Two from the Triangle

Bewitching Desires 7

Two from the Triangle With her spell-casting abilities failing her and her fertility cycle beginning, Heléna Macska tries one last time to incant herself to her true mates. The unfortunate use of the word triangle sends her to a plane in the Bermuda Triangle. Or is it unfortunate? With a controlled crash landing, hunky pilots Heath Ulrich and Owen Vance save their own lives and that of their castaway. Stranded on a tiny deserted island, their chances of survival are slim. Will they spend their final days in sexual heaven when Heléna informs them of her desire for both men? When a sudden storm threatens their lives on the island, Heléna tries to send Heath and Owen to safety, but her spell propels them all to her own time—eighty-four years into the future. Now she must follow her destiny and save her family and her lovers from an evil shifter. Genre: Fantasy, Ménage a Trois/Quatre Length: 30,488 words

TWO FROM THE TRIANGLE Bewitching Desires 7

Mellanie Szereto

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

TWO FROM THE TRIANGLE Copyright © 2012 by Mellanie Szereto E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-900-2 First E-book Publication: July 2012 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. 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.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Two from the Triangle by Mellanie Szereto from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Mellanie Szereto’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Szereto’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION To Siren Publishing, my wonderful editors, and my fabulous cover artist—thanks for helping me bring the Macska witches to life!

TWO FROM THE TRIANGLE Bewitching Desires 7 MELLANIE SZERETO Copyright © 2012

Chapter 1 If life was fair, Heléna Macska wouldn’t be staring out the window at the knee-deep blanket of snow on the day of the first full moon after her birthday. The outside world was celebrating Christmas, but she’d prefer a tropical beach with her very own pair of cabana boys. Tanned, muscular, and ready to fulfill her every fantasy. I wouldn’t even care if they weren’t my true mates. Instead, she was trapped in a new suite of rooms that only reminded her of her raging hormones, the lack of available males, and the length of seven years. Two thousand five hundred sixty-nine days until the next full moon that matters. Why had Great Grandmother insisted on the move when the entire Macska household was under lockdown after Kazmer’s last attack? Having her own three-bedroom apartment would hardly serve any purpose if Heléna had no opportunity to lose her virginity during her first fertility cycle. She was snowed in, locked in, and dying for a pair of men to break in. Her sisters and several of her cousins had two lovers, so why couldn’t she wish for the same? It seemed fated for this generation of witches. Retreating to her bedroom, she eyed the book on her nightstand with contempt. After twelve months of reading and experimenting

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with every toy in her box of sexual aids, spending the week of her fertility cycle without even a single mate was beyond anticlimactic. Her temper flared at the very idea of resorting to a vibrator for an orgasm—a temper that hadn’t existed until today. Stupid hormones. A cold shower wouldn’t help. She’d already tried that. Twice. Her family had shooed her upstairs when she’d gone to the kitchen to burn some restless energy preparing lunch. With no ability to concentrate, she couldn’t consider attempting any of her favorite spells and charms. Hopeless. She flopped on the king-sized bed and let out a frustrated sigh. Why couldn’t she declare herself unmated this cycle and be done with the whole depressing non-event? A knock told her the time had come to stand before Great Grandmother Romána and the other full-fledged witches. Heléna was required to recite the oath of the coven, accepting the title of Macska witch and its responsibilities. Straightening her skirt and sweater as she rose, she trudged to the apartment door. I don’t want to be a witch anymore. “You don’t have to be.” The whisper seemed to come from inside her head, but she scanned the sitting room for the source. The couch and two matching armchairs were as empty as she’d left them minutes ago. No one stood by the window, the tables, or the teacart, and the entrance to the second bedroom was still closed. Goddess, I’m losing my mind. She pivoted back to the door, grasping the knob. It wouldn’t turn. Making another quick scan of the room, she twisted the knob again, her pulse thumping in her ears. Why wouldn’t the door open? Another knock sounded over her quick, shallow breaths. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Panic washed over her. What’s wrong with me?

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“You’re not meant to be one of them.” Forcing her hand to squeeze tighter, she tried the knob a third time. It finally rotated, and she flung the door wide, making her cousin jump. Margita’s eyes widened. “Are you all right? Great Grandmother asked that you come to the library now.” Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting out that she wasn’t all right, Heléna nodded. “I’m fine.” “Are you sure? Your hands are shaking.” The younger girl offered a smile. “Nervous? I would be.” Heléna grasped at the lifeline of an excuse. She wasn’t hearing voices. Her nerves had her so tense, she was imagining a way out of her fertility cycle. “Very nervous, but I’m ready.” A slow inhale and exhale calmed the tremors enough for her to walk with Margita along the wide hallway and down the staircase to the first floor. Heléna aimed for the library as her cousin crossed the foyer to head toward the dining room. After the induction, the fullfledged witches would join the rest of the family for a celebratory lunch. I’ll be the only witch in the room with full powers and no mates. Swallowing to relieve her dry throat, she paused at the entrance to the library. Great Grandmother Romána stood surrounded by her three daughters, all but one granddaughter, and half a dozen great granddaughters. A very pregnant Orsolya—the only non-blood member of the family and a powerful witch in her own right—sat on the settee sipping a cup of tea. Every one of them had known intimacy with a man, something beyond Heléna’s reach for the foreseeable future. “Come in, Heléna.” The matriarch’s gentle voice silenced the quiet chatter. “We welcome you as the newest witch into our fold.” Heléna’s relatives formed a circle as she entered the room, leaving an empty space directly across from Romána. The inviting shape should’ve eased the doubts in her mind, but Heléna continued fighting

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the bothersome insecurities that had plagued her for several months. Wasn’t being accepted into the inner circle a step forward? “You need the triangle.” Stiffening her neck, she refused to glance around for the disembodied voice still taunting her. Or was it a different one? No one else seemed to have heard the clear declaration. Her stomach churned, and the smooth wood floor burned the soles of her bare feet with every forward step. An invisible vise squeezed the air from her lungs, making spots dance in front of her eyes. She froze midstep in hopes of stopping the waves of apprehension from drowning her. The whisper invaded her mind again. “You can choose to deny them.” Choose? Heléna studied the out-of-focus gathering of her sisters in witchcraft. Only the quartz crystals ringing them showed with clarity. Her insides pitched with the overpowering scent of herbs and spice, sending her toward the hall. “I can’t.” Rushing back to the foyer, she flung open the front door and ran outside, letting the snow cool her scorched feet. The crisp air dispelled the sickening odors and brought her vision back to normal. She slogged through the deep drifts toward the gate that prevented the outside world from entering the Macska estate without permission. It also barred her escape. A bitter wind whipped her skirt around her legs, and the burning heat changed to frigid cold, raising goose bumps on every inch of her skin. Her teeth chattered as she tried to slip through the narrow openings between the iron bars of the gate. Even as thin as she was, she didn’t fit. Shivers wracked her body when another gust tried to knock her off-balance. The rush of wind smothered her, and tears trickled down her cheek from her watering eyes. “You can spell yourself to your triangle.” Could the whispers be the voice of reason? Did she have the strength to incant herself out of the protection spell that kept her

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family’s enemy from getting in? The two I seek will make us three. The triangle is my destiny. Take me there without delay, And with me they will always stay. Blessed be and harm to none. Goddess, let thy will be done. Snow whirled around her, obliterating her view of the road on the other side of the gate. Colored spots flickered on and off in the near blizzard. “Heléna! Where are you?” The muffled calls had her turning to glance over her shoulder, but the squall blocked out everything more than a few inches in front of her face. “Heléna!” The flickering grew faster and brighter, and the wind carried away all sound but its own howling and whistling. She closed her eyes against the brightness and repeated the rhyme once. Twice. The gale faded as a new noise drew her attention. Besides the intermittent rumbling of an engine, a frantic baritone call came from behind her. Vibrations jarred her body as jolt after jolt tossed her sideways against a wall. Winter chill no longer penetrated her clothing. In fact, the heat was stifling. She opened her eyes, almost afraid to discover where she’d landed. “Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is the November-Charlie-SevenSix-Niner-Echo. Our heading is twenty-six degrees, fifty minutes north by seventy-six degrees, eighty minutes west. Altitude is one thousand feet and falling. Visibility is near zero.” The motor noises stopped, and what reminded Heléna of pouring rain on the metal barn roof echoed in her ears. She seemed to be in a cramped closet, still leaving her uncertain of the spell’s destination in the darkness.

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“Engine’s out! We’re going down!” A different voice called out the dire-sounding warning. Another buffet sent something shifting above her. She raised her arms to protect her head as a heavy but soft bundle landed on her. A squeal escaped. “What the hell was that?” “Jesus, this day keeps getting better and better. See if you can hold her steady while I find our stowaway, Owen.” “With this tailwind, you have about a minute, two tops.” After several seconds of no conversation, light flooded her tiny prison, and she blinked against the sudden brightness. A hand reached for her, dragging her to her feet. “Come on, doll. We gotta get buckled in before we hit the water.” She shoved the bundle away and stumbled along behind her rescuer. He pulled her down onto his lap, jerking straps over her shoulders and across her waist, tugging the seatbelts until every muscle and appendage in his body pressed against her back, bottom, and legs. One arm held her in place, while the other flipped a switch on the console in front of her. Warm breath puffed down her neck. The man in the seat beside Heléna glanced at her, his hands gripping a U-shaped metal pipe so hard all the blood had drained from his knuckles. “Hold on tight, honey. We’re in for a rough landing.” Raindrops pelted the windshield, concealing whatever lay beyond the glass. Although she’d never ridden in one, the strange steering control and excessive number of dials suggested they were in an airplane—and about to crash into a lake, or maybe an ocean. Oh, Goddess, what did I spell myself into? “Brace yourself, Heath!” The rain eased, giving her an indistinct view of a huge blue-green expanse flecked with white. The arm at her waist tightened as she spotted a pale area growing closer with every second. Water? Aren’t airplanes supposed to land on...land? “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The murmured words in her ear pushed her

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panic button. Goddess, with your— Impact with turquoise sea slammed the incantation from her brain. The straps and Heath’s grasp would’ve forced the food from her stomach if she’d been able to eat breakfast that morning. Her body tried to lunge forward, but her bonds halted the momentum and dug into her middle. A wave swept over the windshield, swallowing them whole. The plane finally bumped to a standstill under the water. They hadn’t died in the crash, but they would likely drown. Heath swore again and fumbled with the latch holding them in the seat. “Hell of a landing. I hope you know how to swim, doll.” He shoved her to her feet, pushing her toward the panel labeled “Exit.” Lowering the handle, he heaved a shoulder against the door. It budged only enough to let in a trickle of seawater. “Together.” Owen joined him in another attempt to displace the water pressing in from the outside. A river gushed in around the seam, and the floor shifted beneath them. Heléna grabbed for the wall to steady herself. “I can swim.” “Good, because you don’t have a choice. One more time, Owen.” The men grunted as they rammed the door again. It flew wide. Heath snagged her hand, pulling her through the rising water. A swell lifted her off her feet and covered her face a moment after she gasped. Another hand closed around her free one to pull her forward, fighting the current trying to push her back. Her eyes stung when she blinked, so she blindly let Heath and Owen lead her toward the surface. Can I hold my breath long enough? Kicking her legs only tangled her soaked skirt around her calves and weighed her down. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen, not having been prepared for the onslaught. Unable to stop the need to breathe, she inhaled, getting a nose full of salty brine as the pair of pilots hauled her face above the

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water. She coughed at the burning in her sinuses. “You okay?” Owen came into focus. “We’re about two hundred yards from shore. Can you make it?” Land? Thank the Goddess. She nodded. “How deep?” Brushing the wet strands of hair from her cheek, Heath met her gaze. “Only about twelve to fifteen feet.” “Okay.” She’d swim until she could walk the rest of the way to land—if she could manage to strip off her skirt without losing it. Slipping her hands from the men’s grasps, she clutched at Owen’s shoulder as she worked the elastic waistband past her hips. The weight of the fabric almost pulled the skirt from her legs, but she held on by trapping it between her knees. She captured the length, easing her feet free and donning the garment like a scarf. With her body now liberated from the tangles, she fell into a rhythmic pace of stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Heath and Owen flanked her as she focused on the task of reaching land. Both men slowed after she’d counted thirty alternating arm motions, and the sun peeked through the scuttling clouds to shine on a stretch of beach no more than the width of the Macska seasonal herb garden away. “Almost there, doll.” Heath stood, gentle waves hitting him in the chest. “A little closer and you should be able walk the rest of the way.” Owen moved in front of her as she treaded water. “Hold onto my shoulders. I’ll tow you in.” She hooked her palms on either side of his neck, trying to hold onto the slick leather of his drenched flight jacket. Although she hadn’t swum far and the sea was hardly cold, her muscles ached. Being thrust into the stifling storage closet from the bitter cold of home had caused knotting cramps in her calves. The stress of crashlanding an airplane in the ocean had only added to the problem. He set off toward the shore, and less than a minute later, her toes touched the soft sand under the surf. Her knees buckled when she

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attempted to stand, and Heath swung her into his arms, continuing to the narrow strip of white beach. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her. She didn’t dare close her eyes, or she’d surrender to sleep. The sky brightened as they came ashore, gray fluffs separating and becoming thin white wisps in the breeze. Warmth from the summery air seeped into her soaked sweater. Heath set her down on an exposed rock. Removing her skirt-scarf, he spread it in the sun. “It shouldn’t take long to dry.” Peeling off her sweater, she laid it beside the skirt. “Thank you.” He nodded, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the sand with Owen’s. “You’re welcome—but only if you tell how us how the hell you got on that plane.”

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Chapter 2 Heath Ulrich tugged off his boots, vacillating between shaking his and Owen’s stowaway or laying her out on the beach and fucking her until they both collapsed. Watching her shimmy out of her skirt underwater had been one thing. He’d even survived carrying her up the beach. The second she’d stripped off her sweater to reveal a perfect pair of small, firm tits, his dick had gone from snoozing to standing at attention. Pert nipples poked at her scant camisole, emphasizing her barely there panties and shapely legs. And those sexy little naked feet. Damn, he’d love to strip off the rest of her wet clothes and enjoy some sex in the sun. Then again, with her tiny stature, lack of makeup, and dark innocent eyes, she could be all of fifteen or sixteen years old. Seemingly ignoring his request, she slipped the elastic from the end of her braid and unwound her dark waist-length hair. The long strands flowing down her back added to his desire to touch her. “I, um, I’m not sure how I got on your plane.” She fiddled with thick waves, combing her fingers through the damp locks and nibbling on her lower lip. “Somebody put you in the locker without you knowing?” Women had hidden away in his car after several air shows, claiming they’d wanted to sleep with a pilot, but he’d never found one inside the plane he was flying. His ex-girlfriend had ditched him after the last incident, not giving him the benefit of the doubt or letting him tell his side of the story. “I was at home, and then I was...there.” The girl’s averted gaze told him she wasn’t being completely honest with him.

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Sarcasm warred with horniness. “Somebody made you appear on the plane with some sort of magic spell?” Her eyes widened, and she crossed her arms in front of her delectable tits. “Back off, Heath.” Owen dropped his white scarf on top of his boots. “We’re all on edge because of the accident. Let her be.” Raising his eyebrows at his flying partner and best friend, Heath flicked open the top button of his shirt. “I just want to know how she—” “Does it matter at this point? We’re damn lucky to be alive.” Owen tossed his leather cap and goggles in the sand, raking his fingers through his flattened hair. “I think we need to worry about where we’re going to find supplies and how long until somebody rescues us.” Heath worked the last button free and slipped off the shirt. “Fine. We’ll take care of food and shelter first, but I’m not letting her off the hook. I want answers. It’s too damn coincidental if you ask me.” Squatting next to the lady in question, Owen patted her bare knee. “Don’t pay any attention to him, honey. He’s pissy about the engine problems. I’m Owen Vance. The grouch is Heath Ulrich.” She seemed to study the sand at her feet, and her teeth came out to nibble on her lip again. “I’m Heléna Macska. Where are we?” “I’m not a grouch.” Spitting out the denial, Heath glared at his friend. The urge to punch him in the nose for feeling up Heléna had Heath flexing his jaw and balling his hands into fists. “My best guess is one of the cays east of Little Abaco.” She glanced up at him with a frown. “I don’t know where that is.” “North end of the Bahamas.” Her expression didn’t change. “What’s a cay?” Her skimpy underclothes distracted him for a moment, and he held in a frustrated growl. “Kind of like an island. Made of sand or part of a coral reef.” “Oh.” She sighed.

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At twenty-three, he had enough experience with women to know that her sigh wasn’t any ordinary exhale. Was she upset that her plan to seduce him or Owen had been derailed by the unscheduled landing? Or maybe she wanted first-class accommodations for her island getaway. He’d had his fill of selfish, spoiled women. Not that she was a woman yet. Stripping to his underwear, he willed his dick to wilt. “What are your parents going to say when you don’t come home? I’m sure glad I don’t have a teenage daughter.” She jerked her head up, a flash of anger sparking in her eyes. Grabbing her clothes, she rose and stomped toward the far end of the beach. After half a dozen steps, she whirled around. “Teenage? I’ll have you know I’m twenty-one. And—and... Oh, never mind.” Her skirt trailed behind her as she marched away, her luscious round ass drawing his gaze with every sway of her hips. The breeze carried hints of mumbled insults back to him. Did she just call me a waste of pussy juice? No, he had to have heard wrong. Women didn’t talk like that. Owen gave him a shove. “You’ve got some way with the ladies there, Heath. You start by ogling her. Then you conduct an inquisition and talk to her like a kid instead of asking if she’s okay.” Shaking his head, he followed her. “We’ve got no fresh water and no food, and you’re worried about how she got on board.” He walked the path of tiny footprints she’d left in the sand, his longer strides closing the distance between them by the time she slowed near the water at the south end of the cay. She sat on her skirt, folding her knees to her chest and lowering her head. Was she crying? Heath’s gut twisted at that thought. He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings, but so much of his life had gone to hell in the past year. His love of flying had turned to hate. The female attention had only been the beginning, and the unexplainable engine trouble on the test route was the last straw. He’d finally reached his limit with the failed flight today. Even if they managed to somehow return to civilization, he

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was done with aviation. Owen sank to the sand beside Heléna, his arm draping around her narrow shoulders. A stab of jealousy forced Heath to look away. Her slight build and angelic face never would’ve suggested she was twenty-one years old. She couldn’t be more than five-foot-two and a hundred pounds. Her innocent nature spoke of someone who hadn’t been exposed to the harsh realities of his world. Why was he attracted to her when he normally preferred more experienced women? Owen was right. What did her motive matter when they likely wouldn’t survive more than a week or two if they weren’t found? Considering the secrecy of the project, the chances of his employer searching for anything other than the plane itself were slim. To stay alive, they’d have to save themselves. **** Settling next to Heléna, Owen couldn’t resist wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Nothing brought out the protective instincts in him more than a crying woman. Although she made no sound, her whole body trembled. “It’s okay, honey. We’re all shaken up from the rough landing.” He smoothed her wet hair from her forehead. “Heath’s kind of superstitious about the area we had to fly today, and he was already about to blow a gasket before he found you on the plane. Damn full moon. Don’t let his temper get to you. He’s a nice guy most of the time.” She stopped shaking, but she didn’t lift her head from her knees. “Merry Christmas, by the way.” A rueful laugh escaped. “Some tropical vacation we’re having, huh?” “I don’t celebrate Christmas.” She shifted out of his hold and pushed to her feet, facing the now deceptively calm Atlantic. “The full moon. I can’t get away from it. I thought I’d at least...”

