Page 43 of Discovered Magic
“My apologies. I, er, she…” He blew out a breath with a shake of his head. “I was taken aback for a moment, but thankfully cooler heads prevailed.”
“Think nothing of it.” Castor’s devilish expression was a clear indicator he’d have pushed the issue with Alastair or Damian.
“I need to show my face in town for the rowdy crowd, but Draven can tell you what we’ve tried for Mar—er, Abbie until now.” So saying, Jonas strode out.
“And then there were three,” Castor quipped, shooting the Guardian a droll look. Sobering, he asked, “What have you tried, and why wasn’t Damian called?”
“Everythin’, and he was, mon ami. But he wouldn’t defy the Authority.”
“That doesn’t sound like the man I know.” Castor met Wilder’s gaze. “We’ll need to find another way.”
“Do you believe Isis would come if we summon her?” Wilder asked, instinctively hugging Abbie tighter.
“I couldn’t say one way or the other. I might have better luck with Athena, since we share blood.”
Draven straightened from his slouched position. “You’re a demigod?”
“No. Just divine-blooded, thanks to Zeus’s penchant for mortal women.” When the Guardian frowned, Castor continued. “I’m generations removed from my demigod ancestor and from Zeus himself. But it gifted me the Traveler gene.”
“Ah.” Draven relaxed, assuming Roxanne’s previous perch on the windowsill. “Will you be able to heal, Marie?”
“Abigail,” Castor replied sharply. “And no. Not unless a miracle happens.”
“I don’t understand.”
The tension building in Castor was visible in his squared shoulders and the muscle ticking in his jaw. With an effort to defuse the emotional bomb about to go off, Wilder said, “The journey through the portal has temporarily suspended our abilities. We suspect it’s because we don’t technically exist in this timeline.”
“This changes things, no?”
“Indeed, it does,” Castor replied heavily. “We need more Thornes and a goddess or two.”
15
Abigail Monroe.
Mary’s real name, though it didn’t seem right somehow. But what did feel damned near perfect was the man holding her. She’d woken when the guy claiming to be her father mentioned needing the Thornes and a goddess, but remained unmoving. Over the last two years, she’d found playing possum gained her a lot of knowledge others were disinclined to share.
The door closed behind Castor and Draven with a soft click, leaving her alone with Wilder.
His voice rumbled in his chest when he said, “You can stop pretending you’re asleep. Everyone’s gone.”
Her first instinct was to lie, but she checked it. Not only would it have been too difficult to protest aloud, but he’d likely detected the tensing of her body.
Rolling a quarter turn, she angled to see him. His handsomeness was breath-stealing, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen gorgeous men before. The one they called the Aether came to mind. Although she’d been told they’d met, she didn’t remember him prior to the shooting. But he certainly made an impression during their second meeting. Damian Dethridge, undeniably the most attractive man on earth, possessed a quality able to chill her to the bone marrow, and she feared him.
Wilder watched her in silence, and she appreciated his allowing her to set the pace. The compulsion to touch him was hard to ignore, and Mary traced his lips. They were surprisingly full for a man, but she wasn’t complaining.
“Will you… tell… about her?”
His brows met. “Who?”
“Ab-bee.”
His expression cleared, and he shook his head with a slight smile. “You mean you.”
“Not… same.”
“You are. She’s in here,” he said, stroking her forehead with gentle fingers. “We just need to wake her up.”
