The Witch's Protector [The Protectors 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Doris O'Connor

  “Fuck yeah.” Olaf punched the air, and let out a long drawn-out howl. The rest of the pack followed and Henry, too, joined in. No doubt this display would freak his little red out a bit, but this is who they were, and if she was to be his, then she’d better get used to it. Henry grinned, revved the engine up and kicking up dust roared off, followed by his brothers.

  Nothing like a good fight to get rid of all that pent-up sexual frustration, after all.

  * * * *

  Almost two weeks later, Joanne was a nervous wreck. True to his promise two of the Mongrels had brought back her pushbike the day after Henry had roared away from her. Watching a safe distance from behind her net curtains, she had been struck by the sheer power and presence of not only Henry, but also his men. Their howls had echoed around her small cottage, and goose bumps had covered her exposed skin. Not of fear, but rather the opposite. From the little time she had spent with the Mongrels it had become pretty obvious that this particular MC, at least, did not deserve the negative connotation the resident humans and even her foster mother had put on them.

  “Stay away from those bikers, Jo. Nothing good has ever come of that.”

  Joanne pulled another weed out of the ground, squinted up at the ball of sun that hung low in the sky, and sighed. They were having an unusually warm spell that started to worry her. The mornings and evenings were cold but during the day temperatures reached such a high that she had even dispensed with her cardigan. The old dress she favored for attending her herbs and vegetables was the only thing she wore, bar her knickers. In an act of willful hussyness, as Kristin would surely have called it, she had also dispensed with her bra. Joanne smiled to herself as she imagined her foster mother’s response to such a scandalous act. Kristin had been prim and proper to the point of starchiness, and it was one of the many things she had loved about her late foster mum. You always knew where you were with Kristin. Rules were to be followed, etiquette was of utmost importance, especially for a young witch, and you never, ever showed your interest in the opposite sex.

  Failed on all counts.

  Joanne sat back on her haunches and swiped away a strand of hair that had escaped her attempt at containing the red mass. She probably ought to take Amy Beasley up on her offer to cut it for her. Amy did hairdressing on the side, as well as helping her husband run their farm, and the woman herself sported a chic modern, shorter hairdo.

  “So much less effort to maintain, Joanne, especially with the new baby. You should at least consider it.”

  Joanne had laughed and distracted Amy by making a fuss of the new arrival. The week-old baby appeared to be thriving. He had already regained his birth weight, a fact that astonished Jo and the local doctor, especially as Amy was also still feeding her two year old.

  Not that the doctor had been privy to this tidbit.

  “He’ll only get his fancy pants in a twist when I tell him,” Amy had said to Joanne with a wink. “I’ve got plenty of milk for both of them. If a sow can feed thirteen piglets and make them big and strong, I can certainly feed a baby and one other.”

  Joanne had to agree with her. They all certainly seemed to be thriving, and she had left the Collins’ with a huge grin on her face. It had been a welcome relief from the unrest that seemed to have befallen Middle Brook. The local paper was full of horror stories. Livestock had gone missing, and the search for the walkers who hadn’t returned from Black Combe Fells had been called off, another set of victims of the at times treacherous terrain. The newspaper completely missed the point that they’d had nothing but good weather with excellent visibility, so something wasn’t adding up here. The locals still kept to their self-imposed curfew at night fall, and Joanne had followed suit.

  There was something extremely unsettling about this current weather pattern. It wasn’t natural, and Joanne had poured over the ancient text for answers. She had discovered them, exactly where her birth mother’s letter had said they would be hidden. They were written in an ancient language, and she hadn’t been able to read them before. Since meeting Henry, however, it seemed she could.

  It wasn’t the only surprising change. Her powers had become more succinct and easier to manage. She very rarely reduced anything to smoldering ashes now, when she lost her concentration. With that increased control had come the certain knowledge that she was being watched. Joanne didn’t sense any malice from those unseen eyes, at least. Just a steely determination to keep her safe. Whoever her watchers were, they meant her no harm. It brought her thoughts back to Henry in a quick loop.