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“At least what, Heléna?” She shook her head, sending her hair swishing back and forth. “It isn’t important.” The hopelessness in her tone made his chest ache, and he stood to slip his hand around hers. “Whatever’s on your mind—if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” Her jaw tensed. “I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.” He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he’d do his damnedest to fix whatever was bothering her, but she wouldn’t believe him— especially if the certainty in her voice was anything to go by. Her determination to deal with her problems alone rankled less than he expected. As much as he liked the idea of a woman depending on him to take care of her, they were all better off with no weak link in the situation. “Maybe, Heléna, maybe not. The offer stands.” Urging her back toward the spot they’d come from, he scanned the surf for a glimpse of wing or propeller. Since no yellow showed in the shallow turquoise water, the current had probably dragged the airplane off the limestone shelf and into the depths of the sheer drop-off. “We need to find some shade. You’ll end up with a bad sunburn if we don’t.” Adjusting his hold on her damp skirt and sweater, he focused his search on the few widely scattered scrubby trees between the eastern side they walked along and the visible western coast. The strip of land extended to the north farther than he could see. Had they landed on Hawksbill Cays? Based on the last compass headings, he’d have to say yes—which put them about a mile swim from the sparsely populated Little Abaco Island. Too far and too dangerous. They arrived back at the rock, but Heath was nowhere in sight. His gear was still strewn on the sand, and footprints led in the opposite direction they’d come from. If he’d gone hunting food and water, odds were he’d return empty-handed. The few times Owen had flown over the area, he’d seen nothing but rocks, sand, and some pine trees on the outer cays. No towns, no streams, and very little

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vegetation. Another trio of evergreens not far from the beach offered a chance of getting out of the afternoon sun. He aimed for the glorified shrubs, snapping the skirt over the tops to form an umbrella. A lopsided triangular shadow appeared on the ground. He spread out her sweater for a place to sit. “Not the Ritz, but it’ll keep the sun off you.” “Thank you. It’s fine.” She dropped into the shade, sighing as she folded her knees up to her chin again. Her smooth pale skin had already turned pink. “You don’t have to babysit me. I am an adult, even if I don’t look like one.” Obviously Heath hadn’t been the first to question her age. Rather than being annoyed or angered by it, her demeanor seemed to indicate resignation. She stared at some point past him, her full lips drawn into a frown beneath the sunburned tip of her dainty nose. Dark lashes hid her expressive eyes. She reminded him of a delicate, mythical creature with the ability to bring men to their knees in worship of her—not that she seemed aware of her own power. He sat just outside of the protective shadow, unwilling to leave her. Although he’d accused Heath of ogling her petite figure, Owen wasn’t blind—or a monk. “There’s this aura of innocence around you. I guess it makes you seem younger than you are.” “Innocence?” She growled the word and flipped her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head. “Wonderful. In the eyes of every man, I’m a wholesome child. Just what I wanted to hear.” Bringing her arms up to cross them on her knees, she buried her face. “Like I said, I don’t need a babysitter.” Her dismissal couldn’t have been clearer, but he wasn’t about to let her push him away. While she might exude artlessness, his body had recognized her as a woman the moment she’d bent over to lay out her wet skirt on the sand to dry. Heath’s remarks regarding her age were likely his way of grousing after the disaster of a test flight today. Neither of them could’ve missed her utter femininity.

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Owen glanced her direction. “I’m not babysitting. And believe me, I know you’re not a child.” Her eyebrows rose as she lifted her head, and she rolled her eyes. “Too late to save face, Owen. I own a mirror.” Turning toward her, he waited for her to meet his gaze. “Young looking or not, you’re perfect the way you are. Don’t let anyone tell you different. I love your hair, and those eyes... Not to mention the rest of you.” He couldn’t resist a visual stroll down her body. His dick pressing against his zipper was all the proof he needed that she was his kind of woman. Running her fingers through the loose curls tumbling down her back, she busied herself with a tangle in the long brown strands, ignoring his compliment. “Have you checked for cell service? If we’re in the Bahamas, one of the other islands should have a tower.” Cell service? A tower? What was she talking about? “You have a cell phone, don’t you?” He replayed her words in his mind, hoping for a moment of comprehension, but none came. “What’s a cell phone?” Her brows lowered into a vee, and she frowned at him. “A cellular telephone. A mobile phone.” The synonyms didn’t help. “Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You can’t have a phone without wires and poles. I don’t see any of those, do you?” She bit her lower lip and stared at him. “But...the full moon...and...you wished me a Merry Christmas. How can you not know what a cell phone is? I’m still in the same year. I have to be. What are the chances of—” Gathering her arms around her legs, she blinked at him. Her clasped hands tightened around each other. “Today is December 25, isn’t it?” He nodded. Her teeth nibbled at her lip again. “What...what year is it?” The question caught him off guard, and he hesitated as he questioned his first thought. The new year doesn’t start until next

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week. “It’s 1931.” The pink of her sun-kissed cheeks drained away. She opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it. A shiver raced up his spine from her unexpected reaction, and Owen jerked his eyes up to Heath as he stalked to the makeshift umbrella. “I caught dinner, but somebody needs to collect some firewood to cook it.” Jumping from discussing the date to preparing supper took a shift of gears in Owen’s brain. “Uh, thanks. I’ll take care of it.” His friend wiggled his bare toes into the soft sand, two fish on a stick dangling from his hand. “Look, Heléna, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m sorry. It’s just that this place gives me creeps. I hate flying this route. Damn Sargasso Sea triangle is cursed.” “Triangle?” She gave a strangled squeak on a gasp. Her head dropped to her knees as she groaned. “What have I done?”

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Chapter 3 Heléna struggled to gather her thoughts as Heath’s statement brought a new reality crashing down on her. Not only had she transported herself backward in time eighty-four years, her spontaneous incantation had taken her to the Bermuda Triangle instead of the love triangle she’d intended. I’m not meant to be a witch. I can’t even perform a simple traveling charm. Sure, her mood had probably affected the spell, but misrepresenting her need for two men was inexcusable. That’s what she got for not admitting to Great Grandmother and the family that she wasn’t ready to take the oath. Her great fear of letting everyone down if Kazmer attacked again had jinxed her last year of training. She’d committed mistake after mistake while practicing the craft in her room, hiding her failures from them. Now, what should’ve been an easy incantation had sent her who knew how many miles and years from her target. Not that her mates would want her anyway. I’m not worthy of them or the title of witch. She was a burden to Owen and Heath on their tiny island as well. Rising and yanking her skirt from the treetops, she slipped the nearly dry garment up her legs and past her nonexistent hips. A tug at the drawstring tightened the waist enough to keep it from sliding back down. Her sweater was another matter. Though it was only slightly damp, sand permeated the woven threads. She might need the cover for her bare arms if the night air chilled her, but she’d worry about that when the time came.

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Two sets of eyes watched her, making her too aware of her awkward movements and boyish body. “I’m not hungry. You don’t have to share with me.” “I said I was sorry, Heléna.” Rather than anger tingeing Heath’s response, the soft words sounded pleading. Picking up her sweater, she braved a look at him. He stared back at her, and she tried to read his taut expression. His stormy gray eyes revealed nothing. The grim line of his mouth said he wasn’t pleased with her lack of acknowledgement and refusal to eat with him and Owen. Only the ticking muscle in his jaw divulged any of his emotions. She straightened, common sense warring against the sudden twinges inside her. Sexual attraction? Her hormones had to be causing the strange effect of his presence on her body. “I accept your apology. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.” The sea breeze whipped her long skirt against her calves as she strode toward the north end of the cay. She’d only make a fool of herself if she stayed. The panic of their ordeal had subsided, and she’d begun to see the men as potential mates instead of what they were— the accidental saviors who viewed her as a mere teenaged girl. Owen had tried to pacify her wounded ego with an exaggerated account of her desirability, but she didn’t have to be a genius to know the truth. Heath had apologized for his remarks, never recanting his opinion that she looked far too young to go off by herself without her parents’ permission. She was an unskilled witch lurking in pubescent purgatory. No males with the blatant masculinity of her fellow stranded survivors would settle for less than a buxom epitome of womanhood. Something Heléna wasn’t and never would be. Every step increased her pulse another couple beats, and spots flickered in her vision, mixed with images of Owen and Heath. Reddish blond hair and green eyes. A quick, gentle smile. Sandy brown hair and gray eyes. Unreadable. Both men sported muscular

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arms, sculpted upper bodies, and rippled abdomens. Heath’s strong calves had unerringly drawn her gaze upward to his other generous endowments. Thigh-hugging wet underwear had outlined a pair of well-hung balls and a thick curved cock. Unfortunately, Owen hadn’t removed his soaked breeches to show off the bulge beneath his zipper. A flash of heat stole her balance, and she struggled to force her feet through the glittering sand. The sun reflected off the individual grains, changing the spots from pastel blue, green, and yellow to bright white. Had Great Grandmother used her powers to send Heléna home? What about Heath and Owen? Would Romána spell them to safety? A glance back toward the men disoriented Heléna even more, and she stumbled. The ground came up to meet her hands and knees. Tempted by the silky surface, she settled on her stomach to rest. A nap might make the nightmare of a day end. When she woke, she’d close her eyes again and stay bundled in the blankets until after the rise of the third-quarter moon. Her fertility cycle would be over for two thousand five hundred sixty-one days. **** “Heléna! Are you all right?” With his heart in his throat, Heath scrambled along the loose sand to where she’d collapsed. Each step was a slow-motion effort to reach her prone form, panic prodding him to go faster. Finally, he knelt beside her. A palm to her pale cheek came away clammy, and her hair clung to her sweat-soaked neck and upper back. Though the sky was clear, with bright sun warming the air, he’d guess the temperature wasn’t above eighty degrees. The likelihood of heatstroke was slim unless she was a lot more sensitive than the average person.

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“Is she conscious?” Owen dropped to his knees beside Heath. Dabbing at her forehead with his dripping shirt, Owen frowned. “Damn, I wish we had fresh water. And we need to get her out of the sun.” She blinked, wiping at the water droplets chasing a path to her chin. “What happened? I was so dizzy.” “You were walking, and then you stumbled and fell.” Blocking the sun’s rays from her face, Heath helped her roll to her side, his pulse still echoing in his ears. At least the knots in his stomach had eased a little. He lifted her into his arms as he rose, and a strange feeling of rightness washed over him. “This way, Owen. I found a place with a dozen or so trees bunched together. We can build a small cook fire and set up camp for the night.” Owen nodded. “I’ll gather some wood and our belongings while you get her settled.” Heléna tightened her grasp on Heath’s neck, triggering an impulse to hold her closer and taste her beautiful lips. A punch of desire hit him in square in the gut. He gathered all his self-control to keep from acting on it, reminding himself she’d fainted only minutes ago. “I feel fine now.” She stiffened against him. “Put me down.” A growl formed low in his throat, but he swallowed it. Had she noticed that he’d taken a slow inhale of faint flowery scent mixed with seawater from the hair brushing his jaw? “When we get to the trees. You were dizzy enough to fall down back there. Until I’m certain you’re okay, this is where you stay.” She grumbled something he couldn’t quite understand, but that was probably for the best. For as tiny as she was, she had a big temper. Her wide streak of independence had to come from her wish that people stop treating her like a helpless child because of her appearance. Chuckling as he walked beside Heath, Owen handed Heléna the wet shirt. “She’s right, Heath. You can be overbearing at times. Me, I’m only protective. Best to humor him, honey.”

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Heath scowled at his friend. “Overbearing? She collapsed from heat exhaustion, and you make it sound like I overreacted.” “She said it, not me.” Owen held up his hands as if to deflect any blame. Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Heath bit his tongue to keep from spouting a defensive retort. He lengthened his stride to cover the half a mile up the beach quicker. The sooner he got to the shade, the better. The cluster of pines could hardly be called a forest, but it would shelter them from the afternoon and evening sun. When they headed inland, Heléna started squirming again. “I can walk. I’m not an invalid.” God, she was stubborn. “You’re not heavy, doll. I think I’ll carry you instead since we’re almost there.” She growled, and a smile tickled his mouth. “Stop calling me doll!” “That’s what I call all the women who follow pilots around like puppies.” He hefted her higher to keep from losing his hold on her. “Fakes looking to tell their girlfriends they got fucked by an airplane jockey.” Her fist connected with his jaw, sending a surge of pain through his teeth. She packed quite a punch at close range. Her legs slipped from his grip, and she jerked free, tumbling to the ground. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on the planet!” She fought the skirt tangling around her, tripping several times before she gained her feet. Gathering some of the fabric in her hands, she sprinted past the trees and toward the northernmost point of the cay. Her steps were sure and steady, and she showed no signs of fainting or falling. She disappeared behind a distant rock a minute later. The woman tied him knots. He couldn’t convince his logical brain she hadn’t purposely stowed away on the plane, yet his instincts told him she hadn’t. Add to that his dick’s response to holding her, and the caution against becoming involved in a relationship again worked to

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sabotage any chance of it. Owen picked up his sandy shirt, shaking off the wet grains. “How many apologies are you shooting for, Heath? ’Cause the one you owe her now makes two.” Not in the mood for his partner’s smartass comments, Heath shook his head and aimed for the other end of the island. “I’ll get our stuff and some wood for a fire.” Resisting the temptation to check for a glimpse of Heléna, he concentrated on the gentle shush of the surf washing against the shore and the breeze ruffling his hair. He half expected one of the gulls riding the wind overhead to shit on him. It’s been that kind of day. **** Heléna stripped off her skirt and ran to meet the waves racing to greet her. Who’d have thought the very first day of her first fertility cycle could’ve gotten any worse? Maybe she’d get lucky and drown while she hid the evidence of the stinging hurt from Heath’s insult in seawater. He’d labeled her a shallow, manipulative bitch before she’d even spoke a word to him. A man like him didn’t deserve the gift of her virginity, whether her hormones wanted him or not. They didn’t care that he wasn’t her mate. He was simply a means to pacify a sexual need. Owen had triggered a similar reaction, but she couldn’t use him to satisfy the craving. He’d made an effort to be nice to her, unlike his copilot, and searching for any male to screw had never entered her thoughts. No, that wasn’t right. She’d wished for a pair of cabana boys and a beach that very morning. She shivered when the cool water lapped at her thighs. It might’ve been refreshing if the heat and humidity of summer pressed down on her instead of mild winter temperatures. A tear dripped from her cheek into the ocean, the two mixing and

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blending to dilute her emotions. Somewhere, her mates unknowingly waited for her. Would they still be available to her in seven years? Even if she managed to spell herself back to the mansion, she wouldn’t venture out again until her next cycle. Between the ineptitude of her spellcasting and the lack of receptive men, it wasn’t worth the risk. Her cousin Kata’s experience in a tropical paradise floated into Heléna’s mind as she dove under the surface. Being incanted into a painting as a mermaid with a pair of deliverymen sure beat being stranded on the beach with two pilots after their plane crashed. Of course, Aaron and Adam were Kata’s true mates as well. Heléna couldn’t begin to guess where the men she was destined to share her life with lived. She skimmed the ocean floor with her belly, aiming for the beach. Swimming alone was dangerous, especially since she knew nothing about the tides and the depth beyond where she stood when she came up for air. Small waves set her off-balance with their insistent pressure on the middle of her back, and the touch of a fish gliding past her knee sent a chill up her spine. “Heléna! Heléna!” Owen jogged into the shallows, wildly gesturing with his arms. “Shark! God, honey, there’s a shark right behind you!” A gray fin cut through the water a few feet from her right side, the silhouette of its long body darkening the clear aqua sea. Her heart skipped a beat, and her lungs seized. I’m meant to die instead of finding my mates. Splashes from the far left sent the shark swimming toward the movement, and a quick glance made her stomach drop to her feet. Heath smacked a stick on the surface of the water, drawing the predator away from her. “Get out of the water!” Frozen in place, she could only stare at her rescuer. “Damn it, Heléna! Now! Get out of the water!” The panic in his voice pushed her legs into motion, and she kicked

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toward the beach until her ankles hit sand. She chanced a look at Heath as she crawled out of the surf. He wacked at the tooth-filled maw, jumping backward as the shark lunged at him. The stick connected with its snout, and the distinctive fin sunk under the waves to appear in deeper water a few seconds later. Heléna held her breath until Heath dropped to his hands and knees above the waterline. Why would he come to her rescue when he clearly thought so little of her? She was nothing more than an immoral groupie to him. His actions made no sense. Owen brushed her tangled hair off her forehead and cradled her in his arms. “You okay? Jesus, that took a decade off my life.” Tremors rippled over her skin, making her shake from head to toe. Even her teeth chattered with the quakes. “I–I...” Words wouldn’t form, but more tears did. Burying her face in his chest, she tried to stifle the sobs. His comforting hand rubbing her back set them free. She couldn’t remember when she’d last cried with such a mix of grief and relief. How could she have thought she could escape her mistakes so easily? Why hadn’t the Fates put her out of her misery? For some reason, a smidgeon of hope still lingered in her soul—the belief that she would discover happiness. “You’re bound and determined to get us killed, aren’t you?” Heath’s tone carried more than anger. It held contempt. “Stay out of the goddamn water.” She lifted her head to glare at him, but he’d already stalked away.

