He glanced at her over his shoulder. “We don’t have condoms.”

Justine steeled herself against the chilling spray and reached into the stall to turn up the water temperature. When it had warmed sufficiently, she stepped into the shower with him. She embraced him from behind, pressing her cheek on his smooth back. “We don’t need condoms,” she said. “I’m on birth control.”

His tone was vaguely apologetic. “I always use them. A personal rule.”

“Oh. Okay.” Flattening herself against his back, she savored the heat of the water rushing over them both, as if they were one being instead of two. Her hands slid slowly around his middle, palms riding the unsettled pattern of his breathing. Carefully her fingers investigated the subtle depressions between the sturdy framework of his ribs.

Her blind exploration progressed to the coarse silk of body hair, a fine pathway leading to a denser, thicker patch. He tensed in every muscle as her hand closed around hard, distended flesh. She caressed him up and down, gripping at intervals.

A harsh gasp escaped him, and another, and he turned in the slender compass of her arms to grip her body high and tight against his. She was lifted nearly off her toes, her weight pitched forward. He ground against her abdomen in water-slicked thrusts, and in a matter of seconds he muffled a low growl into the wet ribbons of her hair. Pleasure unraveled in the heat of constant rushing water, rushing and receding, leaving them entangled and spent.

Eventually Justine thought that she should unwrap herself from around him, but Jason seemed in no hurry to let go. And she wasn’t certain where to start anyway … there seemed no way to separate out which limbs and hands and heartbeats belonged to whom.

* * *

Mercifully, breakfast was not a long sit-down meal. Instead Rosemary had set out food on the kitchen counter: fig muffins, sliced fruit, and plain yogurt made at a local dairy. Although Justine was tempted to maintain an injured silence, she found herself joining in the casual conversation, all of them covering the underlying tension as if with a tarpaulin.

She had been deceived by Rosemary and Sage, but that didn’t negate all the good things they had done for her in the past. She loved them. She wasn’t sure how her trust in them could be restored. But love was not something that could be thrown away easily. Even imperfect love.

Besides, it was awfully hard to act cool and resentful when she was basking in an afterglow that wouldn’t quit, her nerve endings glowing like fiber-optic filaments. She kept glancing at Jason, who looked athletic and sexy in the T-shirt and board shorts that Sage had washed for him. Every now and then he sent her a brief, private smile that made her light-headed. This is what it’s supposed to feel like, her senses told her. This is what you were missing. And she wanted more.

Only one thing nagged at the edge of her afterglow: the question of where all this was leading. She didn’t want to think about that, since the obvious answer was … nowhere. They had met at the intersection of two divergent paths. Jason’s fast-paced lifestyle held absolutely no appeal for Justine. And whenever she tried to imagine a place for him in the low-key pattern of her days, she couldn’t fathom it.

So the question wasn’t whether the relationship would last. Clearly they weren’t destined for a happily-ever-after. But Justine wouldn’t mind dragging out the “happily” part for as long as possible. The strange thing was, even knowing they could never be together couldn’t stop her from feeling connected to him on a level that had nothing to do with reason. Almost as if they were soul mates.

But how could you be soul mates with a man who had no soul?

“The storm surge has died down,” Jason said after breakfast. “There’s some chop to the water, but nothing the Bayliner can’t handle. It’s your call, Justine. If you want to leave later in the day, that’s fine.”

“No, I need to get back to the inn,” Justine said, although her stomach turned over at the thought of getting back onto a boat and heading out across that rough water.

Jason stared at her for a long moment. “It’ll be fine,” he said gently. “You don’t think I’d let anything happen to you, do you?”

Surprised that he could read her thoughts so easily, Justine gave him a round-eyed glance and shook her head.

“Justine,” Sage said quietly. “Before you leave, we have something for you.”

Following her to the sofa, Justine sat with her, while Rosemary stood at the threshold. Jason remained at the window, his arms folded negligently across his chest.

“We went to Crystal Cove at sunrise,” Sage told Justine, “to cast a protection spell. It’s not permanent, and we don’t know how much it will help, but it certainly won’t hurt. Wear this to strengthen its effects.” She gave Justine a bracelet made of chunks of pink translucent stone strung together in a glittering circle.

