Szereto, Mellanie - Two from the Triangle [Bewitching Desires 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Mellanie Szereto

voice became clear as she repeated the prayer once, twice, and he blinked to see past the now-pulsing beams of blue and green. Snagging a handful of her sweater in his grip, he waited for the tornado to suck them up and spit them out in the ocean.
    Instead, the world went black for several seconds. The storm ceased, leaving utter silence. Even the hurricane-force winds calmed to nothing.
    Am I dead?
    A groan came from beside him, and he blinked in the sudden darkness. “Is that you, Heath?”
    “Yeah. Heléna? Where are you?”
    Panic ripped through Owen’s veins as he patted the hard ground beneath him and the space around him. “Heléna, are you here? Answer me. Please .”
    “Where the hell are we?” Heath’s question mirrored Owen’s thoughts. “This isn’t sand. It’s some kind of plank floor or something. I can feel seams. That has to be a rug. What happened?”
    Feeling his way across the floor, Owen swallowed a curse when he rammed his thumb against a smooth wooden post. He traced the silhouette of a lathed leg. It connected to a wide crosspiece, and he followed it a several feet to another curved leg. A bed?
    Something soft brushed the back of his hand, but he kept moving around the corner to a longer crosspiece. His knees ached from crawling on the hard flooring, and a few feet later, his head banged against an obstacle blocking his way to the next corner. “Damn it!”
    “You okay?” Heath’s voice sounded farther from him than before.
    Using his fingers to see the object, he found handles and drawers. “Hit my head on a nightstand, I think.”
    If he was lucky, he’d discover a lamp when he tapped a path to the flat surface on top. Aha! Smoothing his fingers up the base, he turned the switch and promptly got blinded by a burst of bright light.
    “How did we end up in somebody’s bedroom?”
    Turning to take in his surroundings and locate Heath, Owen’s eyes landed on a crumpled form on the bed. Long dark hair spread over the covers, and a flowing skirt hid the woman’s legs but not her delicate feet. His heart squeezed.
    “Heléna?” He scrambled onto the mattress, sweeping the thick mane away from her face. Blood seeped from a gash on her forehead, and several small cuts marred her cheekbones. He scooped her into his arms. “Honey, wake up. Are you okay?”
    “Shit.” Heath joined him on the bed, stripping off his shirt to dab at the cut with the cloth. “We need to get her to a doctor. She might need stitches, and she probably has a concussion. At least we aren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere anymore.” He leaned in to press his lips to her mouth. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to see if I can find help. Try to stop the bleeding, Owen.”
    Nodding, Owen held the stained shirt to the worst cut. “What the hell happened?”
    “That discussion must wait.” An assertive female voice drew his attention to the foot of the bed. A much-older version of Heléna stared at him, the intensity in her eyes too strong for him to hold her gaze. “My granddaughter needs to be cared for first. Agnes is coming to tend to her injuries.”

    * * * *

    Goddess, protect these men who fly,
    And help me as I say good-bye.
    I must let go. I must be strong.
    They must go home where they belong.
    With harm to none, fix destiny.
    Please keep them safe, and blessed be.

    The incantation echoed in Heléna’s mind as she carefully repeated the spell. Staying focused on the words, she blocked out Kazmer’s stormy attempt to hurt Heath and Owen. Mates or not, she had to send them to safety and then return to her own time to face the consequences of her actions. If she distracted the ancient shifter with two separate destinations, he’d be more likely to chase after her to the Macska estate than waste his effort on innocent bystanders.
    The pressure of Heath’s hands gripping her shoulders faded, and a glance to the right told her Owen had vanished as well. The knowledge that they’d probably be