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

dead in her time made her wish for a few minutes to mourn, but delaying wasn’t a wise choice. Now she would try to save herself.
    She traced her fingers over the written words in the sand, focusing once again on the charm.

    Wisest Fates, please guide me home.
    No longer will I choose to roam.
    My heart resigns itself to wait,
    And sexual need will soon abate.
    Blessed be and harm to none.
    Goddess, let thy will be done.

    A deep sense of doubt settled over her as she finished the first repetition. Had she chosen the right path this time? Beginning the last line of her final echo, she lifted her eyes to the sky and wished for home.
    Whirling sand sliced at her face, and a piece of flying debris struck her forehead, knocking her off-balance. She tumbled sideways, fighting to stay conscious. Have to complete the spell. “Thy will be done.”
    Blackness swarmed over her as a roaring voice tried to call her back and grappling fingers clawed at her clothes. Then the howling quieted and the air went still. The throbbing in her skull told her she was still alive, even as nausea rose in her throat and the spots dancing in her vision blurred. Her plan had succeeded. Now, she could rest. And mourn.
    “Are you sure she doesn’t need stitches?” A soft male murmur broke through the silence.
    “A poultice and bandage will suffice.” Aunt Agnes’s no-nonsense tone assured Heléna she’d made it home.
    “If the wound isn’t serious, then why isn’t she awake?” A different masculine voice hissed the question.
    “Tsk, tsk. She’ll be fine in the morning. The rest will help her body heal. You young men should sleep while she sleeps. You’ll need your strength when she wakes.” Aunt Agnes had a tendency to scold those under her care.
    Reaching for her aching head, Heléna groaned. “Who can rest with all this talking?”
    Both of her hands were suddenly engulfed in gentle embraces, and a warm body snuggled up to each side of her.
    “How are you feeling, honey?”
    She recognized that sweet tone, and her tummy somersaulted.
    “You scared the shit out of me again, sweetheart.”
    Blinking hurt, but she forced her eyes open to prove seeing really was believing. Owen and Heath smiled down at her, tying knots in her insides.
    “You’re not supposed to be here. I sent you back where you belong.” A second too late, she realized what she’d said. She’d screwed up again. I never learn, do I?
    “ You sent us?” Owen’s eyebrows rose.
    “We belong right here with you, damn it.” True to his nature, Heath had to pick a fight with her.
    “Save me, Aunt Agnes. Please.” Scanning the room without moving her neck still sent pain shooting through Heléna’s head.
    The Macska witch who had been training her in the ways of homeopathic first aid laughed. “You brought them here, niece. They’re your problem, not mine.”
    “But what about—”
    “Romána has already welcomed your guests.” That news and a wink from Agnes as she stepped into view made Heléna realize she wouldn’t be getting any help from her aunt.
    “But they’re not my guests. I didn’t invite them. They aren’t supposed to be here!” She flinched at another quick stab of pain. “Ow.”
    “Flóra is brewing some white willow tea for you, dear. She should be here any—” A door clicked closed. “Ah, there she is now.”
    Closing her eyes to ease the ache, Heléna tried to remember the rhyme she’d used on Owen and Heath, but the words were gone. It’s just as well. The best spell I’d written in months? The minor mishaps from her recent spellcasting mistakes didn’t begin to compare to this blunder.
    Clinking of china couldn’t induce her to look at Flóra. The poor woman had to be mortified at her daughter’s unwitchlike behavior. An earthy scent tickled Heléna’s nose, making her mouth water as tea slooshed into the cup.
    “Can you sit up, Heléna? You had me so worried. I would’ve expected something like this from Lujza, but my