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Chapter 4 Owen poked at the glowing remains of the coals, keeping Heléna in his peripheral vision. She’d lain on her skirt and fallen asleep within seconds of arriving at the site Heath had chosen for their camp. She hadn’t awakened when the aroma of grilled fish wafted up from the cook fire. Neither had Heath joined him for supper. The animosity between his friend and their female castaway had spiraled out of control in the few short hours since Heath had discovered her on the plane. He’d all but blamed her for every aspect of their predicament—the crash, the lack of food and water, the shark incident. Heath had directed his anger at her for pretty obvious reasons. Gut-deep fear had shown through the sparks he’d aimed at her when he told her to stay out of the water. Calling her “doll” kept her at arm’s distance with the reminder of his unpleasant experience with pilot-infatuated sluts. His superstitions about the area didn’t help, but an unwanted attraction sealed the deal. Without a doubt, Heléna struggled with the same reluctance to let fascination lure her into the clutches of a man who openly seemed to despise her. Owen didn’t attempt to deny the twinge of jealousy that, although she’d sought comfort from him, she hadn’t offered any hint that she desired him. Not that any of it mattered. If no one found them soon, they’d all die from dehydration. One day without water would become two far too quickly. “Any fish left?” Heath’s gruff question came as he sat in the shadows of the pines, out of the circle of light cast by the embers. Owen nodded, holding out the stick with a headless grilled fish

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skewered on it. “You can have the rest. I saved some of mine for Heléna.” “I thought she was going to die. I’ve never been so scared in my life, not even when the engine cut out.” His voice cracked, and Heath bowed his head, cradling it in his palms. “Yeah, me too.” Pushing to his feet, Owen carried the scant supper to his friend. “I can still see the sheer panic on her face. I doubt I’ll ever forget it. Here. Eat.” Keeping Heléna in sight, he settled beside Heath. They sat in silence while Heath picked at his dinner. “You know, we’re in big trouble if nobody comes looking for us.” Heath shoved another piece of fish in his mouth. “I know. I’ve been trying not to think about it.” “I went to see if I could get some supplies from the plane, but it already washed off the shelf.” Springing up, Owen cuffed Heath upside the head. “You stupid son of a bitch! There’s a shark out there waiting for one of us to volunteer to be its next meal. And you had the nerve to yell at Heléna for going in the water?” A whimper from near the fire had Owen scowling at his friend and stalling midstep. Heléna shifted on the makeshift bed as she curled into a fetal position, another soft groan drifting to him. The curve of her hip drew his eyes. God, but he’d love to lie down with her, molding his body around hers. “Quit staring at her ass.” Heath’s hiss broke the spell she’d cast on Owen. “She’s too damn innocent for either one of us.” So there it is—the closest thing to an admission of interest I’ll get. “Speak for yourself.” “I’m not talking about sex.” Heath stood, slipping on his shirt. “She looks at everything like she’s never seen it before. Yeah, she’s probably a virgin, but the way she stares out at the ocean...” Owen had noticed her fascination with the blue-green water that stretched past the horizon. Considering he and Heath had flown out of

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Miami, she had to have seen the Atlantic when she’d boarded. Maybe the color surrounding the Bahamas was new to her. “No! I can’t!” Heléna thrashed in her sleep, panting as she moved her arms and legs like she was running. “Find the triangle!” Heath led the rush to her side, gathering her now-trembling body onto his lap as he sank to the ground. “Wake up, Heléna. It’s okay.” His soothing tone did nothing to calm her. “My destiny! Take me there!” Owen stroked her hair, hoping the nightmare passed quickly. Her frantic words didn’t make any sense. She let out a cry similar to the one that had drawn his and Heath’s attention to her presence on the plane. Her arms flew up to cover her head. “Can’t be it. Wrong place.” Pulling her closer, Heath trapped her arms against his chest. “Shh, you’re safe. We won’t let anything hurt you.” “Keep making mistakes.” Panic turned to resignation, and she slumped into Heath. “Not one of them.” Not one of them? What did she mean? Owen hated the helplessness in her voice, but he couldn’t even feed his need to console her. His best friend had usurped that duty. Pushing aside his fantasies of her waking up in his arms and showing gratitude for chasing away her bad dreams, Owen added a piece of wood to the fire. As much as Heath and Heléna snarled at each other, the basic mutual desire couldn’t be missed. Stepping back was Owen’s only choice. With a few days left to live, he wouldn’t jeopardize a life-long friendship for a woman—no matter how badly he wanted her. Flames licked at the bleached limb, expanding the ring of illumination. Night descended quickly as the sun set on the other side of the pines, bringing an eerie dusk to the island. The moon hung on the edge of the horizon, only a tiny sliver of the round orb peeking above the ocean. Without it, they would’ve been steeped in darkness. Winter in the Bahamas boasted mild temperatures, but nightfall came

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early. If he could see his watch in the dim light, it would probably read about five thirty or six o’clock. “You!” Heléna’s accusation and a scuffle told Owen she’d finally awakened. “Don’t touch me.” Not in the mood to play referee, he waited for the inevitable exchange of insults. He resisted turning around when more rustling sounded behind him. “Fine, I won’t touch you.” Heath stalked to the fire, sitting across from Owen. His fierce frown spoke loud and clear about his displeasure at her demand. “Women.” “What did you say?” She came to stand within the halo of light, her fists perched on her hips. The long flowing skirt now hid her body from the waist down, but her stiff nipples poked at the thin fabric of her top. Shaking his head, Heath sighed. “What the hell did I do wrong this time?” Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips. “You said ‘women.’” “If you knew what I said, why’d you ask?” She crossed her arms in front of her perky tits. “Did you mean it? Because you didn’t call me ‘doll’ or imply I’m just a child.” Ah, the crux of her issues with Heath. The question was whether or not the fool would mess up the progress he’d made by opening his big mouth and inserting his foot again. Heath raked his fingers through his hair. “Um, yeah?” A laugh escaped before Owen could censor his reaction to the response. “I think you won that round, Heléna. Why don’t have a seat and have some supper? You like fish, don’t you?” She nodded, but her eyebrows furrowed as she stared in Heath’s direction. “So you won’t treat me like a brainless little girl anymore?” Heath rolled his eyes. “I never said you were brainless.” “You also never said you wouldn’t treat me like a child anymore.” Owen had to give Heléna credit—when she cleared the air, she didn’t leave any unfinished business.

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“Okay, I won’t treat you like a kid, but I reserve the right to—” “Oh, no, you don’t. No qualifications or conditions.” Settling on the ground, she grabbed her sweater and slid her arms in the sleeves. “I know perfectly well when I’ve made mistakes. I don’t need you to tell me.” Heath opened his mouth and then closed it, evidently thinking twice about offering a rebuttal. He gripped his hands together, squeezing the fingers of his right hand before alternating to the left. “That shark almost had you for lunch. You can give me some leeway on overreacting.” Her pretty bowed lips curved downward as she reached for the fish Owen passed to her. “All right.” “That’s it? A thank-you would’ve been nice.” Heath went back to eating his dinner. “Gads! Thank you. Are you happy now?” Shaking her head, Heléna tucked a bite of fish into her mouth. “Relatively speaking, yeah.” Heath’s chuckle and grin drew a glare from her. “I wouldn’t mind having a way off this pile of sand, though.” Owen tossed his own glare at Heath for bringing up their dire circumstances. Ignoring their predicament beat the hell out of dwelling on a problem that had no immediate solution—with possibilities beyond their control. She didn’t answer, seeming to concentrate on the barest of sustenance. When she’d eaten about half, she handed the remainder back to Owen. “I’m full. Do you want the rest?” He shared a look with Heath. She couldn’t have filled her stomach, even as tiny as she was. “Are you sure?” Her nod had to suffice for tonight. Tossing skin and bones into the fire, Heath set aside the roasting stick. “I’ll see if I can catch three fish tomorrow.” His avoidance of another sparring match with Heléna surprised Owen. Had Heath finally realized that getting along was to their

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advantage since they’d have to depend on each other a great deal over the next few days? Peeling the last bit of flaky flesh from the skeleton, Owen dropped the scaly remains into the flames. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll check the other side of the island for palm trees in the morning. Maybe we’ll get lucky and I’ll find some coconuts.” “Good idea.” Heath stretched his arms over his head as he yawned. “God, I’m beat.” Exhaustion crept over Owen, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Me too. Heléna, you think you’ll be warm enough? After the storm today, the temperature’s probably going to be in the fifties overnight. You can borrow my jacket if you need it.” Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I’ll be fine in my sweater.” Certain she’d only refused the offer because she didn’t want to come across as weak, he debated making another suggestion. What the hell do I have to lose? “Another option is you can sleep between Heath and me to conserve body heat since we don’t have any way to make a tent or sleeping bags.” She blinked at him like she was considering the suggestion. “I guess. Do either of you snore? I’m a light sleeper.” Her flimsy excuse didn’t fly. He and Heath had a rather loud exchange while she slept, and she’d barely moved. The dream had been the culprit in her waking. Heath gave an indignant grunt. “Hell, no, I don’t snore.” She glanced at him and then at Owen. “Me neither. We’ve camped out together plenty of times, and I can vouch for Heath.” Her shoulders slumped in what was most likely defeat. “Okay.” The second she agreed, a very important fact occurred to Owen. Lying next to her while she slept was a surefire trigger for a hard-on. Would she notice his cock standing at attention if she happened to wake with her cute backside cuddled up to his crotch?

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He shoveled sand over the low fire with his foot, taking care to put out the flames. Heath had already moved to the area near the trees, running his palm over the ground. The slowly rising moon lit up a rock, and he pitched toward the beach. Within a couple minutes, the three of them lay side by side. Staying just out of touching range of Heléna, Owen willed his body to relax. Her breathing was deep and even, but he didn’t dare open his eyes to see if she was awake. Her sweet face cast in moonlight would set him on a course to sexual frustration. The soft shush of the waves on the shore lulled him into unconsciousness. **** Staring up the breathtaking view of countless stars and the huge glowing moon, Heléna rethought her doubts. From this highest point on the cay, she’d spotted Pegasus and Cygnus on the northwestern horizon moments before she, Owen, and Heath had retired for the night. Draco peeked at her now from the same direction. Was the trio of flying constellations a sign? An omen to guide her? Jupiter—Lord of the Sky, Rain god, and Cloud-gatherer— watched her from above, his bright presence giving her goose bumps. Had the ancient shifter, Kazmer, cloaked his shape to spy on her? His legendary control over natural disasters could’ve caused the storm that had downed the plane flown by her pilot companions. Had he tried to cause their demise because he suspected Heath and Owen were the men she sought? The elder of the Black Triad had made many attempts to prevent the matings of Macska witches over the past year or so. Helena’s own sister, Rebeka, had been a victim of his meddling, as well as two cousins that the evil shifter had almost killed. Rebeka’s sister-in-law and her Protectors had only survived a pirate shipwreck by a miracle. What if Heléna hadn’t made a mistake in sending herself aboard

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the failing aircraft? The Bermuda Triangle, the night sky, and a threesome of castaways could all be indications that she’d found her destiny—her triangle. The Fates worked in mysterious and seldomerroneous ways. Are Owen and Heath my mates? If she hadn’t spelled herself to them, they wouldn’t have a chance of getting back to civilization unless someone had heard their calls for help on the radio. Was she meant to take them with her when she returned home? If she managed a proper charm to get herself there. Heath rolled from his side to his back, letting out a muffled groan. Sand beat sleeping on rocks, but it didn’t begin to compare to a mattress. She held in a sigh, resisting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder. An arm looped over her side, pulling her against the outline of a swollen cock. Sweeping desire almost had her arching into Owen’s wonderfully hard form. Her racing heart echoed in her ears as the hormones that had nearly driven her mad yesterday struck again. Heat spread through her limbs, and moisture gathered between her thighs, readying her to mate. Drowning in the need to take pleasure from these men, she moaned. Owen’s palm slid upward along her ribs to cup her breast, adding to the surge of desire. As she closed her eyes to savor his touch, his palm brushed over her nipple, sending adrenaline to every cell in her body. Her eyes flew wide at the rush. Heath shifted to face her, his fingers tracing her thigh to her hip, plowing her skirt higher and higher. Slipping beneath the fabric, he dipped low enough to cradle the curve of her bottom. A sense of rightness swam through her veins. If she didn’t belong here between them, the Fates had abandoned her. Giving in to her passion, she pressed the crease of her ass to Owen’s erection and hooked her hand behind Heath’s neck, drawing him close enough to mold her lips to his. The moon reflected off his

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pale gray irises when his eyes blinked open. His tongue came out to tease the seam of her mouth, ratcheting her need up another notch. The palm on her breast changed to fingers plucking at her nipple. The hardening of the tip sent a spasm to her pussy. Warm breath caressed the side of her neck a second before a nibble intensified the flames racing to her clit. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.

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Chapter 5 Kissing was an experience beyond Heléna’s comprehension. Her sex manual had given instructions, but without actual practice, she’d been caught completely unaware. She hadn’t expected the meeting of mouths to stoke an inferno inside her. Experiencing orgasms brought satisfaction. Exploration of a man’s lips brought a new kind of want, a stronger sense of passion. Caught up in the joy of sexual haze, she thrust her tongue past Heath’s teeth, delighting in the taste of his masculinity. He met her strokes with forceful glides of his own as he took the kiss from his mouth to hers. Sparring with him sent a rush of moisture to her cunt, soaking her panties. Anticipation rolled along her nerve endings. His low moans vibrating along her jaw assured her she wasn’t alone in her desire. Reaching behind her, she grasped the back of Owen’s pants-clad thigh to pull him closer. He ground his cock into her ass, seeming as out of control as her spiraling need. His fingers still teased her sensitive nipple, and the intense ache spread from her inner muscles to her clit to her lower belly. Pressure built as he rolled her tight bud back and forth. She sucked Heath’s tongue as the pleasure swelled, and finally, she had to come up for air. “So close.” Would they make her come this way? Owen’s hand crept along her stomach, abruptly ending the rise. She groaned in protest. Heath levered up on his elbow and frowned, his palm still resting on her hip. “What the hell is going on?” Jerking away, Owen sat up behind her. “Heléna?”

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She closed her eyes, withdrawal crashing over her. Heath’s touch slipped away, and she shivered from the lack of contact. Why had they stopped? Tears seeped from behind her eyelids to wet her cheeks. “You let both of us...” Owen’s words trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish for her to guess what he was thinking or to interpret his disgust at those thoughts. She immediately recognized the unwanted emotion smothering the erotic fire that had threatened to burn her alive only moments before. Disappointment. How many times had that suffocating feeling beaten her down in the last few months? Too many to count. She’d dealt with the knowledge that her craft was failing on more and more occasions, that she couldn’t go in search of her mates, that her family didn’t think she was capable of taking care of herself. She had no need of rejection. Gathering the scant remains of her dignity, she scooted out from between Owen and Heath to stand. Without looking back, she strode to the beach, focusing on the gentle shush of the waves and the rippling reflection of the moon on the water. A chilly breeze lifted her hair and blew wisps in her face as the wind carried the scent of pine to the ocean. Her stupid hormones had led her down the wrong path. Common sense had left her in the lurch, deserting her when she’d needed it most. In the hours until daylight, she’d have to figure out a transportation spell to send the men someplace safe—without harming them. Then she’d incant herself home to her room where she belonged and never leave. In seven years, the memories of her humiliation would remind her that a fertility cycle held no guarantees or promises—only the distinct possibility of disappointment. A chill shuddered through her, and she lowered herself to the dry sand at the tide line to wait out the rest of the horrible lonely night. You win, Kazmer.

