Reincarnation is merely a fantasy to most cultures, but to eleven year old Elijah Hawke it's a fact of life, especially when he is forced to contend with the personality of the man he was in his past life.
Reincarnation is never what it seems. For Elijah Hawke and his Watcher, it’s a complete pain in the ass. Memories of his past life invade his daily life after he casts a spell that brings his past incarnation to the forefront. Now he and Anthony Sinclair, a powerful magician, fight for dominance over his body and for the love of a woman who’s old enough to be his mother. But what is an eleven year old to do when he has a thirty-nine year old mage running rampant in his mind?
Only his missing twin has a chance of saving Eli and righting the terrible wrong his magick caused. But this might not be the person Eli expected. Not when it comes to magick--and not when the twin is that of his soul rather than Eli’s flesh, and may not even be the child from his visions. Can the desires of the past survive in the future--or will magick be the cause of its destruction?
Ipswich, England 1942
Anthony Sinclair raced down the long white corridors of the hospital. The world was a blur, his mind focused entirely on his destination. This couldn’t be happening, he told himself over and over again. He rounded the corner and paused. Henry Griphan, his best friend and closest confidant, sat in one of the hard wooden chairs, his arms folded across his chest and head between his knees. He looked utterly miserable and covered head to toe in guilt.
No, it couldn’t be.
“Henry,” he breathed as he neared him.
The former General of Her Majesty’s Army looked up with tearful eyes and, for a moment, there was no recognition. Then he blinked and the haze slowly moved out of his dark grey eyes. Henry struggled to his feet, still unsteady with his new prosthetic leg. He’d only got it a month ago and still could not seem to function at his former level.
“Andy? Andy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried to save her. I—” he babbled almost incoherently.
Anthony grabbed the taller man’s arms and shook him. “Where is she, Henry? Where’s Xyan?”
Henry gazed to the door he was seated next to with a forlorn look, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. Anthony let him go immediately and headed for it in a long, determined stride. He ignored Henry’s apologizes as he opened the door and stepped inside and stopped.
The room was private of course, he paid for nothing less, after all, his family sponsored the hospital and even helped in its construction over a century ago. Such favors were rarely forgotten, even today. The only occupant of the room lay on a sterile metal bed in the center of the room, her head propped up on numerous pillows. A lone sheet covered her pale petite body, her tan long gone by the shock of the accident. Whoever pushed her down the stairs would pay, Anthony silently guaranteed.
He moved cautiously toward the bed, fearful to awaken the small woman, yet unable to stop himself. This wasn’t his beloved. This wasn’t his beautiful wife who never harmed a soul in her life. Her ebony black hair was limp and covered in sweat. The pallor of her flesh was tinged with hints of blue. She looked deathly pale, but there was no doubt she’d given birth and he feared for both his wife’s and child’s well being. Nonetheless, Xyan was still breathtaking.
“Xyan,” he whispered as he stroked her cheek.
Her brows bunched together before her chocolate brown eyes opened. She smiled tiredly up at him. “Antonio…what took you so long?” she teased. Her eyes closed and for a moment Anthony feared she passed out, but then they reopened and she winced in obvious pain before she smiled past it. “So, what’s a hunk like you doing in a place like this?”
Anthony smiled softly at her. Despite her obvious pain, Xyan kept upbeat. For his sake more than her own, he suspected. He brushed her sweat soaked hair from her eyes. “Checking on my baby.”
Her eyes sparkled in mischief. “Naomi’s in the nursery.”
“You know what I mean.”
She sniffed and tried to stretch, only to cry out in pain. Instantly, Anthony bent over her. She shook her head. “No, Antonio. I’m – I’m all right. I just hurt.”
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked gently.
Xyan reached up and touched his chiseled cheek. His long blue-black hair fell over his shoulder to brush her arm. Her smile broadened. “No, my love. The damage is too severe, even for magick.”
Her fingers brushed his lips to silence him. “Our best healers have tried. It is a curse we cannot counter so there is no point to fight it.”
“Xyan,” he breathed. Tears burned at the back of his eyes.
“Lay with me,” she pleaded. For the first time since she awoke, there was real fear in her voice and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
Nodding, he took off his glasses. He placed them on the small nightstand next to the bed, then placed his jacket on the chair. Climbing under the sheet with her, he gently pulled her near, fearful of her internal injuries. Xyan cuddled up close, her head tucked under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her petite frame and drew as close as their bodies would allow. Her slim form shook in his arms, but she said nothing in complaint. Xyan was one of the strongest women Anthony knew. If only he could take her back to Spain, back to her parents so she could be surrounded by her family, but there wasn’t enough time and he didn’t possess the power to teleport her such a distance. He didn’t know what to do.
Her aura fluctuated and patches of black appeared here and there, a sure sign she was poisoned and soon her aura would deteriorate and then her soul would leave as well. This was no mere accident. There must be something he could do to save her, something his magick could do.
She gazed up into his tri-blue eyes and caressed his cheek. “Hey lover, what are you thinking?”
“How much I love you.”
He laughed but it sounded hollow. “I was, too. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She lifted her lips to his in a gentle but tantalizing kiss. She pulled back but only for a moment. “Make love to me.”
His eyes widened. “We’re in a hospital.”
“So, let’s get out of here.” She winked suggestively. “I was thinking some place warm and secluded. Just you and me.”
Anthony was so tempted. She looked so wanton, so needy and utterly gorgeous no matter how exhausted she appeared. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “What about Naomi?”
“She’s safe. Please, Antonio, I need you. I want you. One last time.”
Anthony closed his eyes. He wanted to say no, but he could never deny her. She was his wife, his life and if he was about to lose her, he would see to it she received her heart’s desire before she passed on to the next life. With barely a thought, he teleported them away from the hospital to a small clearing in the woods just outside of town where they picnicked only a week ago. They lay together under an old oak and listened to the sounds of life all around them.
Anthony’s mind worked franticly for a spell to cure his beloved as he slowly stripped her of the plain hospital gown she wore. She lay beneath him and smiled lovingly up at him as she tried to assist in disrobing him, but she was already tired and weak. He stripped off the last of his clothes as she watched with an appreciative eye. She often teased him about his football player build, how perfect his broad shoulders and slim waist were and how pale of skin he was, so unlike his cousins from Spain. Now Anthony felt more awkward than he did the first night they made love. But Xyan only smiled and opened her arms to him with a sultry smile of encouragement.
They made love slowly on the cool, damp grass on into the night with all the passion of any young couple. Anthony made sure to kiss every square inch of her, to bring her as much pleasure as humanly possible and then some. He made it last for hours and her cries of need and pleasure were like music to his ears. She writhed beneath him, clawed at his back and begged for more until finally there was no more to give and they lay curled together on the soft bed of grass.
Xyan’s head rested on Anthony’s chest as they fought to catch their breath. Her breathing was shallow and, if Anthony didn’t know better, he would have thought she was about to fall asleep. But she didn’t. She held him as tightly as she could, but grew weaker and weaker by the moment. He pulled her as tightly to him as he dared and fought the urge to crush her to him.
“We’ll meet again,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll find you and we’ll be together again. I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she breathed, her eyes closed. “It may be life times before we find each other.”
“I will find you, Xyan,” he promised.
She sighed in agreement before her body went limp in his arms and her soul fled. Anthony continued to cradle her lifeless body nonetheless, and repeated the oath over and over again like a mantra. He would find Xyan again, even if it took lifetimes.