Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology

by Michelle Diener

  “Sure you did.” Smithy nudged him.

  “No really.” He didn’t need this bullshit, but there wasn’t much he could do. He would have to call the bank and get a new ID, all in the next twenty-four hours. Even if he asked the club for camera footage, he doubted they’d have a clear photo of the guy with his hand in his pocket. Reporting it to the cops wouldn’t get him far either.

  He’d cancel the cards and move on. In two days, it wouldn’t matter as he’d be in the middle of nowhere. He accepted Smithy’s offer to buy a beer, but the night’s buzz had faded, replaced with uncertainty. The missing wallet was the least of his problems.

  Getting back onto the base with no ID was a pain in the ass. When he finally crawled into bed, sober and wound in knots, he couldn’t sleep. Bailey filled his mind looking like all he wanted was a good time—Kass would’ve given it to him too. Gotten a room and crawled back to base in time to shower and shave and pretend that he was respectable. There’d been something about Bailey that he hadn’t been able to resist.

  Tentatively he reached out again, telling himself he was searching for his wallet. It was easy to find. However it wasn’t moving, and it was too far away for him to nudge it into action. He let his magic slide over Bailey and was immediately thrown into a storm of emotion. Bailey was wound up, but that wasn’t all. Lust, that wasn’t his, spiked through Kass making him as hard as he’d been in the club. The anxiety and desire tumbled together, ramping up, and it took several seconds for Kass to work out why—and only because his hand had somehow slid to his dick. He drew in a breath, wanting to back away from what should be private emotions but trapped in the moment.

  Was it his heart racing or Bailey’s?

  His breath caught, and a shiver of pleasure ran through him. With the next breath there was only calm. But he hadn't come, he was still hard.

  He turned over to stare at the ceiling, unable to lie to himself, and trying to will away the erection. Had Bailey been alone, or had he found someone else?

  The stab of bitterness that caused was unwarranted, given that he’d known Bailey for less than three minutes. Three minutes or three seconds, it didn’t matter. The kiss had started the magic that bound witch and shifter.

  Which created another problem. He was heading off to a war zone; if he was killed, his familiar would pine away and die.

  He sat up, swearing under his breath. He would have to call the Coven and report himself. Witches couldn’t go around blindly kissing shifters and binding mates, no matter how intense the attraction. He flopped back on the bed. It was three AM. He couldn’t make any calls now; this wasn’t an emergency by Coven standards. Tomorrow would have to be good enough.

  Chapter 2

  The buzzing of Kass’s alarm woke him. He flung out his hand and his phone jumped the few inches into his palm. He silenced it without looking. He hadn’t been drunk last night, but he was gritty and tired. Tension thrummed through his body, tangling with the pre-deployment nerves. There was a gnawing in his guts like he was forgetting something, but he didn’t know what.

  For several seconds he lay there, eyes closed trying to work out why he felt so weird. His magic was fine, but there was something else there. Then the kiss bloomed in his mind and his dick hardened like he was eighteen.

  He groaned.

  Bailey.

  He pressed his lips together. He’d been handling magic since he was thirteen. He knew what it tasted like and even though he had doubted the kiss in the heat of the moment, what had happened after left no doubt that there was a bond between them. In the pre-morning light he remembered the way Bailey had been startled too, before denying he was a shifter.

  He’d deny being a witch too, if a stranger asked.

  There’d been a couple of times when someone had jokingly suggested that he must use magic to make the shots. He always laughed and mentioned hours at the range, and it wasn’t a lie. Magic had to be practiced and directing a bullet over a couple of klicks wasn’t easy and he had to figure out the magic and the math.

  And now he had a mate to further complicate things.

  Some man he didn’t know was now enmeshed in his life. He didn’t want that. All he’d wanted was a bit of fun. But out of all the clubs in the world, in Sydney, and in an entire club of people, they’d found each other.

  He’d never been there; the club had been Smithy’s choice. What were the odds?

  He couldn’t start to do the math on that one.

  Rare.

  Finding a mate was almost a fairy tale for little witches. One shifter to match their magic. One kiss to bind their lives. But there were always consequences when it came to magic, and having a mate wasn’t without danger to both of them.

  Yeah, he needed to call the Coven and get this fixed. He checked the time and knew the phone would be answered even if their office doors weren’t open. He hit call.

  “Hello, bakery. How can I assist?” A woman’s too chirpy voice asked.

  The front might be a bakery—that made delicious Danishes—but the business hid the true workings of the Coven. A place where witches and shifters and a few other lesser known beings could solve problems they had with humans, the law and each other. The Coven had their own set of rules that were meant to be followed to keep everyone safe. That included no fancy shows of magic or shifting in well-populated places where people might see.

  And definitely no trapping of mates. There was a long and bitter history between witches and shifters because witches had abused the bond, and then shifters had retaliated. Had Bailey already reported him?

  It had been an accident, but he couldn’t quite regret the kiss. He wanted Bailey too much in those few seconds. Because of the bond and magic. That’s all it was.

  “Hello?” She asked, her tone more serious.

  His mouth dried. He had to speak. “I need to talk to someone about…about a mate.”

