Hunted: witch paranormal romance (Coven of the Raven Book 2)

by Shona Husk

  That’s why Her touch had been hot. “Would she have burned up like…like Cory?” There, she’d said it. It wasn’t that hard. Her husband was dead. She was a widow…except they’d never find the body. Would she be a suspect?

  “Eventually. Even if the god leaves before that happens, the person is left with impressions and memories that don’t make sense. It can be hard to live with.”

  “Do they recover?”

  “Some don’t, some learn to live with it. Imagine having your mind filled with history and battles. You’d never need to go to the movies again.” He almost managed a smile.

  “Will I go insane from seeing all of this?” She was pretty sure that with one good push she’d be off the edge of that cliff.

  Noah looked at her. “No, but you need to embrace it as real instead of trying to put it aside. Accept that maybe you aren’t as ordinary as you thought you were. And while the time has long passed for you to train as a witch, that doesn’t mean you don’t recognize power when you see it. Maybe that’s part of what attracted you to Cory. Two would-be witches in a small town.”

  She tried to remember that first sizzle of attraction she’d felt with Cory. She’d loved him once, even though that man had long since vanished. “He put his talent into football, like you. It’s why people liked him, he was doing it subconsciously. If he hadn’t been injured…”

  “No, the crack that let the demon in had started long before that. If you’re using magic for self-gain and to trick other people, you’re already splitting.” He took another drink of water. “I think I’m ready to try standing up.”

  If Rachel hadn’t been there to help him, it was entirely possible that he’d have just laid on the bed and gone to sleep, only to wake up in the hospital several days later hooked up to a bunch of machines. She stood up and held out her hand to help him up.

  So many people would have run out of the building screaming into the night. Not Rachel. Hell, even the Morrigu liked her enough to hijack a body for a few minutes. While Rachel may not have any magic to use, she could still be affected by it.

  “I’m not showering alone.” He tugged her toward the bathroom.

  “No, you nearly fainted. You need to rest.”

  “I prefer collapsed—it sounds less girly.”

  Rachel gave him a glare. “Fainted.”

  “Well, if you really want to go to sleep covered in the remains of demon magic…” He knew that would work. She pulled a face, proving he was right, and then let him draw her into the bathroom.

  She got the water running. “Seriously, are you okay? You looked wiped.”

  He had been. He’d drawn on power reserves he didn’t know he had. Just because he had a goddess didn’t mean he had unlimited power. He could only channel what his body could take, and he’d pushed it in the equivalent of a magical ultra-marathon. It was going to hurt tomorrow, even though he was doing everything he could tonight to patch up any damage.

  He undid his shirt; there was a purple-black bruise spreading over his chest, as though something had hit him and broken half-a-dozen ribs.

  Rachel stared. “How did that happen? Cory never touched you.”

  “Remember when the circle broke? It felt like I was hit by a truck.”

  “Magic gave you bruises?”

  “Cause and effect. When the circle broke, the power had to go somewhere, and since I was casting it, I took a lot of the impact.” And tomorrow his muscles would be complaining, but at least he wouldn’t be hung over, and he wouldn’t have the guilt of another one night stand.

  “You weren’t just faint, you’re actually wounded.”

  “There’s no blood. I’m good.”

  That just made her eyes widen. “I didn’t realize magic was so dangerous.”

  Noah finished undressing, his back and arms already feeling tight. “Power always has a price.” She was still standing there fully clothed. “Come on.” He started tugging at her clothes. He could feel the heat of the water and it was sounding ever-so-tempting to just get in and wash the night away.

  Rachel started helping, and then they were stepping under the water. Hotel showers were not made for two. Well, maybe the really fancy hotels had showers made for two, but this one didn’t. He tipped his face to the water and let everything go. He wanted to let it go, so it took only seconds for him to feel the weight lift. Then he took half a step back and drew Rachel into the water. Her brown hair stuck to her cheeks as she let the water drum on her head. She wasn’t letting it go.

  “Turn around and close your eyes,” he said softly.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Wash your hair, and you are going to imagine you are standing under a massive waterfall. You can’t fight against it, so let go of everything that you are holding onto.” It was what he’d used to have to do. Sometimes it was hard to let things go and start afresh the next day—even though it sounded like a really good idea.

  She turned and he picked up the complimentary shampoo. He lathered his own hair first, he was sure there was still ash and bits of wood in there, then took his time working the shampoo into hers. His fingers pressed on her scalp lightly. While he concentrated on her hair, he was well aware that she was naked and only inches away from him. He nudged her forward so she could rinse her hair. He could feel her trying to let go.

  “Just think of the water. Tons of it stripping away everything.”

  She nodded and this time it worked. The remains of the night’s magic sloughed away. He made sure all the shampoo was out of her hair before he stepped forward so he was hard up against her—so he could rinse his hair, of course. Then he slipped his arm around her and kissed the back of her neck, even though it was washed away by the water.

  “You must be feeling better.” Rachel wiggled her butt against him.

