Elora tried to hide her yawn with her palm so as not to alert him to her exhaustion.

  “You should really get some sleep.” He squeezed her tight.

  “I don’t want to.” That would mean their night was officially over.

  “You must be tired.”

  “More than you know. But, if I go to sleep, that means I will wake up. What if none of this really happened? What if it was just another dream?”

  Brennen gently gripped her hips, spun her around, and smiled at her with adoring eyes. Elora traced her hands over his chest. He pulled her into his embrace with tenderness and held her close, kissing her forehead.

  “Brennen?”

  “Yes?”

  “When do you have to leave?” She looked up at him with wide eyes, fearing his answer would be soon.

  “Not right away. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to get some rest and spend a little more time with you.”

  “That would make me very happy.”

  With that, she blew out the last of the burning candles, took his hand, and led him up the winding stairs. She brought him into the guest room. It was a large, cozy room with walls and floors of natural wood with a clear finish. The queen-size bed was made with a soft, silky, ivory duvet and a mound of pillows covering the headboard. The early morning sun crept through the window.

  The power came back on.

  “That’s a relief.” She pulled the soft, plushy covers down on the bed. “You can sleep here. I’ll be in my room across the hall. It’s nice and quiet up here. You should rest comfortably.”

  Brennen moved over to her and cradled her cheek with his palm. He kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you. Are you sure this isn’t any trouble?”

  “Not at all,” she whispered. “I’d say let’s cuddle, but if we’re lying beside each other, I’m pretty sure neither of us would sleep. I think separate rooms is for the best, at least for this morning.” She chuckled.

  “Good point.” He climbed into bed and she tucked the covers over his chest and grinned.

  Elora planted a tender, lingering kiss on his lips. Finding herself sinking into the need to continue, she gently pulled back and smiled. “You really do wear down my self-control.” She shrugged away the desire.

  “I was about to say the same thing to you.” He winked. Elora left him there to rest.

  After she closed the door, she headed downstairs and turned off the stereo, TV, and lights that had just come back on.

  Tidying up their teacups, the corners of her mouth pulled back into a smile she couldn’t erase. Tracing the pad of her finger over her lips, she recalled the intoxicating taste of Brennen’s kiss. As much as she wanted to climb into bed with him, she knew it was too soon.

  Elora went back upstairs and into her master bathroom, and brushed her teeth.

  “What a wonderful night with him,” she hummed quietly. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” she taunted her guides. “Although, I appreciate the privacy; the absence of chatty voices in my head is a little unfamiliar.” She chuckled softly.

  Silence followed and a fleeting chill shimmied down the length of her forearm.

  “What is it?” she asked aloud.

  Elora, we surround and protect you, we guide you as needed. This next part of your journey, you must rely on your instincts. Hecate’s voice filled her ear.

  “What does that mean?” She tilted her head in confusion.

  It means as you continue to grow your gifts and level up, our interference must lessen.

  At first, this message shot fear straight through her heart. “You mean I’m on my own now?”

  Not at all, we mean our roles evolve, as do your talents. Sometimes levelling up requires a deeper connection. There is a task you must face on your own without interference.

  “So what do I need to do?” She shrugged.

  For now, you need to rest. All will become clear soon. Instead of waiting for us to guide you, it’s time to trust your instincts. We will be here in case we are needed.

  “Uh-huh,” she huffed. “Well, that was certainly cryptic. Translation, wait and see?”

  As she waited for a reply, the ensuing quiet disappointed her. “Fine then, have it your way. I’m too tired to worry about it right now.”

  Elora hung up the towel and shut the light off. She climbed into her soft bed and pulled the comforter up to her chin with a sigh of pleasure.

  It felt good to lie down. Even though she was exhausted, she lay there wide awake, reliving the events of the evening. It felt like it was all a dream to her. She couldn’t have fantasized about a better time with Brennen. His celebrity image was now erased from her mind. In its place was the warm, passionate longing for a man who made her feel desired and cared for. Despite her fear it was all a dream, she rolled over and closed her eyes. There, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Run!

  In a deep, restful sleep, a distant noise coming from downstairs roused her awake. Elora lay in her bed, listening. She glanced at the clock on her wall and wondered if she had dreamed the sounds. It was only nine o’clock.

  A loud whistle sounded. Her kettle was boiling? Brennen must be up. Perhaps he had trouble sleeping.

  Elora climbed out of bed, wearing her T-shirt and fuzzy pajama pants, slid her feet into her slippers, and headed downstairs.

  “Brennen? Is everything okay?” She rubbed her sleepy eyes. A shadow moved in the kitchen, and she heard the distinct sound of a spoon clinking inside a mug. “If you’re making tea, I’ll join you.”

  Elora walked toward the kitchen and the figure at the island turned around, sipping from a steaming mug.

  “Brennen? So that’s his name?” The man set his cup down. “Nice flowers.” The intruder nodded to the bouquet in the stained glass vase.

  Elora’s heart raced with panic, and anger flooded her.

  “Michael, how the hell did you get in here? I told you to leave me alone.”

