stop treating me like a whore and a piece of property! That's what I want. Now let me go!" "You are not a…a whore." She pulled back to stare at him, saw the regret in his eyes. He'd sounded unaccustomed to the word, his tone unsure and questioning, as close to an apology as he was capable. Montana almost smiled at his not addressing the ‘property’ issue. She knew it was a conscious omission and couldn't decide if his excuse was enough for her. Her heart wanted to accept his words, but her pride screamed for another round. Seth loosened his hold on her, lowered her to the floor, but did not completely release her, and Montana raised a hand to his cheek, and gently palmed it, unsurprised that the bruise Jason had earlier inflicted was almost completely healed. The air was heavy between them, thick with unspoken words, unformed thoughts, and she didn't know how to break the silence or if she even wanted to. She was content for the moment to admire his masculine beauty and wonder at the mysteries behind those silver-gold eyes. "There are things about me that you would not understand, Montana." "I want to, if you'll let me." He shook his head, eyes downcast. "I am not what you think I am." "I know what you are. It doesn't make a difference to me. It never has." He pulled her back against him as if to confirm her veracity, as if it could sate him, the only thing holding him together. He slid one arm under her knees, and lifted her in his arms, holding her close like a baby. He carried her several steps to the bathtub and sat on the edge of it, settling her across his lap. He reached down to turn on the water and plug the drain. "What are you doing?" He didn't answer her, took a wash cloth from the rack behind him, soaped and soaked it, then began wiping down her body, gently, slowly running the damp cloth over her breasts and waist, unmindful of his clothes or that he was getting drenched beneath her.

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Spells Cast in Shadows His movements were steady and sure, his touch non-sexual, but despite this, her nipples instantly hardened when he got to her legs and paused, peering at her as if waiting for permission. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard as he daubed at the blood, the heat in her stomach slowly spiraling down to form a pool of moisture between her legs that she was waiting for Seth to notice and act on. Didn’t he know what he did to her? Couldn’t he see how much she wanted him? Montana sucked in a breath as he washed away the blood, momentarily startled by the intimate contact, but strangely unselfconscious. She felt at home and comfortable, as if naked and in his arms was where she had always been meant to be. She cuddled against him, head under his chin, also unmindful of his clothes, the expensive suit a small price to pay for this closeness. She felt closer to him now than she had ever been despite the chasm of silence separating them. She opened her eyes, watched his nostrils flare, felt the unmistakable bulge pressing against her ass, hard and insistent. Otherwise, Seth did nothing to indicate he was affected by the heady scent of her musk wafting up between them. The status quo had changed, power had shifted, spirits had aligned. Montana knew that things could never go back to the way they'd been. She didn't want them to. She turned her head, leaned in for a kiss that Seth readily returned, tangling his tongue with hers and groaning deep in his throat when Montana brushed his erection with her fingers. She wriggled around on his lap until she straddled him, never breaking her connection with his lips. She overwhelmed his mouth with hers, hungry and needy and breathless as he grew beneath her, hard heat nudging her soft naked folds through the material of his slacks. She got wetter imagining his hard cock inside those pants, wanted it and the power of him inside her. She wanted to feed them, feed off of them. She pressed her breasts against his chest like an offering, and felt his heartbeat pounding in time with hers. "Please, Seth…" He pulled back to stare at her for a long silent moment, and Montana felt her heart in her throat as if she were on the auction block awaiting a master's approval. "You don't want me." His eyes widened. "Oh, Goddess, I want you more than you know!" "Then why—?" "You are not ready, Montana." She wanted to challenge him, call him a coward for hiding behind her inexperience, but she couldn't do it without facing the full truth, that he might be right. The possibility made his rejection more difficult to take, no matter how gentle its intent and delivery. She remembered James and his reaction to her rebuff, striking out in the only way he could to ease the pain of her rejection, spreading rumors about her sensuality and her sanity. Had they all been lies? Or was there just a small piece of truth to the gossip he'd shared with his homeboys, a tiny fragment of insight beneath the malice? Surely if shallow James Roddick could see through her ruse of normalcy and into her anxious heart, then someone as intuitive and intelligent as Seth could see through her as well.

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana swallowed hard and peered at him. She needed to tell him how she felt. She was afraid, yes, but her fear didn't negate her need or her want. She wouldn't let it. She wanted to feel him inside her, to feel his heart beating next to her, to wake up next to him, more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. No way would she let fear stand in the way of her desires. He had to know that. "Seth, I want you." "I know you do." She gaped, choking on the laugh that threatened to bubble past her lips. It served her right for stating the obvious. Seth rinsed the washcloth and ran it over her body once more before he lifted her from his lap and gently placed her in the bathtub as if she hadn't just spoken, as if she hadn't just poured out half of her soul to him. He sat on the edge of the tub, gently dabbing at the wounds on her back, gritting his teeth when she winced, and muttering under his breath about ‘killing’ and ‘revenge.’ She thought of Jason, her other jealous suitor, remembered the scene down in the driveway, and wondered what words the two men had exchanged once she had left. She remembered Seth's anger when he had first come to her room. It was as good a subject as any to get her mind off of his relative cold shoulder. "What did you and Jason talk about downstairs?" "We talked about you." His honesty never ceased to amaze her. That and his secrecy were a constant dichotomy she had yet to reconcile. "What about me?" He soaked the cloth and rung the water out over her head. He remained quiet for so long, she didn't think he would answer her. He tunneled his fingers through her wet hair, arranged the brown tendrils around her shoulders before speaking. "Finish your bath, and we will discuss it later." Montana knew it was a promise he would grudgingly keep, and he would find a way to avoid the subject yet again, avoid revealing his past and his heart. Two steps forward, four steps back. They'd been so close! She reached out and grabbed a hand as he rose and tried to leave, glanced up at him from the bathtub, visions of his family at the lake before his punishment prodding her when she should have held her tongue. What had he done to warrant banishment? Did she really want to know, and could she handle it when he told her? Montana opened her mouth to speak. She closed it again when she realized he didn't have to tell her anything. Not if she worked this right. "You can't keep running, Seth," she said. "Whatever it is you've done, I won't think any less of you if you tell me."

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Spells Cast in Shadows He flinched as if she had struck him again, did not speak for a long time and when he did, it was with the rueful tone of a condemned man. "I would like to believe that, Montana. However, I cannot afford the luxury of your absolution. I have not earned it." She didn't release his hand, only stared at him, waiting for a vision—the vision—to rock her, something that would show her why he felt he didn't deserve her forgiveness, any forgiveness. Then she knew, as plain as the losses in her own past: he was responsible for a loved-one's death. Whether his feelings were warranted or not, she couldn't say, but she could feel… Nyssa…Nyssa at the lake, blood and gore as she lay on her side, panting her last breaths, seeing her last sights. And one of them is Seth, kneeling at the injured female centaur's side. In the distance two hunters stand at the lake's edge, high-fiving, celebrating their kill with smoking rifles lowered at their sides, never knowing the damage they've caused, never knowing who they have destroyed, for the carcass disappears before they have a chance to claim it. Montana closed her eyes at the sudden images, only to have them splintering into a thousand sparks of light behind her closed lids, coming at her like bullets fired out of a machine gun, and almost as damaging. Fired at her like the hunter's bullets that had taken his friend's life. She snatched her hand out of Seth's, stared at him, eyes burning with unshed tears as he glanced down at her with an I-told-you-so look that she couldn't refute. "As I said, Montana. We will talk later."

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Chapter 16 Richard Wheeler had come into his own much sooner than Demogorgon had anticipated, boiling over spite and vengeance like molten lava spilling from a volcano. He was ready. Demogorgon rarely paid visits to the human world, rarely found reason to associate with the lower class mundanes. In Wheeler's case, he would make an exception. He would be doing his cause a disservice if he did not at least make an appearance and talk to the human, face-toface. Not that he needed the human's input to make his plan work, but Wheeler's active involvement would make Seth's quest for expiation all the more interesting, all the more unattainable. It was time. Demogorgon grinned, could almost feel Thyra beneath him, taste her skin upon his lips, knew that Seth would never accomplish the goal as set in the parameters of his pact with Thyra, not within the agreed-upon time, not ever. Whether Thyra confided in her clan or the Directorate—and Demogorgon took it for granted that she eventually would—there was nothing anyone could do to help her or Seth now. He could hinder the young centaur and would. He turned away from his sphere, hands clasped behind his back as he paced his tent, considering how best to confront the young man. What were his options? He had to move carefully, did not want to push Wheeler until he was ready to carry out his end of Demogorgon's scheme. Demogorgon had no doubt, however, that Wheeler would be a perfectly willing ally once the outcome was explained to him, once he understood what was in it for him. The human just had to be approached thoughtfully, made to understand that the battle won over a long haul, was a victory twice as sweet. Not everyone was as patient as Demogorgon. He understood this, knew that he would have to make some concessions, adjust to the human need for instant gratification, though 124

Spells Cast in Shadows Wheeler was much more patient and meticulous than some centaurs and elves that Demogorgon had encountered. He preceded Wheeler's path to the man's loft in the city. He intended to wait for the young man and be in the loft when Wheeler arrived home. Demogorgon could not wait to see the look on the human's face. **** Richard entered his loft, flicked on the overhead fluorescents and locked the door behind him. He pulled the bloody handkerchief away from his nose, stared at it—a talisman, a reminder of his enemy and what he needed to do about him—and grinned. Phoenix had drawn first blood, but he would not draw last. Richard had plans for both Montana and her new companion. From their first meeting, Richard had known Phoenix would be trouble, that in him he had more competition and a threat than he had ever faced in Makepeace. He sensed Phoenix's uniqueness, his pull, and could see Montana falling for his exotic lure. Not that he had been beaten with an ugly stick himself, but he saw how Montana looked at Phoenix—with lust and awe. She had already fallen prey to his model looks, her reactions so obviously predictable it neared shallowness. Richard had thought better of her. But considering whom her parents were, he shouldn't have been surprised that she was not above the bait of surface appearance. Her adoptive parents had been led and motivated by their hunger for power and control, and God knew what her birth parents had been into. It was a small wonder the girl hadn't turned out any worse or more emotionally troubled than already was the case. She should have been happy that a man like Richard—someone intelligent, strong and capable—was willing to associate with and make her his. Richard made a left at the door, headed towards his spotless, stainless steel kitchen. There he paused with the handkerchief in his hand. He stared at the bloodstain for a long moment as if he could remove it with a whim, as if he could change what had happened at the restaurant if he committed every particle to memory. He did not regret what he'd done, only that he had been interrupted in the midst of making his point. Nor would he use alcohol as an excuse. Richard disposed of the handkerchief. He turned, took several steps back across the kitchen, and retrieved a micro-brewed beer from the refrigerator, opening the bottle on the can opener on the counter. He eased out of his suit jacket, flinging it over a shoulder as he headed for the master bedroom and tossed it atop the king size bed. He was tempted to discard the jacket with the handkerchief, but it was one of his favorites and held some sentimental value. As sentimental as Richard ever got. It was the first suit he'd purchased after he'd made his first million dollars working for the Freeborns.

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Gracie C. McKeever Whistling, and brimming with battle plans, he headed back through the house into the living room and froze on the threshold when he saw the man—long, lean and feline—lounging in one corner of his cream leather sofa. Richard had a flash of familiarity, like he knew the individual. He was somewhat reminiscent of Phoenix, as if the stranger were a kinsman. He shook his head, closed his eyes for several seconds, trying to get his bearings. He knew he had been alone when he'd entered the loft, would have sworn to it, and opened his eyes expecting the stranger to be gone. No such luck. "You are not seeing things, Richard Wheeler." Maybe Phoenix had landed a more solid punch than Richard had earlier thought, and he should have gone to the hospital to check things out. "Who are you and how did you get into my house?" he demanded. "That is not important at the moment." "The hell it isn't." Richard pivoted and reached for the cordless phone atop the smokeglass end table. "I'm calling the police." "I do not think so." Richard watched from the corner of his eye and gawked as the man rose from the sofa and floated across the floor to stand in front of him. The impression of a large jungle cat penetrated his consciousness again as he tilted back his head to glance up into slanted dark eyes. Imposing, Richard thought. He stood 6"2 in his stocking feet, and the stranger topped him by several inches. The cordless slipped from his fingers and clunked against the plush plumb carpeting. Richard blinked, backed away, eyes drifting past his intruder to the front door. "You will find it locked." He watched as the receiver floated up from the carpet and dangled in the air between him and his visitor, tempting like the apple. "You can try it, but I think you will find it useless without a dial tone." Richard stared, for the first time noticing the visitor’s strange garb. Long and flowing burgundy robe, shining silk with a hood and yellow embroidered trim. Elegant. Mystical. Not of this world. "Who are you?" he repeated, knowing the question shouldn't have been who, but what. "My name is Demogorgon Loxias, and you and I have things to discuss, Richard." Well of course. John Smith wouldn't walk around in a get-up more befitting a Lord of the Rings refugee than a Denver LoDo resident. It was either Mr. Loxias or Lucifer. "Should I call you Demogorgon or Mr. Loxias? Oh, and by the way, is that another of Satan's designations that I wasn't aware of?" Demogorgon chuckled, and Richard involuntarily shivered. If Mr. Loxias wasn't Satan, or one of his minions, then he was a damn close facsimile.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "I knew you would be amusing." He grinned, canines slightly elongated and sharp, not quite fangs, but frightening nonetheless. They went perfectly with dark depthless eyes suddenly beaming red. "You may call me Demogorgon." Richard stumbled back, heart pounding at the optical light show. His ability to speak fled, although he had a thousand questions and epithets flying around in his head. He wanted to believe he was still unconscious, supine against the cold tile of the alcove outside the ladies' bathroom at the Mountain Smoke House instead of awake and standing in his living room. He wanted to believe that Phoenix had knocked him out. He knew he was grasping at straws, but there was no other way to explain Demogorgon's presence unless he was in a coma, dreaming, or being punished somehow for what he had done to the Freeborns and Montana. Or, worst of all, he had fallen prey to his family's mental illness and Loxias's visit was just the beginning of losing his mind. All of the prospects left him cold and worried for his future when his parents' deaths had barely left an emotional dent. "You are not going crazy, I am not a figment of your imagination, nor am I going away until we talk." Richard closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten, disappointed but unsurprised that Demogorgon was still standing in front of him when he opened them. He grasped the receiver and punched ‘talk’ just to confirm it was dead. No dial tone. He glanced at the wall jack and almost gasped when he saw the wire firmly connected. "Your phone is fine. I just think it would be better if we had no interruptions. For the time being I have rendered it inoperable." "What is it you feel we need to talk about?" "A matter of great importance, Richard. One that will benefit us both." Richard arched a brow, stopped short of sighing before he responded. The glare his visitor gave him didn't brook disinterest or disobedience. Out of desperation, he gave the front door one more look and Demogorgon did sigh. "Very well, if you must get it out of your system…" He snapped his fingers and in an instant, Richard was standing at the front door. He didn't question his fortune, or the logic, but reached out and tried to open the door, already knowing the futility of his actions. The knob didn't turn and the door wouldn't open no matter how much muscle he put behind the pull. Richard finally turned and faced Demogorgon, leaned back against the door. "Are you satisfied?" How was he supposed to answer that, when the only thing that would satisfy him would be Mr. Demogorgon Loxias's disappearance from his home? It certainly didn't seem that the man was inclined to do anything of the sort. If he wasn't Lucifer, then maybe he was a rival lawyer, although Richard could think of no colleagues who regularly gallivanted around in a Lord of the Rings get-up.

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Gracie C. McKeever Demogorgon did his Merlin act and floated across the floor again to where Richard was standing, baring his teeth in that feral smile that Richard was already beginning to fear and mistrust. "We have a mutual enemy, you and I. And I assure you, Richard, that once we are done, you will not regret my visit. " This intrigued him. What could he do but accept Demogorgon's word? **** Endre Phoenix did not trust Demogorgon Loxias one iota, especially with his mother. He did not know what the Black Elf had over his mother, or what deal she had made with Demogorgon to broker leniency for Seth, but he knew that the Black Elf did not grant favors without demanding something of equal or superior value. Demogorgon would not make a wager without weighing the odds heavily in his favor. If he had made a deal with Thyra, he would ensure that there was no way she could ever win. What exactly his mother had traded for her son's life, Endre could only guess, but he intended to find out. He would not let his mother relinquish her soul, or worse, to the Black Elf without waging war. Endre found her at the edge of Lake Cenon, her favorite place to reflect and relax in days before Seth's banishment. Since his leaving, this place had become a constant haunt, as if she were keeping vigil, waiting for her youngest son's return. Did she know something that he and the rest of the colony did not? Had she brokered an agreement with the Directorate as well as with Demogorgon? The Directorate, for all their sagacity and knowledge, had made a mistake in letting the Black Elf into their ranks. Endre did not just believe this so because his father did, but because he knew what the Black Elf capable, knew his power could too easily be used against Sapphira as well as for it. He knew that Demogorgon was somehow using his power on the Directorate against his mother. He vowed he would find a way to destroy the Elf if what he believed were indeed so. His family's honor and survival called for it. Endre stepped on a twig in the underbrush. His mother started and turned with a hand to her breast as she watched him approach. He watched her, noticed her wary look, her eyes darting like prey drinking water when it knows a predator is nearby. "Endre, you startled me!" "What is it that Demogorgon is holding over you, Mother?" She gaped, quickly averting her eyes, but Endre saw it, the flash of fear and shame glittering out of her dark eyes as she laughed nervously. "Whatever are you talking about?" "Mother…" Endre moved closer until he was standing a couple of inches in front of her, staring down at her curly brown locks from his superior height before he reached out to cup her

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Spells Cast in Shadows chin with a hand. He lifted her head, immediately saw the tears threatening to fall. "What is it you are trying so hard to hide from Father and I?' "I cannot say." "It has something to do with Demogorgon, does it not?" "Endre…it is better for you not to know." "If it involves you, my brother and your fates, then it is better that I know." He waited for a response, and when none was forthcoming, he pushed her further. "Why should you alone bear the burden of Seth's safety and security?" "I am his mother," she said. "And I am his brother." Thyra shook her head. "You do not understand. Could not." "Help me to understand, Mother. I am here." "Cercyon would never—" "He his not here. It is just you and I. Whatever you tell me, will stay between us." Endre stepped closer and gathered Thyra against his chest, hugged her close. "Mother, I love him, too, but you cannot help Seth this way. Do you not see that he would not brook your obligation to Demogorgon anymore than Father or I." "You would have had me leave your brother at the mercy of the Directorate? To die at their whims? Had I not intervened, this would have been his fate!" Now she was the mother he knew—passionate, protective, defiant—not some uncertain young centaur pining a bad decision and seeking the approval of her husband or the Directorate. This female before him did not want nor need anyone's approval. She was sure of herself and the decisions she made for her clan, for better or worse. "But Mother, Demogorgon—" "Is what he is. I accepted that and went to him with my eyes open. There was no other way to save Seth." "There had to be an alternative." "Do you not think I thought of every angle? Every option? Do you think I wanted to barter with the Black Elf?" "Tell me what you did, Mother, before it is too late to reverse." "It already is." Endre caught her by the shoulders, glared. "As long as we live, it cannot be too late." "Endre, please! You do not know what you are asking." He continued as if she had not spoken, needing to get things out before either of them lost the courage that had driven them as far as the lake. "The question is, what would motivate Demogorgon to speak to the Directorate on Seth's behalf. After all, there is no love lost between

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Gracie C. McKeever him and the males of our family. So that would leave you, Mother. He spoke to the Directorate because you asked him to. Do not bother to deny it." Thyra sighed heavily, and when he released her, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She placed a palm against his heart as if to fortify herself with its steady beat. "Mother?" She raised her head to stare at him and swallowed hard. "I cannot tell you the terms of our agreement, Endre." "You do not need to. I already know. Seth's life, for what?" Thyra did not answer, and Endre cupped her face with both hands, held firm as he stared at her. "By Nemesis, you are my mother! If it concerns you, it concerns me. What has Demogorgon requested of you?" "Seth's life for mine." "No—" "Not to the letter, but close enough. I…I will have to leave your father, give myself to Demogorgon of my own free will unless—" "'Tis blackmail, not your free will! More, the Directorate would never knowingly allow such an agreement." "The Directorate does not know." Thyra stared at him. "'Tis already done. We made a pact in…in blood." "Mother, do you really believe that Father would let you go to another?" "He will have no choice. I gave my word." "To the Black Elf! How sure are you that he has kept his side of the bargain? That he has not used elfin glamour to keep the truth from you?" Thyra frowned, appeared to consider for the first time the fruits of her good faith and desperation, that she might have been duped into her bargain with the Black Elf. Endre took advantage of her momentary confusion, and said, "Seth may very well be dead. How are we to know for certain?" "No." Thyra shook her head, a bereft mother in denial. "I would know, Endre, I am sure of it. I would feel it here." She put a fist over her heart. Endre watched emotions rush across her already expressive features, but most of all, he saw the rare rays of doubt. He wanted to console her, wanted to believe as strongly as she did that Seth was alive and well, but instead, pushed his hand. "You said unless. Unless what?" Thyra shook her head. "I cannot tell your brother any of this, or it would forfeit the agreement and as long as it is in effect. We all have a chance of coming out of this unscathed and with what we want." Endre held back a smile.

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Spells Cast in Shadows His mother had said nothing about him not telling Seth. All contracts had loopholes, and he had found the one in the agreement between his mother and the Black Elf. He wondered, vaguely, if his mother had purposely worded her warning the way she had in order to give him a clue. "So I suppose telling Father is totally out of the question?" he asked, only half-joking. Thyra laughed and quickly covered her mouth as if laughing at so serious a situation was sacrilege. Endre grinned, thought confronting his mother was worth it to see her smile once again. She had not done it nearly enough the last several weeks. "So when do the terms take complete effect? Seth has been gone a full moon and I cannot imagine Demogorgon allowing you to renege on your agreement." "Not likely, no." "Then—" "You are an intelligent centaur." Thyra smiled as she cupped his cheek. "We still have time then?" "Dwindling, but yes. There is some." "Mother, what are the complete terms of your and Demogorgon's pact?" Endre raised a brow as she enlightened him on the ‘unless’ in her and the Black Elf's agreement. He wondered not how he would find Seth to tell him, but how Seth could possibly meet Demogorgon's conditions once he knew. Seth would do it, Endre ensured himself. To save their mother, he would have to.

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Chapter 17 Seth felt Montana's wrath as if it were a living thing. He had no one to blame except himself, as this past sennight he had done everything within his power to alienate her. He had resorted to prolonged silences, grumbled monosyllabic responses to her questions, and flashed his infamous death glare at her. It was a look that had melted many a Sapphiran on the spot, one he used to anger Montana in the hopes that she’d avoid him. Much to his distress, his ploy had worked better than Seth could have conceived until it was all he could do to escape the hurt and betrayed look gleaming from Montana's large almond eyes whenever he allowed himself to glimpse at her. He had never wanted to be the cause of her long-suffering look, but it was the only way he could think of to keep his sanity, to keep his distance. If he allowed her access, got as close to her as he wanted, did to her what he wanted, Seth did not think he would be able to control himself. He would want to lose himself in her glorious, generous curves, the welcoming woman's warmth of her body, trying to wash away his traitorous memories. What would have happened had he not made it to her in time? How far would Wheeler have gone? The possibilities haunted him like the look in Montana's eyes; the idea of a woman suffering as had Nyssa, a female for whom he was responsible, was intolerable. Seth closed his eyes against the vision of Montana's bloodied and bruised body in the bath, clenched his teeth against the anger and desire washing over him in unrelenting waves, reminding him of why he'd been so distant this last sennight. It killed him to work beside her from sun up to sundown every day and not address what was between them, who was between them. It killed him to keep from taking her and making her his in every way that Wheeler, and any other man, had not.

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Spells Cast in Shadows He had to say something to her, even if it was to beg her pardon, and dealing with Montana Freeborn, a woman as stubborn and arrogant as she accused him of being, he might have to. Seth smiled grimly to himself as he stalked from the house. The idea of begging, while humorous, was as unpalatable as pleading for mercy from the Directorate in Sapphira. He was a Phoenix, a mighty centaur of royal heritage. He bowed to no male, or female for that matter. He would bow to Montana just to end their impasse and consider it time well spent. He sought her out at the stables, knowing she would be taking Sunspot out for her early ride before the rest of the ranch rose. That collision seemed so long ago, much longer than a full moon, more like forever. He felt as if he had known her, been with her, his entire life. He approached the stall and saw Montana roll her eyes as she saddled her stallion, turning her face and giving Seth her profile. He steeled himself as he opened the stall door and planted himself. "You're in my way." "We must talk." "Now we must talk?" "There has not been an opportunity before now." She gaped but quickly recovered. "Whatever." He recognized the term as something one of her kids would say, an all encompassing term that meant everything and nothing. Their situation and existence summed up in a nutshell. She rolled her eyes again, cinched the saddle around Sunspot's middle, then led the horse by the reins towards the door. Seth caught her by an arm and pulled her to the side of the stall. "Montana—" "I can't do this right now, Seth." She tried to pull free, but he held firm, stepping closer to press her against the stall wall. "I know that I've hurt you." "Why should you be any different from anyone else?" Again, the allusion to a past filled with hurt, rife with unhealed wounds and injustices. Abandoned, her adoptive parents killed, a confused child grown into a woman afraid to touch and be touched. He could not imagine such an existence, and wondered how Montana had managed it for so long. He wanted to ask her who else had hurt her—imagined another young man outside of Jason, outside of Wheeler, someone who had taken away her innocence and trust—and he wanted to hurt that person as well. "I'm trying to protect you," he murmured. "By pushing me away?"

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Gracie C. McKeever He did not answer, did not know how to tell her all that he was feeling. He was still confused by the wants suffusing him, his desire for her. It was not just physical desire, though there was that, always that, but something more transcending the spiraling warmth in his stomach, the hard ache throbbing between his legs. Something more frightening. He wanted her as he had no other female, and the idea of losing himself—all that he had been, all that was in him and still Sapphiran and centaur—alarmed him more than this heady new desire, more than his banishment ever could have. More than Nyssa's loss. Before her death, he had never experienced loss. His parents though they had gone through their own trials, were alive and well. He had a brother, one with whom he had grown in the lap of royal luxury. The world and a bright future had belonged to him. And like the proud centaur that Thyra and Cercyon had raised him to be, Seth had believed all of it had been his due, had believed he had all the time in the world to enjoy life's rewards. He'd been a fool. Selfish. How much more foolish would he be to let her walk away from him—hating him, thinking herself unloved and unwanted—while he pretended that she meant nothing more to him than a victim to be rescued and comforted? "I can protect myself, Seth. I've been doing it for a long time now." "You do not need to any longer." He almost laughed at the absurdity of his statement. If she needed to protect herself from anyone, then it was from Seth Phoenix of Sapphira, who wished to possess her, ravish her to the bone, and return for seconds. Montana scoffed. "And who died and made you my bodyguard?" He didn't speak, responded only by sliding his fingers down her shoulders to grasp her hands in his. He hesitated, waiting for her retreat. He remembered how she'd snatched her hands out of his the day of the accident, the evening of Wheeler's attack. When she didn't protest or react in any way, he insinuated a thigh between her legs. He pressed his knee against her sex, eliciting a surprised gasp, then a moan as Montana closed her eyes and arched her neck. She was not the only one surprised by his actions. Seth's instincts—where and how to touch her to ignite a slow flame of arousal, to bring her the most satisfaction—burned as if lit from an internal torch. One he now used to guide his fingers to the correct spots on her body. His hands slid up to her breasts where he lightly pinched each already pebbled nipple with thumb and forefinger. He felt them harden even more beneath his hands. "Ssseth…" Montana hissed, squeezing her eyes tighter as she dropped Sunspot's reins. Seth bent his head, let his forehead touch hers and stayed this way for a long silent moment, taking deep breaths to center himself and failing miserably, her subtle scent overpowering his senses. No female had ever knocked him so far off kilter before, but then sex had never been an emotional act for him. It had only involved relief and gratification in its rawest, purest form. He had never given a thought as to what would bring his partner pleasure, had never cared. But now, he wanted to know her pleasure as well as his own, wanted to pull guttural groans and breathless sighs from her throat, wanted to feel her writhe in unbridled sensuality beneath his human body.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Such alien emotions, alien visions—his curiosity about how efficiently his new form would function, whether he could bring them both to fruition—a blessing and a curse that caused second thoughts despite the raging heat and stiffness gripping his lower body. Sunspot whinnied, backing up into the stall as if from embarrassment, the scent of human arousal disturbing his equine senses. "Seth, please…" Montana wound her arms around his neck, plowing her hands into his short 'locks as she moved her hips against him. She ground her center against his knee, body sending messages of everything and anything except withdrawal. He had never wanted a female more. Seth angled his head to kiss her. "Open for me," he whispered, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, savoring her taste, like ambrosia. The strange sensations swirled in his middle as he scooped her up into his arms and walked her out of the stall. He paused long enough to close and latch the stall door before carrying her back up to the house. He didn't know what he would say if he bumped into anyone along the way, didn't care. His only concern was the woman in his arm, purring against his chest like a satisfied cat. He could have stayed this way forever, holding Montana close to his chest, her caressing him through the several open buttons of his shirt, but he knew there was so much more to discover from her, from himself. They reached the house unharassed, and Seth took the spiral stairs up to Montana's room three at a time, a man on a mission. Peppa met them at the bedroom door. "Not this time, boy." Seth shooed him from the room and closed the door in the animal's bewildered face. Barely winded, he carried her to the bed. The room seemed eerily quiet, as if in recognition of a momentous occasion. He was about to indoctrinate her in the ways of coitus with a centaur-turned-man, about to learn the ways of coitus with a human female. The eager student took over as Seth homed in on the fasteners blocking his access to her. And where once he had welcomed the jeans she routinely wore, he now damned their creator, his difficulty in undoing and divesting her of the snug garment making his hands shake with impatience the more he struggled with the several buttons. Finally, he gave up and ripped off the top two before Montana stopped him from doing further damage to her clothes. She put her steady hands over his to help him undo the last few buttons, pulled her sweatshirt up and over her head then lifted and wiggled her hips to allow him to ease the jeans down her long smooth legs. He got them to her calves before he snatched off the cowboy boots and socks she had on with a little less difficulty. He discarded the clothes and footwear before easing a thigh between her legs again as he kissed his way up her body. He left a moist, erotic trail—from thighs, to navel, to pert generous breasts—before finally taking her mouth with his. He slid in his tongue, swirling it around, exploring her sweet hot depths, urging her tongue from the recesses. She met him with equal fervor, groaned into his mouth, her soft whimpers and sighs musical accompaniment to the sensuous horizontal dance she did beneath his roaming fingers.

