Haven: Tranquilli Bloodline, #1

By Celia Breslin

Three hauntingly familiar vampires emerge to reveal she possesses a latent power. To protect her from their enemies, they admit to wiping her memories and abandoning her as a child, but now they need her help. As she struggles to evade her new protectors and even newer enemies, she meets Alexander, an enigmatic, undead musician. Insta-attractions flares, leaving her wanting, needing, more.

With evil's minions hounding her every move, and everything she thought she knew turned on its head, Carina must harness her burgeoning power, unravel her vampire family's web of deceit, and fight to keep the love of her life...without getting killed in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Sep 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781927454862

Book preview

Champagne Book Group

Presents

Haven

Tranquilli Bloodline, Book 1

By

Celia Breslin

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Champagne Book Group

www.champagnebooks.com

Copyright 2013 by Celia Beslin

Second Revision

ISBN: 978-1-927454-86-2

September 2019

Cover Art by Melody Pond

Produced in the United States of America

Champagne Book Group

2373 NE Evergreen Avenue

Albany OR 97321

USA

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not buy it, or it was not bought for your use, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Praise for Celia’s books

Haven

This book had it all, and kept me turning pages until deep into the night. I literally could not put it down, and I highly recommend it to all adult UF or paranormal romance readers. Lorna Atkins, Rabid Reads blog

Treat yourself to this sexy page-turner with a tough heroine, snarky humorous, sensuality and family drama. Kri, The Tired Buyer blog

"Haven is sexy, edgy, exciting and hip. […] Haven was definitely an exciting ride." Nicole, Feed Your Fiction Addiction blog

Destiny

"Destiny delivers a great blend of snark, supernaturals, lots of action (violence too), and a bit of sexy-times." C. J. Burright, author of paranormal & contemporary romance

If you like reading about a half vampire, with a wicked side of sarcasm, this series might be one you should check out. […] This book was well written, with good fully realized main characters, and the solid world building continued with this installment, as it should in any good series. Action fans will not be disappointed. Lorna Atkins, Rabid Reads blog

"I think Destiny was just as well written as Haven. I think there was some significant growth happening with the main characters and the world was just as well explained. […] Not sure what the future will hold for Rina, but I want to continue the ride." Urban Fantasy Investigations.

Origins

Carina is so kick-ass. The entire story flowed seamlessly. Love the fight and magic scenes, and the dialogue is fun and fresh. I enjoyed every minute of it! Georgia Lyn Hunter, paranormal romance author

Gorgeous writing. A captivating read. Fans plus anyone who wants to read some seriously kickass, old-school, vampire urban fantasy will dig it.  Amber Belldene, romance author

Other Books by Celia Breslin

Vampire Code (a Tranquilli Bloodline prequel)

The Tranquilli Bloodline Series

Origins, 3

Destiny, 2

Haven, 1

Dedication

To my husband Jon and daughter Mika, for believing in me.

Special thanks to Giamma, my writer’s group Scrawl, my beta readers, Champagne Book Group, my editor Virginia Nelson and critique partner Amber Belldene. To J and Justin: thank you for the art and music inspiration. And to my fitness trainer Adam: thanks for teaching me how to fight so my characters could kick butt, too.

Chapter One

If there’s one thing I hate more than a sake-induced hangover, it’s getting attacked by a witch in my own home while nursing a sake-induced hangover.

Fortunately, I was battle-ready when she broke into my house. I was pummeling the stuffing out of my home gym’s punching bag in an attempt to sweat out my headache when I heard the none-too-subtle click of heels on hardwood in the stairwell.

What kind of self-respecting witch wears high heels when she sneaks up on someone? Apparently, this one possessed less brains than a snail.

No hiding the pulse of her magic, either. The stench of patchouli, sage, a hint of rotten egg and lemon preceded her. Airhead. Stinky potion does not equal stealth. Nor does chanting a spell sotto voce. Like I wouldn’t notice? Then she had the audacity to throw the potion at me.

Big mistake. Nothing makes me crankier than having a potion hurled at me. Well, except maybe a potion thrown at me by an incompetent witch in my very own house while I’m nursing a sake-induced hangover.

And on my birthday, no less.