“Rose quartz?” Justine slid the bracelet over her wrist, holding it up to admire the beauty of the crystals.

“A balancing stone,” Rosemary said from the doorway. “It will help to harmonize the spirits and protect you from negative energy. Wear it as often as possible.”

“Thank you,” Justine managed to say, although she was strongly tempted to point out that she wouldn’t have needed protective spells or crystals if they hadn’t helped create the geas in the first place.

“Wear it for Jason’s benefit, as well,” Sage said, with a nod in his direction. “We tried to extend the spell to him.”

“Why would Jason need protection?” Justine asked warily. “He had nothing to do with breaking the geas.”

“There is one more thing you haven’t been told about,” Sage said. “There wasn’t a need before now. But since the geas has been broken, there is a particular danger that you must be made aware of.”

“I don’t care if I’m in danger. Don’t tell me.”

“You’re not the one in danger,” Rosemary informed her. “He is.”

Justine glanced at Jason’s expressionless face. She looked back at the elderly women, feeling sick inside.

“I’ll explain,” Rosemary said. “As you already know, Justine, the universe demands balance. For the power that a hereditary witch enjoys, a price must be paid.”

“I don’t enjoy it,” Justine said. “I’d give it away if I could.”

“You can’t. It’s part of you. And like the rest of us, you will pay a forfeit.”

“What forfeit?”

“Any man a witch truly loves is fated to die. The Tradition calls it the witch’s bane.”

“What? Why?”

“Being born to the craft is a calling,” Sage said. “A commitment to serving others, not unlike the vocation of a nun. I don’t know when or how the bane originated, but I’ve always thought that it was to ensure that we would not be distracted by the demands of husbands and families.”

It was too much to take in, especially after the other revelations of the past twenty-four hours. Justine drew up her knees and rested her head on them, and closed her eyes. “Because it’s not at all distracting to have the man you love die,” she muttered.

“Marigold wanted to spare you that suffering,” Sage said. “And it’s the reason that I, perhaps wrongly, helped with the geas. I thought it would be easier for you to be relieved of such a burden. Never to know the pain of lost love.”

Jason had been listening with a wry twist to his lips. “Everyone’s fated to die, sooner or later,” he said.

“In your case,” Rosemary replied, “probably sooner. You’ll be fine for a time. No one can predict how long. But one day the misfortunes will begin … you’ll fall ill, or there’ll be an accident. And if you manage to survive that, something will happen the next day, and the next, until finally it’s something that you won’t survive.”

“Only if I fall in love with him,” Justine said hastily, not looking at Jason. “And I haven’t. I won’t.” She paused. “Is there an escape clause? A loophole? Some kind of banishing spell or rite or—”

“Nothing, I’m afraid.”

“What if I don’t believe in it?” Jason asked.

“My Neil didn’t,” Sage replied regretfully. “Neither did Justine’s father. It doesn’t matter what you believe, dear boy.”

The words made Justine cold all the way through. She found herself anxiously taking inventory of her emotions. It wasn’t too late. She didn’t love Jason. She would never let herself love anyone if it would turn him into a victim of some supernatural penalty.

Occupied with her thoughts, she didn’t notice Jason’s approach until she felt his warm hand on her back.

“Justine—”

“Don’t,” she said, stiffening, shrugging off his hand.

“Don’t what?”

Don’t touch me. Don’t make me love you.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said in a monotone, averting her gaze. “I want to go home. And then I’m going to do my best to stay away from you.”

Fifteen

The ride to Roche Harbor was lightly choppy, a few cloud breaks revealing flashes of porcelain-blue sky. Jason navigated with care, mindful of the rocks and islets rising through the water. Many of them had been designated as bird refuges for gulls, auklets, oystercatchers, and cormorants. An eagle surveyed the ocean from its perch on a bone-clean tree snag. As the harbor came into view, a wedge of whistling swans crossed in front of the Bayliner, headed to California for the winter.