  “I am.” If he’d only been halfway there before, his body didn’t need any further encouragement to be hard and ready, but he was not going to stand in the shower—he didn’t have that much energy. He reached around and turned off the taps.

  They dried off between kisses, each one sparking and making its own magic that would go back into his energy store without him even trying. Nature doesn’t like a vacuum and magic was no different. While he knew that there were ways to raise even more power through sex magic, he wasn’t going to experiment with that tonight. Maybe once he resumed studying spell craft again it would be something he looked into…if Rachel was willing.

  When they were dry, he grabbed a condom and they crawled into bed. He drew her close, her back against his chest. Her skin tasted sweet as he kissed her neck, his fingers sliding between her thighs, dipping into her slick core. He pressed his shaft close but she pulled away.

  “I want to face you.” Then she rolled over and hooked her leg over his hip.

  He eased into her, and for a moment didn’t want to move at all. He’d never been able to share the fall out of magic with anyone so completely. He cupped her cheek and kissed her, knowing he’d never be able to explain what this meant to him, only that he’d never wanted, needed or loved anyone like Rachel.

  Chapter 21

  It had been two weeks since Cory had incinerated. Two weeks since Rachel had left New York and gone home. He’d known she would, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. He’d thought she’d stay for a week or so, so they could see if they had something more than running and hiding from demons.

  Logically it made sense, the cops were looking for Cory and it just seemed as though she’d gotten spooked in New York and run home to her parents. No one was implicated in anything, which was just the way he liked it.

  He’d have liked a phone call.

  Usually it was him who did the running and never calling. But they’d had something. He was sure of that. He’d felt it shimmer over his skin. Love sucked. This was the reason he’d never played that game before. He picked up the envelope and letter, scrunched them into a ball and tossed it into the bin. The blood test had given him the
all clear. He should be celebrating by going out, but he’d done it for her, hoping she’d call or come back.

  He was stuck on the front desk for another half hour, until closing time. He’d thought accepting the job of looking after the coven finances would have gotten him off desk duty—apparently not. And everyone else was conveniently busy on actual cases while he had some down time. This was his third day of front-desk duty in a row.

  Admittedly, he had taken nearly a week to fully recover and for the bruises to fade, and he was only just back at training. However, sitting here gave him too much time to think and dwell on why Rachel hadn’t called. Should he call her? Or maybe this was her way of breaking it off. That idea hurt far more than it should.

  Around him the building went oddly silent; warning crept down his spine with a warm prickling of his skin. Something was about to happen. He eased the chair back from the desk and drew up some power, snapping a defensive circle around himself just as the door swung open.

  Rachel stood in the doorway. Same bag slung over her shoulder as she’d had the last time he’d sat here.

  Did he need to protect himself from her? Not magically, but she’d still hurt him. He let the circle drop, but didn’t let his hopes get up off the floor. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  No, he’d just imagined it happening every hour since she’d left. Maybe he was asleep and the Morrigu was tormenting him. That was more likely than Rachel walking in.

  “I didn’t expect to be here, either.” She dropped the bag but didn’t come any closer. “I keep having nightmares.”

  “Side effect. They’ll last for a while, then you’ll just get them randomly. They probably won’t leave altogether.” He was still waking to the sound of Cory’s enraged screaming, flames licking at his skin. “You could have asked me that over the phone.”

  “I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to call, but…but I didn’t want to get brushed off. I didn’t want to hear that you’d moved on.”

  It couldn’t be further from the truth. “What did you want to hear?”

  She smiled, but it was pale, like winter sunlight. “I want to see you again.”

  He stood up and walked over to her. He needed to be sure she was real. When he took her hand, she was warm and solid, not something dragged from his imagination. “I meant what I said.”

  She smiled. “I know. I owe you drinks. I haven’t forgotten. Things have been messy at my end.”

  “I can imagine. Unfortunately, the Icehotel is booked out for the remainder of this winter…we’ll have to wait until next year.” He’d checked, just in case she came back.

  She stared at him for a heartbeat, looking him in the eye when most people would look away, sensing something about him, maybe knowing in their heart that he touched a power they couldn’t. “Wow, I’m not sure I can wait another twelve months to go out on a proper date with you.”

  “We could do dinner tonight?” He was hoping she couldn’t hear how loudly his heart was banging on his ribs. He’d rather face a demon than have Rachel knock him back.

  “I’d like that.” She put her arms around him and kissed him the way he’d been dreaming of, except this was far better.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Noah picked up his shot glass, tapped it to Rachel’s, then downed the vodka. For a second it was the warmest he’d been all day. There was something about the cold, it didn’t matter how well he wrapped up, it was there—in his lungs, on his face—but it was worth it to see her smiling and laughing.

  Icehotel, Jakkasjarvi. Closer to the Arctic Circle than he ever needed to be.

  Her cheeks were pink and, sitting in the bar with light bouncing off the ice and making everything seem less than real, he wondered how he’d managed to end up here with Rachel. They’d been together for twelve months. That was a personal best when it came to relationships for him, but he couldn’t imagine living without her.

