with her aunt. Aunt Olivia was a kind soul, but so dull . Boring. Mundane. Without magic.
Life in Spokane had been peaceful. Regan had grown up loved. Her father had visited often, and she’d developed friendships that had taught her much about herself and who she wanted to be.
Yet throughout her high school and college years, she’d never forgotten the Starrs. And who could blame her? Her recent escape from Warrick had been exhilarating and a touch scary, because if anyone could catch her, it would be him. Faster than any normal human should be. Than even a common mage should be.
Like Chance, Warrick had always been a little bit… more .
Both men stood heads above her, and at five-feet-eleven, Regan was no petite flower. Tall and lithe with curves in the right places, she had feline grace and an awareness about herself that she’d finally come to trust. Sensuality was not a bad thing. Nor was curiosity about life, no matter how much Aunt Olivia had tried to rein her in.
And that curiosity had all started with the Starrs. Two brothers—one dark, one light. Twin warlocks born during the zenith of the blood moon. Twins in themselves were rare and cause for celebration, resulting in double the power for each child. But the Starrs’ birth, four years before hers to the exact day, had occurred during a sacred period in the magic cycle—one that happened only once every five hundred years.
She’d often wondered if their unique birth was why people seemed so drawn to them. As much as she’d disliked their incessant teasing about her budding figure and constant attempts to scare her with insects and small rodents, she’d been fascinated with the pair.
Handsome, charming—even occasionally to her—smart, popular. They could do no wrong in the eyes of most of the town and featured in every girl’s fantasies. Hell, she continued to have odd dreams about them, now and again. Hard to explain, even to herself, considering she hadn’t seen either bully in a decade.
Not liking her incessant curiosity about the pair, she tried to shake off the annoying interest and trotted back to her father’s house. The twins would know she’d want to spend time with her father, so in the event they tracked her to his house, she’d worn something to camouflage her scent and voice. An amulet that still sat around her neck, fixed to what looked like a collar.
After climbing up to the second floor of her father’s old studio, she slid inside and shifted into her human form again, pleased to wear her own skin. But not for long. She’d returned to town at the behest of her father to witness the twins’ Becoming, at the rite of the blood moon, a procession that had members from covens across the country in attendance. She understood the significance. Everyone in Darkton would benefit from two such powerful warlocks to maintain order and protection over the enspelled town. With the Starrs contributing to the power structure, there would be no more threat of vampire or demon takeover.
She’d wanted very much to come back as herself, but she knew that would only make it easier for them to screw with her again. And she wanted her own revenge before they became too important to mess with. Taking that watch had been the first of many such pranks she intended to pull. Harmless stuff, but actions that would relieve old wounds.
So instead of remaining in her own form, Regan concentrated and let her bones and muscles reshape themselves into the appearance of her aunt. With a sigh, she slowly stepped into the clothing she’d left behind before she’d shifted three hours ago.
Once again dressed in slacks, loafers and a thin, rose-coloured sweater, she patted her aunt’s bun of mahogany hair streaked with grey and walked down the steps into the space her father now used mainly for storage.
Touching the amulet at her neck and confident no one would see it for the powerful charm it was, she left the studio and walked through the backyard to
Life in Spokane had been peaceful. Regan had grown up loved. Her father had visited often, and she’d developed friendships that had taught her much about herself and who she wanted to be.
Yet throughout her high school and college years, she’d never forgotten the Starrs. And who could blame her? Her recent escape from Warrick had been exhilarating and a touch scary, because if anyone could catch her, it would be him. Faster than any normal human should be. Than even a common mage should be.
Like Chance, Warrick had always been a little bit… more .
Both men stood heads above her, and at five-feet-eleven, Regan was no petite flower. Tall and lithe with curves in the right places, she had feline grace and an awareness about herself that she’d finally come to trust. Sensuality was not a bad thing. Nor was curiosity about life, no matter how much Aunt Olivia had tried to rein her in.
And that curiosity had all started with the Starrs. Two brothers—one dark, one light. Twin warlocks born during the zenith of the blood moon. Twins in themselves were rare and cause for celebration, resulting in double the power for each child. But the Starrs’ birth, four years before hers to the exact day, had occurred during a sacred period in the magic cycle—one that happened only once every five hundred years.
She’d often wondered if their unique birth was why people seemed so drawn to them. As much as she’d disliked their incessant teasing about her budding figure and constant attempts to scare her with insects and small rodents, she’d been fascinated with the pair.
Handsome, charming—even occasionally to her—smart, popular. They could do no wrong in the eyes of most of the town and featured in every girl’s fantasies. Hell, she continued to have odd dreams about them, now and again. Hard to explain, even to herself, considering she hadn’t seen either bully in a decade.
Not liking her incessant curiosity about the pair, she tried to shake off the annoying interest and trotted back to her father’s house. The twins would know she’d want to spend time with her father, so in the event they tracked her to his house, she’d worn something to camouflage her scent and voice. An amulet that still sat around her neck, fixed to what looked like a collar.
After climbing up to the second floor of her father’s old studio, she slid inside and shifted into her human form again, pleased to wear her own skin. But not for long. She’d returned to town at the behest of her father to witness the twins’ Becoming, at the rite of the blood moon, a procession that had members from covens across the country in attendance. She understood the significance. Everyone in Darkton would benefit from two such powerful warlocks to maintain order and protection over the enspelled town. With the Starrs contributing to the power structure, there would be no more threat of vampire or demon takeover.
She’d wanted very much to come back as herself, but she knew that would only make it easier for them to screw with her again. And she wanted her own revenge before they became too important to mess with. Taking that watch had been the first of many such pranks she intended to pull. Harmless stuff, but actions that would relieve old wounds.
So instead of remaining in her own form, Regan concentrated and let her bones and muscles reshape themselves into the appearance of her aunt. With a sigh, she slowly stepped into the clothing she’d left behind before she’d shifted three hours ago.
Once again dressed in slacks, loafers and a thin, rose-coloured sweater, she patted her aunt’s bun of mahogany hair streaked with grey and walked down the steps into the space her father now used mainly for storage.
Touching the amulet at her neck and confident no one would see it for the powerful charm it was, she left the studio and walked through the backyard to
Similar Books