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Gracie C. McKeever He nipped her full lower lip, plunging his tongue and rolling it inside her mouth—daring, teasing, taming, conquering—moving his hips against her. He was barely conscious of the underwear she still wore, which impeded his progress to her bare skin and wet womanhood, barely conscious that he was still fully clothed. Straddling her, Seth rose to his knees and Montana ran her hands down his sides, thumbs gently caressing his rib cage through the smooth flannel material of his shirt before she pulled the garment from his jeans and slid her hands beneath to feel his warm skin under her palms. Seth shifted, returned his knee between her legs, rubbing it up and down the soaked crotch of her panties, eliciting a soft moan as she wrapped one leg around his hip and reveled in the rough feel of the denim against her skin, the muscled length of his calf beneath her foot. "You have on too many clothes, Seth." She reached for his belt, undid it and the buttons on his jeans before ripping the buttons off his shirt. Seth grinned at her fearlessness, her determination to go after what she wanted. To go after him. He slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties and peeled the lacy purple cotton down her thighs as he glided down the mattress and toed off his boots. Loath to leave her for even the seconds it would take him to completely undress, he went to work removing his shirt, jeans, and socks before finally joining her, naked on the bed. Montana had already removed her bra and lay in the middle of the king sized mattress like a prize, her smooth caramel skin shimmering beneath the dim light of the room. The dark brown waves of her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her head as she reached for him. Seth licked his lips, bestial proclivities riding so close to the surface he was surprised he had been able to get Montana back to the house and up to the bedroom rather than just mounting her amidst the hay and manure of the stables. "Either you're going to spend all morning staring at me, or you're going to do something to ease this throbbing between my legs. Frankly, I'd prefer the latter, lots and lots of the lat—" She didn't have a chance to finish the thought before Seth settled his large body over hers, winding his arms around her back to pull her close to his chest and hold her here for one long breathless moment. He cursed his humanness and his doubts. He wanted nothing better than to plunge headlong into her wet depths and claim her. His conscience, however, prevented this. Morality he neither welcomed nor needed tempered every move, turning his lust into a cerebral act instead of the impulsive primitive release he had always known it to be. She writhed against him, pushing her pubis against his testicles. "I'm a willing participant, Seth. Please, just take me." Was she willing, or trying to eradicate a horrible memory with an experience that might be just as horrible were it not for his restraint? Seth had a flash of Richard at the restaurant, Richard almost ravaging her. He'd never been so primitive, and close to his ancestors as he had that moment, determined to protect what belonged to him. "He took your maidenhood."

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana frowned, expression immediately reflecting understanding, cheeks blushing before she defiantly lifted her chin. "Does it matter to you?" "It matters that he hurt you." He held in a smile at the rebellion shining out of her eyes. "He didn't do anything irreparable." She put a finger to his lips. "You'll be my first in every way that counts." She palmed her chest. "In here, you always have been." He knew the truth of her words in his heart. He felt the same, that she was his first. Seth bent his head to seize her mouth, heart pounding in his ears as he plunged his tongue, imitating what he wanted to do with his cock, hips thrusting against her center, hard shaft pressed against her firm, slightly rounded belly between them. "Please," Montana gasped between his kisses. "Please take me now, Seth. I'm so wet and I ache and…I've waited so long to feel you, to feel this…" He reached a hand down between their bodies, slid one finger into her opening and instantly discovered the truth of her words when her sweet female juices seeped into his palm. He felt her vaginal muscles clench against the finger before he joined it with another. He slowly thrust his two fingers inside, brushing sensitive nerve endings, thoroughly coating his hand with her musky cream. She squirmed beneath Seth like he'd imagined she would, her body already beginning to sheen with perspiration as he thumbed the nub protruding from a nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. He explored the firm texture of it, stroking and rubbing the alien kernel of flesh. He tested her limits and his own dexterity while he immersed himself in the way her body vibrated in his arms, beneath his touch as if he were playing a well-tuned instrument. Seth pumped his fingers in rhythm with the gentle flicks he delivered to her clit with his thumb, gradually building pressure towards a climax that he felt from his head to his toes. When Montana exploded around him, every muscle contracted inside and out, her strong arms reaching around to clutch him to her. He closed his eyes, experiencing her completion. He owned it as if it were his, gently lowering her back to the mattress as he removed his fingers from her wet warmth and raised his hand to his mouth to taste her. Piquant, like her scent, salty and sweet, like her. His mouth watered for more, but he needed something else first. Montana read his mind, sliding a hand down to grasp him, his shaft jerking up to meet her half-way. She thumbed the small amount of fluid that had leaked from the head, rubbed it around the sides of his erection before guiding him towards her center. He held himself up on his palms, paused at her opening, gripped by the unfamiliar position but intrigued to discover how she would feel surrounding his tumescence from the front, all the passion and arousal there on her face for him to read and take pleasure from. Seth pushed at her entry and stopped again, the implications of her tightness thrumming through his nerves, tensing his muscles. He did not think even Wheeler's violation had opened her enough to accommodate his length without hurting her. And despite his new smaller size, and her flowing wetness, he knew that he was large enough for this to be a more than improbable fit.

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Gracie C. McKeever "I'm ready for you, Seth. Trust me, I've never been more ready." Montana slid her hands around his back, exerting gentle pressure with her palms, urging him forward. "You won't hurt me," she whispered, then ran her tongue along the firm column of his throat before caressing the shell of his ear, eliciting a hard shudder. Seth paused for another second before he rammed through her resistance. She gasped, hugged him tight as she closed her eyes and bit down on his shoulder, her canal stretching for him, then contracting around his shaft, sucking him deeper, welcoming. He gritted his teeth, remained still for a long moment, adjusting to her moist warmth, regaining control of his body. He took pleasure in the feel of her surrounding him before thrusting further and gradually undulating his hips as she arched towards him, matching his rhythm. By Nemesis, he felt as if he had died and been reborn in the same breath. He had never experienced a fit so tight and perfect. He had never felt this close to Elysium before! He nearly shouted the words to Montana in his mounting excitement, but something made him bite his tongue at the last minute. He thrust inside her instead, slow deep strokes, telling her with his body all that he was feeling. "Seth, you feel so good!" He peered down at her, slid a hand along her left leg before lifting it to rest her ankle on his shoulder and give him better access to her core. Montana panted beneath him, thrusting her hips again and again, whimpering his name as she buried her face against his chest, fingers sliding across the slicked surface of his broad muscled back, searching for purchase as she scored his skin. "Oh, God, Seth, please…I'm almost there. Make me come. Please make me—" He swallowed her entreaties beneath a hungry, dizzying kiss, and plundered her mouth as he slid almost all the way out of her. He left just the head of his penis poised inside her vulva, waited an instant before driving back into her, pumping and working his hips like a piston. Montana fisted his 'locks with both hands and pulled his face down to hers. She went to work on his mouth, leaving a trail of gently vicious love-bites from his throat, where she tarried, sucking at the wildly-beating pulse point, to his well-defined chest. She lingered here for several moments, circling his flat nipples with her tongue before nipping each one in turn. Seth pounded into her, forgetting all his earlier doubts, his earlier promises, ignoring selfadmonishments that he could hurt her, that he could not do the same things to her he had done with centaur females in the past without her suffering the repercussions. But Montana quickly dispelled his concerns, meeting each plunge measure for measure, grinding her pelvis against him, impaling herself with the ferocity of someone who's known loss and doesn't intend to be left behind again. She growled deep in her throat like the hungry mate he envisioned and wanted. She was a mate who took everything he gave and returned it three-fold. She was wild and unbridled one minute then sweet and tender the next. But this moment there was no sweet and tender, no room now for slow and soft.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Seth felt the tension building in his groin, testicles tightening right before he released his life flow inside her and powered them home to a shattering completion. Montana's body tightened beneath him, clutched everything in its grasp, squeezing his erection dry. Her vaginal muscles contracted as a second orgasm washed over her. She dug her nails into his back as if to hold onto it as long as she could, cried out his name before sinking her teeth into the spot between his shoulder and neck. She trembled as he collared the back of her throat with one hand, and wrapped the other arm around her waist to pull her up against his chest. They clung to each other, lithe muscles and moist limbs entwined, gasping as they breathed in each other's pure musk, perfumed heat evanescing around them. Montana fell asleep in his arms, Seth still inside her, both dead to the world. A short time later, he woke to the beginnings of the change.

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Chapter 18 Seth opened his eyes, alarmed as the first wave rippled through his body. He bolted upright in bed. Montana remained deeply asleep and undisturbed beside him. Seth glanced at her for a long moment, admiring the wild look of her long hair mussed and spread out on the pillow beneath her head, stray tendrils covering her face, reaching past her breasts. He reached a hand down to tuck several soft strands behind her ear so that he could get a better look at her face in repose, a rarity he realized, but another wave crashed through his body, snatching away his breath. Seth leaped from the bed and rushed to the bathroom, hastily closing and locking the door behind him before kneeling at the human's porcelain god, ready to retch. Nothing came up despite his insides feeling as if they wanted to come out. He knelt for a few minutes, waiting for the nausea to pass, but it did not. Neither did the compulsion to throw up abate. Seth stood, stared at his perspiration stained face in the mirror above the sink, shocked that he suddenly felt feverish. Where was this coming from? He turned on the cold water and splashed a handful on his face, the shock helping only for an instant before he was bent over the toilet again, dry heaving. He thought of Montana sound asleep in the next room. He didn't want her to see him like this and think that she'd had something to do with his condition. He knew her, knew she would blame herself for something over which she had no control. Seth slowly got to his feet, dizzy and cold. He grasped the sides of the sink and closed his eyes tight, focusing on his internal organs, trying to home in on the root of his distress. He could not identify his malady. No one organ or group seemed damaged, more a systemic disruption. He

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Spells Cast in Shadows had never experienced so total and sudden a malaise, except right after the Directorate had issued their decree exiling him and the Black Elf had performed his invocation… Child of Cronus Seed of Chiron Tis your power I wield To make human Your own This illness mimicked that of his first transformation! His eyes flew open. Seth leaned forward and stared at his reflection, noticed his ashen complexion and knew he did not have much time. As soon as the thought formed, he shuddered as a ripple rode his spinal column from the base of his neck to his tailbone. It felt as if all the bones in his body had shifted at once and were realigning. Into what, he did not know and was loath to find out. Despite this, and not fully understanding what was happening to him or why, Seth knew he could not allow Montana to witness the final result. He unlocked the door, carefully opened it and peeked out. She lay on her side, one hand cradling a cheek, the other arm flung out in front of her as if she had been reaching for something in her sleep. Seth wanted more than anything to rejoin her, fit his body close to hers and escape into the moist warm security of her body, his body even now reacting to her soft beauty, hardening fast and painfully. At least that was still functioning properly. But he knew in a few minutes, mating with Montana would be the last thing on his mind, no longer his decision to make. He bent to retrieve his jeans, donned them as fast as he could, though he suspected his attire or lack thereof would become a non-issue very shortly. Barefoot, he stumbled down the stairs and out the back door of the house, barely making it to the stables unseen before collapsing in a heap outside of Sunspot's stall. Montana's horse whinnied and stepped back a few paces, suddenly agitated. Seth was vaguely aware of Peppa when the dog loped into the stables, stopped beside him, and licked his face. The animal barked several times when Seth didn't respond then finally howled. By Nemesis, if the animal kept up that infernal racket, someone would soon come by to see Seth incapacitated! He could not allow that. Seth grabbed hold of the stall door and pulled himself up. He nearly keeled over when Peppa leaped up to greet him, panting, tail wagging, front paws soundly landing in Seth's groin. He gasped, reached a shaky hand down to scratch the German shepherd behind an ear. "I'm all right, boy." He hoped his voice sounded more steady and reassuring than he felt. "Get down now. Go back to your mistress."

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Gracie C. McKeever Peppa whined as he got back down on all fours, appealing to Seth as he looked up at him with questioning brown eyes. "Go, boy. Go to Montana." The dog barked one more time as if to get in the last word, then turned and ran back towards the house. Seth leaned against the stall, exhausted, and the metamorphosis took over. This was much worse then the last time, bones and organs twisting and turning in his body as if someone were stirring them like the ingredients in a pot of stew. He sank to the dirt floor again and lay still for a long moment, gasping for oxygen, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to will away the pain. Excruciating, intense flames of sensation ignited all his nerves one by one, his limbs on fire. His body no longer felt like it belonged to him, his lack of control simultaneously frightening and infuriating. Goddess, he wanted to die, but even this was beyond his sway. By Nemesis, he had only just gotten used to being a man, enjoying the rigors of hard labor on the ranch side by side with his new community. He had only gotten used to how easily his body slid into Montana's, how easily they fit together, how perfectly he fit in her life. Seth gritted his teeth against another wave of pain, closed his eyes and damned the Directorate and Demogorgon to Hades right before losing consciousness. **** Montana woke a couple of hours later immediately missing Seth's warmth and hardness beside her. She swept her hands out in front of her on the bed, peeked open one eye, then the other when she didn't see him. She sat up in bed, demurely pulling the covers over her breasts, then thought better of it and let them fall to her waist. After everything he'd done to her body this morning, there was no way for her to be shy around him again. He knew her inside and out now, as she knew him. And she wanted to know even more. She’d been determined to discover more of his likes and dislikes before realizing he was gone. "Seth?" She waited a beat and when she didn't get an answer, got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The light was on, but there was no sign of him, though she could still smell his scent around her. Had she run him off with her snoring? Was he not accustomed to cover hogs? Montana almost smiled at the idea of Seth Phoenix, son of Cercyon and Thyra Phoenix of the House of Phoenix of Sapphira, letting a little ol' snorer and cover hog scare him off. Where was he? Peppa burst into the room, barking as he hunted her down in the bathroom and leaped on her with his front paws. "What is it, boy? Who got your tail in a knot?"

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Spells Cast in Shadows The dog frantically barked, ran out of the bathroom, and was waiting at the bedroom door for Montana to follow him. When she sauntered out of the bathroom too slow for the animal's satisfaction, glancing at him questioningly, Peppa ran back and nipped her hand. "Hey! What's gotten into you?" Peppa barked, panting as he ran back to the door. Montana quickly donned her discarded clothes, glad Seth had left most of the buttons on her jeans intact. She glanced at the bedside clock on her way to the door, shocked by the late hour. It was nearly nine. Normally, she'd have been up and working for a couple of hours by now. Had Seth decided to get an early start without her? Was he like every other human male, afraid of pillow talk and morning-after conversation? Had he sent Peppa in for her, or had Jason gotten impatient to start work for the day and sent the dog in for his mistress? Montana hurriedly followed Peppa downstairs and out the back door, heard the ruckus at the stables long before she arrived and saw the small gathering in front of Sunspot's stall. Several heads turned her way as she neared—Jason, and Montana's camp kids. Montana searched her brain for the day's programs, tried to figure out whether or not she was supposed to go out on a trip with the kids or had any horseback riding lessons scheduled, but her mind was blank beyond wondering about Seth. The closer Peppa got to the scene, the louder and more incessantly he barked until it was all Montana could do to catch him by the collar and hold him back from the small crowd currently clearing a path for her arrival. Could they tell what she had, been doing? Could they smell Seth on her? She suddenly felt on display, a walking, blushing billboard broadcasting: Here struts a well-fucked woman. Montana frowned at the term, had never been a big fan of the F-word but thought it the best term for what she and Seth had done. They'd screwed each other unconscious and, she was sure, would have gone for seconds and maybe thirds, had Seth been there when she'd awakened. They'd gone at each other like animals, hard, rough, and violent in their lovemaking. "What's all the commotion about, and why aren't you guys out riding or making yourselves useful around here?" She tried to keep her tone teasing and light, but Jason's inquiry nipped that in the bud. "Have you seen Seth?" Montana gritted her teeth before reining in her emotions. She wouldn't blow her stack in front of the kids. She glanced at them as they all looked at her, waiting for her to answer Jason, their eyes anxious and searching as if they needed, wanted, reassurance. Reassurance for what? What had happened out here?

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana went closer to the stall, forehead wrinkling as she caught sight of the discarded clothes just outside the door. Heart in her throat, she turned to Rashawn and caught him by an arm. "Why don't you take the gang out for a while? Catch up with one of the wranglers." "Aw Monty, the mystery was just getting juicy." She had no idea what he was talking about, and was sure she didn't want to find out. Her biggest concern was why Seth's clothes were in the stable when Seth wasn't. "Aw Monty, nothing. Now, git." She pushed the teenager toward the door. "Okay, fine." Montana waited. She almost laughed as Rashawn pouted before rounding up the rest of the kids and leading them out of the stables. Amid grumblings of ‘why-do-we-have-to-go,’ and ‘it's-not-fair,’ they finally left, their dragging feet leaving trails in the dirt. As soon as she and Jason were alone, Montana rounded on him. "What gives you the idea that I know where Seth is?" Jason shrugged, unperturbed. "As you can see, we found a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt near Sunspot's stall that look like his, but no sign of him. Thought something might have happened, and since he stays up at the house with you, I figured you'd be the first to know something." "Why do you think what you found is Seth's?" Montana asked, stalling for answers. She was as much in the dark as Jason but more scared. "No reason, 'cept it's the same outfit I saw him in a couple of days ago." She barely heard him, took several steps forward and hesitated just outside of Sunspot's stall when she noticed the extra horse inside. Montana turned back to him, mind already solving the ‘mystery’ to which Rashawn had alluded as she stared at the ‘new’ bay stallion. Her heart lurched at the gray eyes staring at her from the animal's equine face. The silvergold tint was familiar, too familiar. The horse’s eyes shone with intelligence and recognition that indicated comprehension. No way! It can't be… "Any idea where this'n came from?" Jason jerked a thumb at the animal in question. "I…" Montana paused as she came closer and unconsciously rubbed the horse's nose, gaping. "I don't have a clue." "I thought maybe he wandered in from one of the other ranches, but he doesn't have a brand." "A stray?" "He's a pretty tame critter not to belong to anyone. And Sunny seems to recognize him as if he belongs here."

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Spells Cast in Shadows Sunspot recognized him all right. And if the way Sunspot was cowering at the back of the stall was any indication, he’d had the fertilizer scared out of him. Whatever had happened out here to Seth, Sunspot and Peppa had probably seen it, and neither of them would be talking anytime soon, so she could forget getting an eye-witness account. "I could make some calls, find out if any ranches in the area have a horse that's gone missing, or—" "No brand, he belongs to us. Finders keepers," she said. "You took the words out of my mouth." Of course, it would mean they might have to brand him somewhere along the line to keep him from going permanently missing. Montana cringed at the thought, remembered how Seth had reacted when he'd first arrived and had witnessed Jason branding the Freeborn logo into a horse's rear. "So, you haven't seen Phoenix anywhere around?" Jason asked. "Not since last night." "I've been thinking, since one of the smaller cottages will be free soon, you might want to relocate him. No need for him to stay up at the main house, taking up your personal space unnecessarily." "When the cottage opens up, we'll talk about it. Until then, I'd like to keep things as they are. No need to upset the applecart." "Is something wrong, Monty?" She jerked her eyes from the horse to stare at him, frowning. "No, why would you ask?" Jason shrugged again, looked at her moodily. She knew what was on the tip of his tongue. He'd just barely veiled his jealousy, bringing up the whole housing issue. He couldn't have been more obvious. Jason had been unhappy about Seth staying up at the house from the beginning, and in his quiet way had made no secret of what he saw as an impropriety. She was surprised it had taken him this long to address Seth's having taken up residence at the ranch directly after the accident. "If there's nothing else on your mind, then let's get to working," Montana said. "You're the boss." Yeah, she was still that, for as long as she hung onto Freeborn Ranch, and she intended to for a long time to come. Jason tipped his hat and left the stables. He was unhappy, there was no denying that. She guessed she'd eventually have to address it, as soon as she figured out what to do with this new dilemma. Montana let out a breath, waited a moment to make sure he was gone and that she and the new horse were alone.

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Gracie C. McKeever She circled him, examining his frame with random caresses from head to foot. He was an exquisite animal, a sleek reddish-brown quarter horse, standing about sixteen hands. He was long-muscled, balanced, and elegant with a long graceful neck, powerful shoulder, straight legs, good bone structure and feet. Excellent for breeding. He would probably throw these traits on his babies. Montana sucked in a breath. She couldn't believe she was thinking of him in terms of breeding like a lower critter, despite the way they had spent the morning. He was a human being, an intelligent man she cared about, or at least he had been before now. She came around to his front to stare into his eyes again. "Seth?" The horse whinnied and vigorously nodded his head as if to confirm her suspicions. Oh. My. God! This couldn't be happening. It couldn't! She hugged him tight around the neck. "What happened to you? How? Wh—?" Montana cut herself off, knew how futile her questions, that he couldn't answer her. This wasn't Mr. Ed after all. How long was this going to last? How could they reverse it and get Seth back to normal? Or was this a permanent change? No, no way. She refused to accept the latter. He'd changed once before, and he could change again. Problem was figuring out where to begin and with whom. Demogorgon. Montana's head jerked up at the familiar name. The Black Elf, the one who'd invoked the original spell to transform Seth into a man. But when or how had he invoked the spell to change him into a horse? Had he come here from Sapphira just to cast the spell? Or had he done it initially, before Seth's banishment, something that would take effect retroactively? God, she couldn't believe she was standing here trying to figure out why Seth had changed into a horse and how to change him back to a man as if it was just another regular ol' day on the ranch! This wasn't normal! But neither had her life been from the first moment she'd seen the pony-man in her dreams, from the first moment she realized she could see and know future events before they happened. Normal hadn't been a part of Montana's vocabulary since she'd been born. She shouldn't expect it to be now. Reluctantly, she released Seth, took a step back to stare at him. He held her gaze and she saw so much in his expression—anguish, regret and frustration, as much as she'd seen in his eyes when he'd been human—she felt like she had lost her parents all over again. "We're going to straighten this out, Seth. I don't care what I have to do to get you back. I'm going to do it. I promise."

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Chapter 19 Seth led the way, galloping across the rich green meadow towards the lake with Montana and Sunspot close on his heels. Despite his new form, he felt truly free for the first time since his banishment, unfettered by human or centaur emotions and royal responsibility. The biggest drawback to being a full-bred horse was his inability to communicate with Montana the way he wanted to. He was frustrated that he could not touch her and hold her as a man. He saw her out the corner of an eye, she and Sunspot quickly gaining on him as he reached the water's edge and came to a hasty stop. She'd seemed to sense his need for independence and had opted to saddle up Sunspot for her ride rather than Seth, knowing that he would not want to be bridled and reined. Seth didn't know if the knowledge came from her psychic abilities or garden-variety instincts, but he was appreciative of her consideration. Montana dismounted Sunspot, laughing as she led him the rest of the way to where Seth stood gazing out over the lake. The warm sun reflected off of the water’s clear surface as he imagined his family on the other side, living their lives without him. Breathless, she came to his side, smoothing his coat. "I think Sunspot is jealous." The stallion whinnied behind them, as if to confirm her suspicions. Seth snorted to indicate his amusement. "I know you can understand everything I say, and I know how frustrating it must be for you not to be able to say anything to me." He nodded his understanding, leaned his head into her shoulder, and affectionately nudged her. The pure musk of her female scent wafted to him, warming all his limbs and

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Gracie C. McKeever detonating small explosions of lust in his groin. He no longer questioned his attraction for the human female; he was only grateful that he could still feel so intensely in this form. Seth wanted more than anything to think positively, believe in her foresight and the reasons she had left behind and hidden a set of clothes for him in Sunspot's stall for ‘just in case.’ "This isn't going to last forever, Seth, I won't let it. And when you do change back, I want you to be decent and ready for the world." He'd snorted at her statement, loved her determination and faith, though he had little of the latter himself, most of it snatched away by cruel circumstance at the useless death of his friend, a relative innocent and good-hearted centaur. He knew they were dealing with strong magic, a potent fairy spell cast by one of the most powerful elves in Oreias. An elf with a personal vendetta against Seth's family, no less. The spell's permanence didn't distress him as much as the possibility of further backlash, that Demogorgon had provided for other side effects to take hold as retroactively as the spell turning him from man to horse had. He tried to pinpoint the catalyst, exactly what he had done, what had changed recently, in the last twenty-four hours rather than days and weeks ago, that would cause his transformation, and the only thing he could surmise: he had mated with Montana. Seth knew that this had been the decisive factor, and like Montana, despite her promises, wondered if this change were permanent. He could see the Black Elf laughing in his tent now at one of Cercyon's own reduced to a practical beast of burden, a subservient animal. The pernicious fairy probably gained great satisfaction at seeing the younger Phoenix, a royal son of Sapphira, suffer under his spell. And yet, despite all this, Seth could not find it in his heart to regret what he and Montana had done, did not want to reverse their earlier actions. His transformation was a small price to pay for experiencing the wonder of her body, the softness of her skin against him, the musk of her woman's scent in his nostrils. Even now her musk wafted to him, enveloping his senses in the fragrant essence of seductive female. His front hooves and legs tingled with the need to caress her. "I wish I could hear your thoughts, Seth." She stood in front of him, rubbing his nose, and Seth lowered his head and pushed against her palm, wishing the same. Montana turned back toward the lake and silently stared out over the water, following Seth's glance. "Is that where your home is? Sapphira?" Seth brayed and nodded, frustration growing by the minute. He would have loved to elaborate, tell her about the rustic beauty of his dwelling, the gentle rolling hills bordering the colony, the swims he would take in the crystal waters of Lake Cenon with Nyssa and his students, the hunting trips he'd taken with Endre and his father. Waxing poetic about his life in Sapphira and his life before Freeborn was the least of Seth's worries. He needed the ability to talk for more important reasons.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Two heads were better than one, and he would have liked nothing better than to bounce his ideas off of Montana about his predicament, theorize and work on a solution together rather than separately. His inability to verbalize severely limited how much they could strategize. Montana moved closer as if sensing his tumultuous thoughts, cupped his equine face between both hands, and stared into his eyes. She ran her thumbs across his nose, closed her eyes tight and that's when Seth felt it, a jolt like electricity, as if her fingers were live wires and had penetrated his skull to search his brain cells, sift his memories. He gasped, or thought he did but the sound came out more like a bray as he stepped back, moving his head up and down as if to shake her grip—physical as well as mental. He'd never felt so close to a human, never felt closer to Montana as he did right now, except when he had made love to her. Seth neighed his fury, unable to move or object as if she held him in a spell as surely as Demogorgon, almost as strong, preventing him from withdrawing. Finally, he gave in to her probing, so easy to slide towards her, meeting halfway somewhere in the recesses of their minds, neutral ground, an empty slate where Montana began filling in the blanks of his life before the ranch. Seth knew the exact moment when Montana saw Nyssa, his memories flashing past her eyes like a movie. Montana's eyebrows crinkled on her caramel face so that he had to stop himself from licking out his tongue to smooth away the furrows and ease her discomfort. His protective instincts, always strong before, were now in overdrive. The urge to pull back intensified, but still he did not move, could not, as if controlled by some sick need to share the worst moment in his life with someone, anyone, but especially her. He wanted to warn her off, tell her to stop, knew what she was doing, knew what was coming and what she'd see. He did not think she could handle it, did not want her to have to. "Seth…I feel funny…" If he could have smiled he would have, but this was no humorous matter because she was about to live her worst nightmare. She was about to live his. **** Montana pulled in a deep breath, stomach dipping and diving as she felt herself falling forward as if into a depthless hole, inky darkness all around her. Thick. Impenetrable. Alive. She felt the energy even though she couldn't see it, the silence charged with their spirits—Nyssa and Seth—female and male life force flowing through her body until Montana had assimilated, until she became. She finally set down on solid land, none too gently. She was no longer inside Seth's mind experiencing his memories but with him in Sapphira. Montana blinked open her eyes, adjusting to her new surroundings—an enormous field of grass and sprays of purple flowers for as far as she could see. She was back in her recurrent dream, wondered if she had fallen asleep when she'd linked with Seth, or was actually here in Seth's home, in Nyssa's skin.