  “What’re you thinking?” Rachel put her hand on his leg.

  “How lucky I am.”

  She grinned. “Let’s get that thermal sleeping bag. I can’t wait to see you in your long johns.”

  “Next holiday we go somewhere warm.” Where there was less clothing involved.

  “Put it on the list.”

  They’d made a list together and it was now stuck to the fridge in their apartment above the agency. They’d been crossing things off. New bed and sheets. Rachel getting a job—she had, and the school was close by. They weren’t going to let dreams slide by—even though he wasn’t chasing after demons anymore, some still found him. Then there was the other coven work, both magical and financial. While he’d never admit it, he was enjoying working with numbers again.

  They collected the double sleeping bag and spread it out on the bed made of ice and covered in reindeer skins. The whole room was a work of art, sculpted in ice and lit softly. Come summer it would all be gone. It seemed like a terrible waste, and yet every year it was rebuilt different and with new sculptures. A reminder that nothing in life was permanent, and yet it held beauty anyway. He drew the curtain that passed for a door and turned around. She was already sitting, tugging off boots and pants.

  Last night they’d been in a lovely cozy cabin.

  She looked up at him. “What?”

  He shook his head.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s lovely, perfect. I should’ve bought a ring.” This was the golden moment that he would never get again and he’d screwed it up.

  Rachel blinked a couple of times. “As in engagement?”

  “Yeah.” Was she not interested?

  “I thought you had, and I’ve been waiting and wondering.” She sighed. “I can relax now.”

  “Why?” He walked toward her, definitely not relaxed now.

  “Because now I know you’re not going to ask…not that I don’t want you to, but I’m kind of enjoying just where we are.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just that.” She grabbed his jacket and pulled him down. “I don’t need a ring, only you.”

  I hope you enjoyed reading Hunted. The first book in the Coven of the Raven series Cursed is available now and Peyton’s book, Embodied, is next.

  Please consider leaving a review of Hunted in your favourite place such as Goodreads.

  Happy reading

  Shona

  Excerpt: Cursed

  The house was silent as Mylla went through every room of the large, old place and closed the curtains. In the music room she paused for a moment to stare out into the yard. The dark shapes of trees loomed out of the dusk, but beyond them through the tangle of shrubs and overgrown grasses were statues. A shiver ran down her back. They were too life like. From here it almost looked like a garden party that never moved or was waiting for permission to move. They gave her the creeps. That was why she didn’t spend much time in the yard. She frowned. Did she ever go into the yard?

  She tried to force thoughts into her mind, to raise a memory of something that had meaning. It was so hard to remember and think beyond the tasks assigned to her.

  Cook the meals, clean the house. Every day the same until she couldn’t tell one from another. She could have been here a week or years. But she’d been keeping track and knew the truth even though it didn’t make sense.

  “Mylla.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned.

  He looked at her, his stare hard and piercing, as if he could see into her soul, and all the thoughts she’d been trying to gather scattered like fallen leaves in a breeze. She wanted to run after them, catch them and hold them close, but not while he was watching. He couldn’t know. Yet why she knew that she couldn’t explain, only that if he knew she had her own thoughts he would take them away. She was sure he made her forget things, but she couldn’t remember enough to confirm her own suspicions.

  “You will need to prepare the servants’ quarters. I have advertised for a gardener.”

&n
bsp; She nodded. The order felt familiar and filled her with equal parts hope and dread. Had he made her do that before? He must have.

  “Is there anything you’d like to ask?”

  She swallowed. There was so much she wanted to ask, and yet she couldn’t make the words. They wouldn’t come. Questions were dangerous. Instead her reply was wooden and simple, as he expected. “No, Sir.”

  Her voice. She still had one. She wanted to dance but didn’t know how. She wanted to say something else just to hear her voice again; it was so rare she spoke. Her lips opened. Mr. Quigley was staring at her as if daring her.

  Mylla closed her mouth and ducked her head. It was better to be silent. Pretend that she didn’t have enough of a mind to remember things and know something wasn’t right. Even if she didn’t know what right was.

  “When you are finished with your jobs, bathe and come to my room.” Mr. Quigley smiled and it stirred memories that she thought lost. They swam at the murky depths of her mind for just a moment before sinking back into the gloom as if they’d never existed. But they had been there, she was sure of it. Why else would she fear going to his room at night?

  Why else would her stomach knot and tremble?

  She nodded even though she wanted to say no. Her toes gripped the inside of her shoes, a tiny movement that she controlled. Again, that was important. But it was also important he didn’t know. Later she’d read the notes she’d made in secret in the book and remember to make another mark on the wall behind her chest of drawers, and she’d remind herself that she shouldn’t look this young when the marks on the wall said she’d been there for twenty years.

  It had been longer. She was sure, but did she trust her own mind when so much seemed to be missing?

  He gave her one last lingering look and left the room. When he was gone, she turned back to the window to draw the heavy curtains. A large crow landed on the balcony railing. It cocked its head and stared at her.