Two right jabs and a haymaker to the skull later, little miss dumber-than-a-snail lay flat on her back on my first floor landing. I rested my sneakered foot on her gut, pulled off my boxing gloves and shouted up the stairs to the second floor. Wakey, wakey, boys and girls!

No response from my housemates.

Fire, I yelled, loud enough to wake the dead. Again, silence. I wasn’t the only member of the household who drank one too many rounds of sake last night. Good thing the house wasn’t really on fire.

My shouting didn’t stir the witch. I crouched and gave her a good shake. Her head lolled, and her body wiggled then nothing. She wouldn’t wake anytime soon. I was stronger than your average girl- next-door with a wicked knockout punch.

I called my friends again. Helloooooo! Wicked witch in the house. Unconscious witch. First floor.

Finally, doors slammed, muffled curses littered the air, and the pitter-patter of large muscled feet resounded. Mark and Ren, my two beefy friends and bodyguards, bounded down the stairs to join me. Six-one and pure muscle wrapped in perfect tawny skin hidden by nothing other than black boxers, they appeared ready for action, guns aimed at the unconscious target. Their German dad provided their height while everything else—honey skin, black eyes, and hair—came from their tiny Asian mother.

Ren ran his free hand through his hair, spiking it more than usual. What’cha doin’ down here, Rina? He rubbed his jaw and yawned.

Couldn’t sleep so I was beating my hangover into submission. Oh, and a witch.

He cocked a brow. A witch? Looks more like a broken Barbie doll.

I grinned. I know, right?

Blonde, tall, and tan, heavy on boobs and light on hips—her pitiful attack hinted at intelligence to match her plastic counterpart. In her tight pink shirt, skinny jeans, and strappy high heels, Witch Barbie dressed for clubbing rather than breaking and entering and assault with a deadly potion.

Ren’s nose wrinkled in distaste. What’s up with the lemony mulch smell?

I gestured to the wet wall behind me. Potion.

Mark handed his gun to Ren and knelt by the witch, securing her wrists with plasticuffs. Nice work, Rina.

I shrugged. Thanks.

Not a great way to start your birthday, though, he added.

Well, we started my birthday just right last night. With sushi, karaoke, and sake. We can make up for this pothole in Party Road when we go dancing tonight. Lucky me, I owned Haven, one of the hottest dance clubs in San Francisco.

Mark glanced up. What about the museum?

Crap. I’d forgotten the pesky social obligation du jour. Ribbon-cutting at the Ward-Tranquilli museum, W-T for short. I liked having Tranquilli, my family name, attached to such a great art museum, but it occasionally required PR moments I could live without, like tonight’s grand opening of the permanent Italian art collection.

"Merda, I cursed in Italian to get into the spirit of things. What time is it?"

Both men shrugged.

It’s time to get ready, birthday girl, a soft female voice replied.

Faith, my best friend and resident psychic, hovered on the landing above us with her boyfriend Kai. Her brown eyes sparkled. We’ll take care of this mess. You go.

Why do you look so happy? I eyed her, suspicious.

She glided down the stairs and hugged me. A surprise awaits you at the W-T.

I gave her props for touching me. I was a sweaty mess after kickboxing my headache to death. Judging from your smile, it’s a good surprise, but that’s impossible. I’m hooking up with Lorenzo. You know I can’t be around Mister Bossy Pants for more than two seconds without fighting.

Therefore, this ribbon-cutting experience posed a monumental challenge for us both. Big brother and I had a terrible track record for peace.

She waved a dismissive hand. It’s not about your brother. There’s someone else. He’s special. Important. He’ll change everything.

I laughed. I’m going to meet a life-changing someone? My life is already all sorts of awesome. Besides, your psychic hit sounds way more like a fortune cookie than an actual prediction. Did you at least get a visual on my mystery man?

No visual with this one, just a feeling. And I know— Her expression sobered, head swiveling toward the witch. Something else. She knelt, touched the witch’s blonde head and frowned. Her aura. It’s wrong.

What do you mean?

Dark blue, muddy gray, the colors of fear. She’s afraid. Afraid of you, Rina.

Well, duh, I kicked her butt.

