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He hadn’t laughed at her, which had been Bellamy’s greatest fear when she’d decided she needed to confide in Marc, to tell him the troubling ideas that had been floating around in her brain while she was getting ready that morning.

What if there really was something about Sedona that had been playing with her witchy powers?

No, he only looked thoughtful, and glanced past her to the red rocks outside the restaurant’s windows before he returned his attention to her once again.

“But…don’t plenty of McAllister witches come and roam around Sedona all the time?”

“To shop and eat and go to the movies, sure.” Bellamy swirled her straw around in her iced tea, doing her best to collect her scattered thoughts. “But they don’t sleep here, or spend twenty-four/seven around the red rocks and vortexes. Maybe that’s what it takes for Sedona’s energies to start working on their witchy powers.”

For a moment, Marc didn’t say anything. He hadn’t looked away, though, which she believed must be a hopeful sign. If he thought she’d completely gone off the deep end, then she doubted he would have maintained their current eye contact.

“Maybe it is,” he said at length. “Is it something you could talk to Angela and Connor about?”

Bellamy honestly didn’t know. Sure, both the prima and primus had gained crazy powers when they inherited their positions — powers that expanded even further when they became consorts — but still, it wasn’t as if they’d also had all sorts of esoteric knowledge beamed directly into their brains. They had to figure things out for themselves, the same as anyone else.

“I suppose we can start there,” she replied, then shook her head. “Or maybe talk to the elders first. I don’t want to be bugging Connor and Angela with every little thing.”

“I’m not sure this is a ‘little thing,’” Marc said, words that reassured her even more. He was taking her concerns seriously, not dismissing them as the result of too much chianti and those amazing kisses they’d shared. “Not when you haven’t experienced anything like this before.”

No, she hadn’t. Sure, when she was a kid and her powers had first awakened, she used to stand on the overlook near McAllister Mercantile and let the wind ruffle her hair, and she’d pretended that those winds had all sorts of secrets they could tell her, if only she could figure out how to make her magical gift do what she wanted.

Now it seemed as if those winds were actually trying to communicate with her at last, and she wasn’t sure she liked the sensation very much.

If, in fact, anything really was happening, and her overactive brain hadn’t made up the whole thing.

She wished it was that easy. But whatever it was that she’d heard the night before, it had been real.

“Well, it still makes sense to contact the elders first,” she said, even as she hoped Marc wouldn’t find it awkward to be talking to his grandmother about this stuff. To Bellamy, Tricia was just one of the elders, someone she hadn’t had much need to communicate with, except at communal events like the big McAllister Thanksgiving and Christmas potlucks.

But she was Marc’s grandmother, and maybe he didn’t want her to know that things were starting to get serious with one of the McAllister witches.

If they even were serious. Yes, she and Marc had kissed the night before, and merely sitting across the table from him like this was enough to send a happy little thrill through her every time their eyes met, but it was still early days for the two of them.

However, he showed no sign of hesitation when he said, “You’re right. Maybe it would be better to talk to your clan elders before we go over their heads and speak with Angela and Connor. Besides, it seems as if Allegra Moss has been an elder for a long time, right? If anyone might know something about this, she should.”

Bellamy supposed he had a point there. Allegra had been an elder since before even Angela was born, which meant she’d been overseeing the McAllister clans’ doings for more than fifty years.

And it wouldn’t be smart to dismiss Levi, either. Although his soul inhabited a human body, he was still something just slightly other, so he might have some unique insights into the problem as well.

“We can call your grandmother after we eat,” Bellamy said. “And then go from there.”

She hoped she didn’t sound too disappointed as she spoke. Sure, this was much more important, but she’d really been looking forward to an afternoon tasting wine with Marc and pretending that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Sounds good,” he agreed.

The waitress came back with their food then, so the next few minutes were spent digging into their meals…and trying to pretend that their plans for the day hadn’t just been upended. Instead, they talked about other points of interest around Sedona that Marc might want to visit while he was staying here.

“What about hiking?” he asked, his tone a little too deliberately casual.

Judging by the way he’d posed the question, he was probably hoping she’d tell him she was an enthusiastic hiker…and was also steeling himself for disappointment if it turned out she was a much bigger fan of the great indoors.

