One and Only by Bianca D'Arc

on Lissa. She wanted to squirm under his inspection until she saw the very real awe in his expression. He seemed genuinely happy for Atticus and at the same time a little afraid of her. That dichotomy made her want to put him at ease.
    Atticus poured wine for them all and Marc raised a toast to them. “I’m happy for you both,” Marc said, sitting at ease in the cozy living room. “Between us, Lissa, I was growing concerned for my friend Atticus. He took chances he shouldn’t have in recent years. Hopefully with you here, he’ll be more careful. I value his friendship.”
    “As I value yours, my friend.” Atticus tipped his wineglass in Marc’s direction. “But please don’t frighten my mate. All that matters now is that she is here and we are together. What came before matters not.”
    Lissa placed her hand over his, drawing his attention. “What came before made you what you are, Atticus, and I love every part of you. But you can rest assured,” she transferred her attention to Marc, “there will be no more taking chances with his life. That carelessness is over.”
    She could see hints of the things he’d allowed to happen, the desolation in his life that led him to that shuttle bus and to the brink of death. Even with their connection moderated by his incredible psychic control, she knew he’d been near the end of his rope, but now that they’d found each other, his entire outlook had taken a radical turn.
    “And glad I am to hear it.” Marc stood, helping himself to a second glass of wine from the sideboard, clearly at home in Atticus’s house. “But I have some news I must impart that makes it even more critical. I hesitate to say this in front of you, Lissa, for I don’t mean to worry you, but as new mates, I’ve heard there’s no way to really keep you from knowing what he knows, so…” Marc shrugged elegantly. Everything about the man was both devilish and suave.
    Atticus sat forward. “What is it?”
    “Ian looked over the accident site and the vehicle wreckage at my request. When he reported back at sunset, I went over there myself before coming here. Atticus, that was no accident, though the mortals will no doubt rule it as such. There was the faint scent of magic around the vehicle. I have no doubt it was tampered with.”
    “What flavor of magic? Were ? Mortal? Fey? Or something else?” The rigidity in Atticus’s spine and his narrow-eyed gaze alerted Lissa to the seriousness of the situation. She felt a hint of disbelief at their casual use of the term “magic”, but then, she hadn’t believed in vampires until a day ago either.
    “It was something very old, indeed.” Marc’s eyes took on a faraway cast as he seemed to search for an answer. “It felt fey, but not quite. And ancient. It’s something just tickling my memory, but I’m not altogether certain I’ve ever run across this particular kind of thing before. It’s damned odd, to say the least. Ian’s organizing surveillance in case the magic-user returns to the scene of the crime.”
    “Who were they targeting? Do you have any idea?”
    “That’s the hard part. The magic wasn’t attuned to our kind, but neither was it attuned to any particular mortal that either Ian or I could discern. Plus we were working with only traces. Whoever cast the spell was skilled. Very skilled indeed.”
    “Nobody knew I was on that bus. It was a last minute decision on my part to go up to the resort. There were only a few other passengers—all mortal. Love,” Atticus turned to Lissa, “you said you felt something as you boarded. Tell Marc what you felt. It might help solve this puzzle.”
    Lissa put her wineglass on the low table. “If you like.” She turned to Marc and tried to put into words the feelings of dread that had hit her when she set foot on that shuttle bus. “There was a strong urge not to board, but it was generalized. I couldn’t be sure, and the moment I saw Atticus, he intrigued me. Distracted me really.”