  A cold breeze brushed over her. Elora glanced back to the front door. It was still closed and locked, but the window to the boot room was missing.

  “Did you seriously break my window to get in?”

  “Break your window? You forget my in-depth knowledge of home and vehicle maintenance and repairs. No lock will ever keep me out.”

  “Apparently, neither will a restraining order,” she grumbled. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “I came to take care of the driveway and make sure you’re warm. I even thought I’d tuck you in, just like the good old days. Imagine my surprise when I found a truck in the driveway. Who the hell is he?” Pursing his lips, he fired a hateful glare at her.

  “None of your business. Get out now.”

  Michael narrowed his eyes and curled his thin lips into an evil snarl as he causally walked over and sniffed the flowers with an exaggerated inhale. “Real pretty.” While staring at her intently, he extended his index finger and slowly pushed the vase off the table. It crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. “Oops, clumsy me.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “Leave now, or I’m calling the police.”

  Biting her lip, she glanced around, trying to remember where she left her phone. Over on the coffee table in the living room. Dammit. She moved toward it, but Michael raced over and stopped in front of her.

  With a low, cautioning growl, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Get out of here right now. I told you it was over.”

  “Why? Where is he? In our bed?” He glanced over her shoulder towards the staircase. Elora’s pulse thrummed behind her ears as dread rolled through her.

  “Our bed?” she scoffed. “You’re delusional. This is my home. My bed, and I broke up with you six months ago. This was never your place, and I am not an object that belongs to you. Get over it and move on. I’ve warned you. You are trespassing, now get the hell out of my house.”

  The scowl that contorted his roguish face sent chills down her spine. He hovered looking down on her, the black pupils of his ice-blue eyes widened with rage, and his nostrils flared. Michael grabbed her arms and shook her. “I’ll leave when I’m ready, you ungrateful little bitch. You have no idea what I’ve done for you all these years. I was good to you.”

  Fury rolled through her bones and she roared as she shoved hard at his chest, knocking him back a few inches.

  “You call possessive, controlling, and abusive good to me?”

  “I never abused you,” he fired back. “That was an accident.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she didn’t back down. “You mean aside from the gaslighting and verbal abuse? Or like just now, grabbing my arms, towering over me, demanding to know who’s here? Or even coming over when I said you’re not welcome…you call that good to me? Okay then, let’s review the backhand to my face and knocking me down the stairs—”

  “—that was one time, and I said it was an accident.”

  “One time is more than I will ever tolerate. Count your lucky stars I didn’t put you six feet under for that. Now get the hell out of my house before I return the favor,” she snapped. “You should have learned your lesson that day that I can, and will, protect myself.”

  “Oh, you think it’s funny, splitting my lip open with a cheap shot?”

  Elora smirked. “Don’t forget how I also stomped on the side of your knee, broke your nose, and kicked you in the balls.”

  “Oh, trust me, princess, I haven’t forgotten.” He stepped forward again and grabbed her by the throat. “Payback is coming.”

  A flash of her dream came crashing back, of her dangling over the ice and snow, fighting for her life. Without hesitation, Elora shifted to her left, brought her right arm up and down over his arms. She gripped the outer edge of his hand and twisted it upwards. For extra measure, she grabbed his pinky finger and snapped it backward with ferocity. A sharp crack was followed by Michael shouting out in pain and releasing his grip. He clutched his hand and roared, “You broke my finger, you bitch!”

  “If you haven’t already learned what I’m capable of, you’re about to get another lesson.” She raised her fists and assumed a fighting stance. “Or, take the hint and get out. This is your last warning.”

  “I’ll kill—”

  “—I’m pretty sure I heard you being told to leave…” Brennen called from behind her in a stern voice.

  Elora spun around, frantic to find Brennen standing at the bottom of the stairs. With narrowed eyes, he stared hard at the intruder. “Get away from her.”

  Pushing his disheveled blond hair out of his flushed and sweaty face, he snarled, “You must be Brennen?”

  Raising his clenched fists, Michael bolted toward him with all his might. Brennen cleverly darted to the side, grabbing Michael’s jacket, and tossed him forward. It sent him smashing into the railing.

  “Michael!” Elora bolted between the two of them to end the conflict. “Stop it.”

  Brennen pulled Elora to his side, attempting to shield her with his extended arm.

  Michael halted and looked at Brennen, sizing up his worthy opponent. The despicable ex stood at six-foot-four, a few inches taller than her Hollywood hero, and his belly had rounded since they split. His face was reddened and sweaty, and he was already winded from the brief altercation.

  Brennen, however, as his lean muscles were showcased by his thin white T-shirt and snug jeans, was visibly in much better shape than he was. Michael backed down. A fair fight was clearly not his intention or his vantage point. He was quick to try to bully a woman, but in her experience, only ever verbally took on any other guy when faced with his outrageous jealousy. No, the only way he could best Brennen would be by underhanded backstabbing when least expected. Face-to-face was not this coward’s style.

  “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ll be back, and you’d better be gone,” he threatened. Brennen’s hard stare never faltered, looking Michael right in the eye, standing his ground.