  Not that the infuriating Protector was ever far from her mind. Far from it. He visited her dreams every night, leaving her to wake up twisted in her sheets, covered in sweat, and so wet and aroused that she had taken to using her fingers to bring herself some relief. It took the edge off her need, but it was nowhere near as powerful as the dream orgasms she had had when with Henry. The bite mark on her thigh had faded, but the memory remained and the more time passed, the more convinced Joanne became that what she had experienced hadn’t been a dream.

  She ought to be furious with him for taking liberties like that, but, in truth, if he were to turn up right now, she’d jump in his arms and beg him to take her any which way he chose.

  Joanne lifted her dress away from her sticky skin and fanned herself.

  Not helpful, not at all.

  The sun burned a path across her face and she knew that she ought to call it day. Joanne burned far too easily. She shouldn’t have to worry about this at this time of year, and a shiver of unease crawled down her spine and up again, and then wrapped its icy hand around her insides.

  Evil was afoot. Joanne knew that with as much certainty as she knew she needed her next breath to survive. The ancient texts had been full of information. Not just about her powers and her destiny, but also about their location. Cumbria sat right on the gateway between this world and the next. It made it a hot bed for paranormal activity of all kind, and was the main reason for the Protectors.

  A title passed down from father to son or daughter, it was a vocation, rather than a job. Henry was the newest in a long line of Protectors in his family. There were others, together with their location and family tree and Joanne’s eyes had widened when she had read down the list. If this fell into the wrong hands, it would spell the end of the world as they knew it. The Protectors kept the peace, fragile as it was at times. They were shifter police, if you like, and Joanne’s eyes filled with tears, when she thought about all the ones that had been marked as deceased.

  The thought of anything happening to her Henry filled her with cold dread. Not that he is your Henry, and likely never will be.

  Joanne threw her trowel down and glared at the implement as it embedded itself into the soil and swayed to and fro.

  While there was no doubt in her mind that he was indeed the one, as foretold by the texts, what she had learned about the Protectors meant they, as a couple could never be. He would want and need children, and she…

  It was too painful to contemplate, and Joanne pushed that longing firmly to the back of her mind. The distant sound of a powerful motorbike coming closer made her cock her head to listen. She knew that sound. Had he finally come to seek her out, or was this another false alarm? The roar of motorbikes was, after all, a very familiar sound, as the Mongrels and the Lupines had been involved in a very public war. Things had escalated recently, and the police had in fact washed their hands off both MC’s.

  “If they kill each other that means one less worry for me.”

  That had been the local constabulary’s latest assessment of the situation at the last village meeting. Joanne had quietly observed the humans, and the handful of shifters in attendance.

  Funny, how she had never noticed them before. Now, their scent hit her in the face like a red flag. Just as predicted her powers grew day by day, and with it the unknown fear what would happen to her if Henry didn’t want her. Without his protection, she was well and truly on her own, and the darkness to
be found in her powers might well snatch her away.

  Sometimes she could almost taste it. The desire to let her fingers kill. It scared her witless and made her wish with all her being that she hadn’t pushed him away that day. He hadn’t been back since.

  Lost in her thoughts, she missed how close to her that motorbike sound now was, and she startled when the engine shut off right outside her cottage. Was it her Henry?

  A careful feel with her mind confirmed that lone rider was indeed a shifter and a wolf, but his scent was wrong. Her heart beat faster nonetheless, and she wiped her grubby hands on her apron, took it off, and sprinted round the house.

  Before she could come into view to her visitor she tempered her steps, mindful of Kristin’s diktat.

  Never chase a man. They will think you’re easy. Let them chase you. You’re a lady, remember that.

  Joanne grinned at her thoughts. Some lady. Braless, with her hands and knees grubby from gardening, her hair a mess, and in her oldest dress, she was hardly suitably attired for offering afternoon tea. Then again, Henry had seen all of her already, so this shouldn’t shock him in the least.