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**** Willing his cock into submission, Heath glanced at Owen and then back at Heléna. Last summer he’d turned down a proposition from two women interested in a kinky threesome, but sharing a woman with another man hadn’t crossed his mind. Not even once. Had Heléna known he and Owen had both been touching her? She instigated that damn kiss. Of course, she knew. What a kiss it had been. “You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, could you?” The tone in Owen’s hissed whisper sparked Heath’s anger. “I wasn’t the one feeling her up, you bastard.” Owen snorted. “Semantics, my friend. You think I couldn’t tell you’d about sucked her face off? Her lips were swollen, and her eyes were glassy. Wouldn’t surprise me if you were trying to get inside her underpants.” “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Pushing to his feet, Heath paced to the dead fire and back to their sandy bed. Imprints of his and her body still marred the surface. “Your hand was creeping from her tit to her pussy, not mine, you lousy son of a bitch.” “I see how it is. You’re allowed to touch her, but I’m not. She sure as hell wasn’t telling me to stop.” That was the problem nagging at Heath’s brain—Heléna hadn’t asked either of them to quit kissing or touching her. In fact, she seemed to like having both of them vying for her attention. Her moans hadn’t been from pain or discomfort. She wanted us both. He bent to pick up a rock he’d missed earlier. Suppressing the urge to heave the thing as far as could, he tossed it in the air and caught it before dropping it back on the ground. “I won’t share her.” “Neither will I.” Grabbing his boots, cap and goggles, and scarf, Owen headed south toward the dogleg bend of the cay. Heath’s gut twisted. Almost twenty years of friendship in the toilet

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because of a dame. She wasn’t just any woman, though—evidently not for either of them. How had that happened? Staying out of reach of the outgoing tide, Heléna sat down as he kept a close watch to make sure she didn’t go in the water. The moon’s light cast an eerie glow around her, as if to gauge her mood. Pale blue-green mist encircled her. Would she choose him over Owen? Would she choose at all? Her stiff posture suggested choosing wasn’t in her plans. She’d walked away from them both, after all. Had she viewed their reactions as a blanket rejection, with no exceptions? Rubbing at his tight chest, Heath shook his head. They were trapped on their own little piece of hell in paradise with no more than a few days to live, and instead of working together to survive, they’d already gone their separate ways. Owen possessed the only dry matches to light a fire, but he knew nothing about catching fish. Although he was a good hunter, Heath wouldn’t be able to cook whatever he caught. Heléna's skills included seducing men in their sleep, trying their patience, and triggering their need to protect her. He yawned, the dilemma too complicated for his tired mind and body. Based on the moon’s position, dawn was still several hours from now. Not that he’d be able to sleep with his dick drooling like the hound dog it was. What kind of spell had Heléna cast over him? Facing south, he caught a glimpse of Owen stomping toward the spot they’d come ashore after the miracle landing. Without his superior ability to fly, the plane would’ve become a sinking ship in deep water. He’d stretched every inch out of their altitude and speed, staying calm when the experimental engine had sputtered out. Luck had been on their side. If I live through this, that penny-pincher Kilpatrick is getting an eyeful of my fist. The design had been flawless, the labor meticulous. The parts, on the other hand, had been made from secondhand junk. Then again, the

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prick most likely hadn’t given a damn since he wasn’t risking his own life. He also wouldn’t make a plug nickel off a sale to the U.S. government, especially with the plane at the bottom of the Atlantic and the plans nowhere but in Heath’s head. Owen disappeared behind a scrubby pine. He didn’t so much as sneak a backward look toward Heléna or Heath. In all the years that they’d been friends, Owen hadn’t once lost his temper with Heath, and they’d never shown interest in the same girl. What about Heléna had changed that? She now sat hunched forward with her forehead on the crossed arms resting on her knees. Did she regret allowing them both to touch her? If he and Owen could share an attraction to her, maybe she was genuinely attracted to each of them. But why would she encourage them both? Together? Maybe with mortality staring her down, she saw no reason to choose. No one beyond the three of them would ever know what happened during their exile on Hawksbill Cays. Her obvious innocence defies logic. An inexperienced woman wouldn’t go in for kink. Would she? The sexual possibilities of two men and one woman offered more variety than two girls and one guy. Eat a pussy or suck a tit and fuck a pussy. Had he and Owen continued with Heléna, the list grew exponentially. Suck a cock and fuck a cock. Eat cock and get eaten. Fucked in the pussy and fucked in the ass. Ass-fucking and mouthfucking. The list went on and on. It also invoked images that made his dick twitch. Perhaps sharing her wasn’t such a distasteful idea. He and his friend could give her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined—times two—for as long as they managed to stay alive. At least they’d all die happy. His erection threatened to bust his zipper. I’m a damn pervert for considering it. After his and Owen’s outright denial to share her, Heléna would

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probably tell them to take a one-way trip to hell. They’d deserve that slap in the face if they didn’t apologize first. Could he convince Owen to go along with the plan, though? A few hours ought to cool his anger. He didn’t get pissed often, and he didn’t hold a grudge. Heléna was the unknown factor—the woman scorned. She drew in the sand with her finger, sweeping away the writing with her palm a moment later. Repeating the action, she hesitated and then added more to whatever she’d drawn. The concentration on her task had Heath watching her for several minutes. When she seemingly finished on her right side, she switched to the left, leaving her markings rather than erasing them. Curiosity almost made him move closer for a peek, but he wouldn’t risk inciting her temper again so soon. She finally nodded and brushed her hands together. Did she realize that the ocean was at low tide and her scribbling would be washed away within a couple hours of sunrise? I bet she does. She might’ve gazed at the sea in wonder, but his gut said she’d studied every facet of it—from the shading from difference in depth to the lines of moisture along the shore. The night sky had drawn her attention as well. She probably knew all the constellations, the visible planets, and how to gauge time by the phase and location of the moon. While she seemed untried in her interactions with men, she wasn’t stupid. Her eyes revealed her emotions and deep intelligence. At times, she succeeded in veiling her thoughts, but more often than not, a keen observer could see every nuance of her personality. She was slightly shy, a bit insecure, and more than a little naïve. And stubborn. She’d proven that with her insistence about not being treated like a child. As he got to know her, his first impression came in direct opposition to the facts. She had a wide streak of independence, and a fiery mane of red hair would’ve matched her temper better than dark brown. Her femininity defied her small, boyish stature. She was a constant contradiction.

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His eyelids drooped, and he battled fatigue, but he wasn’t wasting a minute of his life by being unconscious. He’d sleep when he was dead in a few days. “She isn’t worth it.” Heath silently laughed at Owen’s low voice coming from the trees. The guy was too loyal for his own good. “Worth what?” Creeping out of the shadows, Owen shoved his fingers through his hair. “We’ve been friends a long time. I’m not fighting with you over Heléna. You want her? She’s yours.” “What if I say no?” “What the hell are you talking about? I said I’m backing off.” Owen crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stopped a couple feet from Heath. His jaw flexed, hinting at how much he disliked stepping aside. “No, you’re not. You like her too.” Heath mirrored Owen’s pose. “I’m not letting her come between us.” Raising his eyebrows and holding in a smile, Heath snorted. “Yeah, you are.” Owen glared at him. “Damn it, Heath, quit being an ass. I’m not sacrificing our friendship for her.” “But I’m so good at it.” The corners of Heath’s lips slipped upward. “Hear me out.” Rolling his eyes, Owen huffed out a breath. “Talk.” Watching for the slightest change in his friend’s disposition, Heath launched into an explanation of his scheme, keeping his voice low. “We both want Heléna. After what happened, I think it’s safe to say she wants both of us as well.” Owen shrugged. “Maybe.” “I’ve changed my mind. We could’ve died yesterday, and we could just as easily die today or tomorrow. I say we let her come between us.” The color drained from Owen’s face. “Some friend you are, you horny bast—”

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Heath held up his hand. “Let me rephrase that. I say we make her come between us.” “You mean... Jesus, you can’t be thinking...” Owen stared Heath in the eyes, swallowing hard but not blinking. Evidently, coherent thought eluded him. “You want to... Are you serious?” “Dead serious.” “When you say you changed your mind, you mean you want to...share her?” “Give the man a prize.” Still waiting for a positive response, Heath extended his hand toward Owen. “Deal?”

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Chapter 6 Working to pull some air into his lungs, Owen stared at Heath’s extended hand. His friend was serious about sharing Heléna. I say we make her come between us. She’d been on the verge of an orgasm when Heath had interrupted the interlude. Was she a screamer? A moaner? Did she close her eyes tight or open them wide? Owen could well imagine her fingernails scraping at his back or digging into his ass as he fucked her hard and fast. Could he accept another man making love to her with him? Not just any other guy. Heath’s like a brother to me, and he’s right. Mortality was an enlightening prospect. They could suffer through their final hours or make the most of the time they had left. Giving a curt nod, he grasped Heath’s hand and shook it. “Deal.” Owen ignored the nervous fluttering in his stomach as his friend grinned. “Now we need to do some groveling. She—” A rumble of thunder drowned out Heath’s words, and lightning flashed to the left. A bank of low clouds moved in from the northwest, blotting out stars and the blurry streak of the Milky Way. The ghostly mass closed in on the nearly full moon. The speed of the storm sent a shiver up Owen’s spine. “We need to get Heléna and take cover.” Where they’d find cover was an issue he didn’t want to think about. Heath gestured for Owen to follow as he jogged to the beach. The low tide line vanished under the rising surf, rough waves forming whitecaps beyond the shallow water on the sea shelf. Heléna looked to the sky as another clash of thunder sounded, a frown marring her otherwise breathtaking face and wind whipping her

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hair out behind her. Heath reached her first, reaching for her hand. “Come on! We need to find someplace safe to wait out the storm!” She glanced to her right and then to her left as Owen offered her a hand up. “I can’t. The words will wash away. I’ll never remember them.” A violent crash and a blinding flash of electricity made her jump to her feet, and he closed his fingers around hers. “We need to go, Heléna. It’s too dangerous to stay out here next to the water.” She tugged free of his grip and dropped to her knees. “But I can’t leave them! They’re the best I’ve written in months.” Moonlight edged the letters in the sand, fading into darkness when the storm front masked the source of light. A dim howl rose in volume, and she pressed her palms to the etchings. Heath clutched her shoulders. “We have to go now!” Her chin fell to her chest, and she seemed to give in to their demands to head inland. Rather than rising, she caressed the sand. “...fly...say good-bye...be strong...home...belong...no harm...blessed be.” Heléna’s faint mumblings carried to Owen’s ears before they evaporated into the gusting winds. Strange colored lights flickered around the three of them. The gusts changed to a swirling vortex, pulling at Owen and making his skin prickle. Her voice became clear as she repeated the prayer once, twice, and he blinked to see past the now-pulsing beams of blue and green. Snagging a handful of her sweater in his grip, he waited for the tornado to suck them up and spit them out in the ocean. Instead, the world went black for several seconds. The storm ceased, leaving utter silence. Even the hurricane-force winds calmed to nothing. Am I dead? A groan came from beside him, and he blinked in the sudden darkness. “Is that you, Heath?”

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“Yeah. Heléna? Where are you?” Panic ripped through Owen’s veins as he patted the hard ground beneath him and the space around him. “Heléna, are you here? Answer me. Please.” “Where the hell are we?” Heath’s question mirrored Owen’s thoughts. “This isn’t sand. It’s some kind of plank floor or something. I can feel seams. That has to be a rug. What happened?” Feeling his way across the floor, Owen swallowed a curse when he rammed his thumb against a smooth wooden post. He traced the silhouette of a lathed leg. It connected to a wide crosspiece, and he followed it a several feet to another curved leg. A bed? Something soft brushed the back of his hand, but he kept moving around the corner to a longer crosspiece. His knees ached from crawling on the hard flooring, and a few feet later, his head banged against an obstacle blocking his way to the next corner. “Damn it!” “You okay?” Heath’s voice sounded farther from him than before. Using his fingers to see the object, he found handles and drawers. “Hit my head on a nightstand, I think.” If he was lucky, he’d discover a lamp when he tapped a path to the flat surface on top. Aha! Smoothing his fingers up the base, he turned the switch and promptly got blinded by a burst of bright light. “How did we end up in somebody’s bedroom?” Turning to take in his surroundings and locate Heath, Owen’s eyes landed on a crumpled form on the bed. Long dark hair spread over the covers, and a flowing skirt hid the woman’s legs but not her delicate feet. His heart squeezed. “Heléna?” He scrambled onto the mattress, sweeping the thick mane away from her face. Blood seeped from a gash on her forehead, and several small cuts marred her cheekbones. He scooped her into his arms. “Honey, wake up. Are you okay?” “Shit.” Heath joined him on the bed, stripping off his shirt to dab at the cut with the cloth. “We need to get her to a doctor. She might need stitches, and she probably has a concussion. At least we aren’t

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stranded in the middle of nowhere anymore.” He leaned in to press his lips to her mouth. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to see if I can find help. Try to stop the bleeding, Owen.” Nodding, Owen held the stained shirt to the worst cut. “What the hell happened?” “That discussion must wait.” An assertive female voice drew his attention to the foot of the bed. A much-older version of Heléna stared at him, the intensity in her eyes too strong for him to hold her gaze. “My granddaughter needs to be cared for first. Agnes is coming to tend to her injuries.” **** Goddess, protect these men who fly, And help me as I say good-bye. I must let go. I must be strong. They must go home where they belong. With harm to none, fix destiny. Please keep them safe, and blessed be. The incantation echoed in Heléna’s mind as she carefully repeated the spell. Staying focused on the words, she blocked out Kazmer’s stormy attempt to hurt Heath and Owen. Mates or not, she had to send them to safety and then return to her own time to face the consequences of her actions. If she distracted the ancient shifter with two separate destinations, he’d be more likely to chase after her to the Macska estate than waste his effort on innocent bystanders. The pressure of Heath’s hands gripping her shoulders faded, and a glance to the right told her Owen had vanished as well. The knowledge that they’d probably be dead in her time made her wish for a few minutes to mourn, but delaying wasn’t a wise choice. Now she would try to save herself. She traced her fingers over the written words in the sand, focusing

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once again on the charm. Wisest Fates, please guide me home. No longer will I choose to roam. My heart resigns itself to wait, And sexual need will soon abate. Blessed be and harm to none. Goddess, let thy will be done. A deep sense of doubt settled over her as she finished the first repetition. Had she chosen the right path this time? Beginning the last line of her final echo, she lifted her eyes to the sky and wished for home. Whirling sand sliced at her face, and a piece of flying debris struck her forehead, knocking her off-balance. She tumbled sideways, fighting to stay conscious. Have to complete the spell. “Thy will be done.” Blackness swarmed over her as a roaring voice tried to call her back and grappling fingers clawed at her clothes. Then the howling quieted and the air went still. The throbbing in her skull told her she was still alive, even as nausea rose in her throat and the spots dancing in her vision blurred. Her plan had succeeded. Now, she could rest. And mourn. “Are you sure she doesn’t need stitches?” A soft male murmur broke through the silence. “A poultice and bandage will suffice.” Aunt Agnes’s no-nonsense tone assured Heléna she’d made it home. “If the wound isn’t serious, then why isn’t she awake?” A different masculine voice hissed the question. “Tsk, tsk. She’ll be fine in the morning. The rest will help her body heal. You young men should sleep while she sleeps. You’ll need your strength when she wakes.” Aunt Agnes had a tendency to scold those under her care.

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Reaching for her aching head, Heléna groaned. “Who can rest with all this talking?” Both of her hands were suddenly engulfed in gentle embraces, and a warm body snuggled up to each side of her. “How are you feeling, honey?” She recognized that sweet tone, and her tummy somersaulted. “You scared the shit out of me again, sweetheart.” Blinking hurt, but she forced her eyes open to prove seeing really was believing. Owen and Heath smiled down at her, tying knots in her insides. “You’re not supposed to be here. I sent you back where you belong.” A second too late, she realized what she’d said. She’d screwed up again. I never learn, do I? “You sent us?” Owen’s eyebrows rose. “We belong right here with you, damn it.” True to his nature, Heath had to pick a fight with her. “Save me, Aunt Agnes. Please.” Scanning the room without moving her neck still sent pain shooting through Heléna’s head. The Macska witch who had been training her in the ways of homeopathic first aid laughed. “You brought them here, niece. They’re your problem, not mine.” “But what about—” “Romána has already welcomed your guests.” That news and a wink from Agnes as she stepped into view made Heléna realize she wouldn’t be getting any help from her aunt. “But they’re not my guests. I didn’t invite them. They aren’t supposed to be here!” She flinched at another quick stab of pain. “Ow.” “Flóra is brewing some white willow tea for you, dear. She should be here any—” A door clicked closed. “Ah, there she is now.” Closing her eyes to ease the ache, Heléna tried to remember the rhyme she’d used on Owen and Heath, but the words were gone. It’s just as well. The best spell I’d written in months? The minor mishaps

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from her recent spellcasting mistakes didn’t begin to compare to this blunder. Clinking of china couldn’t induce her to look at Flóra. The poor woman had to be mortified at her daughter’s unwitchlike behavior. An earthy scent tickled Heléna’s nose, making her mouth water as tea slooshed into the cup. “Can you sit up, Heléna? You had me so worried. I would’ve expected something like this from Lujza, but my sweet youngest daughter? Why would you run away?” Rebeka had always been the responsible one, Lu was the troublemaker, and the baby of the family had been...well, the baby. Always coddled, always overprotected, and always thwarted when she tried to gain some independence. Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Heléna blinked away stinging tears. Finally, the room came into focus. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to frighten anyone.” “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Flóra’s smile said all was forgiven, but Heléna wouldn’t soon forget. “Young men, could you please help her sit up to drink her tea?” Before she could even attempt to sit, Heath and Owen gently lifted Heléna’s shoulders, propping her up with a pair of pillows. Heath grasped the delicate saucer her mom handed him. “Such helpful boys. Thank you.” Touching her fingers to her lips, Flóra blew a kiss to her daughter. “You’ll take good care of her, won’t you, gentlemen?” Embarrassment tore through Heléna at the obvious insinuation. Owen and Heath weren’t her mates any more than the shark that had almost eaten her. “Mother!” She immediately regretted raising her voice. “Ouch. Would everyone please leave me alone so I can drink my tea and go to sleep?” Aunt Agnes frowned at Heath and Owen as they started to rise from the bed. “Where do you think you’re going? Heléna needs you right where you are. A concussion patient requires around-the-clock

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supervision for at least twenty-four hours.” She aimed for the door with Flóra following close behind. A sly smile warned Heléna of another incoming suggestive remark. “Margita will bring breakfast in the morning—but not too early. The three of you have much to learn about each other.” Resisting the urge to groan, Heléna lifted the cup from the saucer and sipped her tea in hopes it would dispel her headache. The brew sent warmth fanning out through her body. Or was it from the men sitting beside her? No. I won’t let these stupid hormones make a fool of me again. Besides, she couldn’t possibly want sex when she’d been whacked senseless with a piece of flying driftwood. I need sleep, not orgasms. Her eyelids grew heavy as she slowly drained the teacup. It slipped from her fingers, but she was sure she hadn’t dropped it. Relaxation crept through her muscles, and her thoughts scattered. She floated downward until her head rested on the pillow and the blankets curled under her chin. The light flicked off. At least she thought so. Maybe she’d only closed her eyes. Soft lips caressed her cheeks, making her heart smile. She forced out a whisper. “Stay with me. He can’t hurt you here. Great Grandmother’s magick is much stronger than mine. You’ll stay, won’t you?” Owen and Heath stiffened beside her. She sensed she’d said something wrong, but what? Perhaps she’d remember in the morning when her brain wasn’t so addled. Soft breath tickled her right ear. “Yes, Heléna, I’ll stay with you.” On her left, fingertips trailed along her jaw. “And I’ll stay with you.” Relief soothed her worry, and she gave in to the pull of slumber.

