She shook her head sharply, producing another jolt of agony. The song was in her head, and this was not the time or place to focus on it. The part of her life during which she’d composed her own music was long gone now, gone forever; all that mattered was getting out of this place before something bad happened.
As she turned toward her brother, she whispered, “Danny, we should—”
But Danny was already walking deeper into the house.
Damnit.
“Danny!”
Chapter Two
With a growl, Merrick slammed the book closed, flattened his palms on his desk, and shoved himself to his feet.
He’d been annoyed when the tingling sensation in the back of his skull—warning him that two people had crossed the ward at the front gate—had interrupted his concentration a few minutes earlier. That initial irritation had only intensified when he’d heard footsteps on the porch as the trespassers slowly circled the house; the relative quiet of the manor and his heightened senses had made the soft thumps audible from inside his study.
But irritation had flared into anger when he heard glass break down in the foyer. Apparently, merely willing someone to leave could not make it so despite the immensity of the power at his command.
Visitors—whether invited or not—had always been rare here. That had been one of the reasons he’d chosen this location. That it was situated along an ancient ley line was a bonus; he’d been more interested in its remoteness. Before the moon had shattered, most of his uninvited callers had taken one look at the manor and left, understanding the message Merrick had intended the exterior to convey—this is not a place for you; leave.
Apparently, that message was lost on modern humans. Between these two and the group of teenaged vandals who’d wandered onto his property in a drunken stupor a few years ago, he’d well surpassed his tolerance for trespassers.
He strode toward the door leading out of the study, keeping his steps silent despite his anger. He’d never thought highly of humans, and this was more evidence justifying that opinion.
Whatever the situation was in the wider world—the plight of humanity was not Merrick’s—it did not afford these people the right to come onto his land and break into his home. Avoiding interaction with humans had been impossible during his long life; though he rarely needed to eat, he still required food and supplies, and he had little interest in living in a shack in the middle of the woods without a single modern convenience. But he only dealt with humans on his own terms.
Electric tendrils of magic flowed over his skin as he opened the door and walked across the loft. The power thrumming through him was enough to annihilate any mortal he chose to turn it upon—that would be the quickest, easiest way to resolve this matter. If these humans had come with good intentions, they would’ve knocked on his door. They would’ve implored him for aid.
He still wouldn’t have trusted them, but at least his irritation wouldn’t have escalated into fury.
The energy gathering in his hands was raw and bristling—two scintillating spheres of chaos wrenched from the magical energies underpinning the universe—and it felt good to have that magic flowing through him in such a pure state. When the moon had broken—an event the humans had aptly dubbed the Sundering on the few radio broadcasts still operational in the days afterward—Merrick’s power had been vastly amplified, but there’d been no reason to use it like this before now.
Merrick halted when the intruders, who were standing just inside the doorway below, came into view. Neither of them was looking toward the loft; their attention was directed elsewhere, their eyes wide and jaws slack.
One was a child, a boy too young to even sport hair on his face, and the other was a female. They both held knives, the boy’s comically large in his hand.
The woman turned her face toward Merrick.
Reacting purely on instinct, Merrick curled his fingers into fists, snuffing out the gathering magic, and willed the nearby shadows to envelop his body like a burial shroud. The woman’s gaze lingered on Merrick’s position, but he could tell by the way her eyes moved that she couldn’t see him amidst the gloom.
Human eyes struggled in the dark.
He studied her over the course of a few heartbeats. Her large, brown eyes gleamed with fear and uncertainty, and yet they were utterly beautiful—they were the most expressive eyes he’d ever seen. Her full lips were tantalizingly pink. She wore her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a few curled strands hanging loose at the sides of her face.
Her features had an alluring, feminine softness to them, but they also bore evidence of the hard world from which she’d come—her cheekbones were accentuated by a hint of gauntness in her cheeks, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.
Though she was clearly an adult woman, there was a certain innocence to her face—but it was an innocence that had somehow been sharpened and hardened by her experiences.
A strange but powerful urge rose inside him, fluttering in his chest. It took him a moment to realize that it was a magical resonance, a mana song, singing soft and sweet—a gentle melody existing beneath his own, existing within it.
Suddenly, he wanted to go downstairs, wanted to go to her. Not to kill her or frighten her, not to reprimand or confront her, but to be near her, to find out why she looked like she carried the world on her shoulders, to find out why she was so sad, so worn, and yet so pure.
The boy moved out of Merrick’s view, proceeding toward the parlor.
“Danny, we should—” the woman whispered before hurrying along behind the boy. “Danny!”
Merrick’s brows fell low. He stepped forward and grasped the railing, leaning over it to glance down, but the two had already moved beneath the overhang.
He tightened his grip and clenched his jaw. Why had he hesitated? Why hadn’t he, at the very least, demanded an explanation from them? Instead of confronting the intruders, he’d hidden himself and stared at the woman like a smitten fool.
They broke into my home, he reminded himself, and they are human. That makes them as dangerous as any monster that’s awoken since the Sundering.