No. Not now, but later. She’s afraid of what you’ll do when you…when it…after they…cracks. I see cracks in the door. The power is coming— Faith gasped and jerked her hand away from the witch, clutching it to her chest. Black, it’s too black. I can’t— Her eyes unfocused, pupils swallowing iris. She targeted me with her vacant stare. The darkness consumes. It hates. It’s unforgiving. And it’s watching you.

Faith swooned, the witch moaned and the rest of us jolted into motion.

Mark slung Witch Barbie over his shoulder and headed down the stairs to the front door with Ren hot on his heels. I hauled a trembling Faith to her feet. Kai bounded down the stairs and pulled her into his arms.

Goosebumps crawled over my skin and Faith’s bizarre words bounced around my skull. Doors cracking, darkness watching. Her spooky premonition made little sense, and I’d need more info to parse her meaning. It would help to know who sent the witch and why.

Given her complete ineptitude at magical home invasion, Witch Barbie was clearly someone’s minion. But whose? And why the interest in me? Was it the usual rich-girl ransom scenario or something more?

I shook my head. What was that all about?

Faith rubbed her forehead. I’m not sure, but we should be vigilant.

Aren’t we always?

Her brow furrowed. I’m serious, Rina.

I get that, so how about we let the police handle Witch Barbie, and we stay home, figure out how she breached security and patch the hole in the system. Oh, and party. You know, because it’s my birthday. I gave her a cheeky grin, hoping to coax an answering one out of her.

Faith pinned me with her too-wise stare. No, you have to go. Destiny is in play here and it has many moving parts. And it all begins at the W-T.

I threw up my hands in mock fear. Oh, no, Faith busted out the D-word. We’d better go and ooooooh, my head. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my forehead, swaying. "I see, I remember…I remember everything." I let loose a false moan.

Faith’s eyes widened. Ohmigod, you remember your childhood?

I stilled and grinned. "Nope. No memory blips from the pre- teen years. Just remembering a certain someone—and that would be you—singing endless rounds of Cibo Matto’s Birthday Cake off-key while simultaneously keeping my sake glass full all night. Thanks for the rice wine hangover, by the way."

I cleared my throat and belted out a tuneless chorus in my best Faith imitation.

She glowered. Rina.

I met her sober gaze and shelved the teasing. Sorry.

Silence reigned for a moment. I broke it. "It would’ve been nice to get a crystal ball hit before the witch broke into our house."

You know it doesn’t work that way.

Well, it would be handier if it did.

Agreed. Now, we’ll have to be vigilant, but please say you’ll go.

She was right. I should go, try to play nice with Lorenzo, and warn him our family might be the new target of a band of kidnapping witches. I snorted. Even in my head, that sounded ludicrous. Still, I shrugged. Okay, let’s go meet my life-changing someone.

~ * ~

We made it to the ceremony with seconds to spare. Scissors in hand, Lorenzo stood in front of the new gallery, tall, bronzed and handsome, as usual, in a black, custom-fit, Italian suit. As I joined him, his mouth curved in an insincere smile, brown eyes flashing in anger.

I returned his fake smile and offered my cheek, inviting a brotherly, hello smooch. Sorry I’m late. Nice suit.

He leaned down to kiss the air next to my cheeks. Nice dress. An automatic response. He straightened, mugging for the cameras.

My smile faltered. Yes, it is.

He didn’t notice, but I had made an effort for his event, donning my favorite little black dress. Fine, tailored silk cap sleeves and empire waist, it looked killer with my dark eyes and pale skin. I’d even left my long hair wavy—though I preferred to tame my dark tresses stick-straight with a flat-iron—the way he liked it. Matching black strappy sandals took me from five-seven to near six feet, a good height adjustment when hanging out with my six-five brother.

After the ribbon-cutting, Lorenzo gripped my arm and ushered me away from my friends. Mark and Ren moved to intercept, but a nod from me, and they backed off. I could handle my brother.

Lorenzo, chill on the arm squeezing, I hissed.

Where have you been? He pulled me into the room across the hall from the new Italian gallery.

No paintings here, mostly pottery, masks, and some ancient tools and tapestries. The room was off limits tonight, and two security guards stepped forward. One look from my brother returned them to their duties.