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Chapter 7 Heath almost convinced himself whatever Heléna’s mother had put in the tea had made their patient delusional, but the image of the white-haired old woman was burned in his memory. She could easily be Heléna’s great grandmother. The power emanating from her suggested she might be someone capable of magic spells and curses. And maybe I’m the one who’s delusional. Magic wasn’t real. It was an illusion created by masters of the art, performing to induce the awe of their audiences. Did Heléna come from a family of magical entertainers? A new generation of Houdinis? Damn, I need some sleep. “How do you think we got here?” Owen’s whisper came out of the dark to bring up the subject Heath had avoided thinking about so far. “Don’t know.” “Any idea where we are?” “Nope.” Considering Heléna’s visitors had been wearing skirts and sweaters similar to what his and Owen’s stowaway wore, somewhere other than the Bahamas was a safe bet. The mattress shifted. “Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it’s kind of strange the women allowed us to stay here? With Heléna, I mean. Hell, they insisted on it. For all they know, we could be a couple of deviants.” Aren’t we? We agreed to share Heléna. “I’m too damned tired to care. You want to try to stay awake with her, or do you think she’ll be okay if we both get some sleep?” “Not sure I can stay awake.” Owen yawned, proving the point. “I

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doubt her family would’ve left her if they thought her injuries were that serious.” Heath grunted, too exhausted to even open his mouth to reply. He rolled to his side, facing Heléna to drape his arm across her waist, but Owen’s forearm already lay there. Frustration simmered in his blood. How could they share her when sleeping on either side of her caused his temper to burn? All he wanted was to hold her while he slept. Capturing the sigh that tried to escape, he turned to his back again. The king bed provided plenty of room for three people sleeping side by side or one person by himself with a couple cuddling close together. It isn’t going to work. He slid his feet to the floor to stand, debating his options. One of the armchairs by the fireplace couldn’t be any less comfortable to sleep in than a bed with too many people. Navigating his way around the foot of the bed, he aimed for the faint moonlight streaming in the bathroom window. He closed the door before flipping the switch and about blinding himself with sudden light. A quick splash of water on his face didn’t improve his mood. Neither did a long cool drink. Turning off the light, he waited for his eyes to adjust and went to look out the window. Maybe the view would give him a hint at their location. The mostly full moon hung above a line of skeletal trees, its light reflecting off snow-covered ground. Snow? Where the hell am I? White drifts pushed against the west side of a thick row of bushes, while the ground to the east was coated in a glittering layer only a third as deep. What part of the world would have two or more feet of snow in late December? Better yet, how could he have traveled there in a split-second from the mild climate of Hawksbill Cays? Was he having the most realistic weird dream of his life, or had he gone completely nuts? Time to wake up. Heading back to the bedroom, he opened the door. Although he’d

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planned to settle in a chair, the scene on the bed sent him walking toward the exit the three women had taken. Owen still had his arm wrapped around Heléna’s waist, and now his face was buried in her hair and her hand held him in place. She doesn’t need or want me. Crawling back under the covers wasn’t even an option anymore. Disappointment surged through his veins faster than he could pretend not to care. Heath moved through a living room area lit by moonlight and tried the first door he came to, hoping for a way out. A wide hallway with several dim wall lights stretched out before him. Ignoring the doors on each side of the corridor, he followed the polished wood floor to a staircase and scuttled down the steps without slowing. At the second landing, another hall identical to the upper one didn’t tempt him to explore. He continued descending until he reached what seemed to be a vestibule, the stained-oak double doors resembling a main entrance to the house. Given the choice of another hall to the right or left, he went left toward faint voices. He passed a large dining room that seated at least fifty people at the two banquet tables. Plates, silverware, and napkins marked each place. Several highchairs were interspersed among the wooden chairs, and Heath changed his reference to Heléna’s home from house to mansion. If all her relatives resided with her, she had a good-sized family—much bigger than his had ever been. The Macskas didn’t live hand to mouth. The fancy light fixtures, plank floors, and oak moldings spoke of old money, with plenty of new mixed in. The furniture looked to be well made and expensive. A thought occurred to him as he stopped outside a spacious formal living room. His wealthy boss had an estate in New England and daughters of marriageable age. Had the cheap bastard set his sights on Heath and Owen taking the girls off his hands as payment for the work they’d done for him? He certainly wouldn’t put it past Kilpatrick to sacrifice his kids to pay off the pilots he’d damn near killed by being stingy.

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Or maybe Heléna could’ve snuck onto the plane to spy on her father’s employees and lied about her last name. Did the son of a bitch think Heath and Owen were dealing with a competitor on the sly? Could be I’m losing my sanity, and paranoia is only the beginning. “You should be resting rather than exploring.” Heath recognized the white-haired woman’s voice before he saw her sitting in the rocking chair. “I couldn’t sleep.” She gestured to the couch. “Will you join me?” A perfect opportunity to gather some information presented itself. “If you’re sure I’m not intruding.” “Those who care for my daughters are not intruders. I am Romána. Sit.” He nodded, obeying her instructions. “Heath Ulrich. I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning tea, but I’m a little puzzled about how we got from the Bahamas to someplace with snow so fast. We must’ve been knocked out cold for several hours.” Her piercing stare from over the edge of her teacup made his shoulder blades tingle. “Heléna will explain after she has rested. Would you care for coffee?” How could Heléna know what had happened? She’d been unconscious longer than he and Owen. “Yeah, coffee would be great. Uh, do you mind if I ask where we are?” “We are in the main parlor of the Macska home in Ohio.” The old woman leaned forward, setting her drink on the coffee table between them and pouring steaming hot liquid from a silver coffee pot into a dainty cup. She returned to her previous position in the rocker. “Sometimes we must simply accept our circumstances and the destiny life has in store for us.” While her philosophy sounded like it might work for some people, Heath didn’t sit back and let shit happen to him if he could help it. He raised the hot brew to his lips, willing to risk a scalded tongue for the

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pick-me-up. Strong, bold flavor blanketed his taste buds. “Mm, good coffee. I prefer to control my own destiny.” “You would rather have spent the remainder of your days without the woman you desire?” Choking on a swallow of coffee, he coughed to clear his throat and blinked his watery eyes. Coffee burned his nasal passages, but he refused to allow his shock at her statement to show. Wanting Heléna was one thing. Having her great grandmother point it out was something else. Romána smiled. “That you do not deny your feelings toward my granddaughter speaks louder than your silence. I do not believe you would choose to leave her for your prior...situation. Nor would your friend. You are permitted to stay if you wish to.” At least she wasn’t kicking him out into the blowing and drifting snow. “How I feel about Heléna means nothing if she doesn’t feel the same.” “You have told her how you feel?” The old woman’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes said she knew he hadn’t. He took another drink, delaying as long as he dared. Discussing his relationship with Heléna could get a little dicey if he wasn’t careful. He doubted Romána would approve of his and Owen’s agreement to share her granddaughter. Circumstances had changed since then anyway. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk about it.” “Our time on Earth is limited, and she cannot know what is in your heart if you hide it from her.” Pushing up from her chair, she set her empty cup on the tray that held the coffee pot. “Will you escort me to the dining room? Breakfast is ready.” As Heath rose to offer her his arm, a woman appeared in the doorway. Her long dark hair, intelligent eyes, and high cheekbones matched those of Heléna. Was she a sister or cousin? “Good morning, Great Grandmother. Oh, I didn’t realize you had company. Shall I set another place for breakfast?”

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“Good morning, Rebeka. Yes, Mr. Ulrich is joining us.” When the woman nodded and hurried away, Romána smiled. “She is Heléna’s oldest sister. You will dine with me so we may continue our conversation?” Although the rise of her voice indicated she asked a question, her penetrating gaze demanded Heath accept her invitation. “Yes, thank you.” The walk to the dining room brought them closer to a hum of voices that hadn’t been there minutes before. Most of the seats were filled, and the room quieted except for the giggles of several babies. A sea of eyes turned toward them as he escorted his hostess to the head of the larger table. Romána gestured to the chair to her right. “Blessings on our bounty, my children.” Heath remembered his manners enough to help her into her seat. A scan of the tables as he sat immediately negated his thoughts that Kilpatrick was behind the rescue. Every female but one shared at least a couple of Heléna’s facial features. He recognized Flóra and Agnes as well as Rebeka, the oldest sister. She was seated between two men, each cradling a blue blanket-wrapped bundle. A pair of guys also flanked the only black-haired woman—and her very pregnant belly. Sure he was imagining the unconventional groupings, Heath turned his attention to the other table. A woman with short, cropped hair kissed the broad-shouldered Goliath on her left before doing the same to another hulking strongman on her other side. She caught Heath staring and cocked her head. Her eyebrows rose in a way that reminded him of Heléna. Could she be the older sister? Who the hell cares? Those kisses weren’t of the casual acquaintance kind. Lack of sleep—not to mention his discussion with Owen about sharing Heléna on the island—had to have affected his brain. Unless he’d been transported to a place that allowed polygamy, he was seeing things that weren’t there. Romána leaned toward him. “The heart has an endless supply of

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love, whether for family, friends, or lovers. Does it not?” The answer was beyond the scope of his experience. He’d had a few girlfriends, but he’d never been in love, even with those he’d had sex with. Being a flyboy had only hardened his attitude against women. They didn’t give a damn about anything but being able to say they’d screwed a pilot. Add to that, his mom had deserted him and his dad on his fourth birthday, and fifteen years of heavy drinking had turned his father from dead drunk to a dead man. No wonder Heath didn’t trust women. He shrugged and held the platter of fried potatoes for Romána. “Leaves you open to people walking all over you.” “Ah.” She didn’t elaborate as she scooped a helping onto her plate and then did the same for him. “Thanks.” Handing the dish to the gray-haired man to Romána’s left, Heath hoped she would drop the subject. With a nod, she gave him another of those disconcerting looks. “Learning to accept love can be more difficult than giving it.” Piling scrambled eggs on his potatoes, he clamped his lips together to hold in a sarcastic retort. Surrounded by her family, the old woman couldn’t possibly understand having nobody to rely on but himself. Owen was the only person Heath ever allowed to fly while he was monitoring the dials. Even then, he hated relinquishing control. The emergency landing had almost cost him his sanity. Without Heléna strapped on his lap, he wouldn’t have hesitated to grab the yoke and take over landing the plane. More plates of food made their way around the table before he finally relaxed. Romána didn’t speak about love again, but she aimed her unsettling gaze at him several times throughout the meal. He drained his coffee cup, washing down the last bite of breakfast and waiting for the moment one of the family distracted her. Luck seemed to be with him when the shorthaired woman approached Romána. Both men shadowed her, each carrying a sleeping baby. The younger woman leaned down to kiss the old woman on the

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cheek, but her eyes never left Heath. “Good morning, Great Grandmother. I see we have a...guest.” Any chance of a quick escape deserted Heath when Romána turned her attention back to him. “Mr. Ulrich, this is Heléna’s other sister. Lujza, say hello to Heath Ulrich. Politely please, daughter.” The sister rolled her eyes. “I’m always polite.” He’d been correct in his guess about her relationship to Heléna and Rebeka, and Flóra hadn’t been exaggerating about her middle daughter’s less-than-sweet disposition. “Good to meet you, Lujza.” “Hello, Heath. You hurt my little sister and I’ll—” “Must I remind you of your manners again?” Romána gave her great granddaughter a quelling look. “No, ma’am.” Lujza extended her hand and pasted an obviously fake smile on her face. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” Both men behind her snorted. They had to possess unlimited patience and a boundless sense of humor to put up with such an outspoken woman. The darker man offered a smile. “I am Amalric, and this is Ranulf. Welcome to the Macska estate.” Giving a nod, Heath surrendered to the delay. Although he was fairly certain Amalric didn’t really welcome him, Heath gave him the benefit of the doubt for now. The idea that Kilpatrick had brought him to this place was laughable. The greedy bastard would never allow his daughters and multiple husbands to live under his roof. “Amalric. Ranulf. Thanks for the welcome.” Romána opened her arms to accept one of the babies. “Heléna will be waking soon, Mr. Ulrich. You must rest while you are able.” The old woman’s sudden permission to excuse himself caught him off guard, but he didn’t hesitate. As he rose from his chair, an unexpected wave of exhaustion had him wishing he’d already climbed the stairs to the third floor. He had to concentrate on his words to speak clearly. “I appreciate your hospitality, Romána.” Not waiting for her response, he focused on walking back to

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Heléna’s rooms. His legs grew heavier with every step, and when he crawled into bed beside her, his whole body sank into the cloud of a mattress. She rolled over to settle her head on his chest, erasing his earlier frustration. Her silky hair caressed his neck, and he let sleep take him.

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Chapter 8 She had to be dreaming. Nothing else could explain the body heat and masculine scent surrounding Heléna. The unbelievably realistic nightmare about Kazmer creating a hurricane to kill her on a tropical island had morphed into a delicious fantasy. A long, hard cock pressed against her hip, and a hand cupped her breast. Male pheromones filled her senses. That rich, musky drug kept her from opening her eyes and discovering she lay between bunchedup pillows and blankets. She wasn’t ready to face reality. The palm slid over her nipple, sending a riot of electrical sparks to her pussy. Would arching into the erection ruin her wonderful waking-dream? The urge won, but instead of the disappointment of discovering covers that moved with the pressure, the stiff length pushed back. A low moan accompanied the movement. Her eyes flew wide at the vibrations traveling along her spine. A familiar face lay in front of her. Almost afraid to look over her shoulder, she swallowed a jolt of panic and prayed to the Goddess she hadn’t slept through losing her virginity. How had she ended up in her own bed with Heath and Owen? Did they know they weren’t stranded on a cay in the Bahamas anymore? Warm lips touched her temple. “Feeling okay this morning?” Is Owen asking because we had sex? I’d remember that, wouldn’t I? No soreness nagged at her vaginal muscles. “Um, sure.” “I was worried you might have a headache from that nasty bump.” He kissed a line from her cheekbone to her neck. “I’m glad you’re all right.” The bump. The nightmare hadn’t been a bad dream. Kazmer really

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had tried to hurt her and her pilots with a violent storm. No, not my pilots. “I’m fine.” “Then I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you Heath and I agreed to share you.” Her heart stuttered, and her brain tried to make the jump from his asking about her medical condition to suggesting a threesome. Too shocked to speak, she probably looked like a gaping fool. “You still want both of us, don’t you?” His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “I...um...well...” She glanced at Heath, finding him awake and watching her. Running away wasn’t an option. Be brave for once in your life, Heléna! “Y–y–yes.” Lifting his hand from her breast, Heath ran his thumb along her jaw. The seriousness in the line of his mouth made her stomach roil. If he’d changed his mind, she’d never survive the rejection. “Are you sure? Don’t say yes because you think that’s what we want to hear. I’d rather have the truth.” Confusion warred with relief. He thought she’d lie to him? Or maybe he thought she didn’t truly want him. “I’m sure. I want both of you. I need both of you.” Reaching for his hand, she tugged it back into place over her puckered nipple. Even through her clothes, his touch made her uterus contract. “Undress me. And undress.” Owen tossed back the blankets as he sat up. Hooking his fingers in her waistband, he eased it downward as he lifted her hips. Her panties slid with her skirt, and his lips curved into a wicked grin. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on your sweet ass.” His words set off another contraction. Desire flooded her entire being, burying her insecurities and inhibitions. Hormones swarmed every cell in her body. “I want more than your hands touching my ass.” One eyebrow rose as he slipped her clothes past her feet. Interest glowed in his intense gaze. “I’m up for more. What do you have in mind?”

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Glancing at a now-naked Heath, she saw the same curiosity. “I’m going to ride Heath’s cock while you fuck me from behind.” Heath frowned. “You want both of us in your pussy at the same time? That would hurt you, and—” She shook her head. “I want you both inside me, but not that way.” Owen’s cough and Heath’s wide-eyed stare told her they finally understood her meaning. Heath swallowed before he spoke. “Are you sure?” Looping her hand around his neck, she pulled him closer. “Yes.” A slow caress up her leg drew her attention to Owen. He traced a path along her inner thigh with his fingertips, and she spread her knees to give him full access. “You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me, Heléna. We’re not just sharing you—you’re sharing yourself with us.” He stripped off his breeches and then settled on his stomach with his face inches from her pussy. She didn’t have a chance to answer him when Heath covered her mouth with his. His groan vibrated through her jaw, scattering her thoughts. Too impatient to wait for his invasion, she pushed at the seam of his lips, aching for more of a connection. He met her tongue with a forceful glide, and she gave as good as she got. Every stroke drove her deeper into the well of passion she’d been denied last night. Last night? Their previous encounter seemed days ago. How had she survived so long without physically joining with Heath and Owen? Fingers spread her pussy lips, and Owen’s warm breath replaced a momentary rush of cool air on her clit. “Mm, you smell delicious. Mind if I take a taste?” Groaning against Heath’s mouth, she arched to find Owen. She’d die if he didn’t pay attention to her needy cunt soon. His tongue glided past her opening to the anxious bundle of nerves as Heath shoved her shirt up to bare her breasts. A quick flick

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of her nipple with Owen’s next pass brought a helpless cry up from her chest. She dragged her mouth from Heath to voice her pleasure. Another lick and a gentle squeeze made her muscles tremble with the building pressure of an imminent orgasm. Wet heat suddenly closed over her puckered tip as Heath moved to her tits. He sucked and fluttered as Owen did the same between her thighs. She grabbed handfuls of their hair, holding them in place. “Right there. Don’t stop. Yes, so close!” Her pulse thumped in her ears, and she panted through the growing rush threatening to consume her. Teeth rasped over her nipple. “Come for us, sweetheart. Let it happen.” Heath’s words yanked her release free from its bonds, pulling a scream from her throat as pure erotic bliss swept through her veins to swallow her. It ebbed for a second, only to regain momentum and carry her farther. Experimentation with her box of sexual aides didn’t begin to compare to having two real lovers. Her muscles relaxed as she floated back into her body. Flopping on his back, Heath smiled and lifted her to straddle his hips. “Damn, I love watching you come. Are you ready for both of us?” She took his stiff cock in her hand to guide him home, the need for more helping her recover. Unable to form a response, she lowered herself onto him in one swift move. His rough moan blended with hers, and she leaned forward to allow Owen easier entrance to her ass. The coarse smattering of hair on Heath’s chest teased her sensitive breasts. A palm smoothed down her spine, and Owen kissed her shoulder. “I need something to make us slippery.” “Aloe. Nightstand drawer.” Anticipation taunted her while she waited for him to retrieve her supply of lube. Cool gel slicked down her crease, easing some of the tension and

