Shattered

by Melissa Lummis

  Margarite looked around at Loti who wouldn’t meet her gaze, her brow wrinkled. She glanced up at Wolf who wasn’t even bothering to hide his wicked smile. “You really don’t think it’s anything to worry about?” Then her face went slack and they could almost see the light bulb appear above her head.

  “Oh.” A repressed laugh twisted her mouth. “Oh. Je vous prie de m'excuser.” She hid her laugh behind a petite hand. She was gifted in energy detection, but it hadn’t occurred to her, to any of them, that the source of this particular energetic footprint could have been unintentional.

  “Let’s go see what Peacepipe and Mitch have cooked up.” Guided slapped Wolf on the back and left the room, a big grin on his mug.

  Calisto and Margarite followed him. Margarite mouthed, “I’m sorry” to Loti as Calisto dragged her by the hand through the doorway. When Loti turned to Wolf, he was grinning at her like the Cheshire cat.

  “Stop it. That was ridiculously embarrassing.” Loti play slapped him on the arm. He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

  “I thought sex was the last thing that would embarrass you?” Her chest heaved as he enveloped her in his arms and kissed her neck.

  She pushed him away, reluctantly. “I’m not, usually, but come on, even you have to admit that this is weird. We can’t make love without something changing between us, and now we’re leaving metaphysical wet spots?”

  He laughed so loud, she knew everyone in the house must have heard him. He hugged her tight and stroked her hair. As his chest stopped jerking with laughter, she felt his mood shift to provocative things and she quickly pulled away. “No. We have people and things to take care of.”

  He gave her a slow, easy kiss that lingered like they had all the time in the world. And if they could solve their Modore problem, that might actually be true. Healers and witches tended to live much longer when bound to a vampire. No one had any idea how long a Light Walker lived, after their powers had been awakened. Loti was the only Light Walker anyone knew of.

  Turned on but still in control, she broke the kiss and led Wolf back out into the living room into the midst of their handpicked version of a family. Every face, every soul was even more precious because they had all chosen each other. Peacepipe leaned against the Prof, laughing at the story Sensei was telling about his latest filming escapades in Belize.

  Mitch held a glass of red wine, her face a serious study while Peacemaker and Critter bounced ideas around about a new client who seemed to be suffering from something like fibromyalgia. Both were a little skeptical about the new diagnosis. Peacemaker thought it was the fallback diagnosis for technical doctors when their tests and modern technology failed them.

  “There’s a place for all of us in the healing process,” Critter was saying. “If we work together, we’ll get to the heart of the matter.”

  Loti moved through the room, greeting her new friends like they had been friends forever. She felt as if they had just gotten separated at some point and were finally coming back together. Wolf was talking to Michael, his friend who owned Blazewood General next to Wolf’s bike shop, about the repairs that were almost finished. The shop had suffered damage when Wolf had been attacked and kidnapped by Modore and his minions.

  Loti swallowed a lump in her throat as Wolf flashed on his friend and employee, Merle, who had been killed in the attack. He was too young. Thank god Randy and the baby had been spared. She didn’t know how much more guilt she could take. Merle was dead because of her, and although she never met him, she knew him through Wolf’s memories. She cried Wolf’s tears for him at Merle’s funeral, missed him for Wolf, and ground her teeth with Wolf’s anger over not being able to protect him.

  “Hey,” Wolf took her hand as she fussed with the dirty glasses on the breakfast bar. She looked up into his liquid brown eyes and caught the sob in her throat. “It’s okay. We’ll make this right.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She pulled her hand away as she loaded the glasses into the new stainless steel dishwasher. “I can’t help thinking Merle and Patrick won’t be the last casualties.” She slammed the dishwasher shut. Everyone glanced in her direction, then quickly looked away, their conversations subdued.

  “We didn’t choose this war, Loti, but we have to fight it.” Wolf came up behind her and put a hand on her waist.

  “I know that,” she snapped, “but I don’t have to like it.”

