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Nicholas said with a devilish grin, sending a wave of heat along her skin. Or at least she thought it was Nicholas. This morning she wasn’t exactly sure.
    “That’s real funny,” she snarled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where are you taking me?”
    27

    “Home,” the other one said as he stood and strolled toward her. With his hand, he brushed his long black hair over his shoulder. The same hand he’d used to caress her body with such tenderness, such care.
    Taking a deep breath, she brushed those memories from her mind. “Somehow I don’t think it takes a plane to get me from the club back to my apartment. Where’s Tonya?” she demanded.
    “She’s fine. She’s home.” The one walking toward her stopped and rested his palm against the wall, his other hand at his hip.
    “She’ll be looking for me.”
    “Yes, she will,” he said, his lips twitching slightly. “I’m Darien.”
    “Yes. You told me your names in the club.”
    She remained rooted to same spot, unsure she wanted to move into the other room with them.
    “Come in here and have a seat, Rebecca,” Nicholas said and she shook her head.
    “I believe I’ll remain where I am, Nicholas, thank you.”
    Darien grinned then glanced at his brother. “She’s a stubborn little thing, isn’t she?”
    “Just like her father.”
    Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her chest. “You knew my father?”
    “Yes,” Nicholas said. “Your father and our father were friends.”
    Her gaze narrowed. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
    “You don’t,” Darien said, his shoulder lifting in a shrug.
    “Exactly,” she snapped. “What do you want with me?”
    “We promised our father we would protect you,” Nicholas offered as he waved his hand toward the couch across from the small table. “Come, Rebecca, please. I’m sure you’re hungry. It’s way past noon. While you eat we can explain.”
    Licking her dry lips, she studied Darien and his understanding gaze. Hunger rumbled through her stomach at the mention of food and she grudgingly admitted to herself she could eat. More than twelve hours had passed since the last time she’d eaten and she was starving. “Fine,” she snarled, then moved to sit at the couch.
    A woman stepped forward quickly, placing a plate of delicate china in her hands laden with fruit, cheese and crackers. On the table next to Rebecca the woman placed a glass of red wine. “How do I know you haven’t done anything to it?” she asked, her gaze narrowing on Nicholas.
    Nicholas’ dark eyes flashed fire then sparkled with amusement. “I could put you to sleep with a wave of my hand, Becca. Why would I need to put anything in your food?”
    “It’s Re becca and what do you mean by put me to sleep with a wave of your hand?”
    “We’re warlocks, just like you’re a witch.”
    28

    Rebecca choked. Struggling for air, she grabbed her wine and took several sips, finishing off half the glass. Nicholas snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared in his hand. She stopped breathing, staring at that glass in disbelief.
    He leaned forward, taking the wine glass and replacing it with the water. “Drink this. I don’t want you drunk because you drank the wine too fast.”
    Turning the glass in her hand, she glared at it then back at the twins. “How did you do that?”
    “That little trick wasn’t any different from some of the ones you’ve done in the past,” Darien said as he dropped onto the couch next to her.
    “How did you know I was a witch?” she asked, still holding the glass in front of her. “Are we designed to pick each other out of a crowd? Do we have some inner radar that tells us another witch is close by?”
    Darien chuckled. “If only it were that simple.”
    “No, there is no inner radar,” Nicholas said, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “How we were able to find you is a little hard explain.”
    “Try,” she said.
    “Like we said before, we promised our father we