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creating more. She fought the instinct to grind against him. His touch spread fire over her skin as he fingered her hole, and only the wish to prolong all their pleasure kept her from begging him to take her already. He nibbled her butt cheek, shooting a shiver up her spine. A moan escaped. “I want you inside me too, Owen. I need you both.” She pressed her lips to Heath’s neck before twisting around toward Owen. “Kiss me.” His finger sank into her as he rose and leaned in to meet her mouth. His tongue wasted no time sweeping inside, the tangy flavor of her juices lingering in his taste. While Heath had seemed almost hesitant to show his desire, Owen held nothing back. Every aggressive thrust and parry told her exactly how much he wanted her. It still wasn’t enough. Heath grasped her waist and held her in place. “Shit, woman, if you keep squeezing my dick like that, I’m going to come.” Dragging her mouth from Owen’s, she met his gaze. “Fuck me now.” After a quick rough kiss, he withdrew his finger and gave her a gentle nudge on the back. “Yes, ma’am. Slow and easy or fast and hard?” A look at Heath’s pained expression made up her mind. “Fast and hard. I think we’ve all waited too long for anything else.” Owen slid his slippery cock across her hole twice before lining up the head at her entrance. Rocking her hips backward, she didn’t give him a choice about taking his time. He glided into her ass in one smooth motion, the year of playing with her toys having prepared her body for the double penetration. “God, you’re so tight, honey.” She rocked forward and back again, too caught up in pleasure to speak. Heath’s rigid length stroked her engorged G-spot, and Owen’s thick erection filled the empty spot in her soul that had been there a minute earlier. Both men moved with her, setting off tremor after

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tremor until her whole body bucked with a powerful orgasm. Ripples of pleasure transformed into waves. A flood of completion washed over her even as her lovers joined in her cries, their yells blending with the sound in perfect harmony. A crash of thunder drowned out everything but the sensation of slowly drifting to Earth. The rumbling ended, and voices echoed in her head—the voices of her sister witches. Was she truly one of them, though, since she’d refused to enter the circle? Were they welcoming her into the chant? Their voices grew clearer, dragging her from paradise into reality. Gather the powers of the fold. Protect us all from evil old. Repel the darkness and seal the rift. Goodness and light shall stop the shift. She joined the incantation in her mind, her body too sated to do more than silently repeat the rhyme. Each word pulled her closer to sleep. As she completed the third recitation, pain sliced through her brain, forcing her eyes closed. A different voice intruded on the connection with her family—the one that had kept her from entering the circle in the library. You are weak. They’ll never join with you. You failed. Surrender to your destiny. The whisper abruptly ended, but not before her doubts returned. Had Owen and Heath used her to satisfy a sexual need and nothing more? After hearing Jolán’s account of Kazmer’s dispelling with all the full-fledged witches of the household, Heléna could only assume that her own contribution to the current charm had been unsuccessful. Jolán had been much more competent when she’d helped repair the rift in the protection spell around the estate, saving not only herself but her mates as well. She’d even managed to transport them out of

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the rubble of the new wing into the main hall of the mansion. Heléna hadn’t experienced the link with the others her cousin had described. She was weak—too weak to help seal the fracture the shifter had created and too weak to make any man want to spend his life with her. The pain in her mind shifted to her heart. Behind her, Owen eased away, breaking the physical connection. “Be right back.” His footsteps faded, and a door closed. A few seconds later, the sound of water running told her he’d gone to the bathroom. Opening her eyes, she chanced a peek at Heath. His slow, even breaths and relaxed face hinted that he’d fallen asleep. When she shifted, his flaccid penis slipped from her. Otherwise, he didn’t move. They left me. I mean nothing to them. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she crawled out of bed to put on her robe. Even covered neck to ankles, she couldn’t veil her exposed emotions. The raw wound burned and stung. Her feet carried her to the door of her apartment, taking her farther from the blatant evidence of her failure. Each step drained more energy from her already-beaten-up sense of self. She’d allowed her hormones to control her actions, and now she had to pay the price with a broken heart. Logic had deserted her, leaving her open to believing she’d found her mates. How could she have been so gullible? Her ability to cast spells had slowly decayed as well. She was a burden to her magickal family. A useless detriment. Even if she managed to live through the coming conflict with Kazmer, she’d put everyone at risk by not being able to defend herself. They’d have to waste time and skills protecting her instead of focusing on the destruction of the evil shifter. Taking the back stairs down to the corridor off the kitchen, she wracked her brain for a place to hide. Confrontation wasn’t in her nature, and she couldn’t face anyone after Heath’s and Owen’s abandonment.

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Could she slip into the study unnoticed? She strained her ears for footfalls on the steps as she descended to the first floor. Voices in the kitchen and the steady tap, tap, tap of a knife on a cutting board made her freeze for a moment. Rebeka’s serious tone segued into a low exchange with Magdolna and Boldizsár, their hushed words barely discernible to Heléna at the base of the staircase. “The battle is imminent.” Boldizsár’s volume rose as he neared her concealed spot. “His attempt to break through the protective spell was a test of its strength. We must gather and prepare.” The chopping stopped, and Rebeka sighed. “Something was missing when we blocked the fracture. Or someone. What if he knows Heléna hasn’t taken the oath?” With shaking hands, Heléna grasped the handrail to keep from collapsing. Their enemy was about to attack, and she’d lost too much of what she’d learned during her training. By running away, she’d not only interacted with the wrong men, she’d neglected her duty. She’d let her family down in so many ways. Another crack of thunder rattled the pots hanging from the wall hooks. “To the parlor! Quickly! We must link with the matriarch!” Boldizsár’s shouts faded with hurried footsteps. Peeking around the corner, Heléna scanned the empty kitchen. She leapt from stairs and jogged along the hall leading to the west wing of the mansion—away from the parlor and her family. When she reached the wide corridor connecting to the foyer at the far end, she paused to check for anyone exiting the library. Arriving at her destination unnoticed was of vital importance. The hallway was clear, and she picked up her pace to the entrance to the study. The pocket doors clacked together as she closed them behind her. Going to the fireplace, she flattened her palm against the wood panel bordering the brick chimney and searched for the catch she’d accidentally found while cleaning a sooty smear from the wall

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last week. Her finger skimmed over the nearly invisible button. The panel slid aside with the light pressure, revealing the same dark opening she’d been too timid to explore when she’d discovered it. Lighting the black wick of the closest candle on the mantle, she lifted it, holder and all, to illuminate the passage. Shadows flickered in the shallow tunnel, and the flame did little to show what lay beyond the top two rungs of a ladder going straight down into a hole in the middle of the floor. If the strange map she’d come across years before in the library was accurate, a number of catacomb-like passageways existed beneath the original part of the structure. The longest terminated across the road from the gated entrance to the estate. She wasn’t brave enough to leave the safety of her home, but she wasn’t so selfish as to expect her family to fight their enemy while they stood guard over a powerless witch. With a decisive nod, she adjusted her hold on the candle and climbed down the ladder. The panel slid shut at the third rung, blocking all but the light in her left hand. She counted her steps as she descended. At twenty-four and counting, she worried she might never reach the bottom, but her bare foot finally touched packed dirt. She wouldn’t go far into the next tunnel for fear of crossing the boundaries of the estate, leaving her completely unprotected. Standing on shaky legs, she turned to find her path. Long, black hair framed a beautiful flame-lit face with steely gray-green eyes. While unexpected, the woman didn’t emit the same malevolent energy that surrounded Kazmer. How had she gotten through the protection spell? “Ah, you’ve come to meet your destiny, sweet Heléna.”

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Chapter 9 Owen wiped the water from his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He’d hated withdrawing his cock from Heléna’s beautiful ass, but if he hadn’t made a run for the bathroom, three words would’ve escaped his mouth. Even as agreeable as she’d been about him and Heath wanting to share her, Owen doubted she was ready to hear what his heart was yelling at him. How could he love a woman he’d met less than twenty-four hours ago? Yes, they’d spent considerable time together under some unusual circumstances. They’d confronted more than one life-ordeath moment in that time and been trapped on an island. He’d dated women for months and not developed feelings like he had for her. How could he have fallen in love overnight? That’s a stupid question. Didn’t it just happen? Telling her had to wait. If he still felt the same in a few days, then he’d find a way to say the words that wouldn’t scare her off. With his emotions back in some semblance of control, he shook off the anxiety and switched off the bathroom light as he headed back to bed. His eyes took several seconds to adjust to the dimness of filtered light again. Heath still lay sprawled on his back, but Heléna no longer straddled him. Nor was she lying beside him. “Heléna? Come back to bed, sweetheart.” His call went unanswered, so he walked to the bedroom door to peer into a cozy— and empty—living room. Where could she have gone? His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten a full meal since the evening before the flight. Maybe she’d gone to the kitchen to bring back breakfast. Just the thought of eggs, bacon, and toast

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made his mouth water and his nose scent a whiff of smells that weren’t there. And coffee. I’d kill for a cup of coffee. A loud crack of thunder sent a ripple of electricity through his scalp, and he shuddered, trying to shake off the unsettling sensation. Heath bolted up from his unconscious position on the mattress. “What the hell?” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “Damn, thunderstorms didn’t use to bother me until that scary shit on the island.” The crackling sound echoed off the walls. Scrambling out of bed, Heath jogged out of the bedroom and into the living room, aiming for the window. “Something weird’s going on. There’s two feet of snow on the ground, the sky is overcast, and it’s snowing. The conditions are completely wrong for thunder.” Owen followed him. “Snow? That can’t be right. I may have passed out, but I couldn’t have been out long enough to end up someplace where late December means winter weather.” “We’re in Ohio according to the white-haired lady from last night.” Heath seemed to study the snowy landscape outside. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs. We’re in a huge house. A mansion. All of Heléna’s relatives live here.” “How the hell did we get to Ohio?” He may have asked the question, but Owen wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. The area between the southeastern Florida coast, Bermuda, and Puerto Rico had been blamed for numerous disappearances because of the Gulf Stream influence in the area. Logic told him their experience proved it, but had other unexplainable forces caused the occurrences? It still didn’t explain how they’d gotten to the Midwest from Hawksbill Cays. “I don’t know.” “I guess it doesn’t really matter now. We’re alive, and we’re not stranded anymore.” Pacing to an armchair, Owen almost sat before he realized he hadn’t bothered to put on his pants. “Let’s get dressed and

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go see if we can find Heléna. I don’t like that she isn’t here with us.” Heath frowned. “She’s probably pissed off that I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to, but...” He walked into the bedroom behind Owen. “Seems like everything I do makes her mad.” “Hey, we’re all tired and on edge. More than likely, she went to get food. She didn’t eat much yesterday.” Slipping on the breeches that were part of his pilot’s garb, he searched the floor for his shirt. His gut rumbled again. “Did you have some breakfast when you went downstairs?” With his fingers working the buttons, Heath headed out the door again. “Yeah. Her family...I don’t think we’re the only ones with a different kind of relationship. Her sisters have, um...” His voice trailed off as he left the room, leaving Owen to follow if he wanted to continue the conversation. “They have what?” Heath rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “Rebeka and Lujza are married...well, maybe not married. I don’t know. Involved with? Yeah, they’re both involved with two men.” “Involved how?” Owen had a pretty good idea what his friend meant, but he wanted to be sure. With his hand on the doorknob, Heath looked more ready to flee than hunt for Heléna. “Like having kids together. Each sister had two babies, one by each of her men.” An image of a pregnant Heléna singed Owen’s mind. He’d expected to hear that the both women had a pair of lovers. The word “babies” put an entirely new perspective on Heléna’s admission of wanting him and Heath. Too many thoughts buzzed around his head to think straight. Heath cleared his throat. “And there are more. Not just Rebeka and Lujza.” “All of them?” The tightness in Owen’s throat made his voice squeak. “No. I noticed six out of roughly fifteen adult women. Most of the rest were with one man, and two of the older ladies seemed to be

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alone.” Heath finally turned the knob to leave. “You wouldn’t believe the size of her family. There were close to sixty people at breakfast.” Regret pricked Owen as he walked with his friend along a wide hallway. He’d once had a big family, but his dad had forced him to choose between them and flying airplanes. If you were meant to fly, you’d have been born with wings, boy. Those were the last words his father had spoken to him. His mom had conveyed one final message the day Owen had left home. Tell him not to come back if he sets foot on that airfield. Owen took to the sky for his first lesson that day, and he hadn’t returned. He shook off the past. “Heléna’s family shouldn’t have a problem with her being with both of us then.” Shuffling down the stairs, neither spoke. As they descended the final flight, three young girls ran past the bottom of the steps toward a chorus of raised voices coming from the left. Owen gestured that direction, but before they reached the bottom step, a horde of men, women, and children crowded into the entryway at the base of the staircase. The white-haired version of Heléna spread out her arms and spoke. Her sharp tone brought instant silence to the group. “Daughters of age, Protectors, and those with the power of the Elements form a circle around the rest. We must work together.” Owen froze midstep at her command. Protectors? Power of the Elements? He searched for Heléna among the mix of kids and men in the center first. Not finding her, his eyes moved to the outer circle. A handful of elderly males in plain brown robes stood interspersed in the group of females ranging from perhaps twenty or so to seventy or eighty years old. Where was she? His gaze landed on the old woman. She raised her hand as if to tell him and Heath to wait and then looked to her followers. “The time has come, children. Szabina and Orsolya will be your guides, uniting the strengths of our clans. Ethan and Grant will watch over you as the darkness comes to challenge our connection with the Earth. Be strong. The Fates will lead you along

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the proper path.” If he didn’t know better, Owen would’ve thought he’d been transported to a world where good and evil were about to face off in a magical battle of spellcasting powers. “Come, gentlemen. We must go quickly.” She waved her toward the hall to the right. “Heléna needs you beside her.” Pushing aside the worry that Heléna was by herself in this barely controlled chaos, he strode down the last four steps to skirt the ring of people. Heath shadowed him as he followed their leader. Her steady gait didn’t slow until they entered a room with shelves lining the walls. Books filled every shelf. A library. She turned to face him. “Mr. Ulrich and I are already acquainted. I am Romána, matriarch of the Macskas and Heléna’s great grandmother.” Owen nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m Owen Vance. Where’s Heléna?” “We will go to her in a moment.” She placed her hands on his and Heath’s arms. “You must accept her for who she is and remind her often that she is deserving of you. She does not believe in her own abilities, but if you trust in her, her confidence will grow and she will become the woman she is destined to be. Her strength will come from you. Above all, you must give your hearts freely to her.” Romána’s advice struck Owen as promises and vows as much as anything else. Was she offering her blessing on their relationship? “I’ll do my best, ma’am.” Heath let out a noisy exhale, but the tension was still evident in his stiff posture. “I’ll try.” She smiled, seemingly satisfied with their answers. “She has chosen well. Now, do not pull away from my touch. We must travel to your mate.” Colored lights flickered much the same as they had on the beach right before he and Heath had found themselves in Heléna’s bedroom, and Owen fought the rising panic. Caught in the eye of a tornado,

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winds swirled around them without disturbing the papers and books on the library’s desk or a hair on his head. Heath’s face paled. The vortex stopped, revealing a dimly lit cavern. Romána no longer stood with them, her slight form ramrod straight as she faced them from across the high-ceilinged chamber. In the center of the room stood a cloaked figure with scraggly shoulder-length hair. Patchy black scars stretched from his sunken cheeks to his neck. Piercing black eyes met Owen’s, and he stumbled backward at the hatred and contempt emanating from them. A gasp drew both their attention to another presence in the far corner. Clad in a bathrobe, Heléna stepped out of the shadows. “Heath. Owen. What are you doing here? Go back to where you came from. I can’t protect you.” “You can, and you will, daughter.” Romána’s authoritative voice echoed off the walls. A grating cackle filled the empty space, and the cloaked man slowly let his eerie gaze shift around the room, seeming to settle on the old woman, then Heléna, and finally back on Owen and Heath. “The girl is weak. She will choose to protect her matriarch. Or try. Her powers are no match for mine.” Bolts of lightning shot down from the ceiling to the floor, setting off vibrations and a low rumbling like thunder. “She will fail as she always does.” Owen reached out to the wall to steady himself as the earth trembled beneath his feet. The smell of ozone burned his nose and throat. Recognition registered, and a mix of rage and fear flooded his veins. “You caused the storms that shorted out the plane’s engine and caused the gash on Heléna’s forehead.” Another cackling laugh issued from the gnarled old man. “And this time you will all die, except the girl. She’s easily influenced and will make an interesting plaything.” “You will not harm them, Kazmer.” Romána lifted her clenched fist in the air, chanting in a language Owen couldn’t understand. A bluish wisp wove its way from her hand to Heath and him, encircling

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them in a misty haze. As hard as he tried, Owen couldn’t force his feet to carry him to Heléna. The mist seemed to trap him. If the old woman had the power to freeze him, why didn’t she do the same to Kazmer? Why didn’t she send Heléna to safety? What was she waiting for? Shifting into a cloud of black smoke, the demon hissed at her and swept toward Heléna. He reformed into a mirror image of Heath in front of her. What was this creature that he could change his appearance in the blink of an eye? The real Heath growled, unable to move if Owen’s own seized muscles were any indication. The imposter ran his fingertips along her jaw, sending more fury and another dose of alarm for Heléna’s safety shooting through Owen. “You are no longer innocent. You allowed them to take your virginity for pleasure. Do you feel dirty and used? Come rule the Black Triad with me. I can make you strong and give you the powers you dream of having.” His shape morphed again, this time his Irish appearance far too familiar. “Which form do you prefer? Ah, but they have both rejected you, haven’t they? I can become whichever you want, whenever I want. You don’t need to choose them. Perhaps I’ll allow them to return to the island instead of wasting my powers on worthless humans.” Owen struggled to deny Kazmer’s accusation. Only a rough snarl came out in defense. I didn’t use you, Heléna. There was nothing dirty about what we did. “Listen to your heart, daughter. It knows the truth.” Romána’s white hair glowed silver, lighting the chamber and revealing the shifter’s real shape. “Only true mates may enter the Macska home while the protection spell secures its boundaries. Do not forsake Owen and Heath because doubt lingers. They will prove themselves worthy and faithful if you allow them the opportunity.” Kazmer scoffed at the old woman’s words. “They have not gifted her with children. Nor have they taken the vows. The seventh joining will not come to pass in this cycle, and her failure alters the balance.