“How can anyone live around here and not want to go hiking?” she replied, and then did her best to hold back a smile when he practically sagged with relief.

“That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

“You hike a lot in Tucson?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Isn’t it really hot?”

In between bites of breakfast burrito, he assured her that, while Tucson was pretty much a furnace in the summer, you could still squeeze in an hour or so of hiking if you started early enough — and also that you could go up to Mount Lemmon, part of the Catalina range, where temperatures were usually about twenty degrees cooler than the valley floor.

It sounded like fun…even as she privately admitted to herself that she still thought the hiking around Sedona must be a lot better.

“And even though I have to work tomorrow through Saturday,” she said. “The earliest I start is noon, which would give us plenty of time to go for a hike. Want to try the Devil’s Bridge tomorrow?”

“Sounds ominous,” Marc said with a grin.

“Well, I wouldn’t advise falling off, but the view is amazing. And with school starting up now and more people staying closer to home base, it probably won’t be too crowded.”

“Then I’d love to try it.”

There. They’d made plans for tomorrow with not a hint of awkwardness. Marc sure didn’t give the impression of anyone who planned to disappear any time soon, and Bellamy could visualize the two of them going for a hike every morning — and maybe having breakfast afterward — before she had to head into work. Since she had to be on shift until nine on Tuesday through Thursday and then until midnight on Friday and Saturday, that didn’t leave a lot of time for socializing.

When she’d been handed her schedule, she hadn’t thought much about it, knowing she didn’t have what anyone could call a social life, so it hadn’t mattered that she’d be working late every night.

Now, though, she found herself chafing at all the current restrictions on her time, which was stupid, right? Hadn’t getting hired as the assistant manager at Sedona Vines been her dream job?

Well, it had when she didn’t have anyone in her life. Now, though….

Now she would just have to suck it up. Yes, she was having fun with Marc — despite all the witchy complications that seemed to have cropped up over the past couple of days — but she couldn’t allow a good time to get in the way of her career. Soon enough, he’d be back down in Tucson, and it would be stupid for her to do anything that would jeopardize her position at the wine tasting room.

They talked about the various trails they could try, and then, once they were done with their food, Marc got out his phone so he could text Tricia and see if there was a time when they could meet with the elders.

It appeared fate had stepped in to give them a reprieve, though, because he set his cell phone down on the tabletop and frowned slightly.

“My grandmother says Allegra’s down in Phoenix for the day. I guess she has some kind of eye condition that none of the healers have been able to fix, so she has to go see a specialist once a month. But they can talk to us tomorrow.”

“It’ll have to be in the morning,” Bellamy reminded him. “I have to be at work at noon.”

His expression fell. “So…no hiking?”

Well, at least she could reassure him on that point. “Oh, we’ll still have time to go up to the Devil’s Bridge, since I doubt your grandmother and the other elders will want us on their doorstep at the crack of dawn. If we can meet them at ten, I think the timing will work out okay.”

Instant relief shone in his dark eyes, and he picked up his phone and sent another text. The reply came back immediately, and he nodded as he read it before returning the phone to his pocket.

“My grandmother says ten o’clock is fine.” He paused there, sensual lips curving in a smile. “Exactly how early were you planning on hiking?”

“Six-thirty?” she suggested.

He didn’t even blink, which seemed to tell her that he was used to getting up at o’dark thirty so he could hit the trails before the sun got too warm. “That works. I’ll pick you up then.”

She almost replied that she should do the driving, since she knew where they were going and he didn’t. However, she decided to let it go, mostly because his truck was much better suited for the rough roads heading out to the trails than her little Fiat. Oh, sure, her car did okay as long as you didn’t try to make it go places designed for four-wheel drive, but she’d gotten a flat tire several times from a particularly sharp rock and knew the route wasn’t without its hazards.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

With everything set, they finished the rest of their meal and then headed out to his truck. By that point, it was well past noon, and she knew all the tasting rooms they were planning to visit would be open.

“Where first?” Marc asked as he backed the truck out of its parking space and headed down to the little feeder lane that would lead them to the main road.

“Angel Hill Cellars,” she said promptly. “That’s Angela and Connor’s vineyard, although it’s their friend Tony Rocha who runs the place. It’s a gorgeous piece of property, and I figure it’s better to start there rather than leave it to the end and maybe run out of time.”

