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“That’s it? We don’t have to like chant anything special?” Clay asked.

“No, we let Dane work his magic while we all perform the actual spell, which is bathing him with the agrimony.”

Cort had a hard time believing all that stuff would help, but what did he know? He followed the others into the house and watched Wiley boil water. Grey was twisting his hands together, and Cort could read his nerves like a book. He closed his eyes and said a small prayer for this to work. Who he prayed to, he didn’t know, but hopefully some gods or goddesses were listening.

Opening his eyes, his gaze automatically went to Grey, who stood by the counter in jeans and a red T-shirt that made his hair look very black. The gray at his temples was plain sexy.

He walked to him and stroked a hand across his shoulders. “Nervous?”

“Yeah. Just want this to work so badly.” Grey wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him closer. “I’m glad you’re going to be here for this.”

“I am, too.”

Once Wiley boiled the water, he poured it over the agrimony and let it steep. Then he filtered the herbs out and was left with a stew pot full of hot water. “Ready for your bath?” he asked Grey.

“I don’t have any swim trunks, but I can strip off my shirt—that should be enough. This is going to be weird as hell anyway.”

Wiley just flashed him a sweet smile. “Let’s take it outside because we’re going to make a mess. Dane, you hold all those crystals while you do your thing, and we’ll wash the water onto Grey.”

Everyone grabbed rags out of the drawer, and they all walked outside. Bright sunlight lit the pool, making it look like diamonds sparkled on its surface. They went to the patio table and Wiley set the pot on it. Cort, the only one not a mate, stood to the side, feeling a little left out as he watched Grey pull off his shirt. He couldn’t help but eye that fine form as the Weavers gathered around him and all dipped their rags into the water.

Dane, holding the stones, hovered his hands over Grey’s head as the others began to wipe the water onto his skin. Okay, it was kind of sexy, watching all those men rubbing their rags onto Grey’s chest and back. The man’s skin began to shine in the sunlight, and water dripped to his navel and darkened the waistband of his jeans. Cort chewed on his lower lip, wishing he were one of the ones bathing his man. Because Grey was his man, and to hell with all that soul mate bullshit.

Grey stood with his eyes closed, tension tightening his lips into thin lines. He wanted this to work so badly, and so did Cort. But the man also looked uncomfortable as hell, and Cort could only imagine. He’d have a hard time standing there while everyone hovered over him, too. Plus, it was only about fifty degrees, so he’d started shivering.

“I was right,” Grey growled. “This is weird as hell.”

“It is for us, too,” Clay added, chuckling. He squeezed his rag over Grey’s shoulder, water running down his chest.

“Just keep washing him.” Wiley dipped his rag into the water and scrubbed at Grey’s back.

“Do you have to rub that hard?” Grey still had his eyes closed.

Lucien rubbed his rag over Grey’s face, and he frowned.

“Really getting it in there.” Wiley winked at Cort, then pushed his glasses up with one finger.

Dane had his eyes closed, one hand holding the crystals and the other he’d placed on the side of Grey’s head. Even in the sunlight, Cort could see something shimmering around Dane’s hand, and his gut tightened into a knot.

“Shit!” Grey said suddenly as he slammed his hands over his eyes.

Cort rushed to him. “What is it? Is it working?”

“Opened my eyes. Sudden light is blinding.” Excitement threaded his voice even as it sounded pained.

“Keep your eyes covered and closed and slowly blink behind your hand,” Cort instructed, fighting hard to keep his voice calm and even when fear was stampeding through him.

Grey cried out, this time grabbing his head as he fell to his knees.

“Stop! It’s hurting him!” Cort grabbed Dane’s hands but Dane was already pulling away. Cort dropped to his knees and leaned into Grey, his hands on Grey’s shoulders. “What is it, baby?”

“The light just hit all at once—sent pain screaming through my head.”

“You’ll have to get used to it slowly. Do what I said and blink behind your hand.”

Grey did what he said, slowly lowering his hand until those slate-gray eyes focused on him and widened.

“You see me?” Cort asked, afraid to hope.

The grin that slowly stretched Grey’s lips was beautiful. “I do, and that’s not all I see.”

“What?” Cort brushed Grey’s hair from his forehead, amazed at the way the man was looking at him. Like he was some kind of surprising gift.


Tags: Jocelynn Drake, Rinda Elliott The Weavers Circle Romance