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Gracie C. McKeever "Nyssa, This way! I've the perfect spot for us!" Seth waved at her from several yards away, copper-tanned skin gleaming beneath the warm sun, the sorrel coat of his lower horse form glistening with health and vibrancy. Montana raised her arms in front of her, turned her hands palm up then palm down, heart thudding as she held her breath before glancing down at the rest of her body. She was unsurprised when she found a horse form to match Seth's, though hers smaller, more slender and supple. She gaped, the thought dawning on her like a knife to the gut. She was a female centaur! She was Nyssa! And she was on her way to a tryst with Seth Phoenix. She followed behind him as he galloped toward the water's edge, paused and turned back to her, smiling widely. She reached him, laughing breathlessly as he caught her in his strong muscled arms and pulled her against his chest in a hug. Nyssa Theron loved Seth, had loved him since they'd been yearlings. Sometimes the depth of her feelings shamed her as much as the impossibility of her emotions being returned. Her older brother, Diomedes, deemed her a fool, lusting after and waiting for someone who clearly did not care for her the way she cared for him. But Nyssa paid no heed, her heart ruled, making her an anomaly, a near outcast in the colony despite her father's status as one of the principals of the Directorate. Nearing two centuries, she should have chosen and been with her mate by now, rather than saving herself for a wild male centaur whom, according to her brother, was unworthy of Nyssa's gentle heart and generous spirit, unworthy of all that Sapphira now stood for. "Royal heritage be damned, you are too good for Phoenix," Diomedes often claimed. She loved him dearly and respected his wisdom, but in matters of the heart, her heart especially, her brother’s judgment was suspect. Diomedes was a male centaur—one step above the knuckle-dragging, war-mongering species that Seth revered so much—a being whose sole purpose and wish in life was to spread his seed as far and wide as possible and sire as many male centaurs as biologically feasible. It would have been easier for Nyssa to discount her brother's opinions were they not the standard, but her brother was not the only one who thought her love a waste of time. Where once Arion, her father, tolerated her human-like crush, he too had begun to see her preoccupation with the youngest Phoenix son as deviant and dangerous. It was enough that Cercyon had broken so many Sapphiran edicts to take and mate with an outsider, more an aberration, using his royal heritage to gain his heart's desire. Arion would not allow the royal's untamed son to corrupt his only daughter. "It's beautiful out here, Seth," Nyssa now murmured as she cradled her head beneath his chin, appreciating the support of his broad firm shoulders, the crisp soft hair dusting his chest.

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Spells Cast in Shadows She caressed the curls, his heartbeat steady and reassuring beneath her palm yet she asked, "Are you sure it is safe? I've never been this far away from the colony before." "I have, many times, with my students." "Cercyon would not be pleased." "What he does not know…" Nyssa smiled, pulled away slightly to stare at him. "He worries about you." "I can take care of myself." Nyssa watched the muscle in his jaw work, knew all too well the responsibility that rested on his shoulders, the weight of his sire's expectations and Seth's resultant resentment. With Endre being the elder son and next in line to the throne, Seth did not understand why he should be denied the pleasure of freely pursuing his studies. Nyssa had heard father and son go at each other numerous times—the entire colony had at one time or another—and knew well Cercyon's stance on Seth's dabbling in mundane and counterproductive objectives when the young centaur should have been concentrating on one day settling down and assuming his duties to Sapphira. She sympathized with Seth's plight. Her mother, Megara, strong-willed and opinionated like Thyra, and who did not usually side with her mate on most issues, thought Nyssa's love for the ‘arrogant and selfish royal’ foolhardy and naïve. She and Seth were two of a kind, each fighting a war with their parents that neither could ever win. Yet she continued to support Seth in the one venture that caused his father and her own the most grief, his quest for deeper knowledge of humans. She was a little curious about the species herself. She did not, however, condone the preoccupation he had with the human female who haunted his dreams and waking moments more than any female besides herself should have the pleasure of doing. It was unhealthy. Unnatural. Nyssa never brought up the human female unless Seth did, unwilling to see the look of adoration and respect in his eyes when he reminisced, unwilling to hear the emotion in his voice when he related the details of his and the human girl's only true meeting. Seth put a finger under her chin now and lifted up her head to meet his gaze. "You are not having second thoughts are you?" "Never." "I would understand if you wished to turn around and go back to the colony." "I want to be here. With you." "I would not have you regret your decision." "I will not." "Your father will have my hide." "What he does not know…"

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth chuckled, leaned in, and slanted his mouth across hers, searing her lips as he ran his tongue along the seam before sliding it through to dip into her mouth and taste her. He pulled back to stare down at her, silver eyes searching. "But he shall know, Nyssa, if I impregnate you." "We will cross that bridge when we come to it." "And this is what you truly want?" "Honestly, Seth, I am not a yearling." "Indeed you are not." "I cannot help but wonder whether you would vacillate so were I one of your other many partners." "You are not any of my other partners." "Should I be honored?" "You sound jealous." Nyssa huffed and pulled away from him, folding her arms across her lush bare breasts. "I am nothing of the sort. Besides, that is a human trait. I am a centaur." "This I know." "You would be well to be reminded." "A true centaur would not begrudge another centaur's nature." "I begrudge nothing. Except your unnatural obsession with the human female." "Ah, so the truth comes out." "I have never been dishonest with you, Seth." "Nor I with you." That much was true, but it did not make seeing him with others, knowing he desired others, any more palatable. That one of the others was a human made the situation downright revolting. "Perhaps we should return," Seth said. He tried to wrap an arm around Nyssa's shoulder, but she pulled away, hugging herself tighter. "I would stay here." "I will not leave you alone." "I can take care of myself, as well as you." Seth gritted his teeth, caught her around the arms, and pulled her close. "This is unnecessary. You are being obstinate, Nyssa." "Another human trait, I'm sure." She pulled out of his grasp, shoved him in the chest before turning to march away. Nyssa only made it a couple of feet away before the first shot rang out. ****

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana flew off her feet, landing on her butt in the grass with the force of the first bullet. Agony seared her chest, starting in the middle then spreading out through the rest of her limbs like buckshot. She sat panting, eyes squeezed tight, for several long moments, waiting and hoping for the pain to subside. But it did not. Instead increased when, before her mind's eye, a second bullet struck Nyssa. Despite the gunshots severing their link, despite not having physical contact with Seth, she still felt Nyssa, linked with Seth's memories by something more, stronger than just touch, felt the second bullet as it struck its target as if it had struck her. Montana gasped, tried to calm her breathing, tried to completely break the link. This had happened before, a premonition so strong and persistent that it was independent, no longer needing a giver or receiver to exist. That had happened when she'd seen her parents die and could not stop the vision until it had reached its conclusion. Seth-in-her-mind knelt beside Nyssa as the hunters shouldered their lethal gear and headed toward the clearing to claim their kill. "Nyssa! Nyssa, speak to me!" She reached up to palm his face, panting as her life's fluid flowed freely from the gaping wounds in her chest. "I am sorry, Seth." "You have nothing to be sorry for, Nyssa. It is I who am sorry." He pressed his hands against the wound, but she was too badly injured, too far gone, sacrificed at the altar of man's hubris and technology, far beyond Seth's abilities or experience to heal her. If he could get her back to Sapphira, perhaps one of the older, more adept healers could save her. Seth reached to lift her into his arms, afraid to move her, but more afraid to leave her. Three simple words stopped him. "I am dying." "No…" He choked back a sob. He would not hear this, could not. She would live. The adepts would make her well. He could not live with himself if Nyssa died. "It is all right, Seth. I regret nothing. Especially my love for you." She looked at him with such adoration, it shamed him that he could not return one-tenth of her emotions. It shamed him more that he could not say the words back even as she lay dying in his arms. **** "Oh, Seth," Montana sighed as she opened her eyes to see him standing beside her, nudging her face with his nose. She threw her arms around his powerful equine neck and he stood up straight, bringing her to her feet. Once she felt steady enough, she released his neck, but only long enough to stand at his side, caressing his shiny mane as if to ease his grief. As if she could with a mere caress. “So this is what you couldn’t tell me.” He only looked at her, neither nodding nor shaking his head. Seeing and feeling things from Nyssa’s point of view brought Montana closer to Seth, closer to the reasons behind his reticence. That he had been hiding this sort of guilt, the same sort of guilt that plagued her after the death of her parents, did not escape Montana. That he’d lost someone who’d suffered an

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Gracie C. McKeever unrequited love made her feel sympathy rather than jealousy for the woman who had loved Seth before she had. Love Seth? Oh, God, she hadn’t just thought that, had she? She knew she loved Jason, like a brother and as a friend. For Seth, she felt so much more, emotions surpassing anything she’d ever felt for anyone until this point, so far varied and intense that they dwelled on another plane from affection she might have felt for a sibling. Certainly more than she ever fancied she felt for James. When she was with Seth, she felt totally female, totally wanted and whole, as if she had found her missing half. The man-centaur in her dreams come to life, in her life as she had never expected him to be, before now always so far out of reach and unattainable as the fantasy that he had always been. Love. Montana glanced at Seth from the corner of her eyes as if he had heard her thoughts, face heating with a blush at the possibility that he knew. Their link had been strong after all, and even she felt remnants of it after they separated. She wouldn’t delude herself into believing that she was the only one here with gifts. Not that it would take much more than a blind man to see the situation for what it was; to know how she felt about Seth “C’mon.” Montana turned from him, went to Sunspot, and mounted up. She pulled on the reins and aimed him back toward the ranch, paused to glance back over her shoulder when she didn’t feel Seth beside her. He stood glancing out over the lake and she wondered what he was thinking, who he was thinking about. That he might be pining for Nyssa and not just his family sent a stabbing pain of insecurity to her heart. She knew Seth had not loved the female centaur as Nyssa had loved him. Was the situation the same for him and Montana? Would he return her love knowing how she felt about him, or give her a kind pat on the head and send her on her way with familiar professions of only platonic feelings? Of course, with his condition now, he might never have the chance to entertain the notion of romantic love with anyone; Montana knew she didn’t want to entertain the notion if it was not with Seth. Damn, this was too much for her to take right now, and she wasn’t afraid to admit that she needed help, just didn’t know whom to turn to now that she was ready to ask for it. There was no one to turn to, not with any of what was going on with her and Seth. So where did that leave the both of them?

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Chapter 20 Sapphiran Colony Thyra took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, Endre's words ringing in her ears as she pushed back the sturdy flap of Demogorgon's tent: How sure are you that he has kept his side of the bargain…? Not very, she realized, and barged into the Black Elf's abode without further thought, pausing on the threshold to stare at his broad back and the image he followed in the crystal sphere atop the pedestal in the center of his tent. Thyra took advantage of Demogorgon's preoccupation, padded across the thickly carpeted floor and wondered what in the sphere held the Black Elf so rapt, her own attention immediately captured by the beautiful young woman addressing a horse in the sphere. Thyra watched the woman, drawn in by her words to the stallion, heart palpitating with familiarity when she understood that the magnificent animal was her son. She unconsciously gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth as Demogorgon spun to glare at her. "Thyra, what an unexpected surprise. Had I known you were coming I would have—" “Hidden the evidence of your perfidy, I am sure." "And I am sure I do not know what you are talking about." Thyra pointed to the sphere, the scene still playing out, as the young woman addressed the horse with her youngest son's name. "Care to explain that?" Demogorgon sighed and turned from her to take a seat on the ground among his plush pillows. "How is it that you think I have deceived you?" "Seth isn't a human at all. You changed him into a full-bred horse!" "Ah, but I did change him into a human." 155

Gracie C. McKeever "Then what is this?" Thyra pointed at the sphere again, glaring at him. "It is not my doing." "And I am sure you are ly—" Demogorgon surged to his feet to confront her. "Be wary of what you say, Regent Phoenix. Your offspring is not out of the woods just yet." "What did you do to my son?" "I did nothing." Thyra stepped closer, peering into the sphere, examining the interaction between the woman and the horse. The affinity between animal and woman was palpable, obvious for anyone to see that she cared deeply for Seth. She turned on Demogorgon, realization burning in her chest. "They are mates!" "They mated, yes." "And you changed him before they could complete the process and fall in love." "That is an enormous leap." She continued as if he had not spoken. "And if that is so, then our agreement is no longer valid, Black Elf." "No, if that is so, then I can kill your son where he stands and carry out the Directorate's original sentence." Demogorgon raised a hand above his head. Thyra caught the hand before he dropped it. "No! You can't." "I can do anything I please. Haven't you realized that yet?" "You promised to spare him if I—" "Agreed to come to me at the end of two full moons. I have upheld my end of the bargain and negotiated with the Directorate for your son. Now the rest is up to you." "You have not held up your end of the bargain." "I may have made some alterations to our original agreement." Demogorgon examined the fingernails of one hand, a smug smile on his face. "By changing him into a horse." "Your son is responsible for the condition in which he now finds himself. Had he not mated with the female, he would still be a human." "I am sure he is responsible with a little assistance from you." "I may have cast a tiny spell." "You tricked me." "I negotiated your son's reprieve as I said I would. Nothing more, nothing less." "Yet there is no way I can win." "You have already won, dear Thyra. Your son lives, does he not?" 156

Spells Cast in Shadows "But…" Thyra swallowed. He had her backed into a corner with his keen logic, and there was nothing she could say to refute him. Seth was alive, and, she would have to go to the Black Elf in a little more than a fortnight unless the gods performed a miracle to help Seth break the spell and fall in love. And there was no guarantee that he could do the latter once the spell was broken. Mated did not always equate to love. Seth should be so fortunate, as fortunate as she had been with Cercyon. She didn't even have the satisfaction of going to the Directorate with her quandary. They would never help her once they discovered they had been duped into sparing the royal's son. She'd be lucky if they did not find a way to punish her. And Cercyon…by Nemesis, what would he do to keep her from fulfilling her contract with the Black Elf? "Is coming to me such a large price to pay for the safety of your son?" Demogorgon asked at her prolonged silence. How could she answer him without seeming selfish and ungrateful? How could she answer him honestly and still save herself and her son? Thyra closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She wondered when and where things between herself and the Black Elf had gone so wrong. They had not always been enemies. Demogorgon had been summoned to Sapphira to cure her malaise after she had been left for dead by marauding outlaw centaurs, then rescued and brought back to the colony by Cercyon, then prince and heir to the Sapphiran throne. For days after the rescue Thyra's life hung in the balance of Sapphiran medicine and healing magic. Neither proved successful and Cercyon resorted to desperate measures in order to save the rare human. Thyra had been enraged upon regaining consciousness and finding herself in the presence of the strange mythical being called Cercyon. His calm and cool explanations as to her dire condition and reasons behind her transformation did little to assuage Thyra's anger and pain. During the ensuing weeks at the colony, she spent most of her time wavering between deep despair and hopelessness, finally becoming self-destructive and suicidal. When Cercyon called in the Black Elf to work his magic and cure Thyra's depression, she was determined not to succumb again to the aliens that had taken over her life, prepared to do battle with the Demogorgon being the Sapphirans had called in to ‘help’ her. She was initially belligerent with the Black Elf, another being with whom she was unfamiliar, another being there to treat her against her will. But the elf's patience and persistence proved more powerful than Thyra's antagonism or any magic spell he could wield. Beneath his strangeness, Thyra sensed an abiding loneliness that connected her to Demogorgon and softened her heart enough for them to forge a friendship. Her anger against centaurs in general and Cercyon in particular gradually turned to resignation then affection under Demogorgon's gifted ministrations and tenderness, and the Sapphiran prince's efforts to win her heart and make her his mate. Though she had grown fond of the elf, it was Cercyon with whom she ultimately fell in love, following practicality as well as her heart.

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Gracie C. McKeever Things were never the same between her and Demogorgon after she pledged to Cercyon. "Demogorgon," Thyra began and paused. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to antagonize him, finding it hard to bite her tongue and be diplomatic. "Yes, Thyra?" She stared at him, saw the smug glare. He knew. He knew he was winning and gloated in his triumph. Thyra could hold her anger no longer. "Surely you don't intend to hold me to our bargain, Demogorgon. Not even you could be so heartless and unreasonable." "I never claimed to have a heart." "Our agreement is null and void and you must change Seth back," she said. Demogorgon moved so quickly she didn't have a chance to blink before he wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed. "I must do nothing of the sort, unless I want to. You've forgotten who you are dealing with?" He released her and Thyra took a step back, staring warily at him as she rubbed her throat. "I have forgotten nothing." But she had. She had forgotten why he was called the Black Elf. Her mistake. One she would not repeat if she could help it. "Seth will change back to human form at sundown. And back to horse form at sunup. And so on, and so on until the spell is broken. But of course, by then it will be too late for you." "You are making it impossible for him to fall in love." Under the best of circumstances finding one's soul mate and love was difficult enough. But having to do it while one of the partners was in another form half of the time would make it unfeasible. "Why don't we let nature take it's course and see what happens? Unless you are afraid to trust your fate to your son's abilities." Was she? Did she doubt Seth's feelings for the woman would grow into love if they weren't halfway there already? Did she doubt he could feel anything except the basic lust and ambition intrinsic to all male centaurs in Sapphira, intrinsic to most Sapphirans? Was there enough of her compassionate human self to see him through this and break the spell? Could his human half override his self-indulgent and sensual centaurian nature? And yet, with all these questions, she did not doubt her son's ability to love. What she doubted was Demogorgon's ability to stick to his word. Already he had stacked the deck against her and Seth. And to think, she'd trusted that he would inform her when and if her son had completed the task that would set her free. Who knew what lies he would have told her had she not burst in on him? "At least allow him to know what he needs to do, Demogorgon. Let me contact him." "And tell him what? The terms of our agreement?" He shook his head, eyes turning deep red as he glowered at her. "I have made more than enough concessions on this, Thyra. First I allowed the stipulation that you would not have to come to me if your son fell in love with a human in two full moons. Now you want to hand him the spell breaker?" "I want to give him a chance. More than what you have allowed. Please, let me see him, talk to him."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "You make a good argument, but the original condition stands. And we will abide it. If your son falls in love within the timeframe, then you are no longer bound to me." Thyra tried to hold her excitement, did not know why she had not considered her out before now, before her meeting with Endre. Before now, she might have felt guilty about her plan, but not now, not after discovering Demogorgon's deceit. Her and Demogorgon's original agreement said that she could not tell Seth about their pact. But it said nothing about someone else telling him. Someone else like her eldest son. "Very well, Black Elf. We will abide the agreement." **** Centaurs were not very complicated beings though they fancied themselves civilized with higher intelligence. In truth, the species was no more intelligent or civilized than the humans of whom Seth Phoenix was so enamored. Thyra, however, was a priceless treasure, made all the more attractive for her aberrant conception, the sensuality and aggression of her centaur nature melding with the compassion and vitality of her human nature to form a rare and orgiastic feast for his senses. The more she tried to barter her way out of their agreement, the more he wanted her. Demogorgon had never stopped wanting her, not after Cercyon had used the Black Elf's powers to heal Thyra before claiming her, certainly not after the couple's pledging. Demogorgon doubted that he would ever stop wanting Thyra Phoenix and vowed to do anything between Elysian and Oreias to get and keep her. Even if it meant using a little subterfuge. Demogorgon sauntered back to the pedestal and glanced into the sphere, glad that the situation was out in the open, glad that Thyra knew what he had done. Plotting and winning was no fun after all without someone with which to laud one's victory. He wanted to shout it to all Sapphira once he had triumphed and Thyra came to him, wanted to let everyone know that she was his, a regent that would leave her king for him. The Black Elf rubbed his chin with a pointer, contemplating his next move against the woman and the younger Phoenix. That the pair cared about each other was obvious. Demogorgon had witnessed enough of their consummation to know that they were also more than compatible physically. But love? The most elusive of human emotions, and the most sought? The Black Elf had given up on the emotion a long time ago. A solitary who found most beings—of the centaur and the elf variety—beneath him, he'd never imagined that he could fall in love at so late a stage of his existence, especially not with a being whom was once the lowliest of the low: a human female. But he had never met someone like Cercyon's female, someone who could brighten the dark crevices of his soul and make him feel so much younger than his several hundred years, someone full of warmth and light. Light he wanted to absorb. Warmth in which he wanted to be enwrapped. Demogorgon had understood perfectly why the prince was so desperate to cure and have Thyra for himself. Had he known what betrayal lay ahead for him, had he known she would turn

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Gracie C. McKeever her back on him and defect to greener pastures, he would have denied Cercyon's request, allowed Thyra to wallow in a sea of contemptible depression until she was irretrievably lost to the desirous prince. Demogorgon focused on the images in the sphere, smiling when he saw Richard Wheeler gain access to the ranch. Though he had no qualms intervening in mundane affairs, Demogorgon drew the line at mind manipulation, felt it beneath him to take advantage of so immature and uncultured a species. But then he had never had as much riding on the success or failure of a mundane. He might have to break his personal code if Wheeler did not garner forgiveness as Demogorgon planned. There was no guarantee that the young man could get Montana to forgive him on his own, despite his calculating mind and charm. Richard had, after all, committed a grave transgression against the female, one that had he committed it in Sapphira, he would have been sentenced to far worse than the punishment Phoenix had meted out. Had Demogorgon thought the woman susceptible, he would have broken his cardinal rule to ensure her cooperation, that she at least forgave Wheeler even if she did not accept him back as her lawyer. He had tried influencing Freeborn early in Phoenix's residence on the ranch, however, and had failed, her mind resistant. He'd been able to touch her mind, vaguely read it, but could not exert any undue influence, much to his surprise and chagrin. Like Thyra, she was a rarity in bearing and fiber. Thus for this assignment, Wheeler would have to work his own magic, count on his own powers of persuasion rather than Demogorgon's. He expected the man's appearance alone would be enough to stir up dissent between the human female and young centaur, relying on the jealous inclinations of human nature, and the arrogant possessive nature of a male centaur to seal the deal. Yes, dissent would do for now. Along with the spell, it should be more than enough to keep Freeborn and Phoenix at odds. If the pair did manage to dismiss Wheeler's presence and reconcile, Demogorgon had another mundane lined up to step in, and wreak havoc. His contingency plans were already underway with David Mendelsohn.

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Chapter 21 Montana spurred Sunspot back to Freeborn full-tilt, trailing Seth by several lengths, but with him quickly gaining. She dismounted several yards from the stable, took hold of Sunspot’s reins to walk him to his stall. Montana felt Seth behind her, obediently following when Jason and Peppa greeted them at the stable entrance. “How was your ride out with the new steed?” “I didn’t mount him. I used Sunspot. He just came along for the ride.” Jason glanced over at Seth and back at her with a surprised look that the horse was unbridled. “And he just followed you out on the range and came back like nobody’s business, huh?” Montana shrugged. “Guess so.” “Tarnation, woman. I always thought I had a way with critters. But it’s as if you’ve broken and trained him in one afternoon,” Jason said, awestruck. “You’re not the only one who has a way with animals.” Montana winked and led Sunspot through the Ag-Flex walk through doorway to his stall while Seth patiently followed. “So are we going to brand him?” Montana turned just in time to see Seth shove Jason with his shoulder and her cow boss stumble to the ground. Jason popped back to his feet and dusted off his pants with his hat. “Dadgum ornery beast. What’s his problem?” “I don’t think he likes you talking about putting our mark on him.” “At least I didn’t mention geld—”

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana grabbed Jason around an arm and jerked him to her side as Seth lowered his head and dragged back a hoof across the ground like a bull preparing to charge. “Let’s not mention cutting off bodily parts around him either, okay?” “He’s a horse, Monty, not a man.” She just barely avoided wincing for Seth, didn’t know what else to say in her new animal’s defense, so she did the next best thing and attacked the messenger. “Jace, I’m shocked at you. You’re usually so tolerant of all living things.” “Oh, can it, missy. I’m a cowboy and a farmer and we’re talking husbandry and ranch business. It’s not as if I have anything personal against the critter.” “I should hope not.” Montana led Sunspot back to his stall and Seth followed her and Jason as she took off the horse’s bridle and hung it on the tack rack bolted to one of the stall walls. She retrieved the currycomb from the rack and began to run it over her Appaloosa’s flanks, losing herself in the comforting action for a moment. Sunspot idly shuffled his feet, fairly purred beneath her attentiveness. Seth nudged his way past Jason into the stall and planted himself in front of Montana and Sunspot. “You’d think the critter was jealous,” Jason said. “You would, wouldn’t you?” Montana looked at Seth and rubbed his nose with a free hand. “You’ll get your turn, Silver. Just be patient.” God, she wanted to say so much more to him, but didn’t dare with Jason standing nearby. “So that’s what you’ve settled on calling him?” “I think it fits, don’t you?” Jason caught Seth’s gaze and nodded. “I can see that. But if you’re naming him for his eyes, I’d call him Mercury. That suits his personality. Besides, Silver is taken.” “Right, Kemosabe.” Montana saluted. “Didn’t think of that one.” Jason reached out to run a hand along Seth’s back and flank, and Montana tensed, hoping her pony-man didn’t kick her cow boss out of pique. After several moments when it seemed Seth was as relaxed beneath Jason’s touch as Sunspot was beneath hers, she relaxed a little. “Yeah, Mercury’s a good boy,” Jason murmured and gave Seth a firm pat on the rump. Seth turned and nudged Jason’s hand as if in a gesture of friendship, and Jason rubbed and patted the horse’s nose. “He is a friendly critter.” Montana’s throat got tight at the sight of the two men she loved most in the world making nice-nice and getting along. In that moment, she wanted more than anything to tell Jason what was going on, tell him who he was petting, who and what Seth really was and how he came to be on her ranch. She was so close…

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Spells Cast in Shadows “So, what’s going on with Wheeler anyway?” Montana froze and Seth loudly whinnied and shook his head. “What did I say to upset the beast now?” “It’s nothing you said.” Montana realized now she’d made a mistake in not telling Jason what had transpired between her and Richard—not the attack, for he would have surely insisted she go to the police and report it, if he didn’t hunt Richard down to take action himself—but her consequent firing of her lawyer. She’d meant to tell him, but in the last week hadn’t had a chance to sit him down and let him know what was what. Not that it would have made a difference. Jason and Richard were a confrontation waiting to happen, much as Seth and Richard. She could just see her cow boss taking it upon himself to exact justice for Richard’s betrayal any way he could. “So, what’s going on with Wheeler?” Jason raised his eyebrows. “Nothing’s going on. Why do you ask?” “I haven’t seen hide or hair of him in a while. I was wondering if you had talked to him and heard his side of things like you said you were going to do.” “Didn’t need to. I took your advice and fired him.” “Just like that?” “I would think you’d be ecstatic at the news.” “Don’t get me wrong. I’m more than ecstatic. It’s just that you were so bent on giving him the benefit of the doubt, and I can understand that in deference to Dusty and Michael and all, but—” “What can I say? Things changed.” Montana watched his expression and saw the questions brewing, moved to head him off. “Look Jace, I’d really rather not talk about this right now. So if it’s all right with you…” She handed him the currycomb and patted him on the back as she stepped towards the door. “Finish this up for me, will you. And feed them for me?” “Where are you off to?” “I need some time alone for a while.” “You’re not coming to the cookhouse for lunch with the guests?” “I…I’ll try and make it.” “Is this about Seth’s…disappearance, Monty?” She turned to face him, almost tempted to tell him that Seth hadn’t disappeared and was standing right beside him. She could just see his face at that news. “It’s about a lot of things, just nothing I can talk about right now.” Jason approached and caught her by the shoulders. “Promise me when you can, you’ll come to me?” She nodded, wanted more than anything to confide in him, but knew she couldn’t, not this time. “Please, Jace. Just finish up, and I’ll, uh…I’ll talk to you about it later.” She turned

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Gracie C. McKeever again to leave and Peppa, tail vigorously wagging behind him, moved to follow. “No, Pep. Stay, boy. Keep Jason company.” Peppa stopped and glanced back at Jason as if to confirm whether he should follow his mistress’s command. “You look like you need his company more than I do, Monty.” “I’ll be okay.” “Gimme a holler if you need anything.” “Sure thing.” Montana turned and left the stall with a heavier heart than when she’d woken up this morning to the discovery that her new lover had turned into a horse. Montana entered the house wanting and needing comfort and the first place she thought of to go for both was the library. Where her room and most of the house had the feminine and casual elegance of her mother's decorative tastes, the library had been her father's domain and held an air of masculine strength and refinement. She could picture him now, standing in the middle of the floor, taking practice swings at imaginary curve and fast balls with his incongruous autographed Louiseville slugger while conducting conference calls on his speaker phone. She remembered many a day barging into the library after school—much to the chagrin of her etiquette-conscious mother—to share her news about a test she’d aced or a new finger painting she'd done in art class. Montana would skid to a stop at finding her dad in a stance that made him look all the world like The Babe or Gehrig at bat and watch in awe of his power and prowess She gulped over the lump in her throat, thought about the last time she'd spoken to her mom and dad—a three-way conversation on the phone that had ended very badly. She'd done something she rarely did with her parents: argued, and not just any old argument but one over her newest boyfriend. “…I have to tell you right now, I don’t like the things I’m hearing about this Roddick fellah you’re seeing, Monty.” “What things, Daddy?” She could only think of one person who would be telling her parents about James and that was her roommate, Cassie. Cassie’d had it in for her since Montana had arrived on campus, though Montana couldn’t quite put her finger on why. “Things that are unbecoming of a young lady of your standing.” “Daddy, I’m not a little girl.” “Montana,” her mother broke in on the other phone, “that’s beside the point. Your father and I are concerned that you’re moving too fast and this boy is taking the focus off of your studies.” She’d been an A-student all her life and was continuing the trend in her sophomore year in college. Professor Mendelsohn said she was his best student and he was looking forward to working with her in the field once she graduated.