We had a little problem at the house with—

You were late, he growled, releasing me.

I rubbed the soreness from my abused arm. I tried to play nice, tell him about the witch, but as usual, his big brother domineering act angered me, and I snapped. You’re lucky I showed up at all. You can lose the attitude if you want me to stick around.

I brushed past him, but he caught my arm. Pain spiked in my head. I jerked from his grasp and massaged my temples. Pesky hangover.

"Hey, you okay, sorellina?"

The gentle tone, and the little sister endearment surprised and further irritated me. Don’t pretend to care, Lorenzo.

That’s not fair.

No? Then what is? I fumed. "Is it fair I’m here working the media circus on my birthday? Is it fair you’re a bossy bully of a brother? Is it fair Mom and Dad died and left us stuck with each other?"

Oh, low blow. Hadn’t meant to say that, but hangover plus witch attack plus overbearing brother equaled one unhappy birthday girl.

He winced. Carina, stop.

But I couldn’t. Guilt warred with hurt, and the latter won out. "Stop what? Telling the truth? Say it doesn’t hurt my feelings you forgot my birthday? Say we’re one big merry band of orphans? Speaking of, where are Dom and Tony? Why am I the only sibling you’re yelling at for being late?"

"Their flight was delayed. They will be here, Carina. And we didn’t forget your birthday."

I crossed my arms. Riiiiight. And the forecast calls for snow tomorrow in San Francisco.

Lorenzo held up his hands. I’m sorry. Let’s start over.

My mouth fell open. "Did you just apologize?"

He waved away my comment. Forget about the ceremony and the media. It’s not important. We need to talk about—

My eyes widened. "Forget the…not important? Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

"Sorellina, please focus."

Oh-kaaaay. I closed my mouth and blinked at him.

We need to talk about a family matter. His serious gaze locked with mine. About the past and your faulty memory. And there’s someone you need to meet.

Again with the meeting of strangers. Have you been talking to Faith?

What? No, I— Something behind me caught his attention. He stiffened. "Merda!"

Curious, I tried to find the source of his upset amidst the sea of people chatting and drinking. Nothing stood out.

Stay here. He stepped past me, jaw set, eyes narrowed.

No. Wait. Big brother wanted to bolt. Normally it might delight me, but he needed to know about the witch attack. If she wasn’t some crazed loner and belonged to a bigger operation targeting our family… I need to tell you why I was late.

It’s not important. He continued to glare at something, or someone, in the crowd.

Oh, I beg to differ. I wasn’t goofing around. A witch broke into my house.

What? Lorenzo’s angry eyes focused on me.

I knocked her out and probably broke her nose and then Faith had some weird psychic vision about cracked doors and someone spying on me. The police came and—

He pulled me into a bear hug. I froze, stunned.

After a lengthy, awkward-for-me silence, he stepped back and gripped my shoulders, giving me serious, make-me-squirm eye contact. "I don’t always show it, but I love you, sorellina. We all do. When Dom and Tony arrive we’ll talk about the past and you and where we go from here. As for the attack, it wasn’t random. You’re a target now, and I—we need to be vigilant. But it’s going to be all right. We’ll make it all right. Just trust me and stay put until I return."

He ordered the security guards to watch me then disappeared into the crowd. Vigilant. The same thing Faith said. And to hear him say he loved me? How odd.

Though he’d played surrogate parent for the past twenty years—since ages fifteen and five, respectively—he’d never been one for affectionate displays. At least not during my teen years. No idea how he’d behaved during my childhood. That part of my life formed a big black hole. No memories, no feelings, nothing.

Did I want to know what my mind lacked? Not really. I’m more of a live-in-the-now kind of girl. Still, I was curious about whom Lorenzo—and Faith—expected me to meet.

So, on my twenty-fifth birthday, a day meant for celebration, I found myself with family secrets to unravel, mysterious strangers to meet, and unknown dangers to avoid. Unease slithered up my spine, and my head throbbed yet again. I was a pawn in a game I hadn’t even known I played.

I didn’t like it one bit.

~ * ~

I didn’t wait for my brother. At the room’s entrance, I spotted Adrian, my friend and Haven business-slash-sometimes-bedpartner.