  There was a slight pause. “I can help you. Can I have your name?”

  “Kassidy Robinson.” His parents had taken him to the bakery when his magic had developed at thirteen. They’d bought him cake and he spent the afternoon being lectured on witch rules and responsibilities. The three witches had also examined his magic, giving him a few refinement lessons and warnings about showing off to his school friends. He’d pushed those boundaries, testing how much he could do before people started lifting an eyebrow. He’d gotten really good at basketball and tennis before his parents had words with him.

  The clicking of keys echoed down the line as she looked him up. “And you’re registered as?”

  He was damn sure he was the only Kassidy Robinson, but he followed the protocol. “Witch, telekinetic.”

  “What is your mate issue, Kassidy? I will remind you it is frowned upon to go mate hunting.”

  “I wasn’t in a paranormal bar.” There was one in Sydney, but he’d never been. “I was in a human night club and I…” paused knowing he was about to out himself to a stranger but didn’t see a way around it. “Kissed a guy, and it felt like something.”

  Could he sound lamer? Ohhh, I kissed someone and there were legit sparks and now I can’t get him out of my head. This wasn’t a dating hotline. He shook his head, about to apologize and hang up.

  “Can you describe it in more detail?”

  “Are you having a lend?”

  “No, Mr. Robinson.”

  “Kass is fine.” He wasn’t about to give his rank and serial number.

  “Maybe it was just a kiss. Had you been drinking?”

  “I’m wasting your time.” It was nothing. He was lonely and horny and in need of a fuck before he deployed—which wasn’t going to happen now.

  “You called, so it must be troubling you. There are no other calls coming in.”

  Kass forced out a breath and closed his eyes. “It was like kissing a live wire, I felt it everywhere.” He sounded more and more like a fuckwit with every sentence. As much as he liked his magic in that moment, he would’ve given anything to be hu
man. They didn’t have to worry about fated mates bullshit. His father was human—the one magic had skipped in his family—but his mother a witch. Why did he have to find the only shifter in the club and kiss him?

  “Any side effects?”

  “Like what?” Was he supposed to talk about spying on Bailey last night via the bond? Was Bailey able to spy on him? He raked his fingers through his hair and stared up at the ceiling.

  “You tell me.” He almost heard her smiling as she spoke.

  “I can’t stop thinking about him.” His cheeks heated and his dick throbbed. This was a mistake. How could he tell what the changes were when he wasn’t even sure they were real or his imagination?

  “Do you feel a pull? Like if you started walking, you’d end up at his door?”

  Since Bailey had walked out of the club. He’d thought it was because Bailey carried his wallet. “I think so? We kissed, and he ran.” Because he’d realized what had happened? “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I need it undone.”

  More clicking. “No one has reported a witch for mate hunting.”

  That was a small win.

  “His name’s Bailey.” And he hadn’t even admitted to being a shifter. He’d brushed off the question by pretending that Kass had asked something very different and claiming to be versatile. Kass smiled. He’d have liked to find out. His body remembered the way Bailey had moved and his lips wanted more.

  “Do you have a last name for him?” She cut through his thoughts.

  “No.” He was lucky to have any name. He didn’t want to be thinking about Bailey in case their thoughts touched again.

  “I don’t have any shifters by that name.”

  Kass bit back the curse. He needed to find him. “Look. I’m in the Army. I’m going to the Middle East tonight. I can’t have a mate when I’m in a war zone.”

  “I understand your concern.”

  “Do you? I don’t want him to die if I die. I don’t want a mate at all. Can you undo it?”

  Silence. “Mr. Robinson, both of you need to be present to break a mating bond.”

  And Bailey didn’t exist in their system. Which was weird, as most paranormals made themselves known in case they ever needed help.

  Kas rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed. “What do I do?”

  “For the moment nothing. I’ve noted your concern. From our perspective, you did nothing wrong—though we need to confirm your story with him. Just because you have a mate doesn’t mean you have to do anything with the connection.”

  “Our lives are bound.” If something happened to Bailey, he would wither away and die. He shuddered like iced water had been tipped over his bed.

  “True, but one kiss creates only the smallest of bonds, one filament out of a rope. It is possible that it will fade away while you are away because of the distance. Or it might remain. If it does, when you return you should find him and both of you should come to the bakery to talk.”

  He nodded. “So, there’s nothing I can do?”

  “Not unless you can find him today.”

  He wouldn’t be getting off the base until it was time to leave. “If it doesn’t fade, then what? It can be broken?”

  “The breaking of a bond requires the witch to sacrifice their magic.”

  “Fuck that.” He put his hand over his mouth. He didn’t want to sound like one of those witches who thought only of magic. “Sorry. I want my magic, but I don’t know what to do with a mate.”

  “Pray to the Fates that the bond fades. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No.” She’d been no help at all. “I’ll stop around when I get back.”

  “I’ll make a note.” She hung up.

  That had not gone well. He closed his eyes and saw Bailey—if that was even his name—and felt his hands on his body. His lips…the way he moved…

  He sat up and shoved aside the thoughts before his magic reached out to his mate. He needed a cold shower and to get his shit together. He didn’t have time for this consuming distraction.