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Spells Cast in Shadows What could they possibly have to complain about? Maybe if they knew what she was really like, if they knew about the sort of wild and sordid daydreams she had been having about the pony-man since she was a young teen, they’d applaud her relationship with a relatively normal college boy. “I don’t know what things Cassie has been telling you, but I can promise you, things aren’t as bad as she’s probably made them out to be. “Montana, I can come to that conclusion on my own when we come out the—” “Daddy, I have to go. I’m going to be late for class…Love you both! Gotta go!” “Montana, do—” She hung up before she could hear anymore of their objections, couldn’t listen to the rest. She knew what was coming and needed to hold things off as long as she could. At this rate, she’d be a virgin until she died, sheesh. Later the same evening, Montana woke up in a cold sweat, breathless and panicked. She stumbled from her bed, grabbed her cell from the bedside table, rushed to the bathroom and closed the door. The last thing she needed was for busy-body Cassie to hear her conversation Montana turned on the cold water in the sink, splashed water on her face, and rinsed out her mouth before she lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to gather herself before dialing her parents' number with a shaky hand. "Montana, do you know what time it is?" her mother asked when she recognized her daughter's voice. "Momma, you and Daddy can't come out here tomorrow." "I thought your father and I settled this earlier." "But you don't understand…" Montana paused, heard grumbling in the background just before her father got on the line. "We're coming out, Monty, and that's final. It's high time we put a stop to this so-called romance of yours." He emphasized ‘romance’ as if it were a dirty word, spoke with that tone Montana knew well, but hadn't often experienced since she had always been such a ‘good girl.’ That ‘now-listen-here-girl-I-know-what's-best-for-you-and-you-don't’ drawl. "But Daddy I…I had a vision," she blurted. "Oh, don't you start with that nonsense, Montana Freeborn." "But it's true!" She felt the helplessness converge until it was just one giant, tight ball sitting in her chest, crowding her heart. They were going to come out here tomorrow, and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop them. "We’re hanging up now, baby-girl. We'll see you tomorrow, so be ready for some explaining," her father said. And like that he was gone, tomorrow never coming for him or her mother. Their private Cessna went down shortly after taking off from the airfield, killing them both instantly.

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Gracie C. McKeever Until this day, Montana didn't know why she had been so contrary and defensive. She hadn't invested anything serious into a relationship with James to that point except a few pecks and some heavy petting. She halfway agreed with her parents on some points but didn't want to admit that she couldn't make a good decision about who her friends were. It had taken her parents' censure to push her firmly into James' arms, and their deaths to make her see that her rebellion had not been worth the price, and that they had been right. What would it have cost her to just relent early on and give her parents what they had wanted? If she had just agreed not to see James, if she had just meekly abided her parents' admonition, they wouldn't have insisted on coming out to the university to check up on her and have a heart-to-heart with their recalcitrant offspring. They'd be alive now. Montana wondered now what was worse. A friend who listened to your advice that saved her life, and hated you for it afterward, like Shana? Or someone who didn't listen and died? "Have you thought anything about Venture's offer?" Startled, Montana jerked her gaze to the door where Richard stood, blocking the library entrance. “What are you doing here?” “I had some business to discuss.” “You and I have said all we needed to say to each other.” “Not quite.” Richard stepped into the room and closed and locked the door behind him. Montana’s heart lurched with a sense of alarm, yet it was a totally different sort of alarm from when Seth had surprised her in her bedroom. Despite his strangeness, despite his size, she had instinctively trusted Seth, had known he wouldn’t harm her. She knew no such thing with Richard. “How did you get passed Peppa?” she asked, suddenly sorry she had made her dog stay down at the stables with Jason. “Good question, since the mutt doesn’t like me, huh?” He was right, of course. Peppa had never liked Richard. She and her parents should have taken the hint. But right now she had bigger problems to worry about than her own blindness and Richard’s insulting her dog, bigger problems like how to get past him and out that door. If she screamed, would anyone hear her? Richard advanced until he was an inch in front of her, and Montana’s breath hitched in her chest. “Don’t think about it, Montana. I could do what I want to you here before anyone got up to the house.” She held his gaze through sheer will, could see that he meant what he said and would do her harm if he thought their little meeting wasn’t going his way. “You never were good at taking my advice. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana frowned. “Your advice about Freeborn?” “That, and about not being so trusting of the staff and guests and leaving your doors unlocked. I just walked in like I belong.” She gritted her teeth, hated to admit that he was right. Fear and frustration knotted her insides. Montana didn’t like being held hostage in her own home, especially by a former lawyer who had proven his lunacy once already. But even more, she didn’t liked the idea of giving him an excuse or chance to finish the job he had started at the restaurant and stepped back as surreptitiously as possible. Richard paced a tight circle around her, pounded his fist into his palm as he stopped in front of her. “Did you think you and that boy-toy of yours could just dismiss me, and that would be the end of it?” “I took the only avenue you left open to me, Richard,” Montana said, for once trying to check her temper and keep Richard calm, at least until someone noticed her absence and decided to come fetch her. Why had she left things so up in the air with Jason? Would he stick to his usual knight-inshining-armor routine and come up to get her for lunch? Or would he abide her wishes to be left alone for a while? Dammit, she hated feeling like this, so helpless and vulnerable, so at the mercy of a madman. “Well, what about Venture’s offer?” “You mean your offer, don’t you?” Richard bared his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, and Montana tried not to cringe. “Whatever you want to call it.” She gawked. "You can’t be serious! I’m still unraveling what you and your phony corporation have done with my holdings, but rest assured, Freeborn is staying where it belongs," she snapped, unable to hold her anger any longer. "That's a matter of opinion." Montana couldn’t believe his audacity, but assumed this was part of his madness. With each statement, he dug himself a deeper hole and made her fear for his sanity and her safety. If he had come to apologize or grovel for her forgiveness, she could halfway see a reason for his visit. But he wasn’t here to do either of those things; she just wished he was. "If this is the business you had to discuss, Richard, you’ve wasted your time. I think maybe it would be a good idea if you left now.” She hated that her words came out sounding like a question, but saw no other way to pacify the man. It was either make nice or try to get out of the room to help, and he was still blocking the door. “I know what you’re thinking, Monty.” He leered, and Montana shivered at the moniker. Never had she heard it uttered with such malice before. “You think I owe you for not having me arrested for my activities and for…” He waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss his actions, “what I did to you at the restaurant.” 167

Gracie C. McKeever She gaped. “You attacked me!” “You deserved it!” He stepped close again, invading her personal space, and Montana flinched as he glared down at her and caught her around the shoulders. "Do you really think I give a damn about going to jail after what your parents did to mine? Jail would be child's play for me." This wasn't the first time he had made a statement like that, alluding to his parents and her parents as if they had a past. Something of which Montana was unaware. What had happened to his parents, and why did Richard blame hers? Montana frowned, something suddenly clicking in her mind at the question. She remembered what he had said at Mountain Smoke House, the hatred in his words. "You have your memories of your parents, and I have mine…" Hatred. Pure and unadulterated. Did he have some kind of feud to settle? A blood feud? Had Richard had anything to do with her parents' deaths? The errant thought would not let go despite her lack of facts. It was just a feeling she had, her instincts and gifts seeming to kick into overdrive, as if overcompensating for a long period of dormancy, trying to make up for lost time. Stolen time. Stolen by her denial and complacency. No more. All at once, she had a flash, a vision to dispel all her doubts, Richard at her parents' Cessna, wrench in hand, sabotaging the plane's engine. She'd never once considered her parents' deaths had been anything but an accident. Neither had the authorities. But they didn't have the benefit of sight. Fat lot of good it did her now. Lot of good it did her parents. "It was you," she murmured. Richard smirked, knew exactly what she was talking about. "You'll never prove it. No one believes in that vision crap but you, Monty." Maybe he was right, but she certainly could ensure he didn't hurt anyone else. She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he held fast, squeezed her upper arms until she winced. “Let go of me, Richard.” She pulled against him again, and this time she brought her knee up, aiming for his crotch. Richard was prepared and shifted his hips to the side, avoiding her blow by inches and pulling her closer. Desperate, Montana twisted in his grasp and flung one leg behind his to send them both crashing toward the hardwood floor. Richard released her to try and break his fall. Breathless, Montana took her chance to crawl away. Someone banged on the door from the outside. “Monty! Are you all right in there?” “Jason, help me!” Montana managed to get to her feet and was rushing for her daddy’s bat when Jason threw his body against the door to no avail. Richard caught her around the ankles

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Spells Cast in Shadows and pulled her back towards him, knocking the wind out of her again and banging her chin against the polished floor. Montana saw stars for a second, shook her head, and reached for the barrel of the bat with the tips of her fingers. She twisted in Richard's grasp, turned onto her back and kicked out with her newly freed leg. With her fresh freedom, she stretched toward the bat head, and when Richard next dragged her towards him, she was armed. She swung the handle of the bat at his temple, striking her target true just as Jason burst into the room. "What in Sam Hill!" Jason rushed forward, grabbed Richard by the scruff of the neck, and jerked him off of Montana long enough for her to stumble to her feet and catch her breath. Jason pushed Richard against the wall, pressing the discarded bat into the groggy man's throat with no resistance. Montana rushed to the phone on her father's desk. "Want to tell me what in tarnation is going on between you two besides Freeborn and Venture Realty?" "It's a long story, Jace. But you'll understand more as soon as I do," she said, dialing 911, but doubting that she'd ever understand it all. She glanced at Jason as he restrained Richard against the doorframe, thought of beating the truth out of him with the baseball bat if only for someone besides herself and Richard to know the truth. But she had a feeling he wouldn't divulge what he'd done even then. The cold and detached look he gave her told Montana he'd die first.

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Chapter 22 Capitulation went against everything in him that screamed vengeance for his mother and father. Begging for forgiveness was without a doubt as unpalatable. He didn't give one lick whether the high-and-mighty heiress forgave him or not. What he wanted was the respect he deserved. He wanted her to know that she had not gotten the best of him, that she could take her job and shove it where the sun didn't shine. Lowering himself to apologize to some ungrateful tramp when it was him who had been wronged was beyond his capabilities. But Loxias had plans, however. He'd said this part, throwing an obstacle between Montana and Seth in the form of Richard, was necessary to make his plan gel. Richard had other ideas, could have cared less about Montana's romantic liaisons. What he really wanted was what was owed to him, his birthright. Once this was obtained he could concentrate on getting between Montana and Seth. "I need them at odds, Wheeler. And I want you to invade the little satiated couple's space and take them out of their comfort zone, as you humans put it…" That Loxias was not human was already a fact that Richard had reluctantly come to accept. It didn't, however, mean that he would defer to the alien being's every wish. He had plans of his own. Of course, being a guest of the county, holed up in a cell in the Sheriff's Department had not necessarily been in his plans either, despite what he had said to Montana. He had every intention of getting out of here scot-free, would see her in hell before he confessed to her parents' deaths, and without his word, the authorities had nothing. No evidence, no proof, no witnesses. Nothing. "You did exactly the opposite of what I instructed you to do, Richard." He turned sharply to see Loxias leaning against the back wall of the cell, arms folded across his chest, blond eyebrows arched over a dark glare. He turned back to the bars, searching for anyone without much optimism or success.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Demogorgon did his usual floating trick across the floor and landed in front of Richard, a smirk slanting across thin, compressed lips before he spoke. "No one except yourself can see or hear me. If you shout out or otherwise try to warn your caretakers, you will look a fool, if not outright insane. You would trade this cold cement dwelling for a padded one." Richard stared at him, jaw working as he gritted his teeth. He had never met anyone so self-assured before, someone so uncompromising and full of himself except for perhaps his father. What Ramsey Wheeler had lacked in business sense and intelligence he had more than made up for it in stamina, physical prowess, pomposity, and his disciplinary mentality, one under which Richard had suffered many a day during his short childhood. Demogorgon reached out to smooth the lapels on his shirt, almost gentle in his ministrations, but not gentle enough to keep Richard from cringing. He knew he was not going to like what was coming, felt like he was back in his father's leather and wood den, choking amidst the cloying smell of furniture polish and old books, shaking in trepidation of whatever punishment his father had in store for him. "Antagonizing and attacking our dear Ms. Freeborn again was not what I wanted from you, Richard. Quite the opposite. Your recalcitrance has put a bit of a crimp in my plans." He'd had more than enough fathers to last him a lifetime without Loxias trying to fill the bill with his condescending tone, ready to give the domineering elf a piece of his mind before Demogorgon raised a hand and waved it over Richard's head. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out, vocal chords clasped tight by some invisible force that felt like fingers wrapping around his throat. "I will hear none of your excuses. I've grown quite tired of your willfulness." No! Richard screamed the word in his head, stumbled back several steps as Demogorgon advanced, a demented leer on the Black Elf's beautifully carved features. Demogorgon raised a hand overhead once more and made a fist. Disobey me Grief be yours On this plane And now beyond Richard collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest, struggling to breathe past the exquisite pain ripping through is heart. Demogorgon rotated his fist from one side to the other, and a red cloudburst of agony discharged in front of Richard's vision as his heart constricted before suddenly stopping. It took his brain a full minute to register that his heart no longer pumped blood through his system. He had the sixty interminable seconds to writhe on the floor in misery and abject terror, unable to speak or call for help, at the not-so-tender mercy of Demogorgon Loxias.

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Gracie C. McKeever He conjured up Montana's look of grief and confusion when she realized that he had been responsible for her parents' deaths. That alone almost made Demogorgon's punishment worth it. Almost. **** Idiot! He’d had it all worked out, everything to the last detail, and the human had ruined everything with his envious and avenging heart. Under normal circumstances, Demogorgon would have commended Richard for these traits and the willingness to get what he wanted at whatever cost. He understood the young human, could almost commiserate with him, but he could not countenance recklessness. His running headlong to Freeborn's ranch to attack the proprietor only a sennight after being fired for dereliction of duty reached the pinnacle of heedless abandon. Demogorgon smiled, stopped short of laughing. Perhaps all was not lost, however. Wheeler had come between Seth and Montana, though not the way Demogorgon had planned it. Knowing Seth as he did, the young centaur was probably seething, waiting for the moment when he would change and was able to retaliate for Montana’s not allowing him to punish Richard when he had wanted to. Demogorgon was banking that royal arrogance and centaur possessiveness would shine through to blind Phoenix to Montana's best intentions, that he would not want to listen to reason despite his knowledge of the female. Pride would not allow sympathy, at least not initially. He glanced at the human sprawled on the cell floor at his feet, a look of horror and shock forever frozen on the once handsome visage. The coroner's report would find nothing other than a thirty-five year-old man having suffered a massive heart attack. And in this day and age, there was nothing untoward about this. It was just Richard Wheeler's bad luck that Demogorgon was not feeling merciful and willing to overlook the human's disobedience. He had half-expected Richard to fail in his mission anyway, even had the man obeyed and approached Montana with conciliation rather than vengeance. Perhaps Demogorgon himself had just needed an excuse to have a little fun and eliminate the human. He shook his head at the thought, blamed Thyra for causing him to question his own motives. He was unusually annoyed and impatient now for the next full moon to arrive so that he could get this entire business over with and claim what was his. Demogorgon glanced up to see one of the sheriff's deputies advancing down the long hallway, hand on the butt of his gun as he picked up his pace when he spotted Wheeler on the floor. "I need some help in here. Prisoner's down!" Demogorgon patiently waited as the deputy drew his gun, cautiously approaching as another deputy arrived behind him and unlocked the cell.

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Spells Cast in Shadows The first deputy entered and knelt beside Richard, wrinkling his nose as the odor of the other man's last bowel movement wafted to his nostrils. Demogorgon turned to leave, raising his hands to snap his fingers as he took one last look at Richard and shook his head. Such a waste. **** Richard dead? Montana gaped at the deputy's words, heart dropping as she tried to process it all. Jason slid an arm around her shoulder and she didn't fight when he pulled her back against his hard chest. "I can't say I'm sorry he's dead, Monty. Not after what he's done." She was sorry, but not for the reasons Jason thought. Montana knew she didn't feel grief, not after everything Richard had done to her. No, what she felt was cheated, betrayed—again. He'd taken the secret of her parents' deaths with him. She knew how he'd done it, but now she'd never know why. "He's not worth your tears, girl, so don't shed 'em." "I'm not. I just…" How could she tell him what she'd seen? How could she tell him that Richard Wheeler had been more than a thief and a liar? So much more. So much worse. He'd been a murderer. "C'mon. I'm going to get you home." Jason squeezed her shoulder as he led her towards the front door. Montana followed him like a lost child before the sheriff's voice behind them asking about a next-of-kin for the deceased stopped her in her tracks. She turned, staring hard at the man, searching his face as if he had the answer. Had Richard had any family? Pity and shame suffused her fast and furious, rushing through her body like some liquid poison at her uncertainty. She'd known him at least half of her life, but was ashamed to say she didn't really know anything about Richard Wheeler at all. She suspected her parents hadn't known him as well as they'd thought, either. They probably never would have let him into their lives, the instrument of their deaths. He'd hid his enmity well, at least until the very end, when he could hold it no more. No one had a clue, least of all Montana. Until the Venture Realty discovery and the incident at Mountain Smoke House, he'd hid his hatred like a national secret, as he had hid his life. Something deep down in her soul told her no, he had no one. And perhaps that was what was between Richard and her parents: the death of his. Montana finally shook her head, saw the surprised look on the sheriff's face. "I don't believe he had anyone, sheriff. You might have more luck with one of his legal colleagues." Somehow she doubted it. 173

Gracie C. McKeever **** Seth paced the inside of Sunspot's stall, furious and without an outlet. The other horse sidestepped him as if he thought Seth rabid. Several times he'd considered running away, at the very least following Montana and Jason into town, but just as quickly discounted these flights of fancy when reality set in. As easily as Montana had claimed him as Freeborn's property, so too could some other neighboring rancher claim him as belonging to them. He had not been branded after all. And as much as it was a relief and a consideration that Montana bestowed, it was also a drawback and a threat to his freedom. Freedom? Before they'd returned to Freeborn, Seth had known a modicum of what life could be like free on the range. With Montana in one form and he in another. Was that really the type of freedom he wanted? Seth wanted more than anything to have what his parents had, jealous for the first time in his life of what his father possessed. If he was being completely honest with himself, he would admit he resented Cercyon and Thyra's longevity while at the same time he was heartened by the possibilities his parents' relationship presented for him and Montana, heartened that his parents were not the exception in Sapphira, but the rule, at least for their generation. Goddess, he was no better than Nessus or any of the other centaurs of yore known for their wild, uncivilized revelry. Drunks. Combative. Rapists. If he was not guilty of the latter in body, then certainly in spirit with his selfishness, not much better than the plundering outlaws that had taken his mother. At least they had been true to their nature. Trapped between the Old World and the new, his parents' mores and the misbegotten principles of a forgotten mythological race of libidinous, warrior centaurs that his father and the other elders had moved away from long ago, Seth no longer knew what was his nature. Was he capable of the kind of docile commitment his parents had pledged, even with Montana who deserved nothing less than all of him? Could Montana do what his mother had? Would she willingly give up her life as a human to be with Seth? Did Seth really want her to? His mother had not had a choice, and that was something he did not ever want to do to Montana: take away her choice or free will. Could he transform for her? He had once, against his will. But now that he had been with Montana—knew her body as a man, had experienced the welcoming warmth of her woman's center and knew what it was like to care about someone as much as Nyssa had cared about him…could he change? Would he? Did he even have a choice anymore?

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana had promised that if there were a way to get him back to the way he was, get back the man they each knew, she would do it, and he almost believed that she could, except he knew how the Black Elf operated. Demogorgon would not have made it easy—for human or centaur—to reverse his spell, if it were even possible to reverse. The antidote could be something as simple as a word, an action—as his and Montana's coupling. And they could not accomplish the latter again, not while he was in this form. But once he was back in human form, if he could return to being a man, then what? Must he and Montana abstain? Had their intimacy been the reason he'd changed, or had his transformation simply been the reactant that set in motion a spell that had already been cast? How could he stay away from her now that he knew what pleasures her body had to offer? Now that he knew what generosity her heart sowed? The thought of not being able to touch Montana again, not being able to feel her skin against his, to slide inside her and feel her muscles clutching around him, this was almost as unbearable as staying in his current form forever. Seth circled the stall, and in frustration kicked the back wall with his hind legs, startling Sunspot before he paced back towards the front of the stall. If he could have apologized to the animal for his fit of temper, he would have, except that he was not completely sorry for it, only regretted upsetting Sunspot. He glanced at the stallion with whom he shared his domicile, with whom he might be sharing a domicile for some time, and gave the animal a contrite look, hoping he'd understand. Sunspot whinnied and nodded, yet backed towards the rear of the stall as if he understood Seth's apology, but decided it best to give the strange new animal his space. Just as well. No telling what would happen next, and he was sure Sunspot did not want to be in the vicinity if and when he changed. Seth suddenly glanced skyward, wondering at the time. Montana and Jason had been gone for several hours now, the late afternoon sun still blazing high in the sky when they had left. Now it was well-past dinnertime. He had a moment to consider the lateness of the hour before he felt the inkling of nausea ripple through his stomach where it crashed into his senses full-force, the pain driving him to his knees. Sunspot backed away, blowing rollers as he pressed himself against the stall wall. Seth struggled back to his feet, knew that he could not survive for long in this form off of his feet. He needed to stand. Another wave smacked into him, agony erupting through every nerve in his body and not just his stomach. He tensed, waiting for the next surge that would send him to his knees, and even though his mind was expecting it, nothing could have prepared his body for the sensation of bones readjusting and collapsing in on themselves.

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Gracie C. McKeever Seth toppled to the hay-strewn floor, gasping and lightheaded, vaguely aware of Sunspot's agitated prancing before blessed unconsciousness transported him away from the stall as he made the change. His last coherent thought wasn't if he were changing into a man or a centaur, but only what he would do and say to Montana once he was in her presence again.

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Chapter 23 Jason saw Montana to the door, making her feel as if she were coming home from a date. And when he leaned forward to peck her on the lips, her heart strummed with guilt as if she were about to cheat on her husband. She pulled back and braced a palm against his chest. "Jace, don't." "You shouldn't be alone tonight." "I…I won't be alone." "Phoenix." He said it just short of a sneer, and Montana understood his jealousy though she didn’t want to deal with it. Jason’s jealousy reminded her that Seth was in no condition to compete, unless she counted her memories of how he’d felt against her early this morning. God, their lovemaking seemed so long ago, almost as if it hadn’t happened at all. But it had happened, her panties getting wet now in anticipation of it happening again, her body much more optimistic than her that she and Seth would make love again. As it stood now, she didn't know whether or not she'd ever see Seth again in human form, heart aching at the possibility despite the promises she had made to him; despite the promises that she’d probably never be able to keep. "Besides, what makes tonight different from any other?" she asked to get him back to the original subject, which was what had happened tonight. Jason silently arched a brow as if she were silly for asking. "I'm not in mourning, Jason. Granted, it was a shock, but it's nothing I won't get over." "I’m not just talking about his death. I'm talking about what happened in your father's library before I came in. You never did explain to me what was going on." "I would think that would have been self-explanatory."

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Gracie C. McKeever Jason shook his head, frowning. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would he do something like that, unless he'd plumb lost his mind?" Montana couldn't say. It would only look like she had lost hers if she told Jason what she knew. “Why’d you come up to the house, anyway? Not that I’m not glad.” “You just sounded so down earlier. I thought I’d come up and check on you, see how you were doing.” Montana reached out to cup his lightly whiskered cheek. “Thank you, Jason. For everything.” She turned from him for the brief moment it took her to unlock the door, then glanced up at his tall figure framed by the doorway. "It's late and I'm beat." "You're sure you'll be okay?" "Why wouldn't I be?" "What's going on with Phoenix?" Jason asked. "I haven't seen him around since last night, and this morning at the stables—" "I guess he had some personal business to tend to." "Not to pry, Monty, but I'm looking out for your welfare. You did after all just take him on with nary a reference, a job application…" "As I have several of the wranglers here at the ranch. And don't forget, my parents took you on at your word. Look how great that turned out." Jason colored, shuffling his feet as he jammed his hands into his front pockets. "That was different." He didn't know how different, and Montana wasn't about to tell him. Instead, she reached back and pushed open the door. "G'night, Jace." "See ya in the morning." "God willing and—" "If the creek don't rise." Jason grinned and turned to leave as Montana closed the door. She closed her eyes and leaned against the heavy oak door, glad to finally be alone for the first time in hours. She'd been ‘on’ since she'd gotten up this morning, running from one crisis to another, and solving none of them, only temporarily stamping the flow of a cracked dam that was doomed to collapse despite her best efforts. Montana scented him before she saw him, unsurprised when she finally opened her eyes and saw Seth standing across the room. He had his fists on his hips, feet planted, legs slightly apart in an adversarial pose she hadn't seen since he'd first appeared in her bedroom almost two months ago. Despite this, she had never been so happy to see a human being in her entire life. She didn't register his mood until it was too late. She didn't care how or what had brought him back to her, only glad that he had returned, and was a man again and not just her imagination playing tricks on her.