He gave me a wave and his patented don’t-worry-be-happy grin. I waved back and gave him an appreciative once-over. He epitomized the cute California boy with his tan and muscular body, shoulder-length, white-blond hair, and sky-blue eyes, but his clothes were all business. Custom-made Italian suits were de rigueur for my partner, and today he wore a dark navy pin stripe with a light blue shirt. No tie. Impeccable and striking. At five-eight, he stood an inch taller than me—without my current super heels, that is—but his confident attitude made him appear taller. He was super smart, too. Our thriving club attested to his cleverness.

I nodded at the security guards who parted to let him inside. He kissed my cheeks, hands gliding along my bare arms. Hey, babe.

I relaxed at his touch. Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?

His lips curled upward. Would you believe me if I said I came for the art?

I rolled my eyes. As if. His presence meant networking with the suits, or prowling for cute playmates. I put my money on the latter. Trolling for fling material?

His grin widened. Aw, babe, you know I’m only here for you.

Ha. Don’t even go there, Adrian.

A seductive chuckle accompanied soft kisses planted on my hand. His eyes rolled up to watch my reaction. Sexy man. You look totally hot today.

Thanks, babe. He stopped the lip service—much to my disappointment—and released me. Mark and Ren are right outside. He motioned at the hall. They told me what happened.

You mean the witch thing?

The humor drained from his face. Yeah, about that.

I raised a brow.

I think I know the witch who attacked you.

I crossed my arms. Oh?

I think it was Tiffany, this girl I dallied with, recently. He ran a hand through his hair.

Tiffany? I smirked. Of course, Witch Barbie is a Tiffany. And since when do you boff witches? Especially criminal ones?

That’s the thing. The Tiffany I know is a high-end wedding or event planner or something.

Or something? I see you two talked a lot, I scoffed.

Seriously, Rina, she’s totally upscale. Drives a Porsche. Lives in a swanky condo downtown. I had no idea she was so…

Insane?

He gave me a rueful nod. Guess I shouldn’t have told her about you.

Ignoring the pang of jealousy, I focused on the important bit. What about me, exactly?

That we’re exclusive.

We’re not exclusive.

He rubbed my arm. Yes, but when I told her—

"You mean when you lied to her."

But I could be exclusive with you. He trailed a knuckle down my cheek.

I rolled my eyes. Dream on, player.

I could try. He batted his pretty blue eyes, making me laugh.

You? I bopped his chest. "Stop using me as your break-up excuse or I’ll kick your butt from here to Italy, capisci?"

He grinned, a quick flash of white teeth against his dark tan. Message received.

Good. I snaked my arm through his and nudged us toward the doorway. Now go get your flirty groove on, ’cause I know you want to. And I wanted to find my other friends.

We stepped into the busy hall. The crowd around us meandered toward the café where a classical guitar quartet would soon perform. Mark hovered nearby, his attention on me, while Ren leaned over a giggling, lanky legged skirt. One of his hands rested on the wall above her blonde head, the other played with a strand of her stick-straight hair. Despite the distraction, his Rina radar still worked because he caught my stare and nodded.

Adrian stroked my arms. I am sorry about Tiffany.

His touch pleased me, as usual. Apology accepted. Honestly, I think the fact you had a one or two-night stand with her is just a bizarre coincidence. There’s some bigger danger in play here. According to Faith and Lorenzo, anyway.

Oh, yeah?

Knowledge flickered in his eyes, secret knowledge, but I didn’t feel like pursuing it. "Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it. It’s my birthday, dammit, and so far it has been a whole lot of not fun."

Aw, babe, happy birthday.

He leaned in for a kiss, but I pressed my hand against his mouth. I liked kissing him, but not in public with paparazzi lurking everywhere. I refused to give them a show.

Touching his lips was my mistake. He nipped my fingertips and his tongue darted out to lick and tease. A twinge of need awakened in my core.

Don’t, Adrian. My treacherous body swayed toward his. I have to go now. My voice sounded breathy and unconvincing. He curved his free hand around my waist, drawing me closer to take advantage of his small victory.

Turn around.

I froze, my moment of weakness chased away by a jolt of adrenaline. I resisted Adrian’s pull. Did you hear that?

