Whispers of Fate: The Mistresses of Fate, Book Two

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Authors: Deirdre Dore
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    He squatted in front of her, releasing his hold on her hair and cupping her face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said sincerely. “Like getting punched in the stomach. I forgot how beautiful you are.” He leaned closer, almost whispering, “I missed you, Janie. Do you believe that?”
    Circe eyed him, her gaze level. “Where did you go? Last night, where did you go?”
    He gripped the back of her arm and twisted, hard.
    Circe gasped at the startling pain. He was so handsome, staring at her, hurting her. Her eyes filled with tears and his face blurred, twisting and running.
    He released her and stepped back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. You shouldn’t question me.” He bent down again, lifting her chin. “Forgive me?”
    Circe shrugged, pushing Jane aside, burying her deep. Jane was afraid of him sometimes. “I might forgive you. Eventually. You shouldn’t treat me like that.”
    “You’re right. You deserve the world. Now tell me the truth.” He leaned a little closer. “Has anyone been asking about this? The old guy?”
    “No,” Circe whispered. “No one knows anything.”
    He sneered at her. “We both know that’s not true. There’s that stupid bitch Gloria Belle and Old Man Fucking Know-It-All.”
    Circe shook her head. “He’s crazy. The Triplets said he’s dying.”
    “Who the fuck are the Triplets?”
    “My nieces. John’s daughters.”
    “John. The one in the army?”
    “Yes,” Circe confirmed. She didn’t mention that her brother John had died in a training accident at Fort Benning right after the triplets were born. Mark had never met John. John had been stationed abroad then; he hadn’t been here when everything had happened. He hadn’t seen.
    John would’ve stopped it ,the voice whispered. He would have known—he’d been like his daughters. Like Summer. He’d had intuition, been brave and true. Unlike you.
    Circe scowled. She couldn’t be expected to be like John. Her mother told her she was beautiful instead. Some were talented, some beautiful. John was talented. John knew things. John is dead.
    “Where’s he at?”
    “Dead.”
    Mark’s lip curled. “Guess he wasn’t that good a ‘witch.’” He sneered the last word. He’d never believed in the gift. He’d always thought they were all crazy.
    “What about these girls? They live here?”
    Jane nodded.
    “They can’t know I’m here.”
    A short sharp laugh escaped Circe. “They already do.”
    Circe’s husband stopped dead in midstep.
    “What do you mean ‘they already do’?”
    She tossed her hair and pouted a little, hoping to distract him. Mark’s voice had gone soft and dangerous. She didn’t like that voice.
    “I didn’t tell them. Any of them,” she explained. “They know things.”
    “Bullshit,” he cursed, straightening and going over to the window to look out. “There’s no privacy in this damn commune. I came up the back way, but one of you freaks must have seen my car. How do they know I’m your husband?”
    He had a strong jaw, a bold nose, and a swaggering walk. He’d been in the military at some point, and he spoke several languages. She had no doubt that he could disappear if he wanted to, if he made the attempt, but he wasn’t bothering right now.
    “Maybe they saw you?” she suggested. You don’t believe that , the voice said flatly.
    He gave her a suspicious glance, then looked back out the window, his face in profile.
    “We’ll have to deal with that, I suppose. Will they say anything?”
    She wondered what he meant by “deal with that.”
    There weren’t many Havens left. Most had died or moved deeper into the forest, living off the land. Of the ones who remained, few concerned themselves much with her business. Her second cousin Keenan and his mother, Beatrix, lived in the house that looked like a Victorian cottage in Wonderland. Beatrix didn’t like to leave the house if she could help it, and Keenan was obsessed with his

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