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Spells Cast in Shadows She flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around his broad, firm torso, and reveled in his familiar tangy musk and warmth. She pressed her face against his bare, smooth chest where he had left his flannel shirt unbuttoned as if in invitation. He was stiff in her arms. Not just below where it counted—where she felt his cock swelling and nudging against her abdomen as if with a mind of its own—but his entire body. Stiff and cold. Inside. Montana pulled away from him, finally noticing the gathering gray storm clouds setting off his variegated eyes. "Seth, what's wrong?" His only answer was to growl as he reached out to clasp her around the shoulders. "Se—" He drew her close, leaned in, crushed her mouth beneath his, using his tongue like an implement of war. He stamped his mark as surely as if his lips were a branding iron. When he pulled away, Montana desperately drew in air, gasping and light-headed as she stared up at him. Had he not been holding her, she would have surely collapsed at his feet. "What is wrong with you?" She punched him in the chest, might as well have been whispering to a deaf person for all the affect it had on him. His only response was to snarl and pull her into his arms again. Her hackles raised, body instantly reacting to his anger and his presumptuous manner. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her, fingers subtly but firmly tightening around her arms. "Let go of me, Tarzan." She hadn't actually thought he'd live up to her name calling until he pulled her against his chest and glared down at her as if she were an alien organism. Montana shivered in anticipation, pussy already wet. Her body's traitorous reaction to his display of testosterone angered her. She'd had about enough of this behavior today to last her a lifetime, and was just about to tell him so when he bent his head for another kiss. She clamped her mouth closed this time, ready for him. Or so she thought. Nothing could have prepared her for the gentle nibble he delivered to her lower lip, caressing the seam of her mouth with light flicks of his tongue, coaxing her lips open as she moaned. Seth thrust in his tongue, stroking hers as he slid his hands down her arms to embrace her, gradually moving his palms down to her butt. He squeezed each round globe as if weighing them for ripeness before lifting her in his arms. He ground his lower body against her vagina, and Montana wrapped her legs around his waist with total abandon. "Damn you!" She seethed, sinuously moving her hips against his erection, returning his kiss with equal fervor. She clutched his thick curls with both hands as Seth buried his face against her breasts. He headed for the stairs, made it to the top step before his baser instincts took over and he lowered her to the carpeted floor none too gently. He reached for her clothes as if he couldn’t wait the several seconds it would have taken him to get her to the bedroom and undress her.

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana frowned up at him and whimpered when he reached down to the waistband of her jeans and roughly ripped open all the buttons with one swift downward tug. "Oh, God…" She writhed beneath his palm, no longer caring what was wrong with him, feeling too right beneath his questing hands. She lifted her hips, and he jerked her jeans over them, down to her ankles, indiscriminately taking her thong along for the ride and entrapping her legs. "I have thought about doing this to you since the last time we were together; since you left earlier in the day," he murmured, dipping his head to lick the side of her neck, fingers relentlessly delving between her legs. Montana arched her back and panted when he inserted one finger, thoroughly soaking the digit with her juices before sliding his hand up to her stomach. He spread the liquid musk on her abdomen with his hand and tongue, slowly kissing, licking, and nibbling his way from her navel to her throat as he lifted her T-shirt up and over her head. She helped him undress her, raising her arms so that he could pull the garment completely off. Shamelessly, she watched him discard it over the banister before he lowered his head to take one breast into his mouth, flicking and nibbling her dusky nipple to tautness. She closed her eyes, colors pinwheeling behind her eyelids like a ring of fire as he insinuated a thigh between her legs and caressed her already hardened clit with his knee. God, he was going to kill her if he didn't stop! But she would die if he did. Montana reached for him, sliding her arms around his waist and pulling him flush against her, skin against skin. She pulled his shirt down over his shoulders, fondling his muscles along the way. She enjoyed the way they flexed beneath her fingers before Seth finally shrugged out of the apparel and sent it the way of her T-shirt. Almost completely naked and at his jeans-clad mercy, she felt a little better with the playing field slightly evened. As if reading her mind, Seth reached down to remove her boots. His gaze never left hers as he pulled off her jeans and boots, fully exposing her to his oral assault. He rubbed his pelvis against her warmth in a lazy, slow grind. The feel of rough denim aroused her, igniting the sensitive nerve endings surrounding her vagina. Montana gripped his hips to hold him still. "Take off your jeans," she muttered. He smiled at her, shaking his head as he moved down her body. She had an inkling of the sort of frustration with which Nyssa must have lived most of her life beneath an unrequited love, helpless, always wanting but never getting. She slid her palm down to the bulge in his jeans, ready to take matters into her own hands as she deliberately cupped him. A smile of satisfaction spread across her face at Seth's sharp intake of breath. He caught her wrist, pulled her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed her palm. "You will have your turn, passiflora." She wasn't so sure about that, especially when she spied the shrewd look in his eyes, especially when she didn't know exactly what that last term of endearment meant. She decided she'd ask him about it as soon as she— 180

Spells Cast in Shadows Montana gasped as Seth continued his descent, paused at the juncture of her thighs, lips centimeters away from her pussy. Seth’s hot breath teased her labia and sent shock waves of desire rolling through her body. His attentions left a flood of moisture in their wake. He took a deep breath, inhaling her pure essence before lowering his head and spreading her lips with his thumbs to better taste her. Montana convulsed at the first touch of his tongue to her vulva, shocked by the intimacy. How could she be on the edge of an orgasm when he had yet to fill her? Of their own volition, her legs lifted and draped over his shoulders. She had to force herself not to squeeze her thighs closed. She didn't want to smother him in her desperate pursuit for release. Seth lifted his head to smile at her, gently stroked each thigh with his hands as if to calm a skittish filly. He lowered his head again, and the sight of his glistening copper 'locks sprouting up between her legs turned her on as much as his mouth touching her. She arched her back as he took her engorged clit between his teeth, darting his tongue against the nub in a slow steady rhythm for several long moments before finally plunging deep and enclosing her flowing softness with his lips. Montana hissed, flung her head back as he licked and sucked her into his mouth to ultimate distraction. The gentle, even sounds of him lapping at her clitoris and labia were hypnotic, would have put her to sleep if she weren't so close to shattering. He manipulated her with his mouth as if he had been born to it or had lots of practice, and she knew the latter could not be possible. Could it? She had thought it before, but wondered again where he had learned to use his tongue like this. Did she really care beyond the tremors that rocked her body? She seized his hair in both hands, guiding his movements as she pressed closer, starving for release, almost afraid that she'd achieve it. She didn't want the sensations to end yet, wanted to prolong them. Hot and cold flashes rode along her body until her entire existence consisted of only the small region of hot, wet flesh and sensitive tissue between her legs. She bucked against him as her vision went black with completion, toppling over the edge with a plea and his name on her lips. He continued pulling on her with his lips and teeth until she thought he would swallow her whole, until he brought her to a point of painful need once again. Only then did he lift his head, rising up on his knees to shed his jeans and boxer briefs before sliding up between her legs to find his own pleasure. "Yes, Seth, yes! I want you inside me now. Please…fill me." Montana couldn't hold him tight enough, couldn't feel him inside her fast enough. She reached for him again, and this time he did nothing to stop her, only closed his eyes and panted as she stroked his cock to full staff. She hadn't thought it possible for his erection to grow any harder. She closed one hand around his shaft, guiding him towards her as she firmly cupped his balls with the other. "I want you, Seth. Please…don't make me wait any longer."

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Gracie C. McKeever His skin singed her as he settled his large body over hers, and when he entered her with one long lazy stroke, she sighed in ecstasy, his hard thick length replenishing her, finally, totally. Completing her. Sheathed to the hilt, Seth stilled, holding her tight in his arms. Montana looked at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, jaws clenched as if he were concentrating on the moment, trying to savor the experience of being buried inside her. "You are so much more than I deserve, Montana." She gaped—his words touching her marrow deep, making her shiver. She didn't have time to dwell on what he meant or even respond before Seth began moving inside her. He groaned low in his throat, grinding his hips against her before pistoning his lower body in an even crescendo, gradually taking them both to a climax that left Montana seeing stars and Seth breathless and slick with perspiration above her. Still, he was not through. Montana opened her eyes to glance at him, saw his feral gaze, and had a moment to suck in a breath before he dislodged himself, flipped her onto her side and pulled her back to spoon against him. He lazily ran a palm over the curve of her hip, caressing the skin as he traveled up her back before he stopped to gently massage her neck and dipped his head to kiss a shoulder. She shivered at his attentions, almost afraid of what more he would do to her. She was nervous and excited, the latter instantly gaining momentum and overtaking her the minute he slid a hand between her legs. She writhed with anticipation, pushing back against him, cradling the tip of his hard penis between her ass cheeks. She was sure that centaurs performed the same way as horses, their basic anatomy warranting it. He wouldn't…would he? Seth put her out of her misery and sated her curiosity when he flung one leg over both of hers and hugged her torso with one arm, imprisoning her against him. She knew why the restraint when he penetrated her with the fingers of his free hand—it felt like three—thrusting deep and hard, seeking and probing, thoroughly immersing himself as he pumped and twirled his fingers inside her with gentle finesse. Already squirming within his embrace, Montana went wild the minute he touched her Gspot, bucking and flailing her arms below the elbows, coming seconds after his fingers entered her. Her vaginal muscles clamped down on his fingers like a trap as another orgasm tore through her, leaving her trembling in its wake. "Shhhh, iekara. It is all right. I am here." She whimpered as he cooed sweet unintelligible things. Exhausted and strangely invigorated by his rich voice, by his reassuring tone, she tasted the salt of her tears and perspiration as each slid down her face before Seth cuddled her close.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Mine," he murmured, smoothing moist tendrils of hair from her face, pressing his lips against her throat, then moving up to nip an earlobe as if to emphasize his point. "You belong to me, passiflora. All mine." She didn't have the strength or desire to argue with him. **** He stood outside peering through the window, confused as to why he was lurking outside Montana’s home and feeling guilty for invading her privacy. She didn’t deserve his betrayal. She was too good a person for what the Black Elf was planning for her, too good for what the Black Elf was compelling him to do to her. But his head hurt so badly when he refused to comply, ached as if someone were stomping it to the ground beneath heavy boots. He could not resist the suggestions and commands; he could not refuse to accept all the information about Montana’s life on the ranch with the centaur or the information the Black Elf was feeding him of Richard Wheeler. The Black Elf had given him other tools and plans he would need to perform his task. He just needed the will and a reason to do it. You want her. You will have her. Just listen to me. But I don’t— You want to protect her from him, don’t you? Protect? Is she in danger? Oh, yes, the most insidious kind. And if you do not help her, she will be harmed. You’ve seen what he is; you’ve seen what he can do. Yes, he had seen the impossible, had witnessed the unbelievable change of animal to man, had seen the man take his precious Montana on the steps. Savagely, viciously. That’s right. He’s harmed her and means to harm her again, unless you stop him. He had watched her grow from a curious young undergrad to the confident and knowledgeable woman she was today. She was like the daughter he never had. He treasured their relationship more than anything, but what the Black Elf wanted him to do was wrong. It is not wrong. It is what you want. She is what you want. This was not true, but he could not resist, could not say no. Demogorgon told him he needed to wait just a little while, wait for when Seth Phoenix became a horse again and was in the stable. That was very important. But I don’t want to hurt anyone. You will do as I say! He cringed and grabbed his head between both hands. He tried to block out the voice, block out the pain. If he could just get to someone, tell someo— You will tell no one. You will do my bidding and you will destroy the centaur.

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Gracie C. McKeever He nodded and backtracked to the stable where he had earlier left the supplies he would need to follow the Black’s Elf’s command. **** Perhaps he should have chosen Montana’s lovesick cow boss. Indeed, Makepeace was the more logical choice, having a built-in motive to want Seth out of the way. The Black Elf had actually delved into the possibilities—appreciated the justice and irony of having someone close to Montana Freeborn, someone who loved her, eradicate the centaur from her life. But there was something even more resistant in Makepeace’s make-up than in Mendelsohn’s, some deep-seated code that prevented Demogorgon’s influence. The Black Elf would not have been surprised to find that the cow boss was gifted in some way, though he did not have the time or inclination to research the matter further, at least no further than it might affect his task. For now he had his mundane. Though the older man was a difficult sell, Demogorgon had finally gotten him to come around to seeing things his way. Short of making an appearance and outright eliminating Seth Phoenix himself, Demogorgon would have to settle for Mendelsohn completing his task. The Black Elf did, after all, have a code of his own. He wasn’t above manipulating a human mind, though he preferred letting nature take its course whenever possible. Of course, there were times when nature had to be nudged just a little with the hand of a dutiful elf. Demogorgon smiled in the darkness, eager to see flames light up the sky, the signal to him that his dream of having Thyra was that much closer to reality. Soon, Thyra Phoenix. Soon.

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Chapter 24 Seth reached for her as he woke, did not have far to stretch before his hands connected with round, soft flesh. He smiled, squeezing a full bosom beneath his palm. Montana purred in her sleep, spooning against him. He wanted her again, could not see a time in his life when he would not. He slid a hand between her thighs, crept his fingers towards her center, her vagina already wet with want. The sweet aroma of her musk wafting up to him made his mouth water. My sweet passiflora. My own. Seth leered as he leaned in to lick the back of her neck, heart racing with anticipation. She shivered in his embrace, hands tightening against his resting on her waist. "Are you awake?" he whispered. "Depends." He chuckled, sliding his middle finger into her, thrusting slow and deep before wiggling the digit to brush her moist inner walls in a come-to-me gesture. She bucked in his arms and he held her close, knew he had barely missed hitting that magical spot, and withdrew his finger slightly. It was too soon to bring her to orgasm. He wanted to draw this coupling out for as long as he could, did not know when he would again have a chance to enjoy her body. Gods, for all he knew, this could be his last chance! Montana turned, sliding her arms around his trim waist as she faced him. For the first time since she had arrived home, Seth caught a glimpse of the tiny bruise on her chin. He reached to caress it with his thumb and drew back when she winced. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” “I must thank Jason for being there to protect you when I could not.” 185

Gracie C. McKeever “We’ll worry about that later.” She grasped his cock with one hand, gently squeezed and Seth moaned. “Right now, I’m interested to know if you had something in mind when you asked if I were awake, Tarzan.” He grinned at the affectionate inflection in her voice now distinguishing it from the other times when she had flung the moniker at him in anger as an insult. "Something, passiflora," he whispered and bent his head, brushing his lips across the top of her breasts, drifting lower until he had firmly taken a nipple between his teeth and nibbled and sucked it to attention. Montana arched her back, biting her bottom lip as she buried her fingers in his hair. "I've been meaning to ask you…" "Yes?" "What's this passiflora you keep calling me?" "Passion fruit." "Ahh…" She moaned as he began working on her other breast. "You object?" "Mmmm…not at all." "I did not think you would." "And iekara?" "Precious stone." "Ohhh…" "Enough talk. I have better ways to occupy your mouth." Seth cupped her face, leaned in and covered her lips with his in a molten kiss, searing her mouth as his tongue dueled with hers. He slid his hands around to her back until he cupped her shoulders, pressing her closer to him as he arched his lower body towards her. He didn't have to push hard to enter her, her flowing moisture easing the way so that he slid home with almost no hindrance at all, her body snuggly gloving him in its familiar warmth. So familiar. So tight. Seth opened his eyes to find her staring at him, drove deeper as he returned her look and flung a leg over a hip to draw her flush against him. He lowered his head to kiss her neck, gently sinking his teeth into the soft skin, then sucking the spot for long, intense seconds before raising his head again to peer at her. "Mine." "Yours," she said, surprising him with her assent until she added, "And you're mine." "Yes." He nodded and reached down between them, finding her clitoris. She trembled as he flicked the flesh with a thumb and finger, alternately stroking and pinching it to hardness. Gradually, he deepened his thrusts, undulating his hips to the rhythm of his caresses, a rhythm that Montana easily matched. She climaxed on a loud moan as she clung to him. Seth continued to move inside her for a fierce minute before he stiffened and reached his own completion. He met Montana's desperation with his own, holding her close, unwilling to let her go despite knowing that he'd eventually have to.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana pulled away to stare at him, lips parted as if she wanted to say something to him, but was weighing her options. Finally she cupped the base of his skull and pulled him close for a deep soul kiss. "I love you," she said, then kissed him two more times in quick succession, repeating the vow each time as if casting a spell. Or trying to break one. "Montana—" She put a finger to his lips before he could get out another word. "Shh. You don't need to say anything. Just let it be." Seth would not have known what to say if she had let him. His heart fluttered with the meaning behind her actions. Did she really love him, or was she just saying it because she thought her words would conquer Demogorgon's charm? Whether she'd meant the words or not, she had said them and that in itself said so much about the woman, the sacrifices she was willing to make, what she was willing to do. For him. His own sacrifices and bravery paled in comparison. Why could he not return her words when it was his life on the line? Why could he not trust his feelings, for once follow them to wherever they led? Why did he yet play the curious and questioning student with her? Why did he yet question the merits of commitment, monogamy, what his parents had? Why did he yet question Montana's motives, her sincerity when there was no need? She had nothing more to hide from him, nor did he have anything to hide from her. Except his fear. This, more than death, more than loss or banishment from his clan, would always stand between them until he was able to confront it himself. Until he was able to admit that he cared for her as more than just a warm, welcoming body in which to bury his insecurity. He should have been able to admit that he needed her as much as he wanted her. He should have been able to trust his emotions with her the way she had trusted hers with him. Silently, Seth pulled her close, eyes shut tight as he held her and listened to her steady heartbeat pulsing next to his. Holding her, knowing her, making love to her, for now these would have to be enough, all that he had to offer her. She pulled him close, burrowing her head under his chin as if she knew what Seth was thinking, that he was trying to distance himself, and she wanted to prevent it. "I love you," she murmured, drifting off to sleep on the pledge. He squeezed her to him, unable to respond, heart frozen in his chest with indecision and self-loathing. Did he care enough about her to free her from her vow and let her go? Could he let her go knowing that everything he was and could be was wrapped up in her body, her spirit? Now he understood what his father had gone through to claim Thyra as his own, that the elder centaur's motives had not been totally selfish. 187

Gracie C. McKeever Cercyon had risked so much more than Seth had at stake. He'd risked his standing in his community; he'd risked his heritage and the wrath of the council and that of his own father, the king. All for Seth's mother. Thyra had not appreciated Cercyon's choice in the beginning, had resented his making a decision for her when she was unable to make decisions for herself. Could he be as arrogant and strong as his father when the decision he made would affect not only his future but that of Montana? **** Seth woke an hour later to the smell of smoke. He initially thought some of the kids had set off early fireworks in preparation for Freeborn's upcoming, much-alluded to Fourth celebrations. Then the acrid odor of burning hay and wood touched the back of his throat to crush this idea. His nostrils flared at the evocative scent, body involuntarily steeling for the inevitable waft of flesh burning. Nyssa. He could yet see her still and supine atop the towering pyre of felled trees and leaves, envisioned eyelids laden by silver coins, small hands folded across her waist. The memories flooded him, one behind the other until he felt buried beneath the weight of grief and guilt, knowing that he had caused the death of a favored daughter of Sapphira. There was no way to rectify the loss, no punishment great enough for what he had caused. Seth roused himself from the memories and the dream, each merged into one harassing entity until it was all he could do to escape the mental torture. He opened his eyes and glanced out the window to see a new day dawning, salmon hues of sunrise dusting the sky, knew that his time was short if past experience meant anything. The change would be coming within the hour. Seth sprang from the bed and rushed to the window, saw bright orange flames licking toward the sky, turning the stables to ash in its path of destruction. "Montana, get up!" He ran back to the bed and shook her before donning his jeans. She sat up in the bed half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. "Wha-what is it?" "There's a fire down at the stables." "Fire!" She was out of the bed in a flash and searching the room for her clothes. Seth headed for the door, could not wait for her. He did not want her to see the change. He would be lucky if he made it down and out of the house before anyone else did. “Seth, wait! I’m right behind—” He was out of the door and down the stairs before Montana finished her sentence. ****

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Spells Cast in Shadows She threw on a pair of jeans, and a flannel shirt and ran out the bedroom barefoot two seconds behind Seth. She realized she didn’t have on any shoes when she almost tripped on her discarded boots at the bottom of the stairs. Montana paused long enough to pull on one boot before hopping down the rest of the stairs while she pulled on the other. Seth was already gone by the time she reached the front door. How had he gotten out of the house so quickly? And why hadn’t he waited for her? Then it dawned on her—the time of day, what they had done—and she knew he hadn’t wanted her to see his transition. Montana had a lot more on her plate to deal with than Seth turning into a horse, however, when she reached the stables. Controlled chaos greeted her as she rounded the corner to the stalls. Jason and several wranglers doused the flames with extinguishers and a water hose. "Fire department's on the way!" Jason informed her, yelling over the roar of the flames. "The horses?" "We got most of them out before you arrived. Can't locate our newest critter, Mercury, though. But he's a sharp 'un, so I'm speculating he hightailed it out to open ground already. We may see him again." "No doubt," Montana muttered, scanning the area for her kids, spotting several girls filing out of their bunkhouse in varying degrees of dress. Karen Guthrie, a fourteen year old in the mentoring program for her second year, caught Montana staring and threw up her hands. "Don't look at me. I'm a klepto, not a pyro!" On the heels of Karen’s jest, thoughts of arson and Jamal being responsible, soon followed. Castigating herself now for jumping to conclusions, she visually counted heads, and asked, "Everyone made it out okay?" Fantasia nodded and pointed to the boys' bunkhouse several yards away. "Sasha and Rashawn went to make sure all of the guys are out." The wail of sirens filled the air as two fire engines appeared over the ridge a hundred yards outside the ranch gates. Montana sighed in relief. Maybe a full-scale evacuation wouldn't be necessary. She watched as various guests drifted out of their cottages, most dressed for the day, some voicing concern about the daily activities and others asking what they could do to help. Thankfully, Montana's parents had been very aware of wildfire hazards and had taken precautions when building their home. They'd created defensible space around the ranch and had made other enhancements to increase the chances that it would survive a wildfire. Along with improving driveway access and water supplies, the roofs on all the buildings on the property were fire-resistive and enclosed overhanging eaves and decks. With the Fire Company in so close proximity and Jason and his crew already in action, Montana was sure the damage would be contained to a bare minimum. 189

Gracie C. McKeever As for the psychological damage, she wasn't so sure, especially when she spotted Jamal making his way over from their bunkhouse with several other boys. Montana moved to meet him halfway. "Jamal, what's up?" "I saw…I saw—" "Did you see who did this?" Montana grasped him by the shoulders and shook him before she caught herself and pulled back. "Did you, Jamal?" She knew something was more wrong than him having anything to do with the fire when he didn't respond right away. "He's gone." Jamal stared in the direction of the forest. She didn't need to ask him whom or how, only that pouring out her soul to Seth earlier had been for naught and they were still at square one. Telling him that she loved him hadn’t worked, and knowing this made Seth’s nonresponse all the more painful because she’d meant every word. Knowing that she'd revealed her heart to an entity she had no business being with in the first place, that she had feelings for him he evidently didn't return, pierced her heart as much as Seth’s silence had Montana swallowed hard, the idea that she was in the same boat as Nyssa as unpalatable as the thought of never holding Seth's human form again, never seeing his smile or hearing his deep-throated masculine laugh. These last several weeks she'd come to rely on his presence much more than she realized, had come to expect seeing him around the ranch, her due, as if it were something she'd been working towards all her life, a hard-earned goal she had finally achieved. How could she just let him go? They belonged to each other. She knew her feelings of entitlement and ownership were self-defeating at worst, wishfulfillment at best, but couldn't help wanting him, wanting to be with him even when she knew their time together was so precarious. He had grown on her, like a clinging vine on the side of a building, climbing not only into her body, but into her heart and mind, imprinting himself everywhere she lived before they'd ever made love. Unlike a building, she didn't think she could exist without him. She would wither away and crumble into the dirt were someone or something to take him away from her. Montana tried to keep her composure in front of Jamal, but she was so close to giving into the hopelessness and the exhaustion. The fire was just the icing on a cataclysmic cake. She draped an arm over the boy's shoulder and drew him close to her side. For once, he came without argument, burrowing close as Montana watched a strange SUV pull into her driveway. At least it was strange until she recognized the NFS symbol emblazoned on the door. David Mendelsohn alighted from the official government vehicle, and Montana gave Jamal a quick squeeze. "I've got to take care of this, honey. Are you going to be okay?" She knew it was a silly question, but could think of nothing better to say. Eventually she'd have to address what he'd seen, and the thought made her wince. "I'm cool." He stood up straight, distancing himself. Montana grinned as the tough-teenager pose fell into place, and Jamal bopped over to the group of boys watching the firefighters set up their equipment to do their job. 190

Spells Cast in Shadows She watched Jamal pull his friend Devon to the side for a private pow-wow. She frowned as the two boys put their heads together. Their voices not loud enough to carry past all the surrounding noise, but Jamal's intense tones and gesticulations were enough to tell her something was up, and it wasn't just the sky. What was that all about? The combination of two incorrigible rebellious homeboys from the streets of New York, kindred spirits, did not bode well and meant nothing but trouble. Great, just what she needed. She turned from them, grin wavering and heart dropping to her stomach as she watched David approach with a friendly smile slowly spreading across his open features. Montana had a hard time deciding which crisis she wanted to deal with first.

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Chapter 25 Seth ran as fast and as far away from the ranch as he could. Had he not known the trails around the forest and Freeborn he would have surely lost his way. But he did know the trails of the place that had become his home for nearly two moons. He paused near a stream, dropped his clothes from his mouth on dry land before approaching and leaning his head down to take several laps at the cool water, greedily gulping down mouthfuls. Seth could have run further, probably should have found another ranch, another home. But for how long? Until the next change? Until someone there discovered that he wasn't quite what he appeared? Without Montana, he was doomed to a life of transience and homelessness, never being able to settle in one place as long as his status as a horse or a human was so uncertain. Even with Montana he risked discovery—by one of her employees, by one of her guests. He wasn't entirely sure he had evaded it this last time in his mad dash for the open. This punishment was far worse than banishment could have ever been. He was in limbo, existing between two worlds, twelve hours of each day, a hoof in the centaur world and a foot in the human world, never belonging to either. Limbo. Until he broke the spell. If he broke the spell. And he was sure that he never would. Demogorgon was as cruel as he was powerful and gifted, too intelligent to ever let Seth succeed. His biggest question was why? What did the Black Elf have to gain by seeing his enemy's progeny suffer so, when his enemy knew not of their progeny's suffering?