Hear what?

Silence.

Nothing, I guess. A wave of energy rolled into me, curled itself possessively around my body, and gave me one hell of a head rush. Oh, wow. I bit my lip, bracing against reaction.

Adrian tightened his grip on my waist. Rina?

Mark and Ren stalked over, faces grim.

Did—? Do you—? My mouth was so dry I could barely speak. Do you guys feel that?

Adrian squeezed, capturing my wandering attention, concern etched in the stern set of his jaw. Feel what? What’s wrong?

I started to tell them the Invisible Man hugged me against an electrified fence, but a second wave of energy bowled into me, making me tingle from head to toe. The sensation walked the line between pleasure and pain. A moan escaped me.

Mark took me from Adrian. That’s it. We’re out of here.

He tried to pick me up, but I shook my head. Bad idea. Dizziness took the hall, and me, for a little spin.

Turn around. Turn. Around.

Was it a voice or instinct urging me on? Either way, the desire proved irresistible. I pulled away from Mark, pivoted, and forgot how to breathe.

The electric energy pulled back. The dizziness abated. All extraneous noise and people drained out of my perception until there was only Him.

Tall, fit, and bad-boy handsome with skin like pale honey, his thick, walnut brown hair hung tousled in a sexy, I-just-got-out-of-bed way. A hip, black, button-down shirt accentuated a sculpted upper body before it tucked into slacks painted on long, lean legs. The whole package made my mouth water.

Hot. Yummy. Totally my type. Who are you? I whispered.

His mouth twitched in a hint of a smile as if he heard me—impossible given the distance between us. Heat spread, loosening my muscles, and my pulse sped up. Nerves. What’s wrong with me? Guys never made me nervous, not even gorgeous ones.

I nibbled my lower lip, mind racing to make sense of my reaction. His gaze tracked the movement then slid back up. The heat from his stare hit me full force, driving a shaft of need through me. Energy rocked me again, a warm, electric breeze bathing my skin. My eyes widened in comprehension. The energy came from him.

Mark gripped my arm, ending my staring contest with the hot stranger. We’re out of here, he repeated, his posture stiff and screaming hostility toward the stranger.

Did he feel the power, too? I doubted it. My gut said it was all for me. No, it’s cool. I’m okay.

Mark remained unconvinced, but released me. I sought more Hot Guy TV, only to discover Lorenzo blocked my way, a huge scowl marring his handsome face.

Stay here. His command, laced with pure steel, grated on my already over-sensitized nerves.

Big brother overkill. I rolled my eyes, uninterested in playing. Not you, too. I’m fine. I sidestepped to catch a glimpse of Hot Guy before Lorenzo crowded me again. We performed the side-step dance twice more. I stopped, hands on hips. Cut it out, Lorenzo.

Stay here. His tone brooked no argument. Well, unless you were his feisty little sister.

I stepped into him as quickly as my heels would allow, forcing him to back up. I darted around him but came to an abrupt halt.

My stunning, magnetic bad boy had company now, and the guy standing next to him in a gorgeous gray designer suit caused my brain to wage a weird tug-of-war with itself. I know that guy, no I don’t, yes I do, no I don’t, oh yes I do, oh no I don’t.

Prep-school handsome with wholesome, short blond hair, the new guy’s face begged to grace the cover of Nice Guy Magazine. He dealt me a dazzling smile while raising a hand in front of my guy’s chest. A not-so-subtle command to stay put.

My stomach knotted. This man, with his good looks and trust-me expression, pushed my stranger danger button—hard. I didn’t like his too-perfect face, the apparent power over my hot guy, or the way his green eyes said he knew me, body and soul.

Wait. How do I know his eye color? Too far away to see…

I know him. No. I shook my head, trying to deny my gut instinct.

"Cazzo, Lorenzo cursed. Adrian. Keep her here. Right here." The two men exchanged a we’ve-got-a-secret look.

Adrian slipped his hand into mine and gave it a little squeeze, meant to be reassuring, but I wasn’t buying, nor were Mark and Ren. They hovered on high alert, bodies primed for battle, gaze flitting from my brother and Adrian to the two strangers across the way.