Merrick shoved away from the railing and walked downstairs. The footsteps and voices of the humans drifted to him from the parlor; they spoke in hushed but excited tones—the boy’s excitement fueled by wonder and the woman’s by fear.
Ignoring them for a moment—he told himself it wasn’t because he was concerned with how he’d be affected by taking another look at the female—Merrick turned his attention to the front door. They’d broken a pane of the left window, close to the latch. The damage, along with the fact that they’d left the front door open, was enough to rekindle his annoyance.
It would be overly merciful to toss them out unharmed.
He closed the door quietly and lifted a hand, drawing on the magical currents flowing through him. Everything in the universe, whether living or inanimate, whether organic or otherwise, was touched by magic and possessed its own magical resonance, each like a unique song wrought from mana.
He’d worked with glass before. He knew its energy, knew the way it felt, the way it resonated.
The glass shards rose from the floor, glowing faintly blue, as he cocooned them in magic, drifting to the empty window frame. After a few seconds of manipulation, the pieces were lined up and in place. With a final flare of energy, Merrick sealed the fissures between the shards. No indication of damage remained when the light faded.
It was a minor expenditure of magic. The Sundering had left him with immense stores of energy, which had been increased by the proximity of the ley line. Fixing the windowpane was like removing a cupful of water from the ocean. But he let the unnecessary usage fuel his irritation, nonetheless. Were it not for the humans, he’d still be upstairs in his study, reading peacefully rather than repairing a window that had been intact for over a century.
He turned away from the front door to see the humans exit the parlor and walk down the north hall. Releasing
a heavy breath, Merrick pulled more shadows from his surroundings, thickening his shroud and venting a bit of the magic racing along his arms and crackling up his spine. He kept his gaze on the boy this time; it was concerning that Merrick’s eyes seemed inclined to shift toward the female of their own accord.
“Danny, really,” the woman whispered, “we should get out of here.”
Yes, you should.
“It’s okay, Addy. If someone was here, they would’ve already shown up, right?”
Merrick squeezed his fists; they trembled in his anger. That attitude—just another version of because I can—that human attitude, had tainted his life from his youngest days. But humans had squandered their time on top. They’d failed to cement their dominance before the world had shifted. Now was the time for beings like Merrick.
Now Merrick was the one with power, and humans would learn how helpless they truly were.
Silent as a stalking cat, he followed the humans along the hallway, keeping several paces behind them.
Addy hurried to keep up with Danny, falling behind more than once as she scanned her surroundings and peered into dark rooms, her concern apparent in her expression. She was the older of the two; why hadn’t she asserted control? Why hadn’t she reined in this child before they’d done wrong?
Danny stopped suddenly and turned his head to the right. “Look, Addy! I bet there’s food in there.”
Like a rat sniffing out grain.
Why was Merrick following them? He should’ve acted by now, should’ve confronted them. Did he simply want to see how far they would go to fuel his own anger?
The boy stepped into the kitchen. Addy hesitated, twisting to look toward Merrick. Her brows were knitted with worry, and her lips parted with a soft exhalation. She looked through him; he knew it was an effect of his magic, but it was oddly disappointing.
What would she look like with her features relaxed, with her luscious lips upturned in a smile? What would she look like when joy sparkled in her gaze rather than fear? What would she look like with those big, expressive eyes half-lidded in desire?
When he breathed in, the air was scented with a hint of lavender—her scent. A deep ache stirred in his groin, and prickles of heat skittered briefly across his skin.
When was the last time I bedded a woman? When was the last time I felt any sort of lust? Perhaps I’ve simply denied those urges for far too long…
But that didn’t ring true to Merrick. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an urge. That could easily be explained by his tendency to avoid contact with people as much as possible, but for desire to stir so strongly within him after a single glance at an attractive woman…
The resonance he’d sensed when he first saw her reasserted itself; he’d let it fall to the back of his mind, but he couldn’t ignore it now. It lured him closer to Addy, coaxed him with its gentleness, its sweetness, to approach her. Was it coming from her? He didn’t understand how it could be—it seemed familiar somehow, and he’d never seen this woman before today.
He shifted his focus away from the mana song again; he needed to direct his attention toward the situation at hand.
This is more than attraction…and that I cannot explain it is infuriating.
Addy pursed her lips and headed into the kitchen to join Danny. Merrick trailed behind her, stopping in the doorway to observe.
Danny had already returned his knife to the sheath on his belt and was currently in the process of rummaging through Merrick’s cupboards.
“What are you doing, Danny?” Addy hurried toward him.
“This is weird,” he replied, stepping aside to show her the contents of one of the cupboards. “Look at these.”
“It’s just containers of flour and spices.” Addy reached up to close the cupboard, but Danny stopped her.
“Not containers, though, Addy. Jars. Like…ancient jars. Look at the wire things on their lids. And most of the lids are wood.”
