Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels
Page 231
Closing her eyes, Ivy let her senses do the looking. She searched past the noise and drunken cheering for any hint of ambient magic in the air. Ivy moved two steps closer to the street, following the thinnest trail imaginable. Sucking in a deep breath, she gave in to the magic calling to her and let it guide her across the street.
Her eyes popped open to see Jared and Patrick just on the other side of Canal. Their wands were up, glowing with magic. There was no way for her to get across now that the parade began. If she used her magic, she threatened everything. At this rate, there would be catastrophic results from what they’d been through. Patrick simply knowing any of this meant huge changes could have rocked through the witch and warlock communities. Changes she needed to find out about.
Jared took off down the street, and Ivy watched as Patrick tailed him again while she remained stuck behind a damn parade.
One word and she could freeze everything and run after them. And ruin everything. Go back to the hotel. Wait or Elijah. Find Patrick in the morning. She closed her eyes and ignored the tears of frustration that fell down her cheeks. She’d tried to stop a madman and failed. She had one vial of blood to get them home again and all she wanted to do was find her mother and cry. There was only so much adulting one person could do.
Right now, Ivy stood alone in a crowd in 1925.
15
If Elijah cried, this would have been the moment tears would streak down his face. But alphas didn’t cry. They did their business and moved on. He glanced out at the small pyre burning against the setting sun. A pack member lay within the flames—one Elijah knew well.
Thomas James DeClancy was a wolf to be reckoned with. In human form, the man stood over six feet three inches of solid muscle. The scar across his left eye from when he’d first arrived at the Crescent Pack made him all the more intimidating. As a wolf, sleek dark brown hair covered what must have been two hundred pounds of muscle.
Still, every man died the same. Every wolf closed their eyes one last time the same way. Thomas was no different save for the fact he’d come back to himself moments before Elijah’s jaws snapped his neck.
Thomas deserved better than to end his life in the jaws of his Alpha. He’d shown up two hundred or so years ago, a prime pup looking for a secure place within the pack. He’d earned the scar on his face and the pack position by holding his own against Elijah for eleven minutes. The man and the wolf lived a quiet, easy life. Being a pawn in a sick game wasn’t fair.
None of what Jared created in the last thirty-six hours was fair to anyone. Except for maybe Ivy, who stood a chance at turning the clock back just enough to learn the secrets she seemed to covet more than life.
The haze from the fire blurred Elijah’s vision. His hands clenched at his sides, and his wolf clawed at the surface, demanding he run until the sadness no longer caught up to him.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch myself. Fuck the council.” Elijah spoke to no one. He’d found a secluded section of the swamp to carry out the ritualistic burning to mourn a warrior who fell in battle.
Thomas attacked and killed countless humans alongside two other pack members Elijah hadn’t been able to to identify with quick glances. The Elijah of this time would hear the news of the attacks and assume his wolves went rogue.
“Fucking shame.” He snorted as he stared into the flames.
The death weighed on him, not merely because the man hadn’t been in control of his own body when Elijah got to him, but because even if he had, Elijah would have killed him for daring to threaten Ivy.
Sweet, innocent Ivy who’d turned out to be anything but in the last thirty-six hours. Wolves mated for life, and as a shifter, a mark matched him to his mate. He’d never looked for one on Ivy, but he was certain she’d mention a paw-shaped print anywhere on her body by now. Sometimes the marks were there at birth, other times a compulsion drew a person to get one tattooed on. Sometimes, they could appear after sexual acts between mates who did not yet know their fate. Either way, Ivy Lancaster bore no such mark, yet culled up all the same instincts in Elijah.
Kill to protect his mate.
Seek to pleasure his mate.
Ensure none stood between him and his mate.
So a wolf died. A man Elijah greatly respected lay in a burning pile of wood. He closed his eyes to will the thoughts away and found himself confronted with the image all over again. Ivy standing back, appearing to be surrendering with a snarling Thomas mere feet from her. No one else mattered, only Ivy.
“So turn around and go find her.”
The words were simple enough, but he refused to leave until the flames died down and he’d said his farewells. Jared’s plan seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was apparent he’d planned for some time, or with scary efficiency. Time travel magic barely existed three days ago, now, Elijah prayed there was enough power to undo all the ripple effects Jared little excursions caused.
This Elijah, from 1925, would return to a pack with missing members and the word werewolf whispered among humans. He knew himself. This Elijah would order the pack to remove themselves from the New Orleans society. Families would resign from jobs. Medical care would be limited to pack knowledge. It’s even possible they wouldn’t join the Council when formed, too isolated to care about the world around them so long as they are safe.
“Then fix it.” Sighing, Elijah knew he had to return. He wasn’t ready for Ivy to pepper him with questions. She’d seen him as he’d raced off. Her gaze seemed to burn a hole in him as if disappointed he’d killed. “The longer you stay here, the worse you stand to make the future.”
The Quarter was miles away and without a car or cell phone, Elijah had only one option. Run. Closing his eyes, Elijah put his hands and knees on the ground and focused on the wolf within him. The change wasn’t painful like horror and science fiction movies depicted. He heard the crack of bone as his jaw, nose, hands, and feet began to elongate. A familiar itch ran from head to toe as fur began to sprout and quickly lengthen. The scent of the bayou filled his nose – all salt and mud, but also home.
