too powerful for her to handle. If they weren’t already. Two weeks, and time was ticking…
“Don’t just stand there. Get her. ”
Chance watched his brother let out a war cry and give chase, knowing they’d never find Regan if she didn’t want them to. She’d successfully hidden from them for a decade. A forest of trees would be like a walk in the park to a shapeshifter with her talent.
He grinned, pleased as hell that she hadn’t forgotten them. Given the opportunity to ignore them—because they didn’t matter anymore—or get even with them, she’d gone for the jugular. Thank God.
For years they’d done their best to convince their mother that no one but Regan would do. But Lisabeth Starr was old-school. As much as she loved her sons, she wanted only the best for them. And according to what she’d been taught, shapeshifters sat about a dozen rungs below warlocks and witches. Even below all the other inferior magical beings.
He loved his mother, but he harboured no illusions about her snobbery. To be fair, though he and Warrick could have bonded with another female on any number of occasions, something inside them both had known from the very beginning that it would only ever be Regan for them.
Unfortunately, immaturity, hormones and uncontrollable power had turned him and his brother into—well, into monsters—for a few years.
Warrick returned, breathing hard and swearing. “Son of a bitch. I don’t know how, but I lost her.”
“Dumbass. I told you that would happen.”
Warrick flipped him the finger and stalked past him into the house.
“What about your watch?” he called after his twin, following him into the kitchen.
Warrick made a face.
“What? Did she take it?” That would make tracking her down immensely easy—the locator spell on the watch would take them to her in a heartbeat. They’d set her up with a fake argument and bingo, she’d fallen for it. Even better, she’d taken an enchanted item.
“No.” Warrick grimaced. “She buried it.”
“Oh?”
A pause. “In horse shit.”
Chance blinked, then started laughing. More so when Warrick glared and a burst of fire lit up the kitchen hearth. “Well, she had cause. Remember when you once set fire to her favourite dollhouse?”
“I was trying to decorate a doll’s dresser but the spell went wrong on me. You’re the one that turned her dog into a dragon.”
“I thought she’d like it. And she did.”
“Until it ate her cat.”
Chance frowned. He’d forgotten that. “Yeah? Well, you made her cry on more than one occasion.”
“So did you.” Warrick groaned. “I don’t see how we’re going to make this work. She hates us.”
“Women love us.”
“Not this woman.”
“It’s not our fault.” Or so Chance kept telling himself. “We knew she was ours. We just didn’t know the feeling would cause us to—”
“Freak out? Ambush her at every turn? Woo her with toads and mice and snails?”
“Which most cats like to play with. Not our fault she didn’t shift until she left us. I always thought our gifts of prey would help her find her centre.”
Warrick shook his head. “Instead they sent her away.”
“If I recall, her father did that. But hey, we convinced Phil we’re on the level. Good guys with only her future in mind. If we could get her dad to okay the bonding, she should be no problem. Right?”
“Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you?”
“One of us has to, Doom and Gloom.”
“It took us ten years to convince Phil we need her. We have two weeks to show Regan we mean no harm. And we have to find her to do that.”
“Yeah, about that. I have an idea…”
* * * *
Regan ran until she couldn’t run any more, and she realised she hadn’t felt so good in ages. Leaving Darkton had been necessary but bittersweet. For all that the Starrs had harassed her, she’d had a major crush on the pair. She’d missed her friends and family in town as well when she’d gone to live
“Don’t just stand there. Get her. ”
Chance watched his brother let out a war cry and give chase, knowing they’d never find Regan if she didn’t want them to. She’d successfully hidden from them for a decade. A forest of trees would be like a walk in the park to a shapeshifter with her talent.
He grinned, pleased as hell that she hadn’t forgotten them. Given the opportunity to ignore them—because they didn’t matter anymore—or get even with them, she’d gone for the jugular. Thank God.
For years they’d done their best to convince their mother that no one but Regan would do. But Lisabeth Starr was old-school. As much as she loved her sons, she wanted only the best for them. And according to what she’d been taught, shapeshifters sat about a dozen rungs below warlocks and witches. Even below all the other inferior magical beings.
He loved his mother, but he harboured no illusions about her snobbery. To be fair, though he and Warrick could have bonded with another female on any number of occasions, something inside them both had known from the very beginning that it would only ever be Regan for them.
Unfortunately, immaturity, hormones and uncontrollable power had turned him and his brother into—well, into monsters—for a few years.
Warrick returned, breathing hard and swearing. “Son of a bitch. I don’t know how, but I lost her.”
“Dumbass. I told you that would happen.”
Warrick flipped him the finger and stalked past him into the house.
“What about your watch?” he called after his twin, following him into the kitchen.
Warrick made a face.
“What? Did she take it?” That would make tracking her down immensely easy—the locator spell on the watch would take them to her in a heartbeat. They’d set her up with a fake argument and bingo, she’d fallen for it. Even better, she’d taken an enchanted item.
“No.” Warrick grimaced. “She buried it.”
“Oh?”
A pause. “In horse shit.”
Chance blinked, then started laughing. More so when Warrick glared and a burst of fire lit up the kitchen hearth. “Well, she had cause. Remember when you once set fire to her favourite dollhouse?”
“I was trying to decorate a doll’s dresser but the spell went wrong on me. You’re the one that turned her dog into a dragon.”
“I thought she’d like it. And she did.”
“Until it ate her cat.”
Chance frowned. He’d forgotten that. “Yeah? Well, you made her cry on more than one occasion.”
“So did you.” Warrick groaned. “I don’t see how we’re going to make this work. She hates us.”
“Women love us.”
“Not this woman.”
“It’s not our fault.” Or so Chance kept telling himself. “We knew she was ours. We just didn’t know the feeling would cause us to—”
“Freak out? Ambush her at every turn? Woo her with toads and mice and snails?”
“Which most cats like to play with. Not our fault she didn’t shift until she left us. I always thought our gifts of prey would help her find her centre.”
Warrick shook his head. “Instead they sent her away.”
“If I recall, her father did that. But hey, we convinced Phil we’re on the level. Good guys with only her future in mind. If we could get her dad to okay the bonding, she should be no problem. Right?”
“Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you?”
“One of us has to, Doom and Gloom.”
“It took us ten years to convince Phil we need her. We have two weeks to show Regan we mean no harm. And we have to find her to do that.”
“Yeah, about that. I have an idea…”
* * * *
Regan ran until she couldn’t run any more, and she realised she hadn’t felt so good in ages. Leaving Darkton had been necessary but bittersweet. For all that the Starrs had harassed her, she’d had a major crush on the pair. She’d missed her friends and family in town as well when she’d gone to live
Similar Books