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The time has arrived for the Triad to prevail over its enemy.” Spinning to face Romána, he spread his arms wide, gray pulses radiating from his misshapen hands. The walls shook, and debris rained down from above. Heléna crouched into the corner, her obvious lack of confidence in herself and her lovers cutting into Owen’s soul. If he could speak, he’d expose his deepest emotions to her, admitting that he was falling in love with her. Seeing her so defeated had him fighting whatever kept him from moving, but frustration was his only reward. A chunk of rock missing his head by inches fueled his need to break free of the invisible bindings to no avail. “Don’t hurt them! I’ll go with you!” Her declaration ripped a hole in his gut. Didn’t she know Kazmer would kill them all no matter what she agreed to? The evil bastard was wrong. She was innocent. No, Heléna! Don’t believe what he says! Kazmer’s mouth curved upward into a disturbing grin. “Do you think I don’t know you’re lying? You can’t hide what’s in your mind from me.” Tree roots suddenly invaded the walls, creeping along every surface to grab and hold the crumbling ceiling. Romána remained stock-still, her stance unaffected by the danger around her. Had she stabilized the room with her powers? She had to have done it. Her powers are strong. Why doesn’t she end this? An outraged scowl distended the scorch marks on Kazmer’s cheeks, and his black irises bled into the white of his eyes, swallowing them in darkness. “I have waited many centuries to destroy those who refuse to bow to the Triad. Your tricks will not save you, matriarch.” He stretched his gnarled fingers toward Owen and Heath. A shower of sparks shot straight at them, but no amount of willpower helped Owen duck. The mist sizzled, seeming to absorb the fiery burst. Heléna straightened, taking a step away from the wall. “Stop!

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Please, I’ll go with you!” “No, daughter.” Romána’s calm demeanor irked Owen. Why didn’t she transport them out of this hellhole instead of facing off against the madman? Or better yet, blast the son of a bitch to kingdom come already! The old woman’s voice softened. “My destiny has been determined by the Fates, Heléna. You must follow your path, and I must follow mine.” “But the family needs you.” The implication of Heléna’s unspoken words hit Owen in the chest. I need you, Heléna. I swear if we survive this, not a day will go by that I don’t show you how much I need you. She dropped her chin to her chest. “And even if I chose Owen and Heath, I couldn’t protect them. They can go on with their lives without me, but how will our clan survive without you, Grandmother? I have to go so you can save everyone.” Kazmer gave a triumphant laugh. “She has chosen you over the men, Macksa witch. You and your clan shall die, and she will become one of my servants. The Order of the Elements shall perish with you, ending your line and restoring the Black Triad.”

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Chapter 10 The weight of the world sat on Heléna’s shoulders. By choosing to protect Great Grandmother, she would sentence her family to death if they couldn’t defend against Kazmer. Heléna didn’t believe for a second that he wouldn’t try to destroy them in exchange for her going with him, but her absence wouldn’t weaken the Macska link. They could focus on his destruction instead of keeping her out of harm’s way. If she chose Owen and Heath, she had only to sacrifice her heart. What if her grandmother was mistaken about the men Heléna had accidentally sent to the future? Were they really her true mates? Yes, they’d come through the protection spell. Unfortunately, Kazmer had as well, and he wasn’t her mate. Why did her hormones have to interfere with her usual logic? She struggled with her warring thoughts. I can’t think! Nothing makes sense! Why had she followed the stranger at the bottom of the ladder? The black-haired woman’s voice had sounded like one of the whispers Heléna had heard on the day of the full moon. Her gentle prodding had easily overpowered Heléna’s common sense, and now she had to wonder whether Kazmer had disguised himself to set up the confrontation. The woman had disappeared as soon as they’d reached the chamber. Was she real? Kazmer couldn’t have pretended to be the woman, though. He’d likely been one of the voices, but his soul was too irredeemable to have guided her to the chamber rather than simply killing her. Confused emotions churned inside her, and she glanced at

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Romána. A hint of a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Believe, daughter. My time on Earth is at an end. Yours is only beginning. Your mates will give you strength.” The thought of Great Grandmother dying made Heléna’s chest tighten, and tears stung her eyes. Heath and Owen blurred as she tried to judge their feelings for her from their expressions. She’d never been good at reading people, though. Both men connected with her momentary gaze. The furrow in Heath’s forehead must’ve been there before the spell to keep them from interfering. Was he concerned or angry? On the island, he’d spent as much time being mad at her as being nice. His mood should’ve been easy to decipher, but it wasn’t. He tended to hide behind a stoic façade. What did his stormy gray eyes signal? Do you care for me, Heath? She turned her attention to Owen. His intense stare seemed to convey terror, but at what? Fear of dying at the hands of an evil shifter? Fear for her wellbeing? Tell me, Owen. Please. Did it even matter? The state of her heart when all was said and done meant nothing compared to the execution of her entire family. Grandmother was the wisest person Heléna had ever known. Trusting in her guidance offered the only real choice. “I haven’t chosen yet.” Heléna stood up, imitating Romána’s proud bearing. Height didn’t determine a person’s ability to do the right thing. Kazmer turned his head to glare at her. A subtle nod from Great Grandmother assured her she’d made the correct choice. “I choose...” She let her gaze slip from Owen and Heath to Romána. A pulse of energy entered Heléna’s hands, tingling up her arms—the transfer of power over the spell protecting the pilots. “I choose...the men.” Sneering, Kazmer shook his head. “Your choice does not matter.

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You all will—” A ghostly red hand snatched his cloak, dragging him to the opposite wall before he could react. He whipped his scarred face around to confront the source of his irritation. “Take me, Goddess! My time has come!” Romána’s joyous tone rang in Heléna’s ears as she ran to release Heath and Owen. “Do not mourn for me, my children. My destiny in life has been fulfilled. Praise the Goddess and the Fates for their wisdom.” Grasping a hand of each man, Heléna glanced back to see crimson hands embrace the ancient shifter. A deafening howl issued from Kazmer as he and Great Grandmother exploded in a blast of sparks and flame. How had she known her time had come? Had a lifetime of gaining wisdom given her the gift of sight? She waited for me to choose. Why did I have to make the choice? Grief flooded Heléna, but she focused on getting out before the cavern collapsed. “To the inner circle go, Where my sisters’ love does flow. Keep us safe. Bring harm to none. Blessed be. Thy will be done.” She held tight to Heath’s and Owen’s hands and tensed when the far wall disintegrated from the explosion. Burning embers scattered, sending the glowing ashes hurtling toward them as the cavern faded to darkness. A moment later, chanting filled her mind, and she blinked at the sudden brilliance shining in her eyes. Arms gathered her close, cradling her on both sides. Warm lips pressed kisses to her ear and neck. “You’re okay.” Heath’s gentle tone became a whisper. “I couldn’t protect you. I tried, honey. God, how I tried.”

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Owen smoothed his palm along her jaw. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” The horror of what she’d witnessed slammed into her, and she nearly doubled over as wracking sobs assaulted her. Kazmer had been destroyed, but so had the Macska matriarch. The one person who had kept the family bonded together for so many years. Gone. She’d given her life to end the centuries-old battle with the Black Triad. “Great Grandmother...” Heléna tried to share her sorrow with the women forming the ring, but the flood of tears made talking impossible. “They know, Heléna.” Owen stroked her hair, and she leaned against his chest to keep from falling. “They’re mourning too. It’ll be okay.” Okay? How could anything be okay ever again? Great Grandmother had sacrificed her life to save Heléna, Owen, and Heath—because the newest full-fledged witch hadn’t possessed the abilities to aid in defeating Kazmer. Guilt and shame would linger long past the ceremony to usher Romána’s soul into the afterlife. “Don’t.” Heath lifted Heléna’s chin to wipe away the tears. “You’re blaming yourself. I know you are. She was at peace with what she did for us, and that lunatic was hers to destroy.” Owen looked down at her with a slight smile. “She did a damn good job of it too. Maybe in a few days you’ll be ready to tell us more about those powers she mentioned.” Powers? I have no powers compared to everyone else. Not ready to consider revealing her ineptitude, Heléna glanced away. All she wanted right now was quiet, solitude, and sleep. “Mr. Ulrich, would you mind carrying my sister up to her rooms? She needs to rest.” Rebeka’s motherly tone didn’t irritate Heléna as much as usual. Heath tucked his arm behind her knees, picking her up as her legs threatened to give out. “I don’t think she’s eaten yet. Can somebody bring up some food, if it isn’t any trouble?”

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The comfort of being cradled against his body relaxed her, making her yawn. Perhaps she could tolerate being taken care of just this once. “No trouble at all.” Rebeka leaned in to kiss Heléna’s forehead. “Great Grandmother must be happy to know we’re all safe from Kazmer. She’s waited for this day for a long time. Rest well, little sister.” They were safe, but at what cost? Too tired to think, Heléna closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of Heath’s skin. She’d dream until reality forced her to admit her shortcomings to her family. **** Settling a sleeping Heléna on the mattress, Heath debated climbing in bed with her. He’d savored every second of holding her close on the way upstairs, and he wasn’t ready to let go. Easing the bathrobe off her shoulders and down her arms allowed a more intimate touch and time to process the morning’s bizarre incident. Even without an explanation of the events leading to her great grandmother’s death, some of the strange happenings involving Heléna now made more sense than when they were on the island. If he had to guess, he’d have to say she’d most likely transported herself onto the plane with him and Owen, as well as the three of them off Hawksbill Cays. Her family obviously practiced some sort of witchcraft—but not the turn-people-into-toads kind. The crafty old man who could shift to other forms was another story. Kazmer had been the aggressor in the confrontation with Romána and Heléna, always belittling and antagonizing. Poor sweet Heléna seemed to take every negative comment to heart, and her grandmother’s encouragement had only given her enough confidence to escape the fiery explosion. Her fortitude had crumbled the instant she’d brought him and Owen out of the danger zone.

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Stripping off his clothes, Heath slipped in beside her. How could he have blamed her for their situation? Or worse yet, how could he have doubted her assertion that she wanted him? His conflicting actions must have been confusing to her, just as her moods had mystified him. “What did Romána mean when she called us your true mates?” Rolling to his side, he cradled her breast in his hand, her pert nipple tickling his palm. He couldn’t help but voice the questions in his head, although he wouldn’t get answers until Heléna awakened. “Are we supposed get married and live happily ever after?” “Unless we got delivered to a different Ohio from the one I’m thinking of, bigamy is illegal. But I can live with happily ever after.” Owen transferred a tray from his left hand to his right as he closed the bedroom door. Setting it on the dresser, he lifted the cover. “Hungry?” “No.” Food was the last thing on Heath’s mind. Replacing the lid, Owen sighed. “I think we’re going to have our hands full trying to convince Heléna to let us stay.” “Yeah, well, from the looks of things, she can send us away— whether we want to go or not.” The possibility struck more fear in Heath’s heart than the bastard in the basement. Getting past his distrust of women paled in comparison. “I’m pretty sure I’d be willing to beg her not to.” “No maybe about it.” Owen tossed his clothes in a pile on the floor as he undressed. A minute later, he slid under the covers on the other side of Heléna and threaded his fingers through hers. “I never believed in love at first sight, but now...” Not surprised by his friend’s admission, Heath couldn’t help but examine his own feelings. Before he’d had to helplessly watch as she offered to go with Kazmer, he would’ve said that given time, he was likely to fall in love with her. Now, his doubts were gone. Imagining living or dying without her had put a brand new perspective on the prospect.

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He wasn’t honorable enough to simply agree to leave if she told him to go. If she didn’t care for him and Owen, she wouldn’t have been susceptible to the implication that they’d rejected her. Kazmer might’ve been evil and insane, but he hadn’t been stupid. He’d used whatever means necessary to make Heléna see herself as weak, unwanted, and powerless. “That was lust. Now it’s love.” Challenging Owen’s claim was as close to admitting his feelings as Heath could do for the time being. The woman who held his heart would hear the words first. Owen levered up on his elbow, his mouth sliding into a grin. “She can’t use some rhyme to send us away if we’re always with her. Remember how she grabbed our hands before she got us out of that cellar? I think she had to touch us for all of us to go together. I’m not letting go of her until she accepts that we love her. You do love her, don’t you?” Feigning sleep wouldn’t fool his friend, so Heath shrugged. That was all the answer he was giving. “Coward.” Heath wasn’t about to rise to the bait. He’d made his decision, and Owen’s taunting wouldn’t change his mind. “Damn right. Now shut up so I can sleep.” A low laugh came from the opposite side of the bed, but he closed his eyes and savored the familiar scent of the woman he lay next to. The subtle, flowery smell suited her. Sweet. Wild. Sexy. He’d gladly wake up with her in his arms every morning for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, making it happen might not be an easy task. **** Disconcerting dreams tried to pull her back into their grasp, but Heléna forced her eyes open after a yawn. Bright moonlight from the bathroom window reflected off the dresser mirror, casting her bedroom in a golden glow. As much as she wished to wallow in the

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warmth surrounding her, she couldn’t ignore the insistent growling in her stomach. When had she last eaten? What day was it, for that matter? “Hungry?” The husky voice in her ear triggered a quick uterine contraction and a flood of wetness to her pussy. Hormones rushed through her veins, changing her need for food to a longing for something much more important. “Yes, hungry for you.” She tightened her fingers around the hand linked with hers and stroked along the lightly furred thigh lying over her legs. “And you.” Owen caressed her cheek, tilting her face toward him as he leaned in. The light brush of his lips on hers stoked the flames threatening to overtake her body. “I hope we can satisfy your appetite.” A whisper tickled her neck, sending shivers across her bare skin. “I thought you’d never wake up. Are you feeling better?” She resisted the urge to tell Heath she needed some very specific treatments to recuperate—like his dick in her mouth while Owen fucked her pussy. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her teasing, judging by the concern in his voice. “Yes. Thank you for taking care of me.” “You’re welcome.” His palm made a slow circle over her nipple, and she sighed at the wonderful zings of sensation. “Would you like for me to take care of anything else for you?” A smile curved her mouth upward at his question. “I’d really like a bath, if you don’t mind. A tongue bath. I want my cunt nice and clean for Owen’s cock.” His chuckle assured her he wouldn’t mind at all. “With pleasure, Heléna.” Easing his leg off her body, he tossed the blankets to the end of the bed and left a trail of kisses along her neck and shoulder as he moved toward his target. Each tantalizing press of his lips drove her desire higher. The slow, sweet torture threatened her sanity and had

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her inner muscles trembling with anticipation. Owen cradled her face in his hands and nuzzled her cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat something first?” “Oh, I’m going to eat all right. Heath is the perfect size to fill my mouth, and I wouldn’t want to leave him out while you’re inside me.” Heath’s groan vibrated through her breast as he suckled the puckered tip. He grinned up at her, the relaxed humor in his eyes surprising her. “Not sure I’ll last long enough to get there if you keep talking like that, sweetheart.” What had changed since she fell asleep? Her moody pilot had seemed too reserved for lighthearted teasing, let alone a full-out smile. “Then maybe we should skip my tongue bath and start on yours.” Pushing up on his elbow, he lowered his eyebrows at her. “Not a chance. I’ve been dying for a taste of you since you were prancing around the beach in those skimpy underpants.” Her heart skipped a beat. He’d been attracted to her all along? Physical attraction might not equal love, but at least her hormones would be appeased. She could live with that. Not that she had a choice. Let it go. You’ll have extraordinary memories to look back on after they have to leave. Owen left a damp path as he traced the outer curve of her ear with his tongue. “The wet, braless look had my balls in knots. Mind if I have a taste of your lovely berries?” Drowning in the need to mate, she spread her thighs for Heath and nudged Owen toward her breasts.

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Chapter 11 Owen didn’t fight Heléna’s prompting. He’d gladly amuse himself with her pert tits until Heath gave her the first orgasm of the night. After watching her sleep for a day and a half, Owen planned to make up for lost time. Hopefully, orgasm number two would arrive with his own when he fucked her hard and fast. If she didn’t collapse from a pair, he’d give her a third one. Settling next to her, he drew a lazy ring around the pretty pink nipple with his tongue as Heath lay on his stomach near the foot of the bed. Their threesome experience had obliterated any doubts they had about sharing her. With an unobstructed view of her dark triangle of curls, Owen looked forward to watching his friend go down on their woman. Bringing her pleasure together might be unconventional, but it sure as hell turned him on. As Heath kissed his way up Heléna’s inner thigh, Owen eased closer and closer to her puckered tip. Finally, he couldn’t stop himself from sucking the firm berry between his lips. She arched against him, and he glanced downward in time to see Heath open her folds and run his tongue through her musk-scented pussy. The delectable tart flavor of her juices returned to his taste buds from the sight. Focusing on flicking back and forth over her tight nub, Owen let his hand wander over the silky skin of her stomach. Tiny tremors rippled through his fingertips as a desperate-sounding moan carried to his ears. She packed a lot of sexiness into her petite feminine body. He followed the contours of her ribs up to the slight curve of her breast, intent on escalating her passion to new levels and proving that his craving for her exceeded her desire for him.

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Her needy whimpers jacked up the blood flowing to his cock, and he ground his aching erection against her leg. Giving her other nipple a gentle flick, he released the one in his mouth. “I’m so ready to be inside you, honey.” With another glance at Heath, Owen had to flex his abdominals to keep from exploding. His friend fluttered his tongue across her clit as Heléna gave a high-pitched cry and arched off the bed. She trembled and convulsed for several long seconds before her muscles went slack. Reaching up to caress her cheek, Owen rose to cover her mouth in a deep kiss. A slow sweep past her lips told him she was every bit as ready as he was for more. Rather than accepting the unhurried kiss, she met him in a fervent sparring of tongues. No leisurely glides led to soft sighs. Her forceful thrusts meant shallow gasps for air and erratic pounding of his pulse in his head. “My turn with that beautiful mouth.” Heath broke the sensuous exchange with his words. Owen couldn’t blame him. He eased away to smile at Heléna, her dark eyes half closed. “My turn with that delicious pussy.” He grasped her waist to slide her down as he crawled to the foot of the bed. While he knelt at the vee of her thighs, Heath tucked pillows beneath her head until her chin was level with his balls. Wrapping Heléna’s shapely legs around his waist, Owen struggled not to shove himself balls-deep inside her in a single hard thrust. After waiting so many hours for her to wake, his patience had worn thin. All he wanted right now was to take them both to heaven in the quickest mode possible. Finesse and lingering touches had to stand in line behind the need to fuck her again. She reached out to him, her fingertips feathering across his bare chest and down to his belly button. Her hand closed around his dick, guiding him to her slick entrance. “Now. Please now, Owen.” He didn’t even try to hold in his groan at her determined grasp. “Next time, I’ll last longer. I promise.”