With his eyes still closed, Elijah allowed the shift to pass over him until complete. His vision was sharper when he opened his eyes. The small details he couldn’t see in the flames as a human were all too visible now. Like Thomas’ wedding ring, melting little by little onto the wood or the puncture marks in his throat from when Elijah took his life.
Run. The thought spurred him on. He was off, his feet scrambling to move as fast as he intended for them too, sending leaves and dirt flying. Elijah knew the way back. Knew it enough to turn off his mind and focus on nothing except the wind through his fur as he raced across the West Bank, not bothering to hide his presence as he ran alongside cars on the Crescent City Connection Bridge. When he’d raced across, he’d been too focused on carrying Thomas’ body to care if the human’s saw. If they saw him now, well, he no longer cared. The past was destroyed. All Elijah could focus on was returning home to fix it in the future. In his present.
Even for a wolf, his body began to tire as he raced off the shoulder of the freeway and through Uptown. Shadows helped to conceal him, but if he remembered, the wolves were long gone from New Orleans at this point in history, he needed to shift back.
Walking behind a warehouse building, he sat, ignoring the way the concrete chilled his backside. Again, he closed his eyes, but this time, focused on being human. No bones cracked, though a strange suction-like sound resonated in his ears as his body regained its human shape. His body itched as the hair retracted, and before he knew it, Elijah sat on the ground, naked.
“Fuck,” he snarled, realizing the flaw. “I’m sorry about this,” Elijah muttered before leaping out of the shadows at a man who walked by. His arm wrapped around the man’s neck and he pushed inward, depriving the human of oxygen until he passed out.
He pulled the shirt off quickly, tugging it around his broad frame and wondering if the short shirt would call attention throughout the walk. There w
as no way in hell the buttons would stay done if he so much as breathed the wrong way, but at least he was able to button the shirt. “I could use a fucking invisibility hex right about now.” He’d shifted so hastily both times, the bag he’d held with a few potions was likely picked up by a tourist by now. Glancing down at the slender man’s clothing, he groaned. He removed the suit pants, praying they only tore a small amount as he tugged them over his legs.
Sure enough, the sound of fabric tearing whistled through the night. “It’s Mardi Gras. Maybe people will be too drunk to notice how insane you look.”
Elijah clung to the shadows as he walked the last mile and a half. Drunks roamed the length of Canal, and once or twice, Elijah heard them call out to them. He ignored them, focusing instead on the reminder that Ivy waited inside the hotel.
Just outside the Monteleone, Elijah stopped and took a deep breath. The hotel would be filled with some of the world’s elite. He’d have to move fast to get to the inner staircase that leads up to the guest rooms.
“Now or never,” he glanced around, noticing the earlier attack didn’t seem to keep people off the streets. “Of course not, what could derail Mardi Gras? Even in the early nineteen hundreds people liked to party.” Snorting, he edged close to the building and slipped inside.
Seven people turned to stare at him. Instead of attempting to make an excuse, he pushed his feet faster to the stairs. Elijah didn’t doubt Ivy would be in the same room. As a witch, she’d be able to make it happen. Climbing to the fourth floor, he pushed open the doorway. The quiet hall was a blessing, and he made his way to the door.
The quietness of the hall suddenly gave him pause. Just how long had the run taken him? Would Ivy be awake? Cautiously, Elijah put his hand on the doorknob. With a gentle twist, it opened, and he sighed, relieved she had left the door unlocked for him.
Light flooded into the dark room, and he winced.
“Elijah?” Ivy sounded half-alert when she called his name.
Closing the door behind him, Elijah stepped inside. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Damn you,” Ivy hissed as she flew at him. “Don’t ever leave me like that again.” Her lips found his an instant later, and an instant after that, they were gone. “I don’t know why I did that.” She pulled back and flicked on the bedside lamp.
“I do,” Elijah stepped closer, forcing himself to think of the woman before him and not the pack member he put down.
“You look . . . hysterical.” She rubbed her eyes as if checking to see if his outfit was real.
“I had to shift a few times today. No clothes.”
Her eyes traveled up and down his length, but not seductively. “Are you hurt?”
The simple question slammed into him. No one ever asked if he was injured. They just assumed he’d be fine.
“Fit as a fiddle.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She bit her lower lip. “You killed a member of your pack today. To protect me if I’m not mistaken.”
He nodded, a vision of Thomas forming in his mind. “He wasn’t himself.”
“So you knew him?” She shrunk away.
“I knew him.” Elijah closed his eyes and felt the faintest wetness against his eyelashes. “God damn it.”
Ivy was there, wrapping her arms around him and tugging Elijah against her. And he let her. For the first time in almost a thousand years, Elijah gave into the grief that came with being a pack leader.
16
Three days ago the mere thought of Elijah crying into her embrace would have sent Ivy into a laughing fit. Now, with the dominant alpha crumbling against her, all she wanted to do was cry with him. Today he took a life. The life of a wolf. The life of a pack mate. To him, he’d murdered family.
