Page 15 of Unbearable Attraction (Hollow Oak Mates #4)
LEENAH
T he walk back to her cottage had been mostly silent, both of them processing what they'd learned from the spirits at the ceremony grounds.
Leenah's exhaustion weighed on her, making each step feel like she was walking through quicksand.
But it wasn't until she settled into her living room armchair that the real impact of channeling so much spiritual energy hit her.
The vision came without warning.
One moment she was reaching for her notebook to record everything the spirits had told them, and the next she was falling backward through time, her consciousness pulled into a memory that belonged to someone else entirely.
1689. The same stone circle, but the forest around it looked different—younger, wilder, untouched by centuries of human habitation.
Cherokee shamans stood in ceremonial dress beside a small group of exhausted-looking Europeans whose clothes spoke of long journeys and desperate flight from persecution.
At the center of it all was a young Cherokee medicine woman whose face Leenah recognized with a shock of understanding.
Aiyana, but not as the ancient spirit who'd been trying to communicate with her.
This was Aiyana in life, vibrant and powerful, her dark eyes holding wisdom beyond her apparent years.
"You ask much of us," Aiyana was saying to a tall man whose colonial dress marked him as one of the supernatural refugees. "To share sacred land with those who fled across the great waters."
"We ask for sanctuary," the man replied, his accent carrying traces of Scotland. "Nothing more. We've seen what happens to our kind in the old world. Salem was only the beginning."
Aiyana's expression softened with compassion. "The spirits of this place whisper of dark times coming for all who carry magic in their blood. Perhaps it is time for old enemies to become allies."
The ceremony that followed was beautiful and terrible in its power.
Blood freely given, mixed with sacred earth and blessed water, while both Cherokee and European supernatural beings spoke binding oaths in languages that predated written words.
The very air shimmered with magic as ancient protections were woven into the fabric of reality itself.
But at the heart of it all was Aiyana, serving as the bridge between worlds, channeling forces that made her slight frame glow with otherworldly light. Leenah could feel the medicine woman's strength being poured into the ritual, could sense the terrible cost of binding such powerful magic.
"Every fifty years," Aiyana gasped as the ceremony reached its crescendo, "the barriers must be renewed. The bridge between worlds must be willing. And always... always there must be one who can speak for both the living and the dead."
The vision shattered like breaking glass, dumping Leenah back into her own time with brutal suddenness.
She found herself on the floor beside her chair, disoriented and shaking, with no memory of how she'd gotten there.
Her head felt like someone had been using it for drum practice, and the taste of copper in her mouth suggested she'd bitten her tongue at some point.
"Leenah!" Luka's voice seemed to come from very far away, though she could feel his hands on her shoulders, steadying her as the room spun around them. "What happened? You just collapsed."
"Vision," she managed, the word coming out a whisper. "Prophetic vision. I saw... I saw the original ceremony."
Luka's arms tightened around her as he helped her sit up, his warmth a solid anchor in the swirling confusion of her disoriented thoughts. "First time that's happened?"
"Yeah." She leaned against him more heavily than pride should have allowed, but her body felt like it belonged to someone else. "It was so real. Like I was actually there, watching it happen."
"What did you see?"
Leenah closed her eyes, trying to organize the flood of images and sensations from the vision into something coherent.
"The original pact ceremony. Aiyana was the one who performed it, who served as the bridge between worlds.
She was so young, but the power..." She shuddered at the memory. "It nearly destroyed her."
"The medicine woman from the ceremony grounds today?"
"Her ancestor, I think. Or maybe a descendant. Time gets weird with prophetic visions." Leenah tried to stand and immediately swayed as the room tilted around her. "The woman we spoke with today carries Aiyana's memories, her knowledge of how the ritual works."
Luka caught her before she could fall again, his steady strength keeping her upright when her own legs refused to cooperate. "You need to rest. Whatever that vision took out of you, you're not recovering quickly."
"I'm fine," she said automatically, though the protest sounded weak even to her own ears.
"You're many things, but fine isn't one of them right now." His voice carried that protective rumble that was becoming dangerously familiar. "When's the last time you had a prophetic vision?"
"Never. This was my first." The admission made her feel more vulnerable than she cared to examine. "My necromantic abilities have always been limited to communicating with spirits. I didn't even know I could see into the past."
"Must be connected to the ceremony grounds.
All that accumulated spiritual energy probably amplified your natural gifts.
" Luka guided her toward the couch with careful movements, as if he was afraid she might collapse again.
"The question is whether experiencing visions is going to become a regular thing. "
The thought of going through that kind of disorientation on a regular basis made Leenah's stomach clench with anxiety.
She'd built her entire life around being self-sufficient, around handling whatever supernatural complications came her way with competence and grace.
Having abilities she couldn't control or predict felt like losing a fundamental part of herself.
"Hey," Luka said softly, settling beside her on the couch. "We'll figure it out. Whatever's happening with your gifts, you don't have to handle it alone."
"I've always handled things alone," she said, hearing the wobble in her own voice.
She'd spent so many years building walls around her heart, protecting herself from the disappointment that came with depending on others, that she'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone genuinely care about her wellbeing.
"This is terrifying," she admitted quietly.
"The visions?"
"The visions, the ceremony, all of it." She curled deeper into the couch cushions, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. "But mostly... mostly it's terrifying how much I want you to stay."
The confession hung between them in the warm lamplight of her living room, more honest than anything she'd shared with another person in years. Luka's expression shifted through surprise before settling into quiet understanding.
"Then I'll stay," he said simply. "As long as you want me here."
Minerva chose that moment to hop onto the couch, settling herself between them with the kind of feline determination that brooked no argument. The cat's warm weight was comforting, a familiar anchor in an evening that had turned her understanding of her own abilities upside down.
"I should probably try to sleep," Leenah said, though the thought of being alone with the possibility of more visions made her heartrate quicken with anxiety.
"Sleep sounds good," Luka agreed. "I'll keep watch, make sure nothing supernatural decides to visit while you're recovering."
She should have protested. Should have insisted she could handle one night alone in her own cottage, just like she always had. But the steady presence beside her, the way his breathing seemed to calm something restless in her chest, made the idea of sending him away feel impossible.
"Just until I'm feeling more stable," she said, the excuse sounding thin even to her own ears.
"Just until you're feeling more stable," he agreed with a small smile.
Leenah settled deeper into the couch cushions, letting herself relax finally.
The supernatural crisis wasn't resolved, the ceremony still needed to be performed, and she had no idea what other abilities might manifest as the dark moon approached.
But with Luka's steady breathing beside her and Minerva's purring creating a gentle soundtrack, those problems felt manageable.
Somewhere between one breath and the next, her eyes drifted closed. The last thing she remembered was the warm weight of Luka's hand covering hers, and the way his voice rumbled through his chest as he murmured something too soft to make out but comforting all the same.