  Fixing a polite smile on her face, she willed her breathing to slow down, and rounded the corner, only for her smile to freeze on her face.

  The man sitting on that bike wasn’t Henry, and a dark cloud of black magic surrounded him.

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, if it isn’t the Mongrels-loving little witch. I can smell that sorry lot all over you. Come here, and try on a real man for size.”

  Skye Salasino smirked and ran a hand through his dark hair while he straightened up from his perch on his bike. His black-eyed gaze fixed on Joanne and the blackness that surrounded him reached out to her. Before she realized what she was doing Joanne had taken several steps toward him, drawn in by his presence.

  “That’s it, little witch, don’t fight it. You can feel it, can’t you? Stupid fool hasn’t claimed you, which makes you mine.” His laugh startled her out of her trance and she put out her hands to spell him off that bike, but stopped herself at the last minute. This is what he wanted, for her to give into the murderous instincts that ran through her right now.

  “No.” She whispered the words and his wolf snarled at her. The man frowned and extended his hand again. Bile rose in Joanne’s throat at the thought of being touched by him. Skye Salasino’s face had been plastered all over the newspapers, and plenty of the young women of the village had swooned over him. He was classically handsome with his dark hair, square jaw, and aristocratic nose, and he had bad boy written all over him.

  Little did the women, who had giggled over his picture at the local news agents only yesterday, know that his handsome visage hid an evil soul.

  Joanne barely suppressed her shudder of disgust, and Salasino’s frown deepened when she took several steps back.

  “No,” she repeated in a much stronger voice. “I’ll never be yours. I’d rather die.”

  Salasino threw his head back and laughed.

  “Oh, that can be arranged, little witch, but not before I tasted what’s between your thighs.”

  Joanne swallowed hard, as he advanced toward her, trapped in his gaze as the black tendrils of his soul reached out and touched her. How did he do this? There was only one way for anyone to acquire such magic, and Joanne’s mind filled with terror. She could almost see her own death in her eyes. He had killed one witch to be this powerful. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, too, and if this thing—she refused to call him a man—if he got his hands on her ancient texts… It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Her arms seemed to have gained twenty pounds, as she struggled to raise them, and her mind scrambled for the spell she needed to at least repel him. His hot breath wafted over her face, as he came close enough to touch her, and then his head whipped up and sniffed the air.

  In the next second two snarling wolves appeared behind her, followed by two more. They surrounded the two of them in a slowly closing semi-circle, and Salasino’s attention diverted to them. Half shifted he made a gruesome sight, but it broke the hold he had over her, and Joanne scrambled back to the safety of her front garden.

  The deafening roar of several motorcycles filled the air, and Joanne watched in horror as hordes of the Lupines approached, closely followed by the Mongrels, led by Henry. He looked murderous, ready to shift, and tear Salasino limb from limb. No sooner had he screeched to a halt, Henry jumped off his bike, and advanced on the other shifter. Head down, hands drawn into fists, his wolf snarled and growled and Henry grew taller and bulkier as he approached, the very image of enraged shifter.

  Salasino turned to face him, and the white-haired wolf closest to the leader of the Lupines took its chance and leapt at him. Joanne gasped as she recognized the wolf. Olaf didn’t get very far, as Salasino twisted at the last minute in a move so fast it blurred the air and kicked Olaf right in his soft underbelly. The wolf whined and collapsed, and Joanne rushed to his side to help.

  Running her hands over his fur she assessed his injuries. Broken ribs, it could have been worse. Before she could heal him Henry’s curt voice brought her to her feet.

  “Leave him. He’s had worse. Get in the fucking house, now, witch.”

  The witch stung more than she would have thought possible, and glaring at Henry she took several steps toward where Henry and Salasino were now circling each other. Heads down, nostrils flaring, they assessed each other, seemingly just waiting for the other to let their guard down.