Or just decide that they’d drunk enough and needed to quit before they were too impaired. That was probably why the local wine tours were so popular — with someone else driving, you didn’t have to worry so much about that sort of thing — but Bellamy hadn’t wanted their day to be dictated by someone else’s schedule. They could share tastings and be judicious about when they ordered a glass, and if they spaced their visits out enough, they should be fine.

Angel Hill Cellars was located about halfway along Page Springs Road as it wound its way through the canyon. Although Connor and Angela had bought the place some twenty-five years earlier, it had already been a functioning winery when they purchased it, so the vines were well-established and the big barn they used as the tasting room had the mellow feel of a place that had been around for decades and planned to be there for at least that many more.

A few cars were parked in the lot, but not many, telling Bellamy that, while a few people had ventured out to go wine tasting this Monday afternoon, the vast majority of the tourists were now safely back in Phoenix or wherever it was they’d come from.

And there was Sabrina Rocha working behind the counter. She lifted her hand in a wave as Bellamy and Marc came in.

“A friend of yours?” he asked in an undertone.

“That’s Tony and Sydney Rocha’s daughter, Sabrina. She graduated from ASU a couple of years ago, and now she works in the tasting room.”

As she spoke, she couldn’t help sending Marc a surreptitious look to gauge his reaction to the other woman. By any standard, Sabrina was a stunner, with her honey-colored hair and warm-toned skin and green eyes, but it didn’t seem as if he’d noticed. And while Bellamy had never thought of herself as the jealous type, she was still very glad to see the way Marc had barely registered that the other woman was even female.

“I suppose at some point I’ll get used to the way you know everyone around here,” he said as they approached the counter.

Now she couldn’t help smiling. “Hazards of living in a small town, I guess.” She paused there, then asked, “I suppose Tucson isn’t at all like that?”

“Nope,” he said, expression amused. “I mean, there are a lot of de la Pazes and we’ve been there a long time, but still, there are more than a million people who live in Tucson. There’s no way in the world you could ever know all of them.”

That was for sure. Did he like the anonymity that living in a big city provided him, or would he be happier someplace smaller, more intimate?

Bellamy reminded herself that it was far too early to even be thinking such things, and then tried to put it all out of her mind, since they were now at the counter and Sabrina was sliding a couple of tasting menus toward them.

“First time here?” she asked Marc.

Luckily, her expression only showed polite interest and nothing else.

“Yes, I’ve never been to Page Springs before,” he replied.

“Marc’s visiting from Tucson,” Bellamy supplied. “Marc, this is Sabrina Rocha, an old friend of the McAllisters. Sabrina, this is Marc Trujillo.”

Maybe just a flicker in Sabrina’s green eyes, probably noting the way Bellamy had pointed out that she’d known the McAllisters for a long time…and therefore was privy to their secrets.

“You’re from the de la Paz clan?” Sabrina asked.

Marc hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yes, but my mother’s a McAllister.”

Sabrina smiled. “Well, that’s fun. Then it’s probably high time you visited Angel Hill Cellars. We’re kind of famous around here. Do you want a white flight, a red, or a combo?”

On the drive over, Bellamy and Marc had already agreed to share tastings so they wouldn’t get utterly wasted, and that was why they decided to start with a combo flight. Sabrina was definitely knowledgeable about the wines, even though she’d gone to Arizona State to get a degree in marketing rather than sticking around here and earning her certification in enology the way Bellamy had done.

They ran through all of the wine samples and then decided to get a couple of glasses of chardonnay to finish up.

“You should have those out by the pond,” Sabrina told them as she handed over their drinks. “We finally replaced the pergola out there, so there’s lots of nice shade.”

Marc and Bellamy agreed that sounded like a good idea and headed outside. As promised, a large pergola covered a concrete pad furnished with several tables and a little conversation area with two love seats facing one another, and a few yards away, ducks and geese floated on the surface of the water, doing their best to beat the heat.

“If the pergola is new, where did all the vines come from?” he asked as he settled himself in a chair at the table nearest the pond, then cast a curious look up at the lush grapevines that offered shelter from the midday sun.