"Lorenzo, do you know those guys?" My gaze latched onto my bad boy. His hungry eyes called me. I took a step in his direction. Anticipation flitted across his face, and my stomach clenched, longing for him. Adrian and my brother pulled me back.

What’s wrong with you guys? I hissed.

Lorenzo adjusted his suit jacket, though it was already perfect. "Per favore, Carina, for once in your life, do as I say. You need to meet, but I hadn’t planned for it to be here. I didn’t expect them both—"

He broke off, hand fisting. Worry passed through his brown eyes. Wait here. I mean it.

He gave Adrian a hard look and stalked off to join the other men.

I started to follow, but Adrian spoke up. Don’t do it, babe.

I rounded on him. What’s going on with you and my brother? And those guys?

Adrian shrugged, avoiding my questions and gaze.

Why don’t you want me to go over there? Not that I wanted to go near the green-eyed devil, but the other one? Definitely.

I pivoted and scanned the hall. My handsome bad boy was gone. Damn. Where did he go?

Where did who go?

My jaw dropped. Are you seriously going to pretend there wasn’t another guy over there? A super hot guy checking me out? And throwing some freaky— and orgasmic —power my way?

Adrian ran a hand through his hair and over his mouth. Look, Rina, I— He froze, face blank.

Adrian? I snapped my fingers in front of his face. No reaction. Empty blue eyes. I grabbed his shoulders and shook. Adrian.

No response.

Mark and Ren stood frozen, too, eyes glazed and vacant.

Heart pounding, I made a one-eighty, searching for the source of the spell because it had to be magic, what else? I half expected Tiffany, though I knew the police detained her. I spotted the security guards, a couple of art lovers, and a server with a tray of champagne glasses, all immobile. Living statues.

This is bad. I made a beeline for my brother, who argued with Mr. Preppy judging by my brother’s many sharp hand gestures. Lorenzo.

He took one look at my worried face and surveyed the hall. His expression darkened. Dammit, Thomas, don’t do this. He strode over and hugged me. "Sorellina, he murmured. Mi dispiace di non avertelo detto prima."

Again, his loving display stunned me. I stepped out of his embrace. I don’t understand. What’s happening? Why are you apologizing? Did you do this?

No.

I gestured at the stranger my head told me wasn’t a stranger at all. Did he mess with my friends? And those other people?

Carina…

He did, didn’t he? Shit, he’s a warlock. It explained the Popsicle People. Hands clenched into fists, I stalked up to him. My plan was simple. Knock out warlock, break spell. Easy.

I rushed him and swung a hard and fast right cross at his jaw. In my mind, I scored a KO but in reality, I hit air. I spun around to spot him several feet away in the Italian gallery entryway.

He raised a champagne bottle. "Come, cara mia. Vieni qui." He disappeared into the gallery in a superhuman blur of speed. The unnatural movement startled me, but not enough to deter my anger.

Yeah, I would come, but first, Gun. I need a gun.

Mark and Ren were armed. Given their current state of gone- fishin’, they wouldn’t miss their weapons.

Lorenzo shook his head. No guns. He’s not a warlock, and he won’t hurt you.

He gestured at the gallery but I refused to budge. No one can move that fast. That’s not normal. We need weapons.

"Trust me, sorellina."

I brushed off the calming hand he placed on my shoulder. Only if you tell me your security goons have this place surrounded.

We don’t need protection, Lorenzo insisted. Well, not from him. My men will ensure our privacy, though.

But wait, what about my boys? I couldn’t leave them vulnerable.

Don’t worry. Lorenzo whistled and several men in black swarmed the area, taking charge of my ice cube friends and the frosty bystanders.

I acquiesced. Fine. Let’s go kick some preppy butt.

~ * ~

Thomas awaited us by a large wall plaque reading The Tranquilli Collection and the several paintings my reclusive uncle Maurizio had donated from his estate in Italy. Interesting location choice. Clearly intentional.

Champagne? Thomas offered two glasses.

I ignored him and stalked around a marble bench to put some distance between us. Thomas might have clean-cut, boy-next-door good looks, but so did a lot of serial killers. And his ability to freeze people was straight up bad news.