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Spells Cast in Shadows Seth wondered at that last possibility and immediately dismissed it. The idea that his mother and father knew what he was going through at the mercy of the Black Elf, how he suffered apart from his own, twisted his heart in his chest. He knew that his father had been disappointed in him, but he did not think that he would see Seth tormented this way. It was inhumane. He raised his head after he had gotten his fill at the stream and sauntered several yards away before coming to rest beneath the shade of a large, leafy aspen. He tilted his head towards the sky, allowing the sun's glow and warmth to enclose him. His nostrils flared as he scented early morning dew on the grass and surrounding trees. What was she doing now? Was she thinking about him? Was she worried for his welfare? As much as he wanted to be on her mind the way she was on his, the idea of her ill at heart because of him did not sit well with Seth. He would do anything in his power to keep her worry free, happy, do anything to see her smile. In his mind he grinned, not sure how the look translated to his equine face, picturing Montana facing him down in her bedroom with her fists on her hips. She could have easily run from him, could have called Jason, the authorities, anyone to take him away from her and the ranch, to deal with him as they saw fit. But she had done none of those things, had made him her concern when she didn't have to—lying for him, helping him convalesce—had made him feel as if he mattered. And to have someone care about him when his own kind had turned their backs was moving in its purity. She had not run, had shown no fear that first day and the many days after. His transformation was but a tiny bump in her road, something with which her organizational skills and logic could deal as long as she had the people and resources to pull from for assistance. What would have been his fate had someone else run across him on that dark road? Would someone else have been as merciful, as sympathetic? Would someone without his and Montana's connection have treated him as humanely? Or would he have been shot, summarily dispatched, and put out of his misery where he lay to join Nyssa? He was so tired of running, tired of taking advantage of and being at the expense of a generous woman under the misconception that they were soul mates. Mates, yes. Lovers, most certainly. But his soul was too damaged to be of any use to another, much more to bring down another in the bargain. Seth swallowed hard at the decision before him. He would not go back to her when he changed back. **** Montana didn't know how she remained so calm in David's presence after their last meeting. He was still the mentor she knew and held deep affection for, but the minute he walked into her house, she got a weird vibe from him. It was similar to… Richard. 193

Gracie C. McKeever She shook her head, wouldn’t think like that. The implications were too far fetched to even consider. "You're sure you don't want anything to drink?" Montana asked as David took a seat on the sofa across the living room. "Maybe some breakfast, that is if you haven't eaten yet?" "I'd feel a lot better if you let me help." David motioned to the front door with a jerk of his head, indicating the uproar outside. Montana’s men had nearly extinguished the fire by the time the Colorado Springs Fire Department arrived. Now the investigative crew from the fire marshal’s office was outside sifting through the debris for clues. The latter had Montana mentally going over arson culprits all over again, and she didn't know what she was going to do if the marshal and his men confirmed her suspicions. "Is that why you came all the way out here? Don't tell me you saw the blaze from your headquarters." David chuckled, shaking his head. "Actually, no. I was already on my way when I caught sight of the fire." "You were on your way here so early in the morning?" He shrugged. "It was either that or call you like I usually do. I was up and itching for a drive. Figure I'd come out, kill two birds with one stone, and see how you've been making out after that fiasco with Wheeler." “How do you—” "I have my sources.” Montana didn't even want to think about what all, and from whom, he had heard his information about the ‘fiasco with Wheeler.’ David leaned forward in his seat, the intense look in his blue eyes momentarily making her forget why and how he knew what he knew. "Are you okay?" "Me? I'm fine," Montana said quickly. She cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. “What was your other bird?" He sighed, stood, and approached Montana where she stood leaning on the doorjamb. She was unwilling to come closer or invite him any further into her space, but it appeared Mr. Mendelsohn had other ideas. David paused in front of her, reached to brush a cheek and Montana caught herself cringing. He dropped his hand back to a side, and she could swear she saw a glint of anger in his eyes only to be instantly replaced with confusion. "You know I'm here for you, Monty, if you need to talk." "I know." Something wasn't right with David, and she couldn't put a finger on what it was. Maybe she should have let him touch her, although that had not always been a reliable gauge in the past of what someone was thinking or what mischief they had perpetrated.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Richard was a perfect example of her gift's failure in this area. She'd always been wary around men, especially after Roddick, but her recent experiences with Richard had made her ten times so, and she tried to tamp down her suspicions with her boss. "David, if you'd just tell me why you came out?" "Very well." He sighed again, as if exasperated with the unacceptable behavior of a spoiled child. "I have another assignment for y—" "I can't possibly leave the ra—" "Monty, before you shoot me down, hear me out." She folded her arms over her breasts and stared at him. "You could at least look a little less antagonistic. I'm offering you a sweetheart duty, the type you always salivated over. Traveling, photos, the works." "My duties lay somewhere else now," she murmured. He grimaced but covered it so quickly Montana wondered if she had really seen his disapproval or just imagined it. "Montana Freeborn, I never thought I’d see the day you chose the ranch over the Service.” Now she shrugged. "Things change." She didn't tell him that things had changed weeks ago when a certain centaur-turned-man had come into her life, or that she had long chosen her heritage over the Service. It had just taken her this long to realize what was important to her. "If it's about coverage at Freeborn, I'm sure Jake—" "Jason," she corrected, and didn't know why she was so miffed about David's slip other than the light tone of condescension she sensed in his voice. Or was that her imagination, too? "Right, Jason. I'm sure he can pick up the slack. He's been doing an excellent job so far. You said it yourself." "There are some things I need to deal with that can't be left in Jason's hands." Who was she kidding? She wanted to be out on the range with Sunspot this minute, hunting down Seth. Jason would never help her in this, not without a good explanation, and that was something she couldn't give him, couldn't give anyone. "So you're turning me down?" Montana shook her head. "I'm turning down this assignment." "Should I be gearing up for your resignation?" "I think you should, yes," she said. David peered at her. "Preservation and the environment are what you live for." "They used to be." "You've trained most of your life for a career with the Service. Don't make any hasty decisions because of a few misspent funds and the disreputable behavior of a former employee." And how did he know about all that?

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana knew gossip traveled like a Triple Crown Winner, but the only people who knew anything about Richard's betrayal were, Richard, Jason, and her new lawyer, John Samuels. Jason was as detached as a department store mannequin and about as chatty, and though she hadn't had that much exposure to Samuels as she had with his sponsor over the years, she trusted Dr. Marcus with her life. Was she making a mistake in transferring that faith to Samuels? Granted, David could have learned about the attack and Richard's incarceration from anyone in town. But she didn't think Jason or her lawyer had mentioned the embezzlement, and she knew Richard hadn't talked. Unless he'd had a partner? She didn't know why the idea had never occurred to her before, why she had always assumed ‘Venture Realty, LLC’ was a front for solely Richard's illegal activities. Montana stopped short of shaking her head to clear it, gave David a long, measured look. “How do you know all that?” “Gossip in town, I’m sure. What difference does it make?” His tone was terse, and he waved a hand as if to dismiss her concerns. Montana stepped back, seeing him as if for the first time. What was happening to him? David moved closer. "If it's the traveling you’re worried about…?" He jumped from one subject to the other with such fluidity it made Montana’s head spin, but she decided to go along with him for the moment. "The traveling’s a big part of it, but you've already gone out of your way to accommodate my schedule with the ranch, since…since my parents passed. I can't ask for any more than that." Impulsively, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "It's time I made room for someone else with the type of freedom and dedication I used to have once upon a time." Nothing. No visions, no vibe. His aura was a blank slate reflecting neither good nor bad intentions. "Don't be so melodramatic, Freeborn. I haven't given up on you yet." Montana chuckled to cover her discomfort and David surprised her when he leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the lips. As she pulled away from him, breathless, she was taken offguard even more when Jason opened the door and saw their embrace—David with an arm around her waist and Montana pushing her palms against David’s chest. Jason froze on the threshold, and it was easy to see the angry thoughts swirling in his head before he said a word. "Seems I have a habit of catching you at a bad time," he muttered and stormed back up the walkway toward the stables. "Jason, wait!" Montana started after him before David caught her hand and stopped her. “Let him go, Monty. We have things to settle now that he’s gone.” “What the hell are you talking about?” He blinked, said nothing. “David, let me go.” 196

Spells Cast in Shadows “I can’t.” Montana tried to jerk away, but David clamped onto her wrist like a steel trap. “What do you mean you can’t?” “He…won’t let me.” Who is he? “David, you’re hurting me.” Montana held his gaze, tried to get through to the man she knew, the man who had mentored her for so many years in college and who had provided emotional support when her parents were killed. That man, however, didn’t seem to be anywhere in evidence. “I’m sorry about the fire, Monty,” he whispered. “What?” She closed her eyes and gasped, struck with the sudden image of David prowling around the stables, gasoline can and lighter in hand. No! Oh, God, this was too much to take right now and she needed to get to Jason. She needed to find Seth! Montana tried to pull out of his grasp again, and failing this time, she swung out her free hand to slap David’s face. The blow seemed to jar something in him, at least momentarily. He shook his head, stared at her with a bewildered gaze as he released her. Montana rushed to the door and held it open wide. “Please leave, David.” He nodded, approached the door like an automaton before pausing on the threshold to look at her. Montana tensed, stayed as far away from him as possible, keeping the door between them. “I’m sorry, Montana.” She didn’t know what was wrong with him, what had a hold of him, but she knew he wasn’t responsible for his actions. And turning him in to the police or fire marshals didn’t seem fair under the circumstances. What could she tell them, anyway? Should she tell them that the man had made a pass at her? Should she tell them that she thought he confessed to the arson but she wasn’t sure? Should she tell them that she saw him set the fire in a vision? She had no proof of anything, nothing except her instincts and images. The knowledge didn’t make it any easier for her to deal with what had just happened, or help her decide what to do about it. Finally Montana just said, “Go home, David. We’ll talk about this later and figure out what to do. Okay?” She didn’t know what else to say, and was relieved when David nodded and walked out the door. Montana closed, locked the door and sagged against it. The defeated and lost look in David’s eyes as he left haunted her.

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Gracie C. McKeever She stood straight suddenly and headed through the house and out her back door, following Jason's path, breathless as she rounded the corner to where most of the damage from the fire had occurred. The thought suddenly dawned on her that had Jason and his cowboys not acted as quickly as they had her prized Sunspot and several other animals would have perished. Not to mention, had the fire occurred only a few minutes later, Seth himself might have been trapped in the stable with Sunspot. Did David know this? Had he suspected something about ‘Mercury’ despite all Montana's best efforts to keep the animal's connection to Seth a secret? Montana slowly picked her way through the debris as the wranglers and jigger boss worked on cleaning up the mess the fire department had left. She spotted Jason situating Sunspot and his own horse, Chevy, in their temporary new dwellings. She took a deep breath and approached. "Jason?" "You don't have to explain anything. I understand perfectly." Montana frowned, took another step forward and put a hand on his arm before he jerked away. She had to gather her courage to ask, "Understand what?" "That you can give every dang body a chance, except me." "What's that supposed to mean?" She glared, still chilled by the brief contact she'd made with him seconds ago. She'd never gotten vibes like that from his aura before—cold, dark spots full of jealousy and anger. Her cow boss was always a calming influence in an unchecked wildfire when everyone else around him lost control. "It means whatever you want it to mean, Montana." "Jace, it wasn’t what you think.” "How do you know what I think?” He glared at her. “Besides, I saw the way he was looking at you." She couldn’t imagine what that embrace had looked like to Jason, but judging from the way he had run out of her house, she imagined it hadn’t looked quite kosher. How could she tell him what had happened without incriminating David? She didn’t want to hurt either of them—not David’s reputation, or Jason’s feelings. She had done enough of the latter to last Jason and her a lifetime, she was sure. Jason came closer, caught her by the arms and glowered down at her. She thought he was going to kiss her, or hit her, whatever best released the fury she saw shining out of his eyes. Frozen in his embrace, she didn't know what she would do if he tried either. "Tarnation!" He drew her into his arms much more gently than Montana expected, considering his frame of mind. "It hurts so much having you so close but knowing you don't care about me." "I care about you, Jace." He pulled away slightly and grinned regretfully. "Not the way I care about you." 198

Spells Cast in Shadows "Oh." She'd never considered herself particularly flighty or flirtatious, and wondered if she was giving out the sort of signals that had these men falling at her feet. Jason searched her face for a long silent moment, finally asked, "Why not me, Monty?" The catch in his voice was almost her undoing. She put her arms around him just as he hugged her, had never known the depth of his emotions, how much he hid behind his silent, tough, loner exterior. But she felt it now, opening herself up to all the hurt, rejection, and loneliness he'd suffered throughout his life spilling into her soul, suffusing it. Abandoned, abused, on his own so long he'd forgotten what it was like to care about someone, to trust. And the one he had chosen to care about—to trust, to love—didn't love him. "Jace, I'm so sorry," Montana whispered, choking on the lump in her throat. He pulled away again to look at her, his aura different from earlier, the dark cold patches replaced with seeping warmth. Familiar. Had she misread him before? Again? "You'll have my resignation at the end of two weeks." "Jason, don’t make any hasty decisions.” She almost laughed at how much she sounded like David had several minutes ago trying to convince her to stay with the Service. Montana’s breath hitched in her chest suddenly and she closed her eyes as another vision overtook her. It shocked her to have another one so soon after the last one. The recent and mounting trials and disasters in her life must have kicked her abilities into overdrive. “Monty…” Jason put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” She smiled grimly at how often she was hearing that question lately and opened her eyes to stare at Jason. “I’m fine. But I need a favor from you.” He caught her hand and squeezed it. “Anything. Just name it.” Even through all his emotional pain, he was still thinking about her. How had she been so lucky to have someone like him in her life all this time and not have appreciated him the way he deserved? She closed her eyes again, wondered how to tell him what she had seen, wondered how to explain her next request without sounding like a sideshow fortune teller. She squeezed his hand back to confirm what she had seen when she’d hugged him, and the image came at her again: a guest on the ranch whom he’d fall in love with, his own woman to have, to hold, to love. Montana opened her eyes again to look at him. “Jason, you’ve always been here for me when I needed you. And I need you now…to stay.” “Dadgummit, Monty…” He stomped his foot like a little boy throwing a tantrum

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Gracie C. McKeever Montana held in a laugh at his frustration, knew how upset he was since ‘dadgum,’ ‘tarnation’ and ‘Sam Hill’ were the closest that Jason usually ever came to cursing around her. Hell, she cursed more than he did. “Please, Jace. Stay. Trust me.” He returned her gaze and held it for a long silent moment before he started shaking his head and threw up his hands. “Fine, I’ll stay.” She threw her arms around him once more and kissed his cheek “Thank you, Jason. You won’t be sorry. I promise.” “I don’t know why I’m such a pushover for you, woman, but I do trust you.” Now all she needed to do was find Seth, and convince him to do the same so that they could work on figuring out how to break the Black Elf's spell…together.

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Chapter 26 Oreias Alyosha Leksi glowered into his sphere as he watched the scenes play out between the woman and her two friends, all three understandably frustrated and confused by the day's events. There was no doubt that Demogorgon had gone too far. The Black Elf had actually stepped over the line where the humans were concerned quite some time ago, but Alyosha had decided not to step in too soon. He liked allowing his opponent sufficient rope before he pulled in the reins, and gave his wards time to solve their own problems. Besides, Montana and Seth had the situation well in hand, their feelings for each other proving far more than a match for the Black Elf's machinations, though they both doubted their ability to conquer the spell. The latter was with good reason. Elves' spells were not the easiest to break, especially when cast by someone as powerful and crafty as Demogorgon. The revocation could be something as simple as a word, or as complicated as a series of actions and chants. There was no way to know. Stumbling around blind to find the right combination of words and movements was as ineffective as not trying anything at all, and could be more dangerous than not. Most humans who had fallen in the bad graces of a particularly vengeful elf went through their entire lives never figuring out the right formula to break a spell. Indeed, they might never know that a spell had been cast upon them, chalking up a run of misfortune to ‘bad luck’ or ‘God’s will.’ Alyosha had a slight advantage where the two young lovers and other humans and elves did not: he knew Demogorgon Loxias as well as he knew himself. He'd better after centuries of clashing with the sly dark fairy over one Council issue or another and through several centuries of war and peace between Oreias and their surrounding regions.

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Gracie C. McKeever To date, there was no clear winner in their battle. Both elves were too old and wise to waste much energy on ego trips, though Demogorgon seemed to have let his inner self get the best of him in matters of his heart lately. Alyosha had not thought the Black Elf capable of caring for anyone except himself. But then Thyra Phoenix was not just anyone, had not been from the moment she'd been brought to Sapphira as a human. Had she been free—and an elf, of course—Alyosha would certainly have given her more than a passing glance. As it was, Demogorgon had forgotten the first law of Oreias elves: stay with your own kind. It was something by which Alyosha lived and breathed despite his affinity for mundane creatures. He could not afford to lose his head, or other parts of his body, over folly that was sure to backfire and harm his lineage in the long run. Had he not been such a recluse, Alyosha might have challenged Demogorgon for the seat the Black Elf now held on the Sapphiran Directorate. He had been approached by Cercyon and the head of the Sapphiran Council the same as Demogorgon. But Alyosha had declined, had no desire to use his influence in so selfish a manner, had no desire to use his powers for personal gain. Perhaps accepting Cercyon's offer would have been better than letting someone like the Black Elf in a seat of power where his decisions meant life or death for some unsuspecting centaur. Demogorgon himself would not normally have chosen to mingle with the centaurs, a solitarian for all the centuries that Alyosha had known him, thought himself above most beings—centaurs and elves alike. There was one reason, and one reason only that the Black Elf had chosen to ally with Sapphira's political party, and that was the promise of consorting with Thyra. This was not a bad thing in and of itself, just imprudent. None of this, however, would stop Alyosha from doing his part to see Seth and Montana together. Why should they suffer for Demogorgon's vice and vendetta against the Phoenix clan, after all? Now, breaking the Black Elf's spell was another matter. The idea of casting one of his own spells on the couple entered Alyosha's mind, but just as quickly fled at the possible danger. Casting one spell over another without full knowledge of the prevailing spell, would do more harm than good. Rather to revoke the existing spell first and altogether than blindly compound it. Knowing Demogorgon the way he did, Alyosha surmised the nullification was something right under the couples' noses, something complicated by its very simplicity. This would take a little time—something of which they did not have a surplus, Alyosha acknowledged. And he did not want to intercede more than necessary. Oreias tradition stated that one elf could not interfere in the affairs of another, unless an elf's intent was to cause harm to come to another. The stipulation was clear and Demogorgon had certainly met it weeks and months ago. Alyosha smiled as he wiped the sphere clear of the figures moving across it. He would be with the couple soon. He would do whatever was in his power to help them. 202

Spells Cast in Shadows **** Montana returned to the ranch a little after noon, another several hours of fruitless searching killed before saving what was left of the day. She had set out at dawn for the last two days, no idea that her property stretched as far and wide as it did until she'd looked in and around every nook and cranny that might have held a hint of Seth. When this had failed, she'd resorted to visiting other ranches and asking about a bay stallion that had gone missing from Freeborn. This also was to no avail. He'd been missing now for almost three days, and Montana was beginning to lose what little hope she had left after Seth's second change. She'd thought for sure he would have wandered home by now, didn't know if he was in human form or horse form, and she didn't care. She just wanted him back so they could work on revoking the Black Elf's spell. Something had happened to him. Montana shook her head at the idea of him injured somewhere, had a vivid image of Seth the morning she'd run over him. What if he was out there injured in horse form? Someone might come across him and do the ‘merciful’ thing and put him out of his misery. Oh, God, no! She hoped he was still self-healing, hoped he hadn't lost that ability because of the spell. Montana entered the house, sore and tired, tried to reassure herself that Seth was all right, that he'd find his way back to her soon. She knew that she'd accept him back in a heartbeat, no questions asked, and was ashamed of herself for the decidedly needy and non-feminist attitude. She came up short when she saw Jason leading the fire marshal from her office. The man turned back to Jason and handed him a business card before heading for the front door. "Ma'am." He tipped his hat at her as he passed. Montana's stomach quivered guiltily. She felt as if she had done something wrong in not being here during his visit. The gentleman's height and cool, intimidating demeanor put her on the defensive. She knew she needed to stay on guard from the look on Jason’s face. "What's the verdict?" "It's like they first reckoned. Arson." The word left a bitter taste in her mouth, and Montana shuffled over to the sofa and sat on the edge of it. She rested her face in her hands for a long moment before raising her eyes to Jason. He took a seat in the adjacent recliner, leaned forward and put a hand on her knee. "They found evidence of the accelerant behind the boys' bunkhouse." "They think one of my kids did it?" "Among others." 203

Gracie C. McKeever "But they've already questioned everyone who was here that morning." "Not everyone." "You can't mean Seth." "No one's seen hide nor hair of him since that morning. Let's face it, Monty, that doesn't look too kosher." "I don't care how it looks. Seth couldn't have done it. He was with…" She paused and stared at him. He had no idea why she couldn't go on. He knew as well as she did what she was going to say. Jason didn't miss a beat. "So you're vouching for him? He was with you the entire time?" "Yes." "So that leaves one of the kids." "Why? It could have been one of the guests, one of the ranch han—" "The same way you're vouching for your kids and Seth is the same way I'm vouching for my people. I know they couldn't have done it. Had no reason to." She hated to be at odds with him but couldn't help voicing her own suspicions in her next question. "You think it was Jamal, don't you?" Jason shrugged again. "I haven't seen him around much lately, either. He hasn't shown up for any of the daily activities. He's never in his bunkhouse…" "What?" "Devon says he's been getting up early every morning and visiting the cookhouse before riding off on his own. Doesn't get back to the house until well in the afternoon, usually sometime after you." How had they been missing each other? Or was it that Jamal was trying to be missed? She'd been up and out for the last few days before everyone else, hadn't known what was going on in her absence, only trusted Jason and his hands to take care of everything the way they'd been doing. He'd been taking care of everything so well, he hadn't thought to mention Jamal's absences to her. There she went again, blaming someone else for not paying attention to her responsibilities. "Where's Jamal now?" "I thought he might have been with you." Montana shook her head. "And Devon?" "In the cookhouse, last I saw." Montana got up and headed for the door. Something about that little scene at the fire with Devon and Jamal the other night just didn't sit right with her, had never sat right. "Are we still taking the kids into the city this evening to see the fireworks?" Jason asked as he followed her as far as the door.

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Spells Cast in Shadows The idea of partaking in Freeborn's annual Fourth outing held little appeal for Montana at the moment. She had enough fireworks of her own to deal with at the ranch. She stalked out of the house, determined to discover what was going on between the boys. Montana came up short outside the stables when she spotted one of the kids crouched outside of Sunspot's stall obviously up to no good. It was hard to tell which kid—both Devon and Jamal were the same height and weight, with their hair done in elaborate cornbraids and usually clad in the same baggy gear—but she intended to find out soon enough. She doubled back when she saw the boy light a match to a firecracker set at her stallion's front hooves. "Stop!" Montana shouted and sprinted forward. The boy started and turned long enough for her to recognize Devon before he took off towards the cookhouse. The fuse was short and the firecracker exploded just as Montana reached her horse. The stallion reared up on his hind legs, braying in fear rather than pain, and she froze, watching in horror as his front hooves came down towards her. "Sunspot, no!" Montana raised her arms to block full contact, but still took the force of one of the stallion's hooves against a temple. She lay on the hay-strewn cement, dazed, supine, eyes closed tight as she waited for her horse's hooves to impact her ribs and crush her. But the stomp never came. Montana opened her eyes as Jamal grabbed Sunspot's reins, wondered where he had come from, and when, wondered if her eyes had been playing tricks and it had been him who'd lit the fuse and not Devon. The animal lurched around in his stall, blowing rollers but Jamal held on, cooing and trying to calm down Sunspot. Jason came in then and spotted Jamal. Montana knew he would jump to the most logical assumption: the kid had caused some trouble again, and this time someone had gotten hurt. "Jason, don't…" Montana rasped, tried to come to the boy's defense, but knew her words had not reached her cow boss's ears when he shouted at Jamal and chased the boy out of the stall before rushing to her and kneeling down to gather her upper body into his lap. "Monty, what happened?" He cupped a cheek. "What did he do?" She shook her head, tried to speak, but her tongue was like a dead thing in her mouth. "Montana?" Jason looked around frantically, spotted a wrangler nearby and yelled, "Call 911! Get an ambulance. Monty's had an accident!" Montana licked her lips, grabbed his arm, tried again to get her brain and tongue to work in concert. "Jamal di…he didn—" "I know he did, but don't worry about that now. We'll deal with him later." No. It wasn't him, Jason. He didn't do this! She tried to say the words out loud, but heavy darkness engulfed her.

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Gracie C. McKeever **** Seth glanced up at the still light sky, the sun warm and barely dipping behind the mountains in the distance. He surmised time nearing the dinner hour. His next change back to human form drew near, and so did Jamal's second of twice daily sojourns to the forest where Seth had settled. He'd been living in the woods proper, as far away from Freeborn property as he could get, surviving on fish he caught in the stream, surrounding vegetation and whatever sustenance Jamal brought him from the cookhouse. The latter he had come to welcome more than he wanted to admit. The extra food helped him to maintain his weight and strength, especially after a change. Seth had initially shunned Jamal when the boy appeared near his hiding place, calling for him. He refused to come out, realizing Jamal had seen his change the morning of the fire, and he did not want to compound the problem by confirming what the boy had witnessed. His non-response, however, did not discourage Jamal as Seth had hoped. By the second day of his exile, Seth began to look forward to the company. Jamal filled him in on what was going on at the ranch while he was away—feeding his curiosity as well as his stomach. The boy was more talkative than Seth had ever seen him and adamant that Seth needed to come back because Montana missed him. But Seth never confirmed or revealed his presence, staying close enough to listen but far away enough to give Jamal the illusion that he was alone, his secrets and weaknesses safe with only the trees and the stream for his audience. Seth heard the horse before he lowered his gaze and saw Jamal racing across the meadow, his horse's hooves trampling the rich green pasture in his haste. He noticed the look on the boy's face and knew immediately that something was wrong. Jamal leaped from his horse's back before the animal had a chance to completely stop, stumbled and ran towards the woods where he usually left food and clothes for Seth, and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Yo, Seth! You have to come quick!" He froze, uncertain. The urgency in Jamal's voice almost had him rushing from his hiding place to meet the boy. But he waited, thought perhaps Jamal's seriousness a ploy. "C'mon, Seth. This ain't no joke, yo. Monty got hurt…" The magic words. He didn't waver another moment, galloped from the trees and nudged Jamal's shoulder from behind. The kid grabbed his chest and pivoted. "I knew it! I knew what I saw." Seth nodded and brayed impatiently as he nudged Jamal again, trying to hurry along an explanation. If he'd had the ability, he would have grabbed him by the shoulders to shake him. Jamal offered a shirt and jeans. "I thought you might need some more." Seth nodded seconds before the change took him. He wanted to leave, go back to the cover of the woods so that he would not shock the boy, as well as for his own privacy. Not even Montana had witnessed his change, and he wanted to keep the people who did to an absolute minimum. 206

Spells Cast in Shadows Seth moaned and collapsed to his side, nausea gripping his entire body, a lightning bolt of pain slicing through his head and blinding him. He was vaguely aware of Jamal's gasp and stunned look, but had no time to consider them before his bones and organs began to shift, the pain making him pass out. Seth opened his eyes to see Jamal's face hovering over him. "Yo, that was some freaky shit!" Seth groaned, stood too fast and swayed. Jamal came to his side in an instant and wrapped an arm around Seth's waist, holding firm. "You okay, son?" He barely nodded, blinked, trying to get his bearings. Seth wasn't sure how long he had been out, but it felt like hours instead of what he was guessing to be minutes. He'd thought the change would get easier with time, more tolerable, but it never did, the transformation too unnatural to bear without severe physical repercussions. How long could his body keep doing this before finally giving out? Before Montana finally gave up on him? Was that Demogorgon's ultimate plan? That Seth would die during one of his changes, or that Montana would give up and opt for something or someone easier to obtain and keep? Someone normal? "C'mon, let's go." Jamal released him long enough to hand him the clothes. Seth took them, shook out and carefully stepped into the jeans. "What happened to Montana?" he asked as he donned and buttoned the shirt. "She had an accident with her horse." Seth frowned, could not imagine the seasoned rider that he knew Montana to be having an ‘accident,’ though anything was possible, especially at Freeborn. He caught Jamal by a shoulder, turned the boy to face him. "What happened, Jamal?" "Look, you're going to hear all kinds of stories, mostly lies about me, but don't believe the hype." Seth's stomach dipped, the boy's habitual slang making his head spin more than usual. "Tell me. What did you do?" "See, you're blaming me already. I didn't do anything." Seth gritted his teeth. "What happened?" "I told you. She had an accident and she's in the hospital." Goddess, this was not happening, not to Montana. Seth grabbed Jamal and led him to the horse, all his promises of staying away forgotten. The kid smiled, pulled a pair of boots and socks from a satchel on the horse's back. "Thought you might need these, too." "You have thought of everything."