“Oh, that was a big undertaking,” Bellamy said as she sat down in the seat next to him. For just a second, her knee brushed against his, and another of those happy little thrills went down her back.

The guy definitely had an effect on her, that was for sure.

“How so?” he asked, then lifted his glass of chardonnay so she could clink hers against it.

Tradition satisfied, they both drank, and then she said, “There was an older pergola here that had all the grapevines growing on it, but the wood was starting to rot and Connor and Tony knew they needed to do something about it. So they got a bunch of people to carefully unwrap the vines from the pergola and laid them on the ground, and then they came back in and rebuilt the thing in one day so the grapevines wouldn’t suffer too much.”

“They look happy now,” he said, craning his head to look up at the lush leaves and the clusters of pale grapes that hung from them. Bellamy wasn’t sure if they would be included in the harvest, but they were pretty.

“Oh, everyone did a great job of preserving them,” she replied. “I think Connor was prepared to plant all new ones if he had to, but luckily, it turned out that the original vines survived just fine.”

Marc was silent for a moment as he sipped his chardonnay and watched a pair of ducks squawk at each other before retreating to opposite sides of the pond. Dappled shadows moved across his handsome features, and he appeared unusually contemplative.

“This is a gorgeous place,” he said at length. “I like how you can have such different biospheres so close to one another. You don’t have to drive very far to be someplace completely different.”

Well, that was true. Jerome felt very different from Cottonwood and Clarkdale, just as those towns were utterly different from Sedona. And Page Springs, lush and green thanks to the creek that ran through the narrow canyon, was its own space as well.

“It was a fun place to grow up,” she said, then added, only halfway teasing, “even if it turns out that Sedona is messing with my head somehow.”

His brows drew together, and she could tell he didn’t want to view the situation quite so lightly. “I’m not sure if ‘messing’ is the right word. Maybe it’s nothing…or maybe there really is something about the vortex energy that affects witchy powers.”

Because they were the only ones out here, they didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing what they were saying. Otherwise, Bellamy doubted he would have been quite so casual with the W-word.

“Hopefully, we’ll find out when we talk to the elders tomorrow,” she said, and sipped some of her chardonnay. It was cool and crisp, with just the slightest buttery taste and absolutely no oakiness at all.

Tony Rocha wouldn’t be caught dead putting his chard in oak barrels. No, it was stainless steel all the way for his whites.

Marc nodded. “Yes, it would be good to know what’s going on.”

If it was anything at all. The experience had been just surreal enough that Bellamy still wasn’t sure what to make of it. She still might have imagined the whole thing.

Because how powerful was Sedona if it had already begun to exert its influence on her when she’d only been sleeping at the ranch for a couple of days?

She didn’t know if she wanted to contemplate that slightly alarming prospect, so she did what she could to push it out of her head. No, much better to concentrate on the cool taste of chardonnay on her tongue, and the way the bright August sun danced on the waters of the pond.

Odd how no one else was out here, considering how comfortable the air felt under the pergola. But maybe the two other people in the tasting room — an older couple who looked as if they might be in their late fifties or early sixties — had decided they didn’t want to leave the comfort of the air-conditioned space just in case it turned out to be too warm outside.

And Marc seemed to understand that she preferred to be quiet for a while, to just sit there and drink in the day and not allow too many troubling thoughts to crowd her mind. More than ever, she thought how lucky she was to have met him, how he could have stayed safely in Tucson and only called or texted his grandmother to let her know about his dreams rather than driving all the way up here.

Something had told him he needed to be here in person, though. Was that simple dumb luck, or had some sixth sense decided to exert itself even outside his dreams, subtly compelling him to make the trip north?

They might never know, and she realized she needed to be okay with that.

After they finished their wine, they went inside and handed the empty glasses off to Sabrina, who told them she hoped they’d have a nice rest of their day.

Which of course they did, going next to D.A. Ranch and doing a tasting there before sharing a glass of zinfandel on the big farmhouse’s wraparound porch, and then at last ending up at Page Springs Cellars, where they decided to go straight to having a glass each so they could head outside and stand on the large balcony that overlooked Oak Creek.