  Wolf moved in close, his breath on the back of her neck. “You need to learn how not to express every emotion you have.” She knew he was just trying to help, but that didn’t stop the anger from bubbling up.

  “Really? I think I’ve done a good job up until I had to cover for you, too.” She spun in his arms and smacked at them as he pinned her against the counter with his body. “Let me go,” she whispered through her teeth.

  “No, not until you calm down.” Wolf rubbed his hands over her hips.

  “Let me go,” she said louder. He kissed her nose. “Stop it.” She shoved, but he was a brick wall.

  “Loti.” He kissed her ear.

  “I want to be mad.” Her bottom lip stuck out.

  “No you don’t.” Their voices were so quiet no one else could hear them, and the crowd was back to their noisy fray. “Let me in.”

  Her shields were partially up from when she sensed his anger and sadness over Merle. She dropped them and caught her breath at the love pouring off him. Her head fell to his chest, his chin rested on top. It still shook her to her core to feel his emotions, to know exactly what he felt for her.

  He loved her with the same soul-jarring passion that she loved him, but he also felt compelled to protect her, to help her. She let his compassion fill her up and settled into his love, relished his need for her, cherished it. Her hands slipped around his waist, his around her back. She held onto him, wondering if she could meld her skin with his.

  “We have guests,” he whispered through a grin.

  She reluctantly pulled away to look around. “I think they’re getting ready to leave.”

  Friends were gathering cups, chatting, and picking up discarded plates and napkins. Mitch and Peacepipe were clearing the buffet. Wolf and Loti stepped out of their way as they cleaned up the kitchen and put away the leftovers.

  “You might as well take some of this.” Loti realized she was standing there gawking and grabbed a bowl of salad. “I’m the only one who eats in this house and it will go bad.”

  “I’ll take some.” Peacepipe gave Loti a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in her ear.

  “I know,” Loti whispered back, but she wasn’t so sure.

  Despite all her longing and praying, she knew deep down Modore would never give up. Would they have to kill him to end this? That thought shook her more than anything, killing him. You shouldn’t have to kill someone just to live a normal life, or as normal as she and Wolf could live.

  * * *

  The house was quiet with everyone gone, and Loti puttered around her new kitchen while waiting for the water in the tea kettle to boil. The phone rang and she wiped her hands on a tea towel and balanced the receiver between her shoulder and her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, sweetie! I miss you.” It was her best friend, Rachel.

  Loti beamed as she hung the towel on the stove. “Me too. How’s D.C.?”

  “Perfect. Exactly what I needed.”

  “Are you still coming home this Sunday?” Loti missed her best friend more than she expected. Maybe it had to do with Rachel almost dying not that long ago.

  “Absolutely. How are the new digs?”

  “Great. I really love it.” She glanced around the cozy house lit only by fire and moonlight. “They did a good job.”

  “Well, you designed it. I’m sure it’s perfect. Can’t wait to see it all decked out.”

  Loti took in the hardwood floors, the candles glowing on the altar by the front door, and the fire flickering in the stone fireplace. Wolf reclined on the pale leather couch that
matched her recliner, reading something on his phone. He stretched his legs and crossed his black boots. His fingers blurred as he texted.

  “Loti?” Rachel’s voice rose.

  Loti reached up for the receiver just as it slipped from her shoulder. “I’m here. Sorry.” She leaned on the counter and tucked her free hand under her other arm. “Yes, we’re all moved in. I can’t believe how fast everyone unpacked the truck and got it all put away. It was done before we got here.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “So how did the meeting go?” Loti tore her gaze from Wolf.

  “Actually, really well. I just got off the phone with Nan. Looks like we might have a new member joining the coven. Her name’s Heather.”

  “Katie mentioned her name. MacGregor, right? Where’d she find her?” Loti opened the cabinet and retrieved her favorite mug, a brown glazed and misshapen one with a rough outline of a lotus flower etched on it. Rachel had made it for her in pottery class.

