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“Violet, you’re here?” She was surprised to have another visit. In all this time, she might have felt her sister’s presence on occasion, but never with this level of connection which also involved telepathy.
Yes, I’m here, Iris. A sense of urgency accompanied her words.
“I can feel that you’re distressed. What’s wrong? Is there something you need me to do?”
Save Connor.
She wondered if she’d heard right. “You want me to save Connor?”
Yes.
Iris would have asked what she meant, but just like that, the wind swept from the room and Violet was gone.
Iris stood very still for a long time processing the strange conversation. But it made no sense. Why did Connor need saving?
~ ~ ~
Deep in the garden, Connor stared up at the owl named Sebastien. He was a sturdy-looking, beige and brown predator bird and sat on one of several large branches of a massive sissoo tree. As a forest creature, he was way out of his element in the desert, yet he looked at home in Iris’s garden.
Connor had never been in a witch’s dwelling before and what he’d seen earlier had stunned him. Plants grew everywhere within her home, in dozens of pots and containers, many of them creeping over trellises and latticework attached to the walls. A yellow cat had sat near the legs of the dining table, watching him as he moved around the small rooms. Her house might be a detached home, but it wasn’t much bigger than his townhouse.
And here in the garden, he felt as though the plants were all leaning toward him and trying to talk to him. It was odd, yet pleasant in a way he couldn’t explain.
He was definitely in Elegance.
“Everything okay?”
He heard Iris’s voice and turned toward her. At the same moment, a wind suddenly hit him in the back. He even lurched forward a couple of steps.
The same gust flowed in Iris’s direction. When it reached her, she held out both hands and closed her eyes, savoring whatever this was.
A few seconds later, the night was once more very still. “What was that?”
“Violet, my deceased sister. She’s been active tonight, though I’m not sure why. I think she’s worried about me.”
As she moved onto the patio near what appeared to be a small workroom on the right, she stopped near a tall lattice of blooming, purple flowers. He watched the flowers sway in her direction. It was like seeing music take physical shape. The cat crossed the threshold behind her. The owl hooted.
Iris looked beautiful. Her hair was damp from her shower, and she wore it in the usual ponytail, which in turn framed her lovely features. She had angled cheekbones, a creamy complexion and full lips. She wore another snug, short-sleeved t-shirt, jeans and a pair of sturdy running shoes.
A calm came over him. A decision made. He knew exactly what he was going to do, what he’d been wanting to do for a long time. The time and place were right. After all, he was in Iris’s garden.
He unclipped his holster and the sword sheath, setting his weapons on the grass, then held out his hand to her. What needed to happen had to be with the approval of her owl, as well as the yellow cat now rubbing around her ankles.
She looked serious as she began walking toward him, her eyes wide. A soft flow of energy moved from plant to plant, following her as she took each step. He felt it all and it only increased his need for her.
“Connor?” She stood a couple of polite feet away. Her gaze flipped over his Glock and his sword, then back to him.
“I love your garden,” he said quietly. He glanced down at the cat, who sat and stared up at him. Approval? He looked up at the owl, who appeared to dip his head. Definitely approval.
He closed the distance and drew Iris into his arms.
He heard her gasp faintly. Would she reject him? Struggle against him?
He felt a tension in her, but he kissed her anyway, a firm demanding kiss. He teased the seam of her lips with his tongue, but she didn’t part for him.
A moment passed, then another and her tension remained. Yet still he kissed her.
When she didn’t respond, he finally drew back.
