Blood Flame (Flame 1)

He was about to call her name a

gain, when he decided he’d have to tear her away from her bike himself.

The garage was on the kitchen side of the house. He went through the dining area, but as soon as he got near the door he felt compelled to go back and get the list of projects she’d made up for him.

And that’s when it hit him.

Damn. The woman had spelled the garage. He drew closer to the door, fighting the need to reverse direction, and there it was, a line of dragon’s blood and something else, probably ‘Connor specific’, all along the threshold.

“Iris, get your ass in here.” He was pissed. She’d promised never to spell him, but she couldn’t deny this evidence.

The door opened. She looked like a regular grease-monkey, wearing a kerchief on her head, her ponytail pinned into a bun, and blue overalls. She had the obligatory grease stains smeared here and there. “You spelled this door and you promised me you’d never do that.”

She looked sheepish yet pleased at the same time. She was even smiling.

Maybe he wasn’t being stern enough. The woman should be contrite.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Duke, I’m in trouble, but do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“Hell, yeah, he will.”

Connor frowned. “Okay, what’s going on?” A row of cabinets prevented him from seeing into the garage.

She reached over the threshold and kicked a break in the line of red powder and the spell dissipated. “Come here,” she said. “I have something for you. It’s a surprise.”

“You’re still in trouble.”

“I know. I broke a covenant between us, but it was meant for good. You can decide my punishment later. For now, come with me.”

When she took his hand, he followed, because he couldn’t help himself. She might have spelled him to keep him out of the garage, but her love had become a magnet he didn’t think he could ever refuse and that had nothing to do with witchery.

Once he passed the cabinets, he saw all three mechanics, also greasy, but grinning like school kids.

That’s when he saw the bike. A Ducati 1974 750 GT. “Iris?”

“She’s yours, Connor. The least you deserve for the man you are.”

He didn’t know what to say. He turned to her, and not caring she was covered in grease, he pulled her into his arms. He kissed her first, then held her so tight he wasn’t sure she could breathe.

He wanted to let go, but couldn’t. “You’ve given me so much.”

“Same here, my love.” She pulled back, her hands on his arms. “But is this okay? Or did I overstep?”

“You mean the Ducati?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “And the spell.”

“The bike is perfect as well as the intent behind it. Thank you.” His heart swelled. He held her gaze once more, not understanding where she’d come from. Iris had only known him a couple of weeks, but seemed to understand him to the depths of his soul. “Thank you.”

He then turned to the mechanics who were still grinning. “Well? Does she run?”

They all laughed. Duke said, “You bet she does, but you’ll have to sit down and try her out.”

Connor went over to the bike and that’s when he realized he hadn’t heard the engine once. Turning to Iris, he said, “You spelled the sound as well?”

She shrugged. “Kind of had to. You would have known at once this wasn’t my TPS bike.”

He chuckled. “You’re right about that.”