He'd saidwhenher magic became too much, notif.
Muriel pulled out her phone and stared at the screen for a long moment. The decision of whether to stay or go had been made for her. She needed answers, andsooner rather than later. One thing was certain—her home was no longer a safe place.
She pulled up Jessie's number.
“Hey Jess,” she said when her best friend answered on the first ring. “Is your invitation still open? Because I think I’d like to come for a visit.”
2
RUMORS AND RESEARCH
BRANDON
Brandon ranhis fingers along the spine of a newly acquired alleged first edition. He guessed it to be late fourteenth century, penned and illustrated by a monk under orders from the Magisterial Consilium—the ancient organization that had been policing magical society since before Camelot. No doubt they’d rewritten sections of the text to promote their own propaganda.
It was what they did, after all—alter historical documents, hoard powerful artifacts, and hunt certain magical bloodlines. They were a multifaceted organization.
Their wands would be in knots if they knew he had the original text, along with dozens of other priceless artifacts that had been smuggled out of Merlin’s secret lair in the sixth century CE.
Like theLiber Terrae, for instance.
A smile tugged at his lips as he wondered whether Muriel had received his package yet.
The book had been sitting in his private collection for decades, waiting—as all magical items were—for the right owner. Brandan couldn’t think of a better steward than Muriel Brennan, the ethereally beautiful and extraordinarily powerful earth witch he crossed paths with recently. A natural elemental like her deserved access to the best resources available.
And maybe, just maybe, the gift would put him in her good graces. Unlike most females, she seemed immune to his good looks and innate charm. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her. She, meanwhile, didn’t seem the least bit interested in him. According to Jessie—Muriel’s best friend and the Mythic pack’s alpha’s mate—he shouldn’t take it personally.
Objectively, he understood. Practitioners were wary by nature and tended to separate themselves from others, himself included. There was a reason he had chosen to open his magical bookstore in Mythic. In the magically protected community of preternaturals, he could hide in plain sight.
So could Muriel—ifshe took Jessie’s advice and moved to Mythic. She’d be safer here than living as a lone witch on the outskirts of the Shenandoah pack. He’d make sure of it.
Assuming he could convince her to give him the time of day, that was.
Brandon closed his eyes, envisioning her here, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire, book in hand, flames reflecting in her silvery-blonde hair and enchanting hazel eyes flecked with brilliant green. His magic intensified along with his desire, sparking and crackling along fingers that longed to stroke that perfect creamy skin. Every now and then, she’d glance his way, a shy, enigmatic smile hovering on her perfect rosebud lips…
Yeah. There was nothing objective about his interest in Muriel Brennan.
The bell above the shop door chimed, interrupting his musings. Brandon didn’t have to look up to recognize Jason’s simmering dark energy. The fact that the vampire spymaster didn’t fully cloak his abilities was a testament to their tacit alliance.
Some might say they were coming dangerously close tofriendship.
Brandon sucked his magic back and tossed the late Middle Ages forgery off to the side to give Jason his full attention. “Jason.”
“Brandon.” Jason lifted his head slightly, no doubt attempting to read the energy lingering in the air. “Bad time?”
“Not at all. Just sorting through new arrivals.”
“Yes, let’s go with that.” Jason's lips quirked as he picked up the fake volume and examined it with interest. “Is this genuine?”
“Magisterial Consilium propaganda,” Brandon told him.
“Pity. Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Jason murmured.
Brandon cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment? Are you finally acknowledging my encyclopedic knowledge of the arcane?”
“Something like that,” Jason said with a smirk, but his dark eyes were glittering.
“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?