  “I’m not going anywhere, but you are. You need me to show you the door?” Brennen cocked his head to the side as he spoke in a cautioning growl and took a single step forward.

  “I know the way,” Michael muttered. His angry voice resonated through Elora as he walked around the living room furniture, avoiding further contact with Brennen. While Michael cowered away, he stared Brennen down maliciously.

  “You know”—he looked back to her—“I’ve been protecting you all this time, Elora. But if you’re choosing him over me, I won’t be responsible for the hell that’s about to crash down on you.”

  “Protecting me?” she scoffed. “You need serious therapy.” She powered up her cell phone.

  Michael smirked.

  “You still really have no idea what’s been going on these past few years, do you?” he let out a maniacal laugh, one that sent chills down her spine. “Some psychic you are. Not one clue who’s the real villain in your life.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s crystal clear, Michael.” Elora dialed her phone.

  “911, what is the nature of your emergency?”

  “Hello.” She glared at him. “I need police; there’s an intruder who broke into my home.”

  “Screw you, Elora.” He slammed the door in a rage. The aftershock of the door caused her sister Faith’s painting to fall off the wall. Muffled laughter sounded from behind the door and he stormed off.

  The rev of his pickup truck roared from the driveway, followed by the muffled sounds of his blasting heavy metal music. Spinning wheels on the icy driveway sounded.

  Elora raced to the window and watched as he sped out of the driveway like a maniac in his big four-wheel truck.

  “You okay?” Brennen brushed her hair back from her face.

  A wave of tremors from the adrenaline crashed over her.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “What is the address you’re calling from, ma’am?” the voice on the phone prompted her.

  As she answered the 911 dispatcher, Brennen grabbed the quilt from the couch and gently wrapped it around her trembling body.

  “Officers are on route. Is the perpetrator still there?”

  “No, he’s gone for now, but he threatened to come back,” she replied.

  Waiting for the police, Elora sat on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. Brennen brought her a cup of tea and one of his own. “Someone told me chamomile tea makes everything better.” He winked.

  “Thanks,” she sighed as she accepted the mug. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

  “You don’t owe me anything”—he paused—“but I would like to know.”

  Elora took a deep breath to prepare herself.

  “I met Michael through my sister, Faith, about four years ago. We started dating, and at first, he was sweet, helpful, and kind. When Mom and Faith died in the car accident, he helped out; he was attentive. A few months after they died, he moved in. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Shortly after, something changed in him.” Elora avoided eye contact with Brennen while sharing her story.

  “He went from kind and attentive, to demanding, possessive, and clingy. It was like he was an entirely different person. He kept tabs on me all the time, following me around if I went shopping, demanded to know who my clients were, if they were men. He even checked my phone constantly to see my messages and call log. He smothered me and wanted to control me. That just doesn’t work for me. I choose my life. I choose what I want.” Elora sat up to face him.

  “The final straw was, one morning, I had a client scheduled. It was another’s client’s husband; she referred him to ask about his job. Michael flew into a jealous rage. I’d never seen him that out of control. One thing led to another…”

  “I think I heard that part,” he offered with a tender smile. “You’re one tough cookie.” He winked.

  Elora’s face warmed and she grinned. “My dad raised us to never allow anyone to mistreat us or others. I have no tolerance for violence even though I can be good at it if needed...” That confession brought a wave of stress over her. The last thing she wanted Brennen to see her as, was a violent person. “Anyway, I got a restraining order because of the stairs’ incident. He wasn’t respecting the breakup or the boundaries. The police said I had every right to kick him out. This house is mine, willed to me when Mom died.”

  Brennen nodded and sipped from his own cup.

  “At first, he stayed away. Then, the phone calls. Hang ups, several times a day, from a blocked name and number. I stopped answering the phone for a while and let it go to voicemail. I haven’t changed my number because that’s how my clients get a hold of me. Then he would leave me messages, asking me to call him, wanting to talk to me. It escalated. He showed up here, doing things for me when I was out. He would chop firewood and stack it at the door, cut the grass, do the garden. He would send me flowers, letters in the mail, presents… I sent everything back. He thought being generous and helpful would show me I needed him. This went on for months. I told him to stop. I finally got fed up and called the police to file a complaint. They spoke with him and issued him a warning. The calls continued, increasing in frequency. Then he left me angry, abusive messages. I called the police again and they charged him with harassment and breaching his restraining order. I did all the legal steps I was supposed to.”

  “Wow, I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all that,” Brennen offered.

  “Every time he violated it, I called the police. It just spurned him on. They can’t locate him now. He moved out of his apartment and they have no idea where to find him. Whenever he showed up, he was gone by the time they got here. They can’t arrest him if they can’t find him. I know he’s unstable. I have for a long time. He’s obsessive and highly disturbed.”

  “You need to leave here, Elora.” Brennen’s voice was charged with concern.

  “I won’t give him control of my life.” She heaved a sigh. “This is my home. I won’t give him that power. I am not a victim and refuse to behave like one.”

  The police had arrived and took yet another report.

 

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