Autumn Storm (The Witchling #2)(51)

She hesitated, uncertain if she wanted to show her scars. Setting the tea down, she lifted her hair from the side of her face.

“It runs to here, “she said, pointing to a spot on her chest. “Mine are all from a car accident.”

“I might have one that long,” he said, pensive.

She smiled, surprised.

“I do.” Grandpa Louis sat back and rolled up one pant leg, revealing a scar that ran from his knee to his ankle.

“I might be able to beat that,” she said. Leaning forward, she tugged up her legging on her bad leg to her knee.

“You win, my dear,” Grandpa Louis said. “You are the first to best me at this game in twenty years.”

Autumn laughed at the bizarre competition. She glanced at Michael, whose gaze was on her amulet. It had fallen free of her sweater when she bent over. He seemed less interested in it than the chain that consisted of worn, silver links. She’d never thought twice about it.

“He does this with all our guests,” he said with a faint smile. “It usually scares people.”

“Autumn and I have lived, Michael, and we have the proof to show it,” Grandpa Louis replied.

“We’ve survived,” she agreed.

“Grandpa Louis went to war. You’re young for such scars,” Michael said to her. “They are newish, too, aren’t they.”

She nodded. The men had gentle, warm presences that put her at ease. Michael seemed troubled. Autumn saw his delayed smile, as if he was thinking.

“Three months old,” she said.

“They’ll likely fade,” Grandpa Louis said.

“I hope they do. You might beat me, if so.”

“I might,” he agreed, the skin around his eyes softening as he smiled.

“We were talking about how to live with our Dark Mistresses,” Michael said.

“One day at a time,” Grandpa Louis said. “It’s harder on them than us. We don’t suffer as they do.”

“We bring calm and comfort,” Michael agreed. “The Dark Masters are known for bloodlust. They’re always right at the edge of the Darkness. It tries to drag them over to it while they try to keep it from creeping farther into the world.”

“It’s a dangerous balance,” Grandpa Louis added. “They cannot do it alone.”

She listened, intrigued by their words. Nothing like this was in the orientation book or the classes she’d had Tuesday about the Dark.

“Every Dark Master or Mistress has a preordained mate,” Michael explained. “Someone who anchors them, so the Darkness can’t get them.”

“Decker lost his,” Grandpa Louis’s voice was sad. “I do not think we are enough for him, Michael.”

“We aren’t. But things happen as they do for a reason. He may recover yet.”

Autumn heard the hidden pain in his voice. It made her sad for him. Summer was Decker’s mate, and he’d killed her. Was he able to recover at all, if she was all that held him back from the Dark? Distraught by what she’d learned, she leaned down to un-bunch and push down her leggings.

Blood dropped onto her hand. Her nose was bleeding. She hadn’t noticed the headache creeping on her but did now. Her amulet felt warm against her chest.

“Michael? Daddy?” the sultry voice came from the hallway.

“Here, baby!” Grandpa Louis replied. “We’re having tea.”

“So early? It’s not even …”

Autumn glanced up then back. The stunning woman was a few inches taller than she was with flawless features and large eyes. Her aura was much like Decker’s: powerful, dark and seductive. She wore snug clothing and her straight hair long. Where Decker and Beck had their father’s facial features, Decker had his mother’s dark eyes, so brown they were almost black. She’d stopped in the doorway, surprise registering across her face. Autumn guessed they rarely had guests. There was no doubt in her mind this was Michael’s wife, the former Mistress of Dark.

“A special occasion,” Grandpa Louis said.

“Come meet Autumn,” Michael said.

The Dark Mistress didn’t leave the doorway. Husband and wife exchanged a look that made Autumn think they were communicating silently, and it wasn’t a good conversation. At last, the woman paced into the family room with the smooth walk of a predator. Her shadows were like a flash of unrestrained fire compared to the calm magick radiating from the men.

Autumn felt the sting of hot tea against her hand. She was shaking. She didn’t know why or why she was close to having a full-blown migraine. She replaced the tea on the tray and focused on breathing deeply to keep nausea from rising.

“Autumn, my wife, Rania. Rania, Autumn,” Michael said. “Autumn and Grandpa Louis were having a scar battle.” He wrapped an arm around her waist as she neared. Her fire vanished.

“Autumn,” Rania said. “It’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you,” Autumn mumbled.

“Beck found her with Sam in the forest in the middle of the storm,” Michael said casually.

“And he brought her here,” Rania said.

Autumn sensed she wasn’t welcome. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

“You’re not,” Michael replied.

“I’ll get the guest room ready.” The magick of the former Mistress of Dark flared to life as she moved away from her husband’s touch. He’d won whatever battle passed between him and his wife. Autumn had no idea what that might’ve been, but she was surprised someone with Decker’s magick would back down from anyone. The calm, warm Michael ran the house.