by Jen Talty
“Bourbon on the rocks.”
“You are a woman after my own heart.” Nico patted his chest. “We’ll be back shortly.”
Isidore followed Helen to a small table off in the far corner of the room, trying to avoid the stares of everyone around her.
There were wolves, shape shifters, a couple of sulkies, and Helen, a fairy.
Isidore didn’t exactly know how she knew what Helen was, since she’d never encountered one. However, Helen did have a vanilla odor, but that could have been someone’s perfume, or Isidore’s imagination.
Like hearing Nico tell her she wasn’t a full witch.
And a fairy.
Hogwash.
“Congratulations.” Isidore took a seat with her back to the wall, eyeing the room. Many guests went about their business, but they also constantly glanced her direction. She opted to focus on Nico, who stood near the bar with James. “You must be very excited.”
“Honestly, I can’t wait for it to be over, and we can just get on with our lives.” Helen tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear with a delicate touch. Her French manicure dazzled in the LED lighting.
Isidore suddenly became very aware that she not only stuck out as the only witch, but her attire didn’t fit in either, unless she was standing next to Nico or at a heavy metal concert.
She’d never cared before what people thought since she was an outcast with her own people, but this felt different, and she couldn’t explain it.
“So, how long have you and Nico been together?”
“We just met.” Isidore chewed on her thumbnail. She’d given Nico too much information about herself and her situation, and she wondered what he and his buddy were discussing across the room. She had half a mind to excuse herself to the ladies’ room, cast a quick spell so she could listen in, but she figured Helen was the kind of girl that would be all like oh, I’ll join you in the bathroom.
Isidore didn’t know what to do about her diarrhea of the mouth when it came to Nico. She was going to put her sister’s life in bigger jeopardy if she didn’t zip her lips.
“Seriously?” Helen leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. “You look pretty cozy for a new relationship.”
“Try a first date,” Isidore admitted, feeling a weird kind of kinship with Helen.
“One would never know. You both look smitten like a couple of kittens.”
Isidore laughed. “I highly doubt Nico would enjoy being compared to a cat.”
“You’re probably right about that,” Helen said with a sweet smile. Glitter danced from her eyes, floating in the thin air like magic.
Weird.
“Can I ask you a question?” Isidore chomped down on her tongue, but it seemed nothing was going to stop her mouth from chattering away.
“By all means.”
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
Helen blinked, tilting her head, pointing to the air between them. Flashes of light flicked across the table. “I’m not a royal, for one, and I have no powers. I’m what is known as a dormant fairy, only released since the mating of Nico’s brother.”
“No powers at all? As in like a human?”
Helen let out a long breath. “I know, boring as hell. It seems I do have some emotional healing powers, as in I tend to make people feel good, but other than that, I’m useless.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Isidore’s thoughts wandered to her mother and how nice it would have been to have one person, other than her two daughters, to help her feel good about herself when all her husband ever did was beat her down both emotionally and physically. “All creatures have a purpose.”
“Interesting coming from a witch.” Helen leaned across the table. “You have no idea what you are, do you?”
Isidore scrunched her face. “What do you mean?”
Helen tapped her temples. “If you focus, you can see the dust coming from your eyes.”
“Dust?”
“Fairy dust.”
“Impossible”. How could she be a fairy? That was just insane. Her parents were both witches, though her mother was half human, something that had always bothered her father.
She tried to concentrate on seeing this so-called fairy dust, but instead all she saw was a witch, hiding outside the building, across the sidewalk, in the woods.
Not a witch from her coven, but a witch that had bad intentions. How she knew that for sure, she had no idea, but she didn’t question it.
“Excuse me,” she said, making a beeline for the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nico moving toward her
“Where are you going?” he asked with an accusatory tone.
“I need you to trust me,” she whispered, holding his biceps. “Stay inside and stay away from the windows.”
Using her skills, she zipped out the front door essentially undetected, but she could feel Nico’s body closing in fast.
Damn him.
The witch in the woods stepped from her tree. “Back away,” she said with a snarl. “This is my hunt.”
“There is no hunt here.”
The witch laughed, her long, red hair blowing in the breeze. She raised her arms, lightning firing from her fingers. “Don’t make me hurt my own kind.”