I gave the man my best don’t-fuck-with-me glare. He flashed an audacious smile, and his eerie green eyes glinted with amusement. The grin highlighted his sculpted cheeks and dimpled chin. I noticed the pallor of his skin—as pale as me and smooth, like he’d never grown any facial hair.

Lorenzo took the flutes from Thomas and passed one to me. Carina, this is Thomas. Thomas Ward.

Yeah, you said that. Wait, did you say Ward? As in W-T? That explained his familiarity but didn’t explain his evil superpower and why he’d used it on my friends.

Yes, and— Lorenzo downed half his champagne. A fascinating and uncharacteristic display of nerves.

And what? I gestured to Thomas. Why are we here with this guy?

It’s a long story.

I quirked my brows, not feeling like story time while my guys were frozen man dolls and Hot Guy was around somewhere… Make it a short one.

"I can’t do that, sorellina."

Stop calling me little sister, I grumbled, my patience for chitchat dissipating fast.

Just listen—

You’re not saying anything.

If you’d calm down for a second—

I huffed. Calm down? Easy for you to say. You haven’t been attacked by a witch, bullied by your big brother, and accosted by a wizard, all in one day.

He’s not a—

I raised a hand. Don’t want to hear it.

Thomas observed our inability to communicate, a bemused expression on his preptastic face.

I stabbed an accusing finger in his general direction. "And you. I’d like to say it was nice to meet you, but I’d be lying. Take your hex off my friends. Then we’re done here."

He laughed. The sound of his delight raised the fine hairs on my arms. "Oh, no, cara mia. This is the beginning, or rather, the exciting middle. Would you like to see how it all began?"

Great. Cryptic talk. My favorite.

I placed my glass on the marble bench. I didn’t have time for this. Okay, Mister Crazy, I’m leaving now. You fix my boys.

Thomas flashed perfect white teeth. Ah, little one, how I have missed your fire. Smooth as silk, his voice caressed my arms, a tangible touch of power I ignored, more interested in his words.

What do you mean you’ve missed me? I don’t know you. I don’t.

Faulty memory. I shook my head to derail the thought and backed away. Thomas moved in a blur of speed, reappearing before me. Startled by his sudden movement, I tottered on my heels. He grasped my elbows to steady me. When I tried to extricate myself, he tightened his grip.

My heart rate skyrocketed. Bone-crushing strength. He was unnaturally strong.

I forgot every bit of my self-defense training. Let go. Fear left my palms sweaty and my voice raspy.

He shook his head. "You know me, cara mia, and I you— better than you know yourself at the moment. But we shall remedy that soon enough."

My heart skipped a beat and Lorenzo protested. Thomas. Don’t. Not like this.

Lost in his green gaze, I couldn’t move.

Admit it. You feel our connection. His demand rang like a chime, triggering feelings with no memories to attach themselves to.

No. Oh yes I do, oh no I don’t, oh yes I do. My head hurt, the pain magnified by his cold fingers digging into my arms.

Thomas’s laugh held no humor. I think you do. But let us start with the others. Look, little one. Look upon your family.

He guided me to a specific painting of a young, happy couple in evening attire. Bronzed and tall, like my brothers, with the same regal cheekbones and proud Roman nose, thick, ash brown hair and milk chocolate eyes. My parents looked nothing like me, but I recognized them.

Tell me what you see. The order in his tone rang clear in the gallery.

I bristled and refused to speak. Hate bullies.

Speak.

My parents. Unable to stop myself, the words slipped out. How did he do it? I glanced at Lorenzo. I thought you said he wasn’t a warlock.

He’s not. My brother glowered at the other man but continued to let him manhandle me.

I allowed it too. What’s wrong with us? Then what is he? I frowned at Thomas. Who are you?

Your uncle.

My mouth opened and closed a few times. My mind upgraded Thomas to Seriously Delusional Serial Killer, and I protested the insanity of his words. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re about my age. And you’re blond. And clearly bat shit crazy. You can’t be my uncle. Now let me go, you nut. My arms are going numb.

All traces of humor left his face. You would deny me?

Back off.

He forced me to another painting. Him?

Lorenzo made a strangled sound. That’s enough, Thomas.

Thomas ignored him. "Would you deny him,