Chapter 17
“Step away from him, my dear,” Evie urged Abbie. “You’re not to heal him.”
Anger crackled beneath Abbie’s surface, and defiance rose up. Who the hell were they to tell her what she could and couldn’t do to help Wilder?
“She’ll have her reasons, sweetheart,” he told her through their new mental link. Aloud, he said, “Do as she says.”
She jerked, having momentarily forgotten he could read her mind. With a short nod, she rose and went to her precious paper supply.
After writing, she held it up.
Why?
“Well, I’ll be! None of us thought to ask about the poor dear’s education,” Evie exclaimed.
“Most everyone, from every class, possesses the fundamentals in my time,” Wilder replied. “Abbie actually went to college.”
Evie studied him as she moved closer. “You have the look of my son’s wife, Josephine.”
“Josephine Crandall-Thorne.” He cast her a half smile. “From all accounts, she had dark hair and eyes. My siblings always believed our exotic coloring was from our Egyptian ancestors, but it’s more likely from our great-grandmother, Jo.”
Wordlessly, she gripped his arm and pressed her palm over his burnt skin. Purple light seeped from whatever space existed between them.
Abbie gasped. She hadn’t witnessed anything like it, and her curiosity propelled her forward. “She’s healing you? Like you planned for me to do?”
“Yes,” Wilder replied, grinning at her excitement. “For some of our kind, it’s effortless. Eventually, it will be for you, too.”
“I see you have a connection,” Evie said mildly, glancing between them before returning her attention to her chore. “It’s rare to be able to communicate the way you do.”
“It’s new for us.” When he offered his hand to Abbie, it felt natural for her to clasp it. The warmth of his approval flowed through her, fueling her desire to bask in his light.
“She trusts you. Jonas told me it was immediate, but I wished to meet you for myself,” Evie said.
“I didn’t get to know you while you were around, but Cousin Alastair told me you were a wily one,” Wilder replied with a chuckle. “‘Evie saw through any BS disguised as charm,’ he once told me.”
“Alastair?” She sent a sharp glance at Jonas, then looked at Abbie. “You once called my husband Alastair.”
Had she? Abbie couldn’t remember.
“She doesn’t recall,” Wilder replied for her.
“Naturally. It was before that ugly bank business.” Evie dropped her hands with a satisfied nod. “You’re as good as new, young man.”
“Thank you.”
Hoping to inspect his skin for herself, Abbie touched his arm.
Dutifully, he lifted it for her to stroke.
As her fingers trailed across the pinkened flesh, it darkened to its natural tan.
Her mouth dropped open, and unable to contain her excitement, she hugged him. He laughed as he tightened his embrace.
“Welcome to the world of witchcraft, sweetheart.”
Drawing back, she smiled at him. Or tried to. The painful tug on her cheek stopped the movement.
It’s truly amazing. I wish she could fix me.
Wilder sobered, and she mourned the loss of his good humor.
“We’ll find the Aether. He can do it,” he assured her.
“Damian has already said he won’t get involved,” Evie said. Regret hung in her voice. “I’m sorry.”
Anger flashed across Wilder’s face as he set Abbie away from him and stood. “Did he say why not?”
“The Authority. He won’t fight them for a few scars.”
“A few scars? What about her memory? Her inability to speak?” he snapped back.
Jonas stepped around his aunt, his hands dropping to his gun belt. “Calm down, Wilder, and show her respect.”
“I’m not annoyed with her. I’m angry because Damian’s calling is to assist our magical community, not ignore those in need,” he retorted. “For two years, he left Abbie to suffer. What kind of man is he in this world?”
Their hostility knotted Abbie’s insides, and the desire to flee sparked. Instinctively, she ripped at the bracelet chaining her in place.
“One handhold. One breath,” Wilder said, reaching out, palm up.
Fearing she’d burn him, she stepped backward and tucked her arms behind her.
Disappointment clouded his eyes, but on its heels was understanding.
“I’m not scared,” he assured her. “I’ll take a hundred strikes if it helps you stay grounded.” Extending his hand farther, he repeated, “One handhold. One breath.”
She grabbed on for dear life. Within two short hours, he’d become her anchor. A beacon in a storm of chaos.
“I’m beginning to suspect you’re an empath, Abbie,” he said in a tone used to gentle wild creatures. “We need to teach you to build walls against stronger emotions. It will help with your panic attacks.”
“Christ. That explains so much.” Jonas grimaced. “Why didn’t any of us see it before?”
“I’m sure you had other things to contend with.
But Alastair and a few of my other cousins possess the same gift.
Even knowing how to handle a tsunami of emotions, they can get overwhelmed.
” Wilder led her to the chair and offered the pen.
“Write what you feel, sweetheart. And if you can’t find the words, sketch what’s in your head. ”
“She can draw?” Evie asked curiously, joining them at the desk.
“Yes. She’s a remarkable charcoal artist. Mostly views from the summit, but her work hangs—hung—all over our apartment.”
A vague recollection of charcoal pencils filled Abbie’s mind, of her fingers flying as they recreated whatever she saw.
Wilder’s excitement hummed through her veins. “You remembered something.”
With a small shake of her head, she said, “A fragment. But you took the pictures down? Why?”