Jason glanced at Justine, who barely seemed to notice the scenery. She played with the rose quartz bracelet around her wrist, her mouth set and moody. Ever since they had left the lighthouse, she had been remote, as if even the attempt to make conversation might pose a mortal danger to Jason.

They docked in the slip, and two of the red-shirted marina staff came to grab the lines and take care of the boat’s maintenance. Jason helped Justine from the boat and walked with her along the wooden dock. He slung an arm around her shoulders, and felt her tense.

“Sorry about your kayak,” he said. “Maybe it’ll turn up somewhere.”

“It’s probably at the bottom of the ocean.” Letting out a quick breath, Justine tried to sound cheerful. “But at least I’m not in it, thanks to you.”

“Can I offer to buy you a new one while at the same time making it clear that I’m not trying to impress you with my oversized wallet?”

Justine shook her head, a reluctant smile appearing. “Thank you. But no.”

“So what now?” he asked.

Her mouth turned wistful. “We go back to the inn,” she said. “You go to work, and so do I. And … that’s it.”

Jason stopped with her at the end of the dock, his hands gripping either side of the rail as she backed against it. Their bodies weren’t touching, but he knew how she would feel against him, his body remembered the soft radiant heat of hers.

He stared into her troubled brown eyes. “We have unfinished business.”

She understood what he meant. “I—I can’t do that with you.”

“You were willing this morning.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight.” A blush covered her face. “But now I am.”

“You’re afraid you might start to care about me.” He let a trace of sarcasm enter his tone. “And that will somehow put me in danger. Is that it?”

“No. Yes. Look, no rational person would claim that you and I should be together anyway. I mean, would you pick me for you?”

“I just did.”

She tried to move out of the enclosure of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her. “It’s not worth it,” she said, facing away from him. “Jason, I know what happens when a person without a soul dies. That’s it. There’s nothing left of you. Your time is limited enough as it is.”

“How I spend it is my choice.”

“But if I hurt you in any way, I’m the one who has to live with it.” Her face contorted, and she struggled with a sudden urge to cry. “And I couldn’t,” she said thickly. “I couldn’t stand it.”

“Justine.” He pulled her closer, and she twisted away, and ended up with his arms wrapped around her front. His head bent until his mouth was near her ear. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. This happens once in a lifetime. You meet someone and have this crazy reaction … you touch her skin and it’s the best skin you’ve ever felt, and no perfume on earth could be better than her smell, and you know you could never be bored with her because she’s interesting even when she’s doing nothing. Even without knowing everything about her, you get her. You know who she is, and it works for you on every level.” His arms tightened. “I’ve spent the past ten years being with one wrong person after another—which qualifies me to know when I’ve found the right one.” He kissed the little space behind her earlobe. “You feel it, too. You know we’re supposed to be together.”

Justine shook her head. Incredulously, she felt him smile against her ear.

“I’ll make you admit it,” he said. “Tonight.”

“No.”

Jason turned her to face him. “Find a spell, then,” he said in a low voice. “Find a way for us.”

Justine bit her lip and shook her head. “I’ve already racked my brain. The only thing I could come up with is a longevity spell, and I can’t do that.”

His gaze sharpened. “Why not?”

“It’s in the area of high magick. Anything that messes with life or death is forbidden—those kinds of spells are dangerous even in the hands of the most experienced crafters. And if a longevity spell worked, it would be terrible. People usually think of longevity as a blessing, but in just about every grimoire you look in, it’s classified as a curse. It’s a cruel fate to live beyond the natural order of things … you would outlive everyone you care about, and your body and mind would decay, but no matter how much pain or loneliness or sorrow you felt, you would keep living. You would end up begging for an end to your suffering because death would be a mercy.”

“What if I still wanted you to try? What if I said it’s worth it to be with you?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. And even if I were willing, and I cast the spell correctly, it still wouldn’t work out for us. We’re too different. I would hate your life; I could never be part of it. And I can’t see you giving up everything you’ve worked for to live on a quiet little island. Eventually you’d be unhappy. You’d blame me.” Justine turned to face him, her face hidden. “It’s no good,” she said in a muffled voice. “We’re better off apart. It’s fate.”