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Gracie C. McKeever "Not everything. For instance, I don't know how we're going to get past her bodyguard to get in and see her." "Bodyguard?" "Makepeace. He's hanging around her like her husband and he definitely ain't letting me in to see her. You, I'm not so sure about either." Seth knew Makepeace wasn't crazy about him, but was unaware of any particular ill will between Jason and the boy, despite Jamal having made a general nuisance of himself since his arrival. He wondered exactly what type of accident had occurred and who had caused it. "I'm not going back to Freeborn. I want to stay out here with you. Forever." Seth almost laughed before he realized Jamal was serious. He stared at the boy "Why?" "They're blaming me for what happened. Everybody. Makepeace threatened to have me locked up if I show my face anywhere around Freeborn, and even if I don't. I can't go back there. They don't want me there, and I don't want to be there." "That's not true. Montana wants you there." "Yeah, well she ain't talking much." What did that mean? Was she unable to talk, or just refusing to? Seth could not imagine Montana purposely keeping the truth to herself, especially if it involved exonerating Jamal. He sat on the ground to pull on the socks and boots, then stood, mounted Jamal's horse and reached down a hand for the boy. "Get on. We'll work it out." Jamal stubbornly folded his arms across his lean chest and glared. "I'm not going back." "Jamal, you have t—" "I'll go back if you do." "It is not that simple." "Sure it is. She wants to be with you and you want to be with her." "You have seen what I am, Jamal. How can I?" "Like you said, we'll work it out." Seth chewed his bottom lip, hesitating, ready to say anything, short of lying, to get the kid moving. "Okay." "You'll come back?" "For now." Jamal grinned. "You'll talk to Monty for me? Smooth things over, make sure they don't send me away?" Seth's stomach dipped again at the idea of the orphan going through any more than he already had, and he now understood what Montana had been feeling for these kids for years, why she fought so hard to help them. He felt for Jamal as he felt for Montana, the idea of either doing without—gentle affection, blood kin, or a comfortable home—as inconceivable to him as being without Nyssa's companionship had ever been.

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Spells Cast in Shadows Goddess help him, he cared. Now what to do about it. "I will do what I can, Jamal."

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Chapter 27 "He didn't do it, Jason." "The hell he didn't. I saw him." Montana fidgeted, trying to get comfortable in the hospital's adjustable bed. Jason arranged the pillows behind her head. "Are you in any pain? Want me to get a nurse?" "What I want is for you to take a chill pill and try and listen to reason." "There's nothing to listen to. He could have killed you, Monty. He could have irreparably injured Sunspot, forced us to put the animal down." The latter bothered her more than the former. She could take care of herself. But Sunspot was just an animal with no defense against mischievous boys and pranks except the people who cared for him. "The important thing is no irreparable damage was done. Sunspot's okay, and I'm not staying here past tomorrow morning, so be ready to come pick me up and bring me back to the ranch, please." "But the doctor said—" "All my tests came back negative and I needed to stay here for a night or two of observation. I'm opting for a night." Jason frowned, shaking his head. "You're letting him get off entirely too easy. I say you should press charges for criminal mischief or something." "Against the doctor?" He glared. "You know exactly who I mean." "And I told you it wasn't Jamal." "I know what I saw."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "You didn't see everything, Jason. I did." "No one else saw Devon at the stables. And he's denying being anywhere near them." "Of course he's denying it," Montana murmured. She didn't know whether she was more ashamed for herself for expecting the boy's disavowal, or more ashamed of Devon for his cowardice and letting Jamal take the fall for his misdeed. "You know you took a pretty good kick to the head." Montana frowned, wondered where Jason's sudden change of gears was going until she realized he hadn't changed gears at all. "What are you trying to say? That my memory of the event is clouded?" "The doctor said that could be a side-effect of the trauma." Montana winced at his words as if she had been struck again, the pain behind her eyes kicking in again as if on cue. She had a killer headache but would never admit it out loud, especially in front of Jason. Maybe when he left she'd relent and ask for some pain medication, something to help her get through the night, gear up for her next confrontation and search. Right now, bless his heart, she just wanted Jason to leave. "How about we finish this when I get back to the ranch? Until then, you promise to lay off Jamal." That was if her cow boss's accusations hadn't run the boy off permanently. Montana closed her eyes and swallowed hard, worried more for the boy's safety than how she might explain his disappearance to social services in New York. She took Jason's closest hand and squeezed as she peered at him. "Just keep the peace for me until I get home, Jason. Please?" "Don't I always, ma'am?" She didn't know if he were being sincere or sarcastic, and she was angry with herself for not being sure. Maybe he was right, and her mind was clouded. Who knew what damage had been done by Sunspot's hooves? Who knew how much more damage would be done while she was languishing in this godforsaken hospital? A male nurse strolled in just then with a tray of pills, looked Jason up and down before politely saying, "Visiting hours were over a half-an-hour ago." Montana grinned. "He was just leaving." "I'll be back in the morning to pick you up." "Well now that depends on whether the doctor wants her to be released then, doesn't it?" Jason looked at the nurse as if to say, "You can try arguing with her if you want. I've got better things to do with my time." He smiled before he leaned in to give Montana a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow." "See ya." The nurse watched Jason leave before coming forward with a cup of water and some pain medication. "Nice young man."

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Gracie C. McKeever "He is," Montana agreed and noted the name on the nurse's tag—A. Lexington—as she took the two pills, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water. "Leaving tomorrow are you?" "I plan to." Lexington shook his head, clucking his tongue. "You children are always in such a hurry for everything." "Yes sir," Montana agreed rather than argue with the man. Despite his relative youth, she felt like a teen again when her mother warned her about being careful what she wished for, that being an adult wasn't the Holy Grail. Montana usually got the harangue whenever she asserted her independence or became rebellious. But unlike other children, who wanted to follow and do what all their friends were doing, she had wanted to do the opposite, had always been different. The pony-man had made her different, his existence, and her discovery of him as a child, shaping her life, the person she had become, everything she was. Next to her mother abandoning her and Dusty and Michael Freeborn adopting her, it was the most important life-altering event in her existence. She wondered what her birth mother would have thought of Seth, and whether or not she too would have deemed Montana's imagination wild as had the man and woman who had raised her. Did her mother have the psychic abilities that Montana had inherited, or had it been her father? Would it have been any easier to explain Seth and the spell to Dusty Freeborn? Would Montana have even been on the ranch to meet Seth had her parents lived? Or would she had been with the Service full-time, gallivanting across the country on one environmental-saving issue or another as had been her plan all through junior high school? "Can't wait to get back to those kids of yours, huh?" Lexington asked now. When she heard it from his mouth, in that gentle Jamaican accent, it sounded like they really were Montana's children, ones she'd carried for nine months and birthed and not just kids she took care of a couple of months out of the year. But she guessed the way Rashawn and Sasha and the rest of the gang had hovered over her during visiting hours before being banished showed a certain amount of familial proprietary. Except for Devon. She'd noticed he'd remained decidedly distant the entire while he'd been at the hospital. Guilty conscience no doubt. "I'll bet you're in a hurry to get home to that young man of yours, too," Lexington said, smiling and winking. Montana silently grinned, not ready to explain about Seth, except the kindness and sincerity in the man's expression and tone urged her to confide. "It's another young man, not the one who just left." "A triangle?" Montana shook her head, almost laughed at his naughty tone. She could see where someone might get such a lurid idea. "It's a little more complicated than that."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Only if you make it so, child." How could she explain, what analogy could she use that would make the nurse see how impossible her relationship with Seth was? "This other one… Do you love him?" Montana gasped as if she'd been doused with cold water, stared at the nurse for a long speechless moment before finally murmuring, "More than anything." "Well, if he loves you, then there's nothing to worry about. You'll work it out." When put so confidently, Montana didn't see the problem, thought that she and Seth could work it out. And if it weren't for the little matter of a certain spell causing her lover's periodic transformation from man to horse, maybe they would work it out. Demogorgon had so far been unmerciful, and Montana knew he would continue to be, even if she begged. God knew, despite her fear, she would. She would do anything she needed to help Seth, but she didn't know the first thing about contacting the Black Elf outside of her visions. She had to figure out how to break the spell on her own! Montana yawned, suddenly felt light headed and couldn't decide if it was the blow she'd taken to the head, the medication Lexington had given her, or just the weightiness of the discussion and her thoughts, only that she had the urge to sleep. She settled back against her pillows and closed her eyes, vaguely aware when the nurse came behind her to plump her pillows and lowered the head of the bed with the electronic control. "He'll be here tonight." "Your young man?" Montana nodded, unsure why she knew, but she could feel him, feel his essence nearby— power pent-up but palpable, waiting for an outlet. "Well, we'll see what we can do about him coming in to see you." "Promise?" "Cross my heart." "Seth. His name is Seth. I really need to see him." "You just go to sleep, child. All will be well." Lexington caressed her hair, gently pushing several unruly curls away from Montana's face and patting a cheek with a soft warm palm. Montana had drifted off on his calming, lightly accented voice before his touch spurred her into a vision. She saw Seth sprinting across a meadow. He was a horse. She felt herself frown in her sleep, fourteen again when no one believed her and a pony-man and her visions were her only companions. She whimpered as she ran across the field to meet him, came up short when a luminescent entity suddenly appeared in front of her.

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Gracie C. McKeever The entity looked like Lexington. It floated and shimmered in and out of view, a fleeting image in white. Reality stepped into her dream world and another reflection finally, smoothly replaced it. The Fair Elf. Something about the nurse/elf touched a deep part of her—below memories and free will—intimate like a shadow, visceral like a visit to the future, had her grasping for the feelings of acceptance and certainty that accompanied her sleep; had her grasping for the knowledge that everything would turn out all right. You'll work it out…all will be well. Montana wanted to believe this so badly, wanted to believe more fiercely than she had believed in anything in her life, more than she had ever trusted her gifts, as much as she had believed in the existence of Seth and his kind. The nurse/elf’s assurances seeped into Montana's bones, flowed through and mingled with her psychic soul. Then Alyosha took shape before her mind's eye, his ethereal, paternal visage superimposed the nurse's younger brown face until the images melded and became one: that of the Fair Elf. "You know how to break the spell, Montana Freeborn. The answer is in you, as it is in the centaur. You must now convince him." "But I don't know! I would have broken it long ago." "Believe. It is in you. You will know what to do when the time is right." She usually enjoyed sinking her deductive teeth into puzzles, but communicating with Alyosha in her dreams made her question this particular bent. If ever the time was right, it had been several days ago when Seth had first changed! Why in God's name would she not have wanted to break the spell then? **** Seth took a chance by boldly entering the hospital at the front entrance. He walked to the information desk and asked for patient information on Montana Freeborn. The young woman behind the station smiled and directed him to General Medicine on the eighth floor. "You think it's a trap?" Jamal asked as they got onto the elevator. Seth looked at the boy but said nothing of his concerns. The last time he had seen a look as had been on the face of the young woman at the information desk, elfin glamour had been at play. Was she under Alyosha’s influence, or Demogorgon’s? Were he and Jamal walking into some sort of trap? They arrived on eight and stopped at the nurse's station, greeted by a young male nurse. "Visiting hours were over quite some time ago, you two," he said bluntly. "It is imperative that we see Montana."

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Spells Cast in Shadows "Mmm-hmm. I know all about imperative, Seth Phoenix." He looked up from his paperwork to fix Seth with a stare. Seth shivered, but remained silent to hide his alarm. This man was under no one's inveiglement, elfin or otherwise. The nurse turned a speculative gaze on the boy. "And you must be Jamal." Seth put a hand on the boy's shoulder and drew him close before Jamal could answer. "He is one of Montana's children." "She's worried about the both of you, you know," the nurse chided then clucked disapprovingly before pointing them to Montana's room. "I'll be in near dawn before my shift is over, and you two better be gone by the time I do." He glanced at them over the rim of his spectacles, grinned, and winked before waving them away. Seth did a double-take, caught the flash of another image attached to the nurse's face— cerulean eyes staring out of an older face with long white hair tucked behind pointed ears— totally incongruous with the face of the young black man whose name-tag read A. Lexington. "What was that all about?" Jamal asked and Seth wondered if he had seen the elf, too. He shook his head in response, led Jamal down the hall to Montana's room, and froze on the threshold. Seth held his breath, taken in by her beauty and silent strength all over again. Even in repose her energy floated out to him on a dizzying zephyr of emotion. "You going in or not, homeboy?" Jamal pushed him into the room, and Seth took several tentative steps toward the bed. "I'm going to check on my horse. I'll wait for you downstairs." "Wait…" Seth turned to stop him, but Jamal had already disappeared down the hall. He wished he could escape as easily, but did not have the luxury of dragging himself away from her now that he was here—so close, yet so far. Montana groaned and tossed in her sleep, flung a hand out as if fending someone off. He ventured closer, took the seat beside the bed and drew it as close as he could without getting in the bed with her. Seth inhaled deeply, drinking in her familiar sweet-tangy musk perceptible beneath the medication-laden air. He swallowed her in until his erection grew to painful proportions, straining against the zipper on his jeans as if impatient to get to the woman in the bed. He'd gone through at least three transformations without her, had half convinced himself that he was doing the right thing in staying away, the best thing for everyone involved. He'd told himself she could have a life without him. He knew that Jason was waiting in the wings to replace him. He'd always swallow down the bitterness at that last thought and replace it with the thought of Montana finding normalcy, a modicum of happiness with Makepeace if Seth were not in the picture. But then he'd return to human form, and for those brief twelve hours he'd dream and remember what it was like to hold Montana in his arms, remember what it was like to wake up

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Gracie C. McKeever beside her, be inside her. Then he was willing to do whatever it took to be with her, even beg a governing body to break the spell, or change her to match his form. He thought he truly knew what thoughts had been coursing through his father's mind when he'd ordered Thyra's transformation, understood the desperation. Understood the power of Cercyon's love, love powerful enough to force a decision that could have been irreversibly wrong. Seth swallowed hard, unwilling to admit to such emotion, even to himself. He could not have her. He should not love her. Loving her would only make it more difficult to leave her when the time came only a few hours from now. Loving her would only make him more vulnerable than he already was. Who knew if this had not been his downfall, the missing element that had clinched Demogorgon's spell: his feelings for Montana. Could it be that simple? Could denying her, his feelings for her, reverse the spell? But wouldn't that be like denying his own heritage, what little there was left of it? Seth shook his head as if to ward off his thoughts, didn't like the direction in which they were going. He'd been punished once for denying truths, ignoring warnings and signs. He could not afford to be so egotistical and negligent again. Montana shifted again, turning on her side to face him. Seth sat very still, waited for her to open her eyes in accusation and anger. But her eyes remained closed, and for a little while longer he was free to observe her, free to pretend that everything was normal, that they were an everyday couple that had hit a temporary bump in the road. There were no Black or Fair Elves casting spells, no Directorate banishing him, no displeased parents or elder sibling telling him that his feelings and actions were wrong. The words came to him, rising up from his chest to his vocal chords, tickling the edges of his throat, creeping towards his mouth with the force of feelings he denied. I love you. He didn't say them, swallowing hard as if to banish the words as he had been banished, as if not saying them would give them less meaning, take away their power, when in fact denying them only made them stronger. His feelings germinated until he was a walking ball of passion, his emotions plainly etched in every fiber of his being like DNA. Seth reached out a hand to gently brush a tendril of hair away from her face. Montana sighed but did not move. He wondered if she were drugged. He was relieved yet frustrated that she did not wake and give him a chance to defend his absence. He was disappointed that he could not look into her eyes, and assimilate her strength. "I couldn't stay away." Seth started at the whisper, turned to see Jamal standing in the doorway. He had not considered the consequences before now, how much trouble the boy could cause he and Montana with his memories of Seth's transformation. There was something comforting in having someone other than clan know he existed. The same comforting something that had kept him from tampering with the mind of a bright and curious five-year-old girl.

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Spells Cast in Shadows He knew he could not allow Jamal his recall indefinitely, but he could not bear to wipe out the boy's recollections. Not yet anyway. "Is she all right?" Jamal asked now, slowly stepping over the threshold to make his way over to where Seth sat. "She's well. Just sleeping." "Sunspot really clocked her." Seth frowned at the alien phraseology, but surmised that Jamal referred to the black and blue bruise on Montana's temple. He'd cringed when he'd first seen it, but other than the welt, she appeared otherwise undamaged. "Are you going to stay?" "Against my better judgment, I made you one promise, Jamal. This promise, however, I cannot keep." "I'm going to tell her where you are then. Where you've been the entire time." This was his opening, the excuse he needed to do what should have been done long ago except that Jamal was threatening to do exactly what Seth wanted him to. He realized he and the boy were using each other, and he did not have one qualm about it, either. Not if the boy keeping his memories kept Seth's hope alive. Not if it would give him another chance with Montana. He should feel horrible that he was plotting this way; should feel guilty that he hadn't been at Freeborn when Montana had been injured (who knew if he couldn't have prevented it?) But he couldn't find it in himself to feel horrible or guilty. Seth stood, gave her one last longing look, then turned and put his hand on Jamal's shoulder as he walked him to the door. "I'm serious, son. I'm going to tell her where you've been hanging." A threat. A promise. Seth's hope and wish. He grinned. "You must do what you must do. As must we all."

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Chapter 28 Sapphiran Colony Seth Phoenix had grown irreversibly attached to the human female, a reality that Demogorgon had not seriously considered when first he had agreed to the terms of Thyra's capitulation. The situation had him more than a little concerned and more than a lot angry. He supposed the centaur's feelings were inevitable, should have known better than to underestimate the power of human passion, and centaur lust; should have known better than to underestimate the power of time constantly spent in one another's company. Until now, Demogorgon had allowed nature to take its course. He could not help a little nudge here and there in his favor. However, he felt the emotions brewing between the centaur and female, knew how much they cared about each other, a deepness of sentiment that went beyond the physical bonds they shared to a spiritual link. Soul mates. Demogorgon sneered at the term. He'd once thought he and Thyra were soul mates, but the human-turned-centaur had quickly killed this notion when she'd taken up with Cercyon. Taking into account Phoenix's heritage, who the centaur's mother was and had been, he realized that he needed to put more power behind his nudging, imperative now that he separate the pair permanently, or at least until the end of his deadline. By then, it would not matter whether the young centaur professed his feelings or not. Barring a miracle, Thyra would be his. A miracle. Demogorgon sniffed in derision. He’d been feeling the presence of that interfering Fair Elf for more days now than he cared to count. He knew his old nemesis was ready to make a play, try some explicit good deed to salve his fair-minded conscience and to thwart Demogorgon's plans for the odd couple.

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Spells Cast in Shadows He had to make a preemptive strike, ensure that Alyosha did not interfere further than his helpful Jamaican nurse act. He had to ensure that Phoenix and the woman did not stumble upon the spell breaker. As much as he loathed taking advantage of a disadvantaged mundane, he knew that he had no choice but to connect with his pawn, ensure that the woman and centaur did not reunite before the last full moon of the deadline. Only a couple of days, but so much could happen by then, only a matter of time before a wagging tongue verbalized a heart's passion. He could not chance Phoenix and the woman being in the same vicinity, not with the way each felt about the other. The centaur had been close, had almost said the words at the woman's bedside, and the only reason Phoenix had not divulged his feelings was a thin thread of uncertainty and selfpreservation. Demogorgon had sensed the centaur's denial and fear. He understood both emotions well through his own limited experience with Thyra Phoenix. He knew how easy it was to let romanticism force one to act against one's nature. If he could fall prey to emotion, he a powerful and shrewd elf invulnerable to most forms of provocation and sentimentality, then surely a lusty hybrid centaur could be susceptible to the wiles of a sensual human female. Seth Phoenix could admit his love as much as he wanted, as long as he did it long after the deadline. Demogorgon might even find it in his heart to lift the spell then. Might. **** Freeborn Ranch, Colorado Springs, CO—Eve of Second Full Moon Montana watched the Freeborn Ranch come into view as the cab driver rounded the bend several yards outside of the front gates. She was not looking forward to the unaccustomed silence and solitude that awaited her behind the closed doors of her house. Richard was dead, Seth was still MIA, and Jason didn't yet know she had signed out of the hospital, so had no reason to greet her unless she had the misfortune of being spotted by one of the night hawks or her kids who'd spread word of her arrival. Montana did not want to deal with the fanfare and fuss that would accompany her appearance, so she’d left the hospital earlier than expected just to avoid the welcome she anticipated. She hadn't wanted to wait around for Jason to pick her up. It was enough she had agreed to stay for an extra day of observation, caving to both his and her doctor's cajoling. She wasn't going to languish any longer than necessary, not when there were things she needed to straighten out. Not while there was a spell she needed to break. Montana fidgeted in the taxi's new-leather backseat, not sure at all if she could pull off the Fair Elf's plan, especially when he had yet to let her in on what it was.

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Gracie C. McKeever She was frustrated more now than she had been in the hospital. She sighed and opened her handbag, preparing to pay the driver when a figure rushed at the vehicle from the underbrush. Reflexes working overtime, the driver broke to an abrupt stop, just avoiding impact. Montana grabbed the overhead strap, and started when she recognized Jamal peering at her with an appealing, urgent look that made her heart stutter. She hit the power button to lower the back window to the decided rants of the driver. "Are you out of your mind? You could have gotten killed!" Seeing him come at her in the dwindling light of early evening, reminded her all too well of Seth coming at her in the meager light of dawn; it reminded her all too well of her sickening helplessness. God, were they all trying to give her a heart attack? "I have to talk to you, Monty." She palmed her chest as if to slow her suddenly speeding heart, beating not out of fear or even suspicion, but curiosity. "How did you know I'd be coming home today?" Jamal shrugged. "I wasn't sure. I've been on the look out for you and took a chance." Montana didn't want to touch that one with a vaulting pole. "Ma'am, are ya getting out here, or ya want me to take ya up to the house?" "I'm getting out here," she said, paying the driver with one hand as she opened the back door with the other and got out to join Jamal on the side of the road. They stood side by side in silence as the taxicab made a U-turn and headed off Freeborn's property. Then Montana turned to the boy, arms folded across her chest as she glared at him. Jamal didn't flinch, just stared back at her, a direct look of confidence and determination typical to the pure of heart. Montana knew in that instant that he hadn't had anything to do with the incident in the stable. Until this moment, she hadn't realized she had already exonerated him in her heart despite her head injury and what Jason and the rest of the wranglers and camp attendees thought, despite all the circumstantial evidence pointing his way. "Devon did it, didn't he?" she said, unable to hold it in any longer. Jamal raised his brows, the only indication that he was surprised with her faith in him. "He lit the firecracker. I don't know about the fire, though." "But you suspected him?" "Only because I knew about the fireworks he'd bought in town on our last visit, and I didn't know what started the fire." "It wasn't fireworks." He sighed in relief. "I didn't want it to be him." "How can you protect him after he was willing to let you take the fall for him?" Jamal shrugged again. "I understand where he's coming from. He didn't mean to hurt anyone. He just…he just wanted attention."

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Spells Cast in Shadows Montana smiled, wondered if Jamal realized that he was describing himself and what a softy he had become since he'd been at Freeborn. She thought twice about telling him she'd rubbed off on him, but didn't want to distance him since they were finally getting along so well. "So, what brings you out here? Aside from scaring the bejeesus out of me?" For the first time since his appearance, he seemed nervous, unsure of himself, shuffling his feet as he averted his gaze. Montana approached and put one hand on his shoulder and the other under his chin to bring his gaze back to hers. "They been giving you a hard time since I've been in the hospital?" She'd given Jason strict orders to lay off the accusations, that she'd handle Jamal when she arrived home, but with the state he'd been in directly after the accident, she wasn't so sure he'd respect her wishes. "I haven't been around that much, so I guess I didn't notice." "Oh? So where have you been?" He offered his hand. “I’ll show you.” In the few seconds it took her to put her hand in his and let him lead her back into the underbrush, Montana’s heart tripped in anticipation. **** Sapphiran Colony, Somewhere In Colorado—Eve of Second Full Moon Thyra carefully prepared for her meeting with Demogorgon, donning first her gold diadem with floral patterns and an Eros in the center. Next, she put on a harmonic gold hair ornament, then a pair of gold bracelets and matching filigree earrings decorated with the theme of The Original Cross. Finally, she topped off her ensemble with a gold pectoral adornment from her bridal costume. She wanted the Black Elf to get her message loud and clear. She was regent, belonged to Cercyon, and would carry herself befitting the mate of a royal. She would not appear weak or vulnerable before Demogorgon, did not want to seem beaten and hopeless, despite her attitude resembling each of these. The very sanguine tone with which the Black Elf had summoned her earlier in the day had not boded well and told Thyra all she needed to know about the outcome of Endre's trip. Her eldest had failed to locate his sibling in time. She did not put it past Demogorgon to have blocked Endre's tracking abilities the way he had blocked the truth from her with elfin glamour. How could she have been so naïve as to believe the Black Elf would stand by their agreement? That he would not use trickery or charms to suit his needs? Because she'd wanted to believe the best of him, an error in judgment she continued to make despite the act, so many centuries ago, that had led to her being in Sapphira, despite knowing of what chaos the Black Elf was capable. She was a fool!

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Gracie C. McKeever Thyra abruptly averted her eyes from the gilt-edged mirror across the tent, lowered her face to her hands, tears that she refused to shed filling her eyes. She took a deep if shaky breath to steady herself, swallowing over the lump in her throat as she pulled her face out of her hands to face her reflection again. She stood straight, thrust out her breasts and pulled back her shoulders. She would not cry. She would not feel sorry for herself. No self-pity or regret. She no longer owned these luxuries, not since the attack on her village, not since she'd become a centaur. She'd gone to Demogorgon with her eyes open. He'd had something she wanted and she'd bartered with her only commodity to get it: herself. If that was what it took to keep her son safe, then it was a deal well made. Safe. But happy? Not if the images in the Black Elf's sphere were any indication. Stop this, Thyra! Alive and banished is better than dead. With life, her son could work towards the possibility of happiness. At least her choices had given him a chance, as his father's choices had given her and her unborn son so long ago. Endre. Her eldest. An aberration. An abomination. Her son. They had been condemned—mother and unborn child—dangerous at worst, offensive at best, unknown quantities with which Sapphirans had been too fainthearted and unwilling to deal. And without Cercyon, Thyra and her unborn son would have been sacrificed to Nemesis and the Sapphiran Gods of propriety. The only thing she regretted now was that she would be going to her appointment with the Black Elf alone. Thyra jerked her head when Cercyon burst through the tent flaps. Her heart caught in her throat at the powerful sight of him. She looked at the bow and quiver full of arrows slung across his back, the gold pectoral ornament with filigree, and amber inlay adorning his muscular chest, and the matching gold diadem in place of his customary cloth headband. His unaccustomed ceremonial attire matched hers and told her he was prepared for battle. "Cercyon, I…I thought you were going on a hunting expedition." "I had more important business to attend." He peered at her, did not move from his place at the entrance of the tent. His stance was so adversarial and staunch, Thyra thought he meant to block her departure and when she walked across the floor to exit, his hand whipped out to grasp her arm, solidifying this notion. "I know why you did what you did, Thyra. Why you felt you needed to." His words were soft, not unlike his touch, surprising her with their intensity, forcing her to glance up into his eyes. "Cercyon, how did you—?" "Endre."

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Spells Cast in Shadows By Nemesis, what had her eldest done? She had never in a thousand years believed he would tell his father about her pact, only half-hopeful that he would actually carry out his threat. "Rest assured our son broke no bonds without much prodding." "Tell me you did not blame him, Cercyon. He was only doing as I requested. He had no foreknowledge of my arrangement." "I blame no one except the one with whom you bartered." Thyra liberated the breath anxiety had imprisoned in her lungs, saw the glint of anger and determination in her mate's silver gaze, the color so like her lost youngest son's that she choked back a sob for fear of appearing unbalanced. Cercyon released her then, and she gracefully fell to her knees as she grasped his large hands in her smaller ones. "I have made my peace with this, sire. Please do not punish Endre or keep me from my obligation." "So you have capitulated, my heart?" "I have no choice. My way is set. The Black Elf has won." Cercyon shook his head, gaze softening as he caressed a cheek before reaching a hand down to her. Thyra accepted his help, got to her feet unsteadily, giddy with his benevolence. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close enough that their heartbeats seemed to touch, pulsing in synch. "Fear not, my heart. Endre will not be punished. And the Black Elf has won nothing yet. Another way has been found. I only regret that I did not choose it sooner." She could not speak. After so many weeks of keeping secret what she had done behind his back, she was not prepared for Cercyon's easy acceptance. She was unprepared for his espousal. Then she pulled back to stare into his eyes and remembered why she had finally relented and taken this being as her mate hundreds of years ago. Why she had fallen in love with him: Cercyon's strength and mercy knew no bounds. Often he had to balance the two, and not everyone came out on the long end of his decisions. Not even his own son. Suddenly curious as to this ‘alternate way,’ Thyra asked, "You know about the spell he has cast on our son? You know how to break it?" "I do not." Cercyon shook his head and made her heart drop in despair before he gathered her close to him again. "But I know someone who can."