“They were too painful,” he confessed. “A reminder of what I’d lost.” He stroked a finger along her blemished cheek. “The love I failed to save.”
She had a sudden urge to sketch him in his current state, staring down at her with such longing and pain, yet she worried something so personal might offend him. He might not wish those emotions displayed for others to see.
A wicked gleam caused his eyes to sparkle. “You’ve sketched me nude. What’s a little stark emotion?”
The idea of sketching him nude held great appeal, and in her mind’s eye, she constructed a vision of how she’d model him.
“I’m growing uncomfortably aroused. You might want to think about something else, or you’ll embarrass me,” he telegraphed.
Her face warmed under his steady regard, and she compressed her lips to hold back an unexpected giggle.
Wilder wished his relatives were anywhere but there.
Yet he wouldn’t make advances on Abbie. Until she one hundred percent bought into the idea she was truly who he claimed, he wouldn’t press for anything but recognition, if it were at all possible for her.
She should be comfortable, seeking confirmation rather than him pushing the past on her and expecting her to accept whatever he fed her.
“I do believe you, Wilder. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Her faith humbled him, and he blinked against the sting of moisture in his eyes. “It means more to me than you’ll ever know, sweetheart.”
Evie cleared her throat to get their attention, and when she had it, she said, “Damian might not be willing to disobey the Authority, but the rest of your family are.”
For a couple of heartbeats, he stared, unable to comprehend. When her meaning eventually sank in, he whooped and hugged her.
“Thank you, Evie. Thank you!”
“It’s the least I can do for my great-great-grandson and our lost lamb.”
“You and Nate were always the backbone of our family. Your values and teachings resonate through all the generations after you,” he told her. “I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you before you chose to move on, but I’m so damned happy I got to now.”
She patted his cheek. “Clearly, my ‘don’t swear in mixed company’ didn’t stick.”
He laughed and hugged her again.
“Dare I ask about the future, and if Isolde becomes even more of a problem?” Evie tilted her head, and a mischievous smile curled her lips.
Wilder didn’t take the bait.
“I wish I could tell you, but Castor has threatened me with penalty of death should I talk.”
Her brows shot up. “Hmm, your avoidance tells me she does.”
“My lips are sealed, Evelyn Thorne. You’ll not get any secrets out of me.” He mimed zipping his lips.
“Cheeky boy.”
A tug at his sleeve turned his attention to Abbie’s newest question.
Who’s Isolde?
Her pursed lips hinted at displeasure, as if jealousy had gotten the better of her. And because they had always teased each other in the past, he saw no reason not to rib her now.
“The Enchantress.” He sighed. “Rumor has it she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, able to—”
She kicked him.
Exactly as his Abbie would’ve.
Applying pen to paper, she wrote, Jerk.
Dropping to his knees before her and placing his hand over his heart, he dipped his head. “You, my queen, will always be held in my highest regard.”
She snorted, and when he glanced up, amusement crinkled her undamaged eye.
“But it’s getting late, and I’m starving. It’s possible my judgment is impaired,” he added.
Evie smacked him upside the head. “That’s no way to court a woman. You and Jonas could take lessons from Nathanial.”
Wilder was pleased Abbie had understood his jest and didn’t take offense.
“What does this town offer for takeout?”
“Takeout?”
“A meal I can box up and bring back here to share with Abbie,” he explained.
“Jonas or I can conjure whatever you need, my dear.”
Abbie’s sudden stillness bothered him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, tipping up her chin so she’d meet his eyes. “You know I was kidding about impaired judgment, right?”
She nodded, glancing down again.
“You don’t believe me?”
Jonas stepped forward, inserting himself into their conversation. “I suspect she’s worried you might be embarrassed to be seen dining with her.”
“What?” Wilder looked between them, and sure enough, she flushed and ducked her head. “My god, Abbie, no. I’ll march through town, declaring my love for you every hour on the hour to any who’ll listen.”
A single tear escaped to track down her cheek. Her insecurity was understandable, but he hated that she’d ever believe him so shallow.
“I mean it,” he said, angling to peer into her face, hoping she would recognize his sincerity.
She nodded, but her hurt lingered.
Picking up her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “Abigail Monroe, would you do me the honor of dining with me tonight? In any establishment of your choosing?”
“Don’t pity me!”
Her fierce anger echoed loudly inside his mind, and he winced.
“Don’t mistake my desire to be with you as pity, because it isn’t.” He dropped her hand and stood. “You have a few scars, so damned what?”
Her expression turned wary in the face of his annoyance, and he worked to stay calm.
“I get you don’t remember me, Abbie, so you can’t know if I’m being honest. But let me state for the record, your injuries don’t make you any less of a person in my eyes.
” Lifting the pen and selecting a clean sheet of paper, he drew a heart and wrote her name at its center.
Then he folded it and put it in his left shirt pocket.
“I’m heading out for food, and if you care to join me, I’d welcome it.
But if not, I’ll flash this note and show everyone who my love belongs to. ”
Pivoting on his heel, he stalked to the door.
“Wilder!”
He glanced back and held out a hand.
“Come with me, sweetheart.”
She rushed forward and placed her palm in his.