Enough people were occupying the space that Bellamy knew she and Marc couldn’t share any confidences regarding his visions or the strange voices she’d heard on the wind the night before. That was all right, though; she liked simply standing there and sipping at her glass of Mule’s Mistake and listening to the murmur of the creek as it wound its way through the canyon and down to the spot where it joined the Verde River several miles to the south. Cottonwoods and oaks and sycamores clustered on the creek’s bank, making the place feel like a green oasis in northern Arizona’s high desert.

“What’s it like in the winter?” Marc asked out of seemingly nowhere, and she smiled.

“Colder.”

He shook his head. “Do you get much snow?”

“Not really. Sure, we’ll get a storm every once in a while that drops a few inches, but most of the time, it’s melted within a few hours. We don’t usually have the kind of storm that leaves you stuck in the house or anything, although it does happen sometimes.” She paused there, remembering a few choice occasions when Main Street had gotten plowed but all the little side streets in Jerome were left buried under six inches or more of snow. People broke out their sleds and skis to get around — and were extremely grateful once all the white stuff finally melted.

That didn’t happen very often, though, and much less here in Page Springs, which was about a thousand feet lower in elevation than Jerome.

“But the trees will be bare until late March or early April, and we definitely have four seasons here.” She paused and looked up at him, at the fine outline of his nose and jaw and brow as he gazed at the creek. “Why? You thinking of relocating or something?”

His dark eyes glinted. “It’s tempting.”

Because of the natural beauty of the area, which clearly had enchanted him…or maybe another reason, one she wasn’t sure either of them should voice aloud?

“I suppose you could make a case for that,” she replied, doing her best to sound nonchalant. “I mean, your mother is from Jerome, so that makes you half a Verde Valley guy, right?”

Now he turned toward her, and something about the way his eyes met hers made her wish they were all alone out here so he could take her in his arms and kiss her the way he had last night.

But then he grinned, saying, “I’m not sure it works that way.”

No, it didn’t. Or at least, while witches and warlocks moved into different territories from time to time, it was only because they’d fallen in love and made a commitment to someone from another clan. It wasn’t as if they picked up and moved whenever the mood struck them.

“Maybe not exactly,” she allowed. “But….”

She let the word trail off because she honestly wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. That she was pretty sure she was already falling for him…falling hard…and that she’d be more than happy to have him living in the Verde Valley permanently?

Of course she wouldn’t blurt out something so crazy, not when she’d only known Marc Trujillo for a couple of days.

On the other hand, nothing was stopping her from thinking it.

Thinking it hard.

His free hand stole toward hers where it rested on the balcony’s railing, his fingers folding around hers, warm and reassuring. Even that gentle touch was enough to send a rush of heat through her, and she lifted her glass of wine to her lips so she could take a sip to hide the tumult of her thoughts.

“I like it here,” he said quietly. Then, “I like you.”

The words came out before she could stop them. “Just ‘like’?”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “Okay, maybe a little more than that.”

Well, there it was. No, they hadn’t come out and declared their undying love for each other, but on the other hand, Bellamy thought they’d just taken an enormous step forward.

She swallowed the last of the wine in her glass, then said, “You want to get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

Although they didn’t do anything so undignified as run straight back to the tasting room, their steps were much more hurried than they would have been under other circumstances. And once they were back out on 89A, Marc spoke again.

“Did you want to go to your place, or would you rather see the Airbnb I’m renting?”

“The Airbnb,” she said promptly. No, of course Ike hadn’t done anything so Victorian as to forbid her from having gentleman callers or anything like that, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure how she felt about spending the inevitable end to their afternoon at the ranch. For whatever reason, Marc’s vacation rental felt much more like neutral ground.

So he drove to a quiet neighborhood just north of the main drag and maybe ten minutes at most from the place where she was currently living. The Airbnb was a small two-bedroom house with whimsical Southwest decor, maybe not something she would have chosen for herself but which she thought fit the location perfectly.

She didn’t have much time to examine the interior after that, because Marc pulled her into his arms and kissed her, kisses redolent of rich red wine and something else, a warm flavor that she thought was his and his alone. Now a heat that rivaled the upper nineties outside surged through her body, telling her that she didn’t care whether she’d only met him the day before yesterday, that she didn’t care about anything at all except getting into the bedroom as quickly as possible.

But then he pulled away for a moment, gazing down at her with an almost worried look on his face.

“We’re not — we’re not going too fast, are we?”

