Free Do You Believe in Magic? by Ann Macela Page B

it downright painful.” He rubbed his chest as if it still hurt.
    Clay recalled the story of the imperative’s “persuasive” techniques it used on Bent and winced in sympathy.
    “Clay teased both of us enough. You remember.” Daria assumed a smart-alecky voice. “How many soul mates does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two and nobody cares about the lightbulb.” She went back to her normal tone while Gloriana laughed. “It’s time he got some of his own back,” Daria told her husband. “Well?” she asked Clay.
    “No, I don’t think so,” he answered, but a sharp pain hit his solar plexus, as if he had been stabbed with a hot ice pick. He hid his grimace behind taking a drink of water.
    Her eyebrows raised, Daria just sat there, looking at him.
    “It could be,” he admitted, as memories of the kiss flooded his mind. His chest grew pleasantly warm.
    He slumped in his chair. “Hell, I don’t know.” The ice pick jabbed him again. What the hell was going on with his stomach? Well, worry about that later, he told himself. This business Daria was talking about was much more serious.
    He waved his hand in surrender. “Yeah, all right, it might be.” The pain ceased, and the warmth returned, accompanied by a tingle. It felt like his magic center was grinning.
    He replayed the memories of last night and the night before. Those kisses, those leave-you-weak-and-hurting kisses, those can’t-get-enough-of-her kisses. If Francie was his mate, then no wonder she’d affected him the way she did, more than any other woman. No wonder he had so much trouble sleeping. All he could think of was her. “God, if this is what you went through, I apologize for all the teasing.”
    Bent chuckled. “And it only gets better—or worse, before it gets better.”
    “Thanks a lot,” Clay muttered. “You’re a big help.”
    “Now comes the real question.” Daria sobered and looked him straight in the eye. “When are you going to tell her about us, what we are?”
    The deal he had made with Francie came back to him: No camouflage, no artificial barriers. Only the truth. Now he knew the source of the idea and his notion last night of telling her about his wizardry—the imperative’s handiwork. “You’re right. I owe it to her to tell her all about practitioners and soul mates before . . .”
    “Before you’re irrevocably bonded,” Daria finished for him.
    Clay nodded. “She has to know what she’s getting into, doesn’t she? I need to do the same thing you did with Bent, don’t I? Lay it all out for Francie.”
    “I concur,” Bent said as Daria nodded. “If you’re feeling the way about Francie like I was about Daria, with your control hanging by a thread, the sooner the better.”
    “Thanks for the advice, I guess.” Clay rubbed his hand over his face. “I need to think about this before I do anything. I’m still not totally convinced she’s the one. We’ve only been out twice. I hardly know the woman.” He thought his last sentence sounded hollow, even to himself. His center gave a flutter, as if it was laughing at him.
    “Let us know what happens,” Daria said. “But first, let’s clear the table. Glori, shouldn’t you be hitting the road if you want to get home by nine o’clock?”
    “As much as I hate to leave just when the discussion’s getting good, you’re right,” Gloriana said. “But y’all have to keep me posted. Shall I mention any of this to our parents?”
    “Glori, if you have any regard for me at all, please don’t say anything to Mother or Dad,” Clay pleaded. “I don’t need them on my back.”
    “Okay, but it will cost you, and I’m not making any promises, either. You know how Mother seems to pull secrets out of us as easily as she makes up healing potions.”
    “Only too well,” Clay said with a grimace.
    There was a flurry of activity as the foursome cleared the table, said good-bye to Gloriana, and watched her drive away. Clay and Bent helped with the dishes