  “No, I won’t. You can’t make me. This is my home and you all need to take your blasted war someplace else.”

  Henry’s head snapped round and he growled at her. Salasino moved in and threw a punch. It connected squarely with Henry’s jaw and he staggered back a few paces, only to jump back to his feet and advance on the other shifter. Before Joanne could even blink the two of them were locked in a full on fist fight, and the men of either pack surrounded them. Olaf struggled to his feet and shifted back to human with a groan. The action healed him, but when he tried to grab hold of Joanne and drag her out of the way, she saw red.

  Without even thinking about it, her powers emerged and threw Olaf away from her, as well as the first line of shifters circling their fighting leaders.

  “Enough, for pity’s sake. I said stop it, all of you.”

  Her powers surged through her hot and heavy and the second line of shifters dissipated. Joanne shut her eyes and let the power consume her. With Henry here, she knew instinctively that it was safe to do so, her only aim to stop more bloodshed.

  By the time she opened her eyes again, the men had stopped fighting and their respective brothers were slowly edging away. Most of the Lupines were back on their bikes and looked ready to flee, while the majority of the Mongrels looked either worried or amazed. She couldn’t quite determine which, as the wind picked up around her and whipped her red tresses round her face. Come to think of it, where had that chilly breeze come from? Not only that, but she could smell the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread with a hint of cinnamon. Most odd, she hadn’t left anything to cook, and there was no other house near.

  Before she could process all that, Henry’s amused voice snapped her attention back to him.

  “Erm, little red?” he asked, and the curious wind died down.

  He seemed smaller, as did the rest of them, which was another odd sensation, to say the least. Salasino looked as though he was going to make another move, while Henry was distracted, and Joanne growled. The sound surprised even her, and Henry shook his head. His lips moved and she could have sworn he mumbled something like amazing under his breath, while Salasino paled and took several steps away from her, as the wind picked up again. It swirled the dry leaves on the ground into tornadolike funnels, and sparks flew from her fingertips, as she screeched at the shifter.

  “No, you don’t touch him. He’s mine. Go. Away.”

  Tree branches flew through the air, and Salasino’s wolf snarled. He did make a hasty r
etreat, however, followed by his men and Joanne breathed a sigh of relief, as the gusts of wind surrounding her slowly dissipated.

  The Mongrels cheered as one, and Joanne smiled, and the world tilted. She screeched and righted herself somewhat, but she still felt as though she was at sea.

  “Little red, let go.” Henry’s voice broke through her befuddled mind and her stomach fell to her feet when she looked down and realized she was floating several feet of the ground. By all the elements…

  Fear made her clumsy and she flew up higher, utterly unable to control this.

  Henry swore and his wolf howled.

  It broke the last of her concentration and she screamed as she fell to the ground at dizzying speed.

  * * * *

  Fuck! Henry leapt and caught his little witch just in time before she would have made contact with the ground. As it was she landed in his arms with a grunt, and had it not been for his shifter reflexes that allowed him to twist back on his feet as they tumbled, they would have both ended up in heap in the dust.

  Joanne clung to him shaking like a leaf and some of his anger fled, but his wolf was still furious at her for having put herself in danger like that.

  “Jesus, woman, don’t ever do that again,” he said, and cradled her tighter to his chest. “You scared ten years off me.”

  “And the rest of us, but it was fucking awesome.” Olaf shrugged back into some clothes, handed to him by one of the Mongrels, and grinned at Henry. “Sure made those fucking assholes scarper away. Fucking cowards.”

  “They’re really gone? You’re all safe?” Joanne’s quiet words mumbled into his chest brought his attention back to the infuriating woman in his arms, and he gave into his instincts and gave her a good shake. The action roused her temper and she glared up at him. Cheeks flushed, breaths heaving in and out of her chest, it drew his gaze to her tits, and he saw red. The little minx wasn’t wearing a bra, and this close he could not only see her nipples firming into hard little bullets, he could make out the darker shade of her areolae.