  “Yes. A friend recommended her, but it wasn’t an official referral through the American Witches Association. Anyway, she’s almost completely untrained. Everything she knows she’s taught herself, for the most part. Her partner has started teaching her what he knows, but he’s vampire, so can’t really show her how to do things.”

  “Are they bonded?” Loti turned off the stove before the tea kettle’s squeal escalated.

  “Just recently, I’d guess.”

  “What do you know about him?” Loti had become guarded about newcomers, and so had Wolf. She glanced up at him, and he was watching her intently.

  “He’s well known in D.C., been a mover and a shaker for years. Made around the turn of the twentieth century.”

  “Who’s his maker?” Loti poured hot water over the chamomile in her mug, then over the spearmint in Wolf’s.

  “You sound like Wolf,” Rachel teased. “Don’t sweat it. They’ve been vetted. The vamp’s maker is registered, but he passed some time ago. He checks out. But he’s a loner. Not nested. Not a bad guy. His morals are a little grey when it comes to his business dealings, but he’s a vamp, so you know. ”

  “How so?” Loti blew on the hot tea. Wolf picked up his green man mug and sipped.

  “Ask if she got the background check I sent her,” Wolf whispered. Loti waved a hand at him, and crinkled her nose.

  “Oh, he owns a few gentlemen’s clubs in D.C. and New York, that kind of thing.” Rachel snickered. “Figures, right? Do you know where he met Heather?”

  “One of the clubs?” Loti looked up at Wolf as he drank his tea.

  “Bingo. Poor thing. She probably had a crappy childhood.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, why else would she be stripping? You can’t think very highly of yourself and strip for a living.”

  “Rache,” Loti chided.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Loti. You know what I’m saying. I’m not judging her.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Rachel was silent for a moment. “You won’t let me get away with anything, will you?” Her tone was half peeved.

  “Nope. So now what? Is she moving down here to work with the coven?”

  “Yes. There will be a trial period of one year. If she’s a fit, if she’s willing to work hard and she’s as powerful as everyone seems to think she is, then she’ll become a permanent member.”

  “Do you like her?” Loti wandered over to the couch, Wolf behind her listening to both sides of the conversation.

  “Yeah, I do. She’s a little co-dependent on her vamp, but I get that. He’s totally overprotective of her, too, and I can only imagine she hasn’t had any good male role models.” She paused. “Sorry, am I being judgmental, again?”

  “No, you’re being honest about your opinion. I think you may be right, based on what you’ve told me. I’d have to meet her to know for sure.”

  “Can you read things like that about people?”

  Loti chuckled. “No, not really. It’s not like their aura gives away all their secrets. I can tell if people are sick, or what they are—even if they don’t know— but I can’t profile them. I can’t read their minds.” She looked up at Wolf as he settled an arm on the back of the couch, over her shoulders. “At least not yet.”

  Wolf blew a soft, short breath out his nose and his lips twitched.

  “Oh. Well, anyway. They’ll both be in Lewiston by the time I get back. He’s already rented a place. Won’t let her out of his sight. Geez.”

  “Well, it’s not comfortable to be away from your bond-mate.”

  “No, I get that. It’s just, well, maybe I’m jealous.” Rachel was silent on the other end. When she spoke next, her voice was over-energized. “He’s also this big real estate magnate, has his fingers in a lot of pies, and incredibly good looking—eerily good looking. And he follows this little red bombshell around like . . . well, like a puppy. But not quite. He’s too smooth for that. But he’s not glossy. He’s not fake, you know?” Rachel sighed.

  “Yeah.” Loti knew Rachel was still sorting through her feelings about many things: the betrayal by her surrogate grandfather, his death, her uncle Wolf coming back into her life, and then her best friend blood bonding with him.

  “I better get going,” Rachel finally said.

  Loti glanced at the mantel clock. “Wow. It’s almost two o’clock in the morning. I kind of loose track of time these days.”