  The bedroom door swung open and thumped against the wall, waking him from pleasant dreams of getting naked with the witch. He lifted his knees, hoping Gran hadn’t noticed.

  “Four cards, and two of them are cancelled already,” Gran snarled.

  Bailey pulled his pillow over his head. He couldn’t deal with her demands after only a few hours of sleep.

  Gran tugged at the bedsheets. “I gather more at the shops.”

  “Then you go do it.” He mumbled from beneath the pillow, keeping hold of the sheets and wishing he was asleep and still in his dream.

  She yanked the pillow off his head. “Lazy boy. Do you want the men to talk to you?”

  Fury and fear coiled in his gut. “I did the best I could.”

  And it was never enough. He hated it. Not just the stealing, but the threats that if he didn’t obey the men would show up. If he got out of bed, got on a train and left? He’d heard enough times that the only way out was in a coffin. And it wouldn’t just be bad for him. The men would take it out on his grandmother. He couldn’t let that happen either.

  “Always men’s cards. Pretty ladies would be better.” She tutted and opened the bedroom curtains like he was seven, not seventeen.

  “I’m not stealing from girls.” It was bad enough he was stealing at all.

  She watched him with eyes as blue as summer but as bitter as winter. He didn’t remember his mother, only Gran. It had been the two of them until he’d turned five. Then he’d started school. “We need to do our work.”

  “If I find a job, then we don’t need the men and their help. I can find something outside of school hours.” But he wasn’t quitting school. He wanted his leavers certificate. Then he’d leave. He’d do his best to disappear…and always be looking over his shoulder.

  And if he stayed? He’d graduate from theft to getting blood on his hands.

  She shook her head. “The men protect us, and we help them. We don’t get jobs. If we have jobs, then we need to do tax returns and then the government knows who we are. What we are. Do you want to end up in a lab?”

  “No.” But the witch wasn’t in a lab. He glared up at his grandmother.

  “We have to stick together. We’re family.” She smiled, her wrinkles shifting and softening. Her eyes were still like shattered glass.

  “Yeah.” But he didn’t mean it, hadn’t for a while, but he didn’t know what else to do. Gran only had him, and he only had her. And he didn’t want her hurt because he ran. “Family.”

  She nodded. “You’ll do better tonight.”

  She didn’t shut the door when she left. Bailey stared up at the ceiling and the peeling paint. He couldn’t tell her about Kass and the bond. If there was one thing she hated more than the government, it was witches.

  Fuck.

  One kiss. One he’d actually wanted, not one for work. He pulled the wallet out of the drawer of his bedside table, knowing he should’ve ditched it already. But the blue leather was good quality, and the ID cards inside showed Kass stern and serious in uniform, as well as a more casual, though still unsmiling, photo on his driver’s license.

  He smiled. Because he was an idiot.

  Just because it had happened, didn’t mean he had to act on it. Maybe the bond would disappear if they never saw each other again, but he had no one to ask.

  Except Kass.

  Kassidy Robinson. Birthday: April. He was twenty-two. And he’d probably freak if he knew Bailey had been out underage. He seemed like that kind of laced up, law-abiding person. No doubt his credit card was already cancelled, and the theft reported to the cops.

  He sniffed the wallet; sure Kass’s scent was still in the leather. The thought turned his lungs into butterflies, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to be back in Kass’s embrace.

  Would it be wrong if he went looking for him?

  And what? Confess to stealing his wallet? Lying about being a shifter? Yeah, an Army bitch would
n’t want a career crim for a mate.

  Being bound to a witch only brought trouble, pain, and eventual death as the witch stole his life and magic. He was lucky he’d gotten away fast, before the witch did anything else to him. The only things Bailey wanted done to him involved much less clothing. His lips curved. He was awake but the witch could still do something for him…

  He slid his hand into his pajama pants and gave himself a stroke.

  Then the kettle in the kitchen started singing, and from his bed he caught flashes of Gran in her dull pink dressing gown as she made breakfast.

  It would be nice if she shut the door after waking him. Hell, it would be better if she didn’t wake him at all. It was Sunday, and he wanted to sleep in. For every other day he had an alarm.

  He pulled his hand out of his pants. But thoughts of Kass weren’t easily shaken. There was always the shower as long as he didn’t take too long, or she’d bang on the door.

  He sniffed the wallet again, trying to hold on to the moment before the kiss when there’d been attraction and nothing more. Did Kass like him or had he been looking for a shifter?

  It didn’t matter as one kiss had ruined everything. He tapped the leather against his palm. He needed a new wallet, something better than the cheap nylon one he’d bought. He’d keep this part of Kass for himself.

  “Are you coming to church?” Gran called.

  Fuck church. He was going to have some fun with the cash he kept from last night.

  He’d go to the movies with his friends. Find out where the base was and have a sticky beak—not to see the witch. Anything to get out of there and forget what was waiting for him if he let himself become comfortable and accept his fate.

  He wouldn’t end up like Gran, owing favors to the slick men in suits who made demands and gave thin promises of safety. Everything they had was because they were allowed it, and it could be taken away in a heartbeat.