While Bellamy appreciated his concern, she knew there was nothing to worry about. This was exactly where they needed to be…and she had a feeling they would have ended up here even if they hadn’t spent the afternoon drinking wine.

“No,” she replied, taking his hands and holding them tight so he’d know she meant every word. “It’s definitely not too fast. I want this, Marc…I want you.”

That seemed to be the only encouragement he needed, because he bent to kiss her again, kiss her so fiercely that she wasn’t sure whether her knees were about to give way then and there.

And then he took her down the hall to the main bedroom, which had a wonderful king-size bed piled high with pillows. Those pillows were soon scattered across the floor as Marc pushed them out of the way and then yanked back the covers.

They fell onto the bed, still caught up in their embrace, as if neither of them wanted to be the first to let go. But then Bellamy grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, and he chuckled and did the same with the embroidered blouse she wore, although she noticed he was careful to toss it onto the chair in the corner and not the floor the way she’d done with his shirt.

Her hands moved over his smoothly muscled chest, marveling at how strong he was — from all that hiking, or the yard work she assumed must go along with his landscape business? — and how his naturally warm-toned skin was tanned a few shades deeper thanks to the hot summer sun. He bent to kiss her throat and she let out a gasp…a gasp that turned into a satisfied moan as he worked his way down to her breast, pausing to unhook the front clasp of her bra so he could close his lips around her nipple.

Oh, dear Goddess, that was good. She buried her hands in his heavy hair, losing herself as he licked and suckled…felt the heat as his fingers found the button of her jeans and undid it, then tugged on the zipper.

Those clothes were only a barrier to what she wanted. She kicked off her jeans, and then worked on Marc’s as well, adding them to the pile on the floor. Once they were both only clad in their underwear, they kissed again, bare skin to bare skin, needing the contact, needing to make this moment as tactile as possible.

And then even their underwear was too much in the way, so she grabbed hold of the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them down, letting him spring free.

Oh, he was definitely ready…and big.

That was all right, though. She knew she was ready, too.

He slipped his fingers under her panties, caressing her for a moment before he also slid them down her legs and tossed them out of the way. Now she was bare to him, and he continued to stroke her even as his mouth closed on her nipple once more.

Had anything ever felt this good before? Bellamy didn’t think so…even as she realized they were just getting started.

His mouth moved away from her breast, kissing her all down her stomach, pausing for just the barest second before his tongue touched the sensitive nub.

She cried out, arching her back, fingers clutching the sheets as he made love to her with his mouth, taking his time, teasing her nearly to a climax then slowing, doing whatever he could to draw this out.

It was exquisite agony, and she loved every second of it.

The orgasm hit just a few moments later, and she let herself cry out, body practically convulsing as the waves of pleasure flooded through her.

Sweet Goddess, she knew she’d never experienced anything like that before.

She was still panting when Marc moved against her, his rigid cock pressing against her opening.

“Is it okay?” he whispered.

“More than okay,” she said, knowing that those of witch-kind didn’t need to worry about protection. Or at least, the women of the Arizona clans had no need to be concerned, not when the witches from the McAllister family had made sure everyone knew about the charm of Brigid, the one that ensured every single pregnancy was a wanted one.

Marc pressed his lips against her neck, then slid into her. At once, Bellamy wrapped her legs around him, feeling the heavy muscles of his thighs, moaning as he filled her, finding the empty places and making them whole.

They seemed to float in a liminal space, one of light and heat and utter bliss. She knew another climax was approaching, her entire body thrumming with pleasure, and then as he released, she let out a breath and allowed the ecstasy to thrill through every limb, every cell and nerve, her entire being telling her this was what she’d been waiting for all her life…even if she hadn’t known it.

Afterward, they clung to one another for a long moment, their heavy breaths mingling, becoming one. And even when they were two people again, he continued to hold onto her hand, as if he couldn’t bear to lose that point of contact.

“Is it too soon to say that I love you?” he asked, and her eyes warmed with happy tears.

“It’s never too soon,” she whispered. “Never.”

Those dark eyes, so depthless she thought she could get lost in them forever, met hers for a long moment.

“Then I love you, Bellamy McAllister.”

Her fingers tightened on his.

“And I love you, Marc Trujillo.”