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“I’m not doing a thorough job of turning you on if you can go for a long time.” Her smile made his pulse jump. “Besides, I like it hard and fast.” She rocked her hips upward, her body swallowing him whole as she closed her lips around Heath’s cock and moaned. Grabbing for the headboard, Heath shook the entire bed with his shudder. “Hard and fast is good. Great, in fact.” With all in accordance, Owen saw no reason to control his response to her inner muscles contracting around him. He set a pace sure to bring them both to the end of the race in record time. Even with his rough tempo, her slick cunt smoothed the way to a quick glide in and a fluid slide out. The mattress shook with his thrusts, making her nipples jiggle in the same erratic rhythm. The combination of harsh breaths, rising groans, and desperate bodies slapping together urged him to put more effort into their joining. To bring them immeasurable pleasure. Every deep plunge created breath-stealing friction, her snug tunnel stroking him along his swollen length. She fit him perfectly, hugging him like he’d been made for her. He bit his lower lip to keep from shouting the words ringing in his mind. I love you, Heléna. God, how I love you! His nuts pulled up tight, signaling his approaching orgasm. He drove into her again as her muffled cries were almost drowned out by Heath’s sudden yell. A burst of heat shot up his cock, and he came, the physical connection sending him flying. Tiny tremors massaged his dick as he floated. He’d brought her to heaven too. Now, he could ask her to share the secrets she and her family kept—secrets that he’d glimpsed during the hellacious confrontation between Romána and Kazmer. Maybe then she’d be willing to hear the words he’d smothered. ****

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Every cell in Heléna’s body wanted to sing, but she’d collapsed in a daze between Heath and Owen. Both men had dropped to the bed beside her moments after they’d all come. Evidently, their orgasms had been as spectacular as hers. Even if they weren’t meant to stay with her, she’d treasure the minutes, hours, and days she had left with them. She turned toward Owen, expecting to see his eyes closed, but they weren’t. A glance to the other side of her proved Heath hadn’t succumbed to sleep, either. Neither had abandoned her yet. Heath levered up and slipped his legs over the side of the bed. A stab of disappointment pierced her heart. I spoke too soon. He switched on the bedside lamp, flooding the room in light that would reveal the tears stinging her eyes. Trudging to the dresser, he retrieved a tray, giving her a clear view of his magnificent naked ass. “Time for food and something to drink. Agnes said you were healing while you slept and wouldn’t need to eat, but you’re awake now.” Owen eased out next, raking his fingers through his hair as he stretched and drawing her attention to his well-defined back muscles. “We promised to take good care of you—not that we enjoyed waiting so long for you to wake up. I’ll get a pitcher of water.” He disappeared into the bathroom before his words registered. Water shushed for a full minute or more and then shut off. Returning with a carafe, he poured a glassful at the dresser and carried it to the bed. “Drink up.” Ready to begin her interrogation, she drank a few swallows to pacify him. “You said I was asleep for a long time. The...confrontation with...Kazmer was just this afternoon. Judging by the height of the moon, I’d say it’s a little after midnight. That’s only about twelve hours.” Heath carried a plate of fruit and cheese from the dresser, tucking a piece of dried apple into her mouth. “Sweetheart, it’s been a day and a half. Today is December 29 as of twenty minutes ago.” “I slept for thirty-six hours?” Panic zipped through her veins. That

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meant her third-quarter moon ceremony was less than four days away. Why had everyone let her waste the little time she had with her pilots? The deterioration of her skills would take away her right to claim mates. She wasn’t a true Macska witch. Nodding, Owen eased back under the covers. “Agnes said you needed to recover from, you know, what happened in the basement. Um, with your great grandmother.” Great Grandmother, who’ll wipe their minds of the memories when they have to go? Kazmer should’ve taken me instead. “But I shouldn’t have needed to sleep that long.” Heath pulled back the blankets to slip in next to her. “The trauma of seeing what happened to Romána affected you more than us. She was important to you.” A lump in her throat kept her from being able to swallow as she brought the glass to her lips again. Unable to raise her voice above a whisper, she stated the obvious. “She was important to all of us. More important than me.” “No.” Heath’s quick response made her jump. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Romána chose to protect you—and us. Don’t you remember what she said?” He didn’t even pause to allow her to answer. “‘Believe, daughter. My time on Earth is at an end. Yours is only beginning.’ You were important to her, Heléna. Destroying that...shifter thing saved her family, and I’d be willing to guess she’d sacrifice herself a hundred times over for those she cared about. It was her choice, not your failure.” Owen nodded. “You got us out of there just in time. She knew you could. By the way, what was that thing? He talked about some Black Triad and your family not bowing down to them. Will you tell us your secrets?” All the blood draining from her head left her lightheaded. Secrets. They’d seen and heard enough during the confrontation to know the Macskas weren’t exactly the typical American family. Did Heath and Owen realize they weren’t in their own time anymore, either?

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Brushing her tangled hair from her face, Heath frowned at her. “Don’t you trust us?” The hurt in his eyes had her pushing aside the knowledge that she’d have to give up her lovers. What difference would erasing a little more information make? Then again, they might decide she was crazy after she told them about her family’s legacy and choose to leave immediately. Lying wasn’t an option, though. “Yes, I trust you. Are you sure you want to know?” “I want to know everything about you.” Heath held out a cube of cheese. “Eat. Please.” She submitted to his request, grateful for the short reprieve to gather her thoughts. Where should she start? Should she tell them everything? Considering they stayed with her for roughly thirty-six hours straight while she’d recovered her strength, she owed them that much. She’d deal with the consequences later. A drink of water helped her prolong the delay another few seconds, but the time came to answer their questions. She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m a witch. Well, actually, I come from a family of witches.” When they didn’t bat an eyelash at her admission, her confidence grew. “Grand Grandmother Romána was our matriarch. She was the wisest and most powerful in our family, having presided over us all for two full generations. We work to stay in tune with nature by growing many of the fruits, vegetables, and herbs we consume. From the time we’re born, we learn about the Earth and how to live in harmony with it, studying the stars and living by the moon’s phases.” Owen urged her to take another drink. “You have powers, like the ability to go from place to place with rhyming spells.” “You brought us here from the cay and saved us from the storm.” Furrowing his brows, Heath seemed to mull over that statement. “Kazmer caused the storm, didn’t he?”

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They were taking the news much better than she’d expected, even drawing a few of their own correct conclusions. “Yes, he did.” She debated telling them about her botched attempt to send them home. What do I have to lose? “I tried to spell you back to where you came from, but for some reason you ended up here with me.” A faint smile lifted the corners of Heath’s mouth. “Because we belong here with you. Your grandmother said as much.” Ignoring his implication, she delved into more of her family’s history. “The conflict with Kazmer began long ago. His goal was to destroy the Macska line of witches and the warlocks from the Order of the Elements. Both of our clans tried to live in peaceful coexistence with the outside world, inciting his anger. Romána’s middle daughter was destined to mate with one of the Elemental warlocks, uniting our clans against him. Magdolna and Boldizsár fell in love and produced a female heir to the line, but he interfered, keeping them apart for seven cycles of seven years.” Owen asked the inevitable question. “These cycles, what do they represent?” Closing her eyes, she willed her nerves to calm. This would be one of the most difficult aspects of her life to understand. She blinked to clear her vision, focusing on the folds of the blankets at her feet. “Every seven years, the women in my family go through a fertility cycle, lasting from the full moon immediately after their birthdays to the next third-quarter moon. The cycles begin with her twenty-first birthday. She seeks out her mate, and if he successfully impregnates her, they are joined. Married, in a way.” Heath’s finger beneath her chin eased her face sideways to look at him. “Your sisters and some others have two mates. Are you permitted to join with a pair of men?” She couldn’t hold his gaze. “Only if they are my true mates and I am a full-fledged witch in the coven.” Owen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Your

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grandmother said we’re your true mates, so that means we can join.” His enthusiastic tone seized her attention. They wanted to stay with her? She nearly cried at the irony. Her mates were here with her, but she couldn’t go through the joining ceremony because she hadn’t taken the vows and become part of the circle. Her powers had let her down. Or rather, her lack of powers. Gathering her composure, she evaded directly responding to his assumption. Now to reveal the final tidbits that would surely send them running. “Only if I get pregnant by both of you by the thirdquarter phase. The second of January. In three and a half days. And we have to love each other.” Neither man spoke for several interminable moments, the sound of her pulse surely too loud in her ears to hear them anyway. She must have shocked them into silence with the last requirements. May as well tie it up with a ribbon. “Oh, and when I brought you here, we traveled through time.”

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Chapter 12 Traveled through time. Heléna’s proclamation ran circles around and around in Owen’s brain, keeping his tongue stuck in neutral. “What year is it?” The half-choked whisper from Heath suggested he was having a hard time processing that thought too. Heléna started to scoot out from between them and down the bed, but Owen tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Don’t go, Heléna. Please tell us.” She ducked her head. “It’s December 29 of the year 2015.” “It’s 2015?” His thoughts stalled. “But the moon. It’s at the same phase as when we were on the island.” Logic had never failed him. “We can’t have traveled eighty-four years into the future.” Heath glanced over at Owen, his eyes wide. “Unless the moon cycle in December of this year is identical or damn close to the same month in 1931—which is completely possible. What if we were supposed to have lived now instead of then? We had to come here to be with Heléna, the place where we’re supposed to be.” Hadn’t the old woman mentioned the Fates? Owen had always been a firm believer of being in the right place at the right time. “You’re right. And after all that I’ve seen in this week, I have no doubt that’s the case.” With that issue out of the way, he tackled the next one. “Do you want to have our babies, sweetheart? I mean, I love you like you said a mate has to, and I’m pretty sure Heath feels the same.” Heath nodded, his admission coming quicker than Owen expected. “I love you too, Heléna. And I’ll spend every minute from now until the second of January trying to get you pregnant if that

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means I can be with you for the rest of my life. You love us, don’t you?” Slowly turning first to Owen and then to Heath, she wiped at tears trickling down her cheeks. “Yes, but—but...I’m not a full-fledged witch. I’ve been losing my ability to cast spells for months, and I didn’t enter the circle when Great Grandmother welcomed me into the coven. We can’t be mated. It’s my fault.” A burst of anger and frustration sent Owen’s normally even temper flaring past the satisfaction that Heléna returned their affection. “That bastard got to you! Forget what he told you. You got us the hell out of harm’s way in the nick of time. Twice.” He shook his head, disgusted that Kazmer had used her insecurities against her. “Don’t let that damn shifter suck away your confidence. Your powers were there when you needed them, and I have faith in you. Romána had faith in you.” Heath hauled Heléna onto his lap, cupping her damp face in his palms. “In the morning, you’ll take the vow and go into the circle. Then we’ll work on making those heirs to the Macska line. A couple of beautiful baby girls who look just like their mommy.” Giving a dainty sniffle, she seemed to accept their words. “You’re sure?” His anger ebbing, Owen leaned over to press his lips to her forehead. “We’ll fix this together. You found us, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go.” **** A horde of dragonflies zipped around Heléna’s stomach as she descended the staircase to the foyer between Heath and Owen. Today’s journey down the steps would change her life more profoundly than the trip to the Macska mansion library three days ago. Her sisters had escorted her along the hall to the gathering of the

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witches, with them inviting her into their welcoming arms before she even related why she’d asked to meet them. Their request that she perform a simple incantation hadn’t surprised her. The effortless execution of an ad motus incantation had, though. What had seemed impossible for weeks had suddenly become second nature again. Her powers had been restored. Had the transfer of Great Grandmother’s power from the spell caused the change? A final gift from the matriarch? Standing up in front of her entire family to join with her pilots was much more nerve-wracking than taking the vow of the coven. A single touch from her sister Lujza would allow the joining or end the greatest joy in her life. Confirmation of conception was the only obstacle standing in the way of tying herself to her mates. Heléna guided her lovers to the main parlor, the site of many a ceremony when the weather chased them inside. Dozens of warm smiles greeted her as she stepped through the open doorway. Great Aunt Szabina extended her arms toward Heléna, Owen, and Heath. “Come, come. We are anxious for the seventh joining in this cycle to occur. It is cause for much celebration.” Stopping before the new matriarch, Heléna mustered her courage. She had to get one very important detail taken care of first. “Matriarch, may I speak to my sister for a moment?” “Of course, daughter. Rebeka, will you please—” “Not Rebeka.” Heléna tensed as she realized she’d interrupted her most-respected elder. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Instead of a grim line of censure, Szabina’s mouth twitched as if she held in an amused grin. “You seek advice from Lujza?” A chorus of whispers spread through the room, the family apparently finding a request for counsel from the most outspoken, sarcastic witch of their clan ridiculous. Lujza growled and rolled her eyes as she stepped forward. “What makes everybody think I can’t give my baby sister good, proper guidance? Keep the reins tight and remind them often who’s boss,

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Heléna.” Male laughter echoed off the walls. Her mates clearly didn’t believe in that plan. Heléna pulled her sister aside for privacy, standing on tiptoe to whisper in her ear. “Tell me. I need to know before we begin the joining ceremony and I find out...” The sentence was impossible to finish. “Am I?” “That’s all?” Fisting her hands on her hips, Lujza looked down at Heléna with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “I could’ve told days ago if I’d known you weren’t sure. You were already pregnant when you took the oath of the coven on Tuesday.” “I was?” Heléna reached for her sister’s arm to steady herself. Relief stole control of her muscles. She’d truly found her life-mates. “Well, yeah. Worst case of the heebie-jeebies I’ve ever had.” Szabina cleared her throat. “I believe we are ready to continue now.” Heat crept up Heléna’s neck at the realization everyone had probably heard the entire conversation. “Yes, Aunt Szabina.” A pair of grins met her when she turned toward Heath and Owen. If she’d had any doubts about their willingness to become parents so quickly, they vanished in that instant. Each of her men slid their fingers through hers and gently squeezed when she once again stood between them. The matriarch unrolled a piece of paper. “My family, today we will witness the joining of another of our sisters. Before she and her true mates speak the vows, I will share a parting message left with me by our beloved mother, Romána.” Heléna blinked back stinging tears at the mention of Great Grandmother. The wise leader of the Macskas had spoken the truth about Owen and Heath, somehow seeing what the future held in store—not only for herself, but for all of them. Uncurling the paper, Szabina read. “‘Loved ones, as you gather for the joining of Heléna and the men who are to become her life-

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mates, remember that I am with you in spirit. Let not my physical absence dampen the joy of this new beginning. Our greatest enemy has been destroyed, and the Macska witches will have the benefit of peace and harmony with our allies from the Order of the Elements. Sweet Heléna, I wish eternal blessings for you, Heath, and Owen. The Goddess and the Fates have chosen well for you. Love each other and be happy, children.’” She released the lower edge, and the paper rolled back into a scroll. Slipping the message in her skirt pocket, she smiled. “I add my own blessings to those our mother wished for you before her destined end. Heath Ulrich, do you willingly offer your love and your life to Heléna and your loyalty to the Macska clan?” Lifting his hand to stroke Heléna’s hair, he met her gaze. His gray eyes brightened, and utter contentment washed over her. “I do.” “And, Owen Vance, do you promise your heart and life to your mate, protecting the secrets of her family?” Owen’s face lit up as he placed his free hand over Heléna’s flat belly, making her pulse skip a beat. “I do.” Without waiting for the new matriarch’s prompting, Heléna recited the vow she’d written months ago in anticipation of this day. The simple memorized line now had the names of her true mates. “I will love and cherish Heath and Owen with all my heart and soul until the day I die, sharing my life and all that I have, and protecting them from harm.” A single nod told of Szabina’s approval. She leaned in to kiss each of them on the cheek. “Long life and happiness to you, children.” At the proclamation, the family gathered around them to offer blessings and congratulations until a sudden hush fell on the crowd. A ripple of serenity brought elation to Heléna’s body and mind. The others had unmistakably felt it too—Romána’s presence among them. Peace to you, Great Grandmother. ****

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Stealing away from the open doorway of the Macska parlor, Patience Wyndham shifted into her ethereal form and returned to her lair with a single thought. As she settled into the wooden chair in front of the vanity dresser, she shifted again—this time into the corporeal being she’d once been. Picking up the brush, she ran the bristles through her waist-length black mane. Traveling through time and space always made a mess of her hair. One down, one to go. And I didn’t have to lift a finger. Now to set her next plan in motion.

THE END WWW.MELLANIESZERETO.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR When her fingers aren’t attached to her keyboard, Mellanie Szereto enjoys hiking, Pilates, cooking, gardening, and researching for her stories. Many times, the research partners with her other hobbies, taking her from the Hocking Hills region in Ohio to the Colorado Rockies and the Adirondacks of New York. Sometimes, the trip is no farther than her garden for ingredients and her kitchen to test recipes for her latest steamy tale. Mellanie makes her home in rural Indiana with her husband of twenty-five years and their two children, one dog, and two cats. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Indiana Romance Writers of America, and Hearts Through History Romance Writers.

Also by Mellanie Szereto Ménage Amour: Bewitching Desires 1: Two if by Sea Ménage Amour: Bewitching Desires 2: Two Knights of Passion Ménage Amour: Bewitching Desires 3: Two Fated for One Ménage Amour: Bewitching Desires 4: Two Pirates to Treasure Ménage Amour: Bewitching Desires 5: Two Times the Trouble Ménage Amour: Bewitching Desires 6: Two Roped and Ready

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