“So those are our options,” she mumbled. “Stay hidden from everyone and everything, or face a life of constant scrutiny and lurking danger.”
No one answered, so they might as well have said a big fat yes.
Layla moved her mouth to Quin's ear and whispered. “I'll be right back.”
She unfolded herself from his lap and flew to the bedroom. Then she numbly walked to the bathroom and seated herself on the vanity. She needed to think, and she didn’t want to do it with her loved one’s voices bouncing in her head, so she stared at the mirror and contemplated her and Quin’s options, as pitiful as they were.
She laid her hands in her lap and stretched her fingers, thinking about what she was capable of. Why were the two most powerful magicians in the world being pushed around? It wasn’t fair, and she was already sick of it. She and Quin hadn't hurt anyone, yet they were being punished, and it seemed there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it, which was ridiculous considering they held more power than anyone. She didn’t want people to fear her; she didn’t want to revel in her power and hold it over people’s heads. Nor did she want to live in fear. And she shouldn't have to, damn it. And Quin shouldn't have to give up his home and the life he'd made for himself simply because he'd gained uncanny power. If anything, the increased magical ability should expand his opportunities, not limit his options.
She raised her hands, watching summoned flames ripple from her flesh. Then the fire turned to ice as she grasped it in her fists, letting the cold sink its teeth into her joints.
She was done hiding. She and Quin deserved a happy life, and while they might find contentment hidden away with only each other to love, they’d miss out on the world around them. Her parents didn't die so she could live a life severed from the world. They died to give her a full and free life, and she wasn't going to let it slip away so easily. If someone was going to get it, they’d have to rip it from her cold, dead hands.
Chapter 3
Quin's eyes stayed on the bedroom door as he flexed his empty hands, catching sporadic snippets of the discussion taking place around him. Damn. He couldn't concentrate when he couldn't see her, and she'd been gone for at least ten minutes.
He was leaning forward to stand when the bedroom door opened and Layla walked through it, floating the clothes from the closet with her. Quin paused, his hands on his knees as he watched her send their wardrobe to the foyer and walk to the kitchenette. She grabbed a plate of chocolate chip cookies off the bar. Then she turned and leaned against the counter, finding his stare as she ate her snack.
“Want one?” she asked, holding up a half-eaten cookie.
Quin shook his head no, wondering what conclusions she'd reached in her absence.
She looked to the others and raised her eyebrows. “Anyone else? They're really good.”
They silently shook their heads no, and Quin scooted to the edge of the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees while freeing his itchy hands. “What are you doing, Layla?”
“Eating a cookie,” she answered, her smile genuine and easy.
He couldn't help but smile back. “I can see that. What's with the clothes?”
“We're going home,” she announced. Then she summoned a carton of milk, poured a glass, emptied it, then filled it again.
“Are you tired of Karena's best room?” Quin asked, conflicted about the emotions in her aura.
She blissfully sighed and sent the milk to the fridge. “No. I love this suite. I hope you'll bring me here again and again.”
“Sure, love. Anytime.” He glanced at the clothes then found her eyes. “So why are you in such a hurry to leave?”
She watched him while she finished her second glass of milk, her gaze meaningful, her jaw set. By the time she lowered the cup and wiped her mouth, Quin knew what was coming.
“I'm done hiding, Quin. And you're not going to start.”
Everyone looked from her to Quin, who had to swallow a lump to find his voice. “Layla Love...” He didn't know what to say, how to tell her the thought of her facing endless danger terrified him, stole his breath and tormented his heart.
Keeping her gaze locked on his, she slowly shook her head. “That's not how I want to live; it's not how my parents wanted me to live, and it's not how you should have to live. We're going home and living our lives exactly the way we want to.” She magically cleaned her glass and placed it in the cabinet. Then she turned her back on everyone and rested her palms on the counter. “If we'll be placing the coven in danger by coming home, we'll move, but I'm not leaving Oregon. We'll build a house nearby. That's fine with me. That's an option I can live with.”