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Chapter 29 Montana felt him as she mounted Sunspot, the Fair Elf's presence a vibrant, comforting glow hovering over them, illuminating their way as she helped Jamal onto the stallion. The boy slid his arms around her waist, cuddled close the way she wanted to hold Seth. Not much longer now, Montana. Good. I don't think I could hold out much more if it was. She heard him chuckle, a distinct masculine sound of amusement riding the wind through the lush trees to her ears, vibrating down her spine. "What was that?" Jamal asked behind her, holding tighter as if he sensed the elf, too. She sank into his touch, drawing strength and comfort from his puerile dependency, centered herself as she inhaled his young pungent-sweet male musk, a reminder of spunky childhood and innocence. "Probably just the wind," she said. His question, his reaction, made her wonder how much the boy knew beyond Seth's transformation. Had Seth mentioned his true heritage? Had he mentioned the spell or the elves? Montana doubted that he would endanger her that way, endanger their relationship, but wondered if perhaps he had not had a choice in the matter. How else had he garnered the boy's assistance? How else did Jamal know Seth's whereabouts when no one else did, unless her ponyman had taken a chance and trusted the boy, enlisted his help? Montana suddenly noticed the bay stallion in the distance, pacing outside a thicket leading into the forest. His shiny red-brown coat glistened beneath the fading sun, and she recognized the impatience and power in his carriage. She spurred Sunspot ahead, eager to reach Seth as the change took hold of him.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "There he is!" Jamal pointed to the copse where Seth had collapse and was writhing in misery, shifting before their eyes. Her ears perked when she caught the sound of an engine speeding up behind them. Montana foolishly thought it might have been the taxi driver doubling back, that perhaps she had not tipped him properly. Then she turned and saw the SUV bearing down on them, kicking up sorrel dust and gravel in its wake. "What is it?" Jamal asked when she slowed. "I'm not sure." Had Jason caught her scent? Had he seen the incident at the gate and decided to light into her for leaving the hospital early and returning to the ranch without letting him pick her up? These musings quickly fled as the vehicle neared and Montana recognized the NFS emblem on the side. Montana held firm to Sunspot's reins as the horse pranced and whinnied, obviously spooked. And it wasn't just the vehicle's appearance that upset him. It was the driver exiting the vehicle. "David! What are you doing out here?" It was the best she could come up with, the only way she knew to stall him. She couldn't let him see what was happening to Seth several yards away. That was, if he hadn't seen it already. "I'm running a little errand for a friend and needed to talk to you." He didn't sound like himself, his voice monotone and spiritless, almost unrecognizable. Montana frowned, peering at his face as he advanced, and even in the waning light she noticed his blank expression. No one was home, or more accurately, someone was home, it just wasn't David Mendelsohn. "Yo, what's up with this dude?" Jamal whispered against her back. "I'll handle him." Montana cautiously guided Sunspot backwards. "David, you need to go home. We'll talk later when you're more yourself." "I've never been more myself than I am now." Montana doubted it. "I just want to talk to you." David took several more steps forward, and Sunspot neighed in protest, rearing up on his hind legs as if to fend off an attack. "Sunspot, no. Whoa, boy!" The stallion ignored her, too agitated and beyond reason as David ran towards them and grabbed the reins. Montana felt Jamal's grip tighten around her middle as she tried to wrest the reins from David and lost her balance. She and Jamal tumbled back off Sunspot, landing hard in the dirt, and the horse bolted. "Now, was that necessary?" David came into her line of sight, blocking her view of the darkening summer sky as she lay supine with Jamal unmoving beneath her.

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Gracie C. McKeever She groaned, shook her head, and got to her knees to check on him. David seized her around an arm and dragged her to her feet. "Let me go, David! This isn't you." He didn't respond, merely pulled her along. "At least let me help the boy." "He'll be fine. You, on the other hand…" She noticed the mist ahead of them, rising up to block her view of Seth, iridescent light surrounding the dark presence within before a figure solidified and replaced the cloud. Montana thought it Alyosha, that he was finally making an appearance and ready to help her with solid answers and not cryptic hints. But her heart dropped when she recognized the Black Elf instead. "Oh, God." "Not quite, Montana." His voice was deep, alighting from everywhere and nowhere, shuddering and burrowing in her mind like a powerful incantation. Montana shook her head again, sure she was on the verge of losing her mind when three more figures appeared at the forest's border behind Seth—two centaurs and another elf. She recognized them all immediately. "Alyosha!" She tried to break away from David, but he pulled her into his arms, lifted her an inch off the ground, and imprisoned her against him. "Stop it, David! You have to let me go." "Can you not do something, Leksi?" Cercyon demanded. "One elf cannot break another elf's spell. They must unravel it." Alyosha's tone was matter-of-fact as he motioned to Seth and Montana with a barely perceptible nod. "What do you mean? I thought you were here to unravel it?" Thyra looked from Alyosha to Cercyon. When neither responded, she turned on Demogorgon. "Release him, Black Elf. There is no need to keep him enthralled any longer. You have won. I will go with you." Cercyon squeezed her shoulder. "Thyra, no." "If Alyosha cannot help us, then we have lost." "Not cannot, dearest Thyra. Will not," Demogorgon murmured. Montana struggled against David's inhuman hold to no avail. She choked back a sob of helplessness as the Black Elf floated towards Seth's mother. She couldn't let this go any further without getting to Seth. He looked more helpless than she felt, utterly vulnerable. Obviously still recovering from his latest transformation, he lay on his side, naked and drenched in perspiration, panting beneath the low-hanging trees. "What are you saying?" Thyra asked Demogorgon since Alyosha appeared incapable, or unwilling to defend himself.

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Spells Cast in Shadows "The Fair Elf will not interfere. At least no more than he has already." The Black Elf made a dramatic show of examining the fingernails of one hand. "I, on the other hand, am bound by no such moral obliga—" "Mother?" Seth stirred from his stupor, rising up on one knee as Thyra rushed to him and knelt at his side. "Shh, do not move, my son. You are still weak." Seth accepted her hand but ignored her warning and shakily got to his feet. "If you will all excuse my intrusion, I have more pressing matters to attend than this maudlin theater." Demogorgon suddenly raised a fist and turned it from one side to the other. Thyra gasped, clutched her throat with both hands and collapsed to her side, mute. "Mother!" "Thyra!" Both Cercyon and Seth hurried to her side. "Stop it!" Montana shouted. "Why don't you fight fair, you bastard!" Demogorgon's only response was to laugh, a deep and hardy sound that started from his toes and shook his entire body before he suddenly turned a glare on her. "You do not know of what you speak, human. Better that you stay out of matters that do not concern you." Something in the back of her mind told her to stand down, but the anger boiling through her veins told her something different. Anger and Alyosha's assurances told her to keep going. You know how to break the spell…You will know what to do when the time is right. "This does concern me. Anything to do with the Phoenix family concerns me." Demogorgon smiled, turned from her to glance down at the centaur trio huddled together, his attention riveted to Cercyon. "For centuries I have lived in your shadow, Cercyon. No more will I want the unattainable. At the end of this night, Thyra will belong to me." "Never." Cercyon slowly rose, reached over his shoulder for an arrow in his quiver. Demogorgon directed a finger at the royal and fired a sheet of lightning into his chest. "No!" Seth stood and froze when Demogorgon turned his aim on him. "And you," the Black Elf snarled. "You and your sire have been the bane of my existence for more centuries than I care to remember. Your ill-gotten brother was but a minor obstacle. But with your conception, the arrival of a true prince, I lost any chance of winning your mother." "My mother does not love you," Seth said simply. "And you would know all about love, young centaur?" "I know my mother and my father."

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Gracie C. McKeever "Perhaps that will comfort you through your years of inescapable transformation in the human world." Demogorgon smirked and gave him an ironic look. "Or, you may even find solace in this, Phoenix: your mother's fate was in your hands all along. And you failed her." Montana felt the pull in her mind and glanced at Alyosha. Before now a silent observer with nothing at stake, he looked back at her with a grim smile. She heard his words again, a chant playing peekaboo with her memories, wreaking havoc with her will. Visions from the hospital, an impeccable sense of déjà vu assailed her and she clearly saw the rest of the current scene fall into place before her. She knew what she had to do. She had to die.

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Chapter 30 Seth staggered back from Demogorgon's verbal barbs as if from a physical attack. He would not have been more stunned had the Black Elf discharged a lightning bolt into his chest. He could not—would not—allow the dark fairy's insolence to go unpunished. He was a royal, son of Cercyon and Thyra of the House of Phoenix of Sapphira. The king was incapacitated, unable to defend himself or his family's honor. The duty fell to Seth. He swallowed down bile, winced at the pain surrounding him, waves emanated from his parents and Jamal who lay unconscious in the distance. He felt his father's strong heart sputter, felt his mother's mellifluous voice stifled. He would have to go through the Black Elf to make things right again. Demogorgon stalked him. Seth glowered, standing his ground, poised between the elf and his parents. "You cannot have my mother without going through me first." The Black Elf gritted his teeth. "Do not tempt me, centaur." "Do not threaten me, elf." "You have not begun to see threat, young prince." "Then you will have to kill me." "I will be too happy to oblige…" Demogorgon sneered, slowly raising a hand—the same one he'd used to strike down Cercyon and Thyra—before Montana screamed. Seth sensed her on the edge of his consciousness rather than saw her break free from David's grasp. She slammed her head back against his before sinking her booted heels into the man's insteps.

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Gracie C. McKeever David howled and as soon as he released her, Montana turned, grabbed a handful of his hair, jerked him down and forward, and kneed him in the nose. David toppled over, palms shoved against his face to staunch the flow of blood. Then she was on the move, charging towards Demogorgon and Seth, hastily closing the distance between her life and Seth's, shrieking at the top of her lungs like an Amazon on the warpath. Dark eyes closed tight, arms outstretched, an impossible gesture of blind faith, she flung herself through the air. Seth gawked, never more proud of and afraid for her than he was in that moment. His heart dropped an instant before she flew towards him, and he realized what she intended to do. The Black Elf released another bolt. Goddess, no! Montana's body jerked in midair, electricity suffusing her in an agonizing hiss of energy before she landed at Seth’s feet in a quivering heap of heat and smoke. Each element issued from her back as the smell of charred flesh drifted to him on a nauseating wind of reminiscence. Demogorgon roared, delivering a string of expletives audible from the fields of Sapphira to the mountains of Oreias. Alyosha chuckled at the other elf's wrath, and Seth gaped as he sank to his knees at Montana’s side, flabbergasted and beyond grief. The Fair Elf dared laugh when the woman Seth loved lay dead? He leaped to his feet in a blind rage, fists clenched as he stalked towards Alyosha. The ground beneath them trembled violently. Seth froze and planted his feet, yet unsteady after his change. He felt another coming on now, thought either Alyosha or Demogorgon had decided to punish him for his impudence, the fury of this transformation like no other. He sensed the difference as soon as the shimmering ring of light and warmth emerged from the ground between him and the Fair Elf. Still half-exhausted, he did not think he would be able to take the trauma of another conversion so soon after his last one. The ring hovered a measureless moment before settling on Seth, encircling and thrusting him several feet off the ground, massive discharges of light and energy injecting into his body, twirling him around like debris in a tornado. Yet there was no bone crunching pain, no gut-wrenching nausea, or any of the other unpleasant sensations that usually accompanied his changes. Only renewal. When the ring released him, lowering Seth to the ground several seconds after claiming him, he met land weak and shaky, but on two feet. He was still human. "Seth?" He turned to see Montana standing between his parents and Alyosha, a dazed look on her beautiful face.

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Spells Cast in Shadows By Goddess, she was alive! Seth rushed to her, grasped her in a desperate embrace before planting fervent kisses over her face and lazily smoothing his hands down her body. Montana returned his hug, pulling away to catch her breath and stare at him before they chorused, "You're alive." She giggled, framing his face between her hands, eyes welling as she traced the chiseled angles of his high cheekbones with her fingers. "I didn't think I'd ever see you alive again." "Nor I you." Demogorgon spat onto the ground several feet away, released another curse as the couple turned to him. "The spell is broken," Alyosha said. "And you, Black Elf, have lost." "For the moment." "This moment is all that concerns me now." Demogorgon pinned Alyosha with a hateful glare, made an unpleasant gagging noise in his throat before disappearing amidst a whirlpool of sweeping burgundy robe and Colorado dust. Alyosha coughed, waving a hand in front of his face as he turned to Montana and Seth, shaking his head and snickering at the Black Elf's melodramatic departure. "He always was a show-off." Seth could think of several other terms to describe Demogorgon, and none of them were as understated or flattering as the Fair Elf's description. Alyosha approached, grasped Seth by a shoulder, and peered at him. "You are sure about this? Remaining here and human? It is not too late to change your mind." Seth swallowed over the lump in his throat and glanced at his mother and father. He knew what his mother wanted to hear, that she and Cercyon would move heaven and earth to make his return possible. But he could not go back, indeed, no longer desired to. He looked at Montana beside him and pulled her close to his side. "I am sure." Alyosha nodded, stepped back and raised his arms in a lavish encompassing gesture that churned the air around them and shook the trees. Seth watched as Jamal and Montana's friend disappeared. Montana gasped and caught his arm. "Seth…?" "Where did you send them, elf?" He paused, stared at Seth, benevolent cerulean eyes warming him from the inside out. Not since Montana had come into his life had a look made Seth feel so trustworthy. "I sent them back to the ranch. Both are mended and well and will have no memories of the last two weeks." Alyosha said. “And the fire? Will David be—?”

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Gracie C. McKeever “Everything will be taken care of with the marshal’s office.” He gave Montana an indulgent smile. “Do all the arrangements meet with your approval now?” She nodded, almost shyly hiding in Seth's embrace before the Fair Elf approached and caressed her face. "Be well, my child. And be happy." He stepped back, raised his arms again and mimicked Demogorgon's disappearing act down to the eddying robe and cloud of dust in his wake. Seth took Montana by the hand, and led her to his parents where she gracefully got down on her knees before them, directing her warm brown gaze at each centaur in turn. "I am honored to finally meet you both," she murmured. Thyra graced her with a warm smile to which Seth was well accustomed. "The honor is all ours," she said, offering a hand. "Please child, you of all people do not need to kneel before us. You saved our son's life." "He saved mine." Thyra grinned and turned to Seth. "I can see why you wish to stay." "I am sorry to displease you, Mother." "I am not displeased. I am only glad to know that you are well and…happy?" Seth gazed at Montana and smiled. "I am." Thyra nodded and took Cercyon's hand in hers before both silently turned towards the forest without a further word, vanishing behind the copse. Seth listened as their disembodied voices chorused, "Kalo taxidi!" May you have a beautiful journey also, Mother and Father. He turned to Montana, noticed her staring and wondered if perhaps she were having a delayed reaction to all the traumas she had suffered today. He clasped her hands and brought them to his chest. "Are you well, my love?" "Um, more than well." She cleared her throat and averted her gaze, staring at his bare feet before raising her eyes to give him an intense hot look that rushed blood straight to his head and had him instantly aroused. "But now that all the excitement is over, you think you might want to put on some of the clothes Jamal brought for you?" Seth laughed. He’d totally forgotten about his naked state. "Are you so eager to hide me from your virginal eyes?" Montana stepped into his arms, hugged him tight then pulled back to smile up at him, her dark hungry gaze telling him exactly what she was eager for. "There is no longer anything virginal about these eyes, Prince Phoenix." Seth did not think that there ever had been.

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Epilogue Pueblo, CO - One Year Later According to the information from the private investigator Montana had hired, colorful and dynamic Pueblo was where Ramona Gomez had put down roots, the city where she had lived most of her adult life. Montana's mother. She'd never left the city, was in the same state, barely fifty miles away, less than an hour's drive from where Montana had grown up. So close, and it might as well have been continents away. Montana had never been as curious about the woman who had given birth to her as she was right now, and never more determined to meet her as she had been since giving birth to her own daughter four months ago and adopting Jamal. Seth believed in family ties; knowing who and where he came from was as important to him as who his partner was and where they were going. He had managed to ingrain this same ideal into Montana during the last year since they'd been married and he was helping Jason run the ranch in the capacity of jigger boss. He’d convinced her to seek out her parents or at the very least, her mother. But Seth wasn't the one who had to walk across that well-manicured lawn to the front door of that single family ranch house and introduce himself to his mother for the first time in almost three decades. Montana was. It didn't matter that she'd called ahead and spoken to the woman or that Ramona had agreed to this meeting. She could have changed her mind since last week and be as ready to chicken out of this appointment as Montana. Ramona was married, after all, with adult children. She obviously had made a life for herself since having Montana, a life that didn't include the daughter she'd long ago given up.

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Gracie C. McKeever Who was she to intrude on this sort of complacency? Seth put an arm around her shoulder, pulled her close to his side. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" "I think it's better if I go in alone. At least this first time." Like there'd be a second. Her intrinsic optimism said that there would be, that Ramona would want to meet her son-in-law and granddaughter. Montana would never have started her search, would never have made contact if she didn't believe that meeting her flesh, seeing her blood, was the right thing to do. She wouldn't have decided to finally go through with this meeting if she hadn't thought the final outcome would be as welcome to her mother as it was to her. "We will be here if you need us. Remember that." Seth caressed her face, and Montana caught his hand, pressing it close to her cheek, garnering strength and confidence from that touch, the knowledge that he had lost so much in the past, as much as she, but had not allowed it to keep him down. He would not allow it to prevent him from enjoying his new life with his wife and baby daughter. Montana nodded, glanced at him, then back at Jamal and her daughter strapped in her infant seat. She leaned over the back seat to plant a gentle kiss on Thyra Michelle's cheek then ruffled Jamal's cornrows. "Be right back." "Not too soon." Jamal grinned, and Montana chuckled as she got out of the SUV and headed up the walkway. She didn't have far to go before Ramona Gomez opened the door, came out onto the lawn and met her halfway, the look on her familiar tawny features as uncertain and anxious as Montana felt. Ramona spread her arms in welcome, a timid but sincere smile spreading across her beautifully carved face as Montana neared. "Ramona Gomez?" The woman nodded, and Montana walked into her arms, held firm, throat tightening with a familiar sense of well being, an alarming sense of rightness. Ramona pulled away to stare at her after several long seconds—tears welling—and it was like looking into a mirror for Montana, a view of what she would look like in ten or twenty years, not much different than she looked now. The woman standing before her was no longer a stranger, no longer a concept, no longer the idea of romantic failure, love gone awry, no longer a mysterious image cast in shadows from her past now come to life. She was simply Montana's mother. SPELLS CAST IN SHADOWS

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AUTHOR’S BIO

Gracie McKeever is an author from the Bronx, and aside from several side trips along the way, has lived and worked her entire life in the New York City area. She has been writing since the ripe old age of seven when two younger brothers were among her earliest, captive audience for various short story readings and performances. An eclectic and voracious reader whose audience has grown outside of the supportive family members, she's had the great fortune of being able to incorporate two of her favorite passions and talents—reading and writing—as a book reviewer for several online e-zines, both as a regular staff member and freelancer. Her short stories, novellas and poetry have seen exposure in various lit and art magazines and other venues—online and in print. Of particular note, heard over the airwaves on KFJC’s morning show, Dancing In The Fast Lane With Ann Arbor (Unbedtime Stories) out of Los Altos Hills, CA (New Life Incognita was the story of the month for March 2000). She's also proud to be a member of the ("Worlds' Oldest Active Homeless Paper") Street News family and has seen numerous articles, poems and novel excerpts published within its pages as well as having had a poetry reading on Pseudo On-line Network (Street News Review). In 2001, Gracie caught the erotica bug, sinking her teeth into her first erotic e-book for a review, and hasn't looked back since, an instant affinity for the genre spawning her first erotica title, Beneath The Surface, published in 2006 by Siren Publishing, Inc. Visit Gracie’s website at www.graciecmckeever.com

Other books by Gracie C. McKeever at www.sirenpub.com/graciecmckeever.com

The Matchmaker

Beneath the Surface The Matchmaker, Book 1 Telepathic, free-spirited EJ Vega needs a fashion makeover before he goes on his first national book tour. Skeptical, uptight Tabitha Lyons is not what he expected in a personal shopper. What starts as a professional relationship between the two turns into everything EJ's conspiring matchmaking sisters had hoped for. [Erotic Paranormal/ Psychic/ Interracial]

Terms of Surrender The Matchmaker, Book 2 Competitive advertising execs Nick Vega and Slany Breeze have much more to worry about than just the branding campaign they have to work on for Everwell bank. A serial killer is on the loose at DMT, Inc. and thinks that Slany will be a perfect candidate for his special "training program." [Erotic Paranormal/ BDSM/ Interracial/ Suspense]

REVIEWS for Beneath the Surface "Ms McKeever has created a tight family group around psychic telepath Angela, whose words of wisdom and guidance help all around her. There's a strong sense of realism and locale in this book that really drew me in, and the attraction between EJ and Tabitha just grabs you. Even their banter is sexy, so you know that when they finally go to bed it's not just sex, it's something else, something amazing. The supporting cast is just as great, from bitchy Jade to lovable Frankie, the fast-talking sisters and the rest of Eric's family. With plenty of romantic twists and entanglements, this will keep you reading to the very last page. You're sure to love it—and there's more to come in this fantastic series. Keep a look out for the next book! 5 Magic Wands." —Autiotalo, Enchanted Ramblings "Beneath the Surface is Book 1 in The Matchmaker series. The story is a phenomenal start to the matchmaking talents of Angela Calminetti, EJ’s sister. Angela wants all her siblings and family happy and in love. She uses her telepathic abilities to make sure that this happens. EJ and Tabitha, they have to struggle to make it to happiness, the two are stubborn and try to best each other. But they are miserable without one another. EJ knows Tabitha is the one because she reminds him of his first love Sinclair. Sinclair committed suicide when EJ was much younger and he has never really trusted his heart to another woman. Tabitha is different, for the first time in years EJ wants to tell her the truth about his telepathic abilities. Tabitha has had a rough life and is not very trusting of anyone but Eric James seems like he is worthy of her trust. Gracie C. McKeever shows that the bond between EJ and Tabitha will be long-lived and everlasting. And that the two are each others pretty match. Beneath the Surface is an outstanding book that is captivating. I definitely recommend this for readers. 4.5 Stars" —Chantay, Euro Reviews "Beneath the Surface is the first book in The Matchmaker series and a wonderful beginning. Tabitha is a great heroine with plenty of backbone to stand up to whom and whatever. This makes reading about her a pure joy. EJ is not your typical author and it doesn’t take much to transform him into incredibly sexy and totally hot. This couple has a fiery relationship both in and out of the bedroom and readers won’t be able to get through the pages fast enough. The love scenes are full of desire and fraught with sensuality. Gracie McKeever has penned a book that will have readers desperately seeking the next volumes in the series. 4.5 Blue Ribbons" —Angel, Romance Junkies "Ms. McKeever captures intense love scenes loaded with earthshaking passion and desire. Eric and Tabitha burn up the pages of this book every time they give into the uncontrollable longing inside of them. At times, I felt like a voyeur watching the steamy embraces. Their passion is only the backdrop for an intense connection that bonds these two souls into one. The feelings and link they share [are] very special and unique. It is what we are all searching for out of life. I will read Beneath the Surface: The Matchmaker many more times through the years to remember the beautiful love story of Eric and Tabitha. I look forward to the next installment of the series. 4 Hot Tattoos" —Ophelia, Erotic-Escapades "Ms. McKeever has succeeded in taking an often-used story line and breathed new life into it. Both Tabitha and Eric are full of such life and anguish that you laugh and suffer right along with them. This author has the talent to draw you into her story

and you can really feel the sexual chemistry between the hero and the heroine. The author also sets things up so there will be more books in the series, something I will look forward to. I highly recommend this book. 4 Flowers/Excellent" —Char, May Reviews "EJ and Tabitha are a wonderful couple, and throughout the book, I enjoyed the interaction between them, especially how their past makes them closer. Stubborn isn't strong enough to describe these two, but their resistance to taking a chance at love never gets to the irritating stage. Their chemistry is excellent and the desire they feel never fades as the super hot sex gets better with each encounter. Definitely have a significant other available when this book is done. The interaction with the sisters was good and brought a break from the intensity of EJ and Tabitha's developing relationship...The paranormal link is very well-done, and was not only a selling part of the book but completely plausible. Beneath the Surface is a entertaining book and I look forward to reading the rest of the Vega siblings' stories when they come out. 4 Stars/Orgasmic" —Anya Khan, Just Erotic Romance Reviews "What do you get when you take a man and a woman with very different personalities, add an impossible to resist sexual attraction, and some meddling family members? You get Gracie C. McKeever’s Beneath the Surface, one heck of an enjoyable read. Not only does it turn up the heat, it will make you laugh and cry and look forward to the next tale in Ms. McKeever's The Matchmaker series. EJ is the type of man that it would be easy to underestimate. Only as you get to know him, do you see beneath his laid back exterior. When EJ decides to woo a lady, he does it relentlessly and with style. Tabitha's cold, business-like exterior protects a heart and soul that have been sorely battered. When she confronts her past, it will bring tears to your eyes. With interesting secondary characters to move the plot along and add some spice of their own, Beneath the Surface flies by at a quick pace. Witty banter and complex characters make Beneath the Surface a delightful, engrossing read. Gracie C. McKeever has certainly caught my interest and I will be eagerly awaiting her next tale. Don't miss out on this wonderful new series." —Vicki Turner, Romance Reviews Today

Sisters of Emsharra

Guardian Seductress Sisters of Emsharra, Book 1 Genesis has been on the run from her people for twenty-eight years guarding the cambion Alex Ryan who doesn't know she exists. But that's about to change when an attempt is made on Alex's life that leaves his father dead instead and Alex alone in the world….or so he thinks. [Erotic Paranormal/ Shapeshifter/ Urban Fantasy/ Interracial]

Predator's Salvation Sisters of Emsharra, Book 2 From ancient beings unaccustomed to asking for anything, much less begging for forgiveness, LaMia Enlil nonetheless wants just this from Ariel Diaz, a gifted and unique human male who makes her question the foundations of her Inanna beliefs. Will he ever forgive her for taking the lives of his father and his brother years ago? [BDSM/ Interracial/ Shapeshifter/ Urban Fantasy]

REVIEWS for Guardian Seductress "Death is a concept that Alex Ryan understands. His mother was the first to go. Then his father died in a tragic accident. Now, a strange woman by the name of Genesis comes to him swearing that his father's death was not an accident after all. To top that off, she claims that she is not human and that her people are the ones killing off his family. According to Genesis, Alex is the next to die. Genesis does not take her duty of guarding Alex lightly. Now that her people have found out the whereabouts of her charge, they are intent on destroying him. Alex is the only cambion (half human/half Inanna) in existence. According to her laws, he must die. Genesis refuses to let that happen. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed Sisters of Emsharra 1: Guardian Seductress. It was loaded with action, titillating sexual encounters, and most of all, a good romantic plot line. No matter what was happening around Alex and Genesis, they never stopped eyeing each other as if they were a double scoop of Moose Tracks ice cream...I really liked the characters and the story. Both Alex and Genesis seemed so lonely that I could not help but hope they would find something in the other that could cure their solitary existence. In one way or another, they were always on the outside looking in. That was what made them perfect for each other. I was hooked on these characters and the world they lived in. This was my first time reading Gracie C. McKeever and I'm betting it will not be the last time. I found Sisters of Emsharra 1: Guardian Seductress thoroughly enjoyable. 4.5 Stars" —Suni Farrar, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

Between Darkness and Daylight A man who wants to save the world one child at a time…a young teen looking for acceptance and a savior wherever he can find them…and a woman who wants only to save them both. Somewhere between darkness and daylight, they will all find and save each other. [Erotic Paranormal/ Psychic/ Interracial]

Spells Cast in Shadows Montana has been having visions of the "pony-man" since she was a child, her first live encounter with the centaur after a near-death experience when she was five and Seth saved her from drowning. More than two decades later, the pair meet again. This time, Montana's doing the saving. [Erotic Paranormal/ Shapeshifter/ Urban Fantasy/ Interracial]

In Plain Sight Dara Kelly and Samantha Taylor should not have died, but did. Now, both women are on the trail of two men––one an abusive, cheating husband-turned-killer, the other a rival bounty hunter who will not be bested by any woman. Each will have their revenge, but at what cost to Caution Foster, the man they both love? [Erotic Interracial/ Reincarnation/ Ghost/ Suspense]

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