Heart Mates by Mary Hughes Page B

heard Brazil was nice.
    “Who is that man?”
    Besides, once he heard the full story, he’d never want to see her again. She hitched a breath.
    He sat next to her. “Tell me.”
    “Damn it.” She blinked hot eyes. “Why do you have to be so persistent?”
    “It’s a gift.” He gently gathered her hands from her pearls. “Let’s start slow. Who was that wizard?”
    She shook her head. “How do you know Rodolphe’s a wizard?”
    Noah touched his nose. “Your aunt smells different. The hooded creep had the same scent, only nastier.” Before she could ask another question he frowned at her. “You don’t. You smell like running free through a meadow on a spring day.”
    His deep tones gave the words a poetry. Sophia blushed. “That’s sweet.” He wouldn’t say such sweet things once she told him the rest.
    He took both her hands. “Sophia, please. I need to know if he’s a danger to my pack.”
    Her chest iced. She needed to come clean and see the warmth in his eyes wither and die…for the best, what with shifter-witch smiting, but she needed some distance to get it out. “I want some tea. You?”
    She didn’t give him a choice, popping to her feet and leading the way to the kitchen. Silently she busied herself filling the teakettle.
    He leaned, arms folded, against the wall.
    When the kettle was on the stove over a high flame she took a deep breath. “I was born a witch.” She glanced to see how he took it.
    He flinched. “A witch? ”
    That hurt, but worse was coming. “Proud of it, at one time.” She paused getting the box of tea, shame pricking her nose and eyes. “I was strong, with ability across multiple elements. An, um…” She cleared her throat. “A witch princess.”
    “You’re a what? ” He backed away like she’d sprouted a rash.
    “Hereditary witch princess.” She winced. “Although I prefer gene-recruited. But yeah. Long silk robes, power wand, sparkly tiara, the whole deal. Noah, please. I’m not a witch anymore, and this is difficult enough. Sit?”
    Eyes narrowed like she was going to turn him into a toad, he nonetheless nodded and sat at the kitchen table.
    She got down mugs, pressed leaves into two diffuser balls and settled them in the mugs with dual clinks . She stood a moment, her hands on the mugs, gathering her strength. “Once upon a time, I embraced everything being a witch meant. Like the kid who wanted to be president or prime minister, everything I did was fueled by determination to reach the top—High Minister of the Witches’ Council.”
    “The Council. Sweet running prey.”
    “You know about the Council?”
    “Stories.” He shuddered.
    “At least it’s not a crime syndicate, right?” She tried to laugh and failed. The kettle whistled. She was silent as she poured steaming water over the tea diffusers. Again, the task only lasted so long. “I studied hard and worked every talent I had to get accepted into the top Council-approved university in the country, the best damned freshman witch you ever saw. But even among mages, you can’t get to the top on grades alone. You need connections.”
    “You’re a damned royal witch. What more connection do you need?”
    The anger in his tone rippled unhappily up her spine. Trying to dunk both diffusers at once she fumbled it, sloshing tea onto the table.
    With a small tch he took the mugs away from her, firmly but not unkindly. As he rose to get the dishcloth to wipe up, she sat and clasped her hands. Without his burning silver gaze it was easier to say what needed to be said.
    “My connections would have been my parents. But they died in an airplane. A midair explosion.”
    “Oh, Sophia.” He returned to her, tossed the cloth and took her clasped hands. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Thanks.” Her fingers relaxed under his.
    “How old were you?”
    “I was eighteen. My brother was twenty.” That had spurred Gabriel’s need to make tech work with magic.
    “Let’s talk somewhere more comfortable.”