Ivy ran her hands softly through his hair. The soft locks brought comfort to her, as she believed her touch did to Elijah. His tears were silent; manly even, but they were still tears. Wetness dotted along her bare legs and she didn’t care.
“It’s going to be okay.” Ivy paused, unsure of what else she could say, if anything. “Patrick was there.”
Elijah’s head whipped up, his eyes glowing like the wolf’s. “What was he doing there?”
A slight thrill went through her at the possessive way the words sounded. She shook her head, leaving the dizzy girl in the dust. “It’s not the one we met—it’s the year’s Patrick. He remembered. I don’t know how messed up this timeline is, but we changed even the smallest detail.” Three hours spent worrying about the future on her own nearly drove her to her parent’s Uptown house – her house. Only the thought of remaining here to comfort Elijah kept her from doing something utterly selfish.
“I’m sorry I left you alone today,” his voice cracked.
“You saved my life. Again.”
She expected him to say he regretted it, that he’d never choose a witch over his pack. The words never came.
“I’ll get Thomas back. I’ll get them all back once this is over.” His jaw clenched tight, straining the muscles in his neck.
Ivy didn’t know what the future they’d return home to would look like. She feared everything would be so different they wouldn’t know where to start to unravel things. There was no sense telling Elijah like that. Not right now.
“I’ll be there to help. Every step of the way.”
“We need to go find Patrick,” Elijah rose, pulling out of her embrace.
“We need to sleep. You can argue with me all you want, but if I have to cast time travel magic again, I need more than two hours of rest.”
His lip pulled back as if he wanted to snarl at her, but didn’t.
“Go to bed, Elijah. This will hurt less in the morning. We can think straighter in the morning.”
He was covering her then. Hovering with his body over hers as his hands framed her face. “Do not give me orders, witch.”
There it was. The anger leading toward Elijah’s eventual acceptance over killing a werewolf not in their right mind. Ivy should fear him. He was a solid wall of muscle suspended just above her body. Fear was the farthest emotion racing through her. The sensation of his almost sensual touch was maddening. Her body quickened with need.
We both need this. We need the release. The final thought trickled through Ivy’s mind before she threaded her fingers together around the back of Elijah’s head and tugged him down. Pressing her lips to his, she willed him to understand this was a peace offering, this was for them both.
His low growl vibrated against her lips before he claimed her. His lips took hers captive, as a predator would their prey. Elijah’s kiss was hard, punishing even, and Ivy loved it. Arching off the bed she tugged him against her, drove their bodies together even as his tongue pushed to deepen their kiss. He smelled of the bayou; of all things earth. His scent invaded her nose as his body rocked against hers.
“Ivy,” he panted, pulling away from their kiss. “I can’t do this again. You’re asking more of me than I’m able to control.”
“I’m not asking you to control a damn thing.”
Her hands slipped between them, jerking off the ridiculously ill-fitting trousers. He spilled out into her hand. His cock danced under the nimble touch of her fingertips. Ivy let her hand gently grasp his length. Elijah was hard and hot, and obviously as interested as she was. Nipping his lower lip, she let her tongue slide against his before her kisses trailed down his neck. She wanted to kiss every hard plane on his body, to feel every gloriously hard muscle with her hands and memorize it because this couldn’t happen again.
Somewhere in the back of mind, even as she rolled to push him under her, Ivy understood this was about comfort and that comfort was all it could be about.
“I’ve heard shifters are rough lovers. Voracious even.” Her fingers wrapped around the shirt, ripping it open and letting the buttons fly. “It’s one of the few things I’ve wondered about most when I thought about you.” She dropped a kiss over his belly button, allowing her nose to tickle his stomach.
Wrapping her mouth around him, Ivy gave a small hum, knowing full well the vibration against his cock would tantalize. She looked down at him only to find his bright blue eyes staring back at her, watching as she let her mouth travel down his shaft and back up again.
Over and over she tasted him, never letting her eyes leave his. She pulsed with need as his hungry gaze seemed to stroke over her.
“Stop,” Elijah grunted, tangling his hands in her hair. “The only place I’m going to finish is inside of you.”
The words weren’t precisely naughty, but no man had ever whispered something erotic to her before. Her whimper was unexpected, and Elijah’s lips curved into a wicked grin.
“You liked that.” It wasn’t a question. Elijah’s warm hands wrapped around her waist and flipped her, bending over to pin her underneath him. His dick rubbed against her, drawing out a strangled moan. “You’re so wet, witch.” The word wasn’t an insult that time. He circled his hips and Ivy’s hips thrust up to meet him.
He moved against her, his arms on either side of her face as he held her gaze. Ivy could scarcely feel anything save for the heat in his eyes and the delicious push of his dick against her swollen core. Her breath pulled out in pants as Elijah sped up his thrusts, tormenting her with the friction she craved, but never so much as slipping inside.
Unable to hold his gaze any longer, her eyes fell shut as her body bucked in circles. Pants turned to mewls and whimpers of pleasure as he fought to find release. Arching and falling back against the bed did nothing save for soak the panties she still wore. There was nothing she could do to stop the fevered frenzy of her hips.