Somehow, the crease between Addy’s brows deepened. She glanced around as though she expected to see someone watching her—Merrick might have found that amusing under different circumstances—before taking out one of the jars and examining it.
“It’s not weird, it’s just old,” she said. “It really kind of fits everything here, doesn’t it?” She replaced the jar, and Danny didn’t resist when she closed the cupboard this time. “Now let’s go, okay? We have some light left. We’ll”—she swayed slightly and blinked several times in rapid succession, as though to clear her vision—“we’ll just…just have to find a decent spot in the woods.”
“There’s stuff we can eat here, I know it. And it’s warm and dry, Addy.”
A myriad of emotions flitted across Addy’s features as she stared at Danny. She looked like she was at war inside her head, like her conscience was battling her desire to agree with the boy.
Who was the boy to her? Merrick studied them both; Danny’s hair was straight and a few shades lighter than Addy’s, but they shared similar noses, and their eyes—though different colors—were close in shape. Was Danny her son? She seemed far too young to have a child that old, at least by modern human standards.
For an instant, Merrick’s mind flashed back over the long, bitter years to his own youth. He recognized the relationship Addy and Danny seemed to have, though it had been a great while since he’d experienced it himself.
They were siblings, separated by enough years that Addy had taken on a maternal role to the boy.
Addy sighed. “We really should go. The owner could be back at any moment.”
“Come on, Addy. We need to eat. You need to eat.” Danny narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been giving me most of your share of our meals.”
Her hand tightened around the cupboard handle, but her shoulders sagged. “Just a little.”
Danny frowned, but he didn’t say any more; instead, he turned to tug open more cupboards and rummage through their contents.
Addy released the cupboard handle and moved toward the sink, absently turning one of the knobs. She jumped in startlement when water poured from the faucet. “Danny! Water!”
“Oh shit!”
She turned her head and jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t cuss.”
“Oh, come on,” he whined. “Who cares anymore?”
“I care.”
Merrick—apparently having forgotten he was meant to be angry at them—felt his lips curl up in a wry smile. He wasn’t sure if his amusement resulted from the confidence with which she’d admonished the boy or the absurdity of her policing his language while they were in a house they’d broken into and were planning to steal from.
Danny groaned and resumed his search.
Addy placed her knife beside the sink and slid off her bag, setting it atop the counter. She opened it and removed three bottles. Screwing off the lids, she filled the containers with water one at a time.
Once the bottles were filled and recapped, she cupped her hands beneath the running water, leaned forward, and drank several handfuls. After she was done drinking, she splashed water on her face and scrubbed some of the grime from her skin.
Merrick’s eyes drifted to the curve of her ass, which was outlined through her pants. Between the faint hollowness of her cheeks and the slight bagginess of her clothes, it was clear she’d lost weight recently—likely due to scarcity of food—but she still had some tantalizing, feminine curves.
Heat coalesced in his veins and gathered low in his belly, intensifying the ache her scent had awoken.
“Peanut butter!” Danny pulled out a large plastic jar with a red lid. “Oh, man, I haven’t had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in forever.”
Merrick’s smile vanished as quickly as it had come. He knew he had several more jars of peanut butter in the pantry, but that was something he could not make himself—and he happened to be extremely fond of it.
For most of his life, Merrick hadn’t needed to eat as often as humans did—and his
need had only diminished further since the Sundering—but when he did eat, peanut butter was high on his list of satisfying foods. He’d tried to ignore that these humans had trespassed on his property, had restrained himself despite them having broken a window and entered his home uninvited, and might even have been willing—at least up until a few moments ago—to give them some food and send them on their way, but this was too much.
He would not tolerate the theft of his Jif.
Energy crackled up and down his arms. Keeping his fists balled tight, he dismissed the shadows cloaking him. “Put that back.”
Danny and Addy jumped. The boy stumbled backward, dropping the jar as he turned his wide eyes toward Merrick. Addy spun to face Merrick with more control and determination, snatching up her knife and holding it at the ready. Her hand trembled faintly, but her gaze held Merrick’s without wavering.
“Danny, come here,” she said.
The boy didn’t hesitate; he drew his oversized knife and positioned himself in front of her. “Get back!”
“I do not take kindly to being threatened, especially in my own home,” Merrick said, brows falling low.
“Danny, get back here,” Addy whispered, reaching out with her free hand to pull the boy toward her. She didn’t look away from Merrick for even a moment. “We’re sorry. You…scared us. We didn’t know anyone was here.”
Looking into her eyes had a strange effect on Merrick—it produced a powerful, unfamiliar sensation within him that made his chest tighten and his stomach flutter. He couldn’t pry his attention away from her.
But he couldn’t forgive their transgressions because of some indefinable feeling, could he?
“Oh? Does that make it all right to break into someone’s home?” he asked. “I must’ve been interpreting the law incorrectly for all these years.”
“We’re…we’re…” She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heel of her hand to her head. “We’re sorry.”
The Warlock's Kiss Page 3