  “It must be a confusing, this days and nights thing.”

  “Eh, we’re finding a rhythm that works.”

  “Well, I’ll let you go.” Rachel yawned. “I still need to sleep at night.”

  “Good night, Rache.”

  “Night.”

  Loti pressed the end call button and laid the receiver down on the coffee table. Leaning into Wolf, she stared at the crackling fire.

  “You okay with this new couple?” she asked.

  “No, but I don’t know why. Everything checks out and the coven needs a new member since Patrick’s death.” Wolf stared at the fire, its flickering reflected in his eyes.

  “I know. I feel the same way. There’s nothing I can put a finger on, other than it’s not a good time to be admitting new people to our group.”

  “It’s not really up to us. It’s Katie’s call.” Wolf pulled her into the nook of his arm, both of them struggling with an uneasy, unformed doubt.

  Chapter Five

  Christian double checked the sunshield on the window and then turned to Heather with her legs stretched out on the couch reading a magazine.

  “You ought to be practicing,” he chided. He lifted her bare legs and slid in underneath, stroking a foot.

  “I’m beat. Can’t I take one night off?” She flipped the page, not looking up at him.

  He took a slow breath and closed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just tired. It was a busy day and I’m tired. That’s all.” She pulled her feet in as she shifted to a seated position. She leaned into Christian’s side, and he draped an arm behind her. “Do you know most witches can do magic from birth?” She flapped the magazine in his face.

  “What are you reading?” He snagged it out of her hand and she slapped at him.

  “Hey, give it back.”

  She snatched at it, but he held it just out of reach, dangling it like the proverbial carrot. She slid over his lap, reaching up as she braced herself on the arm of the couch. As she stretched long, her silk robe slipped, giving Christian glimpses of bare skin. He inhaled as he slid a hand over her backside, pressing his face to her neck.

  She turned to him, abandoning Witches Weekly. Her skin prickled deliciously wherever he touched. It was supersensitive to his touch. Ordinary touches from others, like handshakes, were pale, ghostly comparisons. His hand glided along the silk to her neck and he settled her in his lap. The magazine dropped to the floor as he curled an arm around her. A soft moan escaped her as his hands found the opening in her robe, caressed her bare skin.
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br />   “Again?” She gazed up into his bright, blue eyes.

  “Again,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair.

  She felt it too—this incessant want, a constant on-edge that never completely left. They were like honeymooners and she feared it would die down one day and he would regret their bond. She needed to find out how these blood bond things went. Maybe Rachel knew about them. Did they get stronger or weaker over time?

  Christian slipped the robe down her shoulders and moved her long red hair out of the way so he could kiss her bare shoulder. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he shifted to untie the sash and peel the robe off. His eyes locked on hers as she straddled him. He ran his hands over the outside of her thighs, over her hips and up her back. She smiled down at him as she ran her fingers through his blonde hair, cut slightly long so the bangs would occasionally obscure his eyes.

  All at once, he stood up, cupping her ass with his hands and she wrapped her legs around his back. He held her as if she weighed nothing and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, as he carried her off to their new bedroom in their new condo in the sleekest part of the university town.

  * * *

  “When do we meet the rest of the coven?” Heather spooned jam onto her croissant as Christian checked his text messages.

  “You’ll meet them today.” He glanced up from his phone.

  “Me? Just by myself?” She talked through a mouthful of croissant.

  “You’ll be fine. You’re a big girl, remember?” He winked with a lopsided grin on his face.

  Heather flipped her hair over her shoulder, glaring at him. “You arranged all of this and now you’re going to throw me to the wolves?”

  “They’re witches, Heather, not lycanthrope. You’ll fit right in.” He gave her a meaningful look as he stood up from the table.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t understand all this. What is the point? I thought you were going to teach me.”

  Christian set the cell phone aside and leaned over the back of her chair, brushing her hair out of the way as he kissed her neck. “We discussed this.”