“I won’t. Now leave before I—”
“Before you what?” The witch inched forward. “Traitor,” she whispered, flicking her fingers, extending her hands, fire rushing past Isidore.
Quickly, she turned, diving on Nico before the bolts burned through his body. “Get James. I’ll have her in restraints in a few minutes,” she said sternly, jumping up, her toes five feet from the ground as she twirled in the air, striking the other witch with her heel in the gut.
The witch grunted as she slammed into a tree, but she didn’t fall to the ground. Instead she hurled herself at Isidore.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” the witch said, leaning back, ready to twist and strike.
But Isidore was ready for the standard move and ducked. “Whoever trained you should be fired.”
“And you should be put down, you freak.” The witch spun fast and hard to the right. For a second, she disappeared.
Now all Isidore needed to figure out was where she’d strike.
Thump!
“Humph.”
The witch nailed Isidore with the sharp tip of her boots across the face. The taste of metal lined her throat as she fell twenty feet to the earth. Spots speckled her sight. She sucked in a deep breath before flying up behind the witch, grabbing her hair, and tossing her to the ground.
“Take that,” Isidore said.
But the witch didn’t stay down long, hurling herself to the sky.
Isidore dodged the witch’s first strike, but the second nailed her in the cheek. A sharp pain ripped through her head.
“Either back off and leave me to my hunt, or I’m going to put you down.”
Isidore landed flat on her back, nausea tearing at her gut. All she needed was one strong breath before she launched herself in the air.
The witch hovered fifteen feet over her, slowly lowering herself, a metal blade glistening in the moonlight, dripping with a kill potion intended to destroy any living being.
Including a witch.
Just as Isidore heaved herself to a standing position, shaking out the cobwebs that had started to settle in her brain, the witch raised her arm, only three feet away, with a sinister smile.
“Stupid girl,” the witch said, but her arm froze, and her grin turned to a frown.
“I can’t hold her like that for long,” Nico said with a strain in his voice.
Isidore snapped her gaze in his direction.
“Do something,” he said, “before I lose my ability to keep her from moving.”
“One, two, three, as fast as a bee, bind the witch that threatens thee.”
“Fucking freaks,” the witch muttered as she did a nosedive to the ground, her knife slipping from her hand. “You’re going to pay for this.”
>
“I doubt that.” Isidore held her cheek. Warm blood trickled between her fingers. “Lift the powers from this creature.” She held her hands over the witch’s body. “Swirl them into a seeing beaker and send them to the seeker.”
The witch shook and groaned in pain as her magic seeped from her pores, filling a large jar that had formed in the sky.
“What’s happening?” Nico asked.
“I’m sending her powers to a vault. You’ll need to have someone take her before the council. You can’t let a witch get to her or find her.”
Nico went for the knife.
“Don’t touch that!” Isidore jumped in front of him. “It’s laced with poison that will kill you in seconds. You need protective gloves. Or better yet, I’ll take care of it.”
“All right.” He traced his thumb gently over her cheek. “Looks worse than it is. I don’t think you need stitches.”
“I think you have some explaining to do. Wolves don’t have the power to move, or in this case, stop objects and especially not a creature of any kind.”
Chapter 5
NICO TUGGED THE door of the cabin closed, making sure the lock clicked. He hadn’t been thrilled about leaving the party early. Very few guests knew about the witch attack. No reason to ruin the festivities for everyone else. Lucky for Nico, a few other officers were in the area. Ones he knew well and trusted.
Now he just needed to get word to his brother about what happened.
And deal with the fact he’d just mated in a way he’d never expected. He always thought it would happen while making wild passionate love.
Not in the middle of a battle.
His heart swelled with emotions he had no words for, and it flattened just as quickly knowing he couldn’t stay with his mate forever. Actually, more like she wouldn’t stay with him, but that didn’t matter.
What did matter was that he’d protect the twins, and then his heart would harden and break within months of Isidore leaving.
She would leave. He knew that. He felt the coldness in his bones.
“How the fuck did you do that?” she asked. “And why do you think I’m a fairy?”
“One thing at a time,” he said.
“Fine. Start with why a wolf has telekinesis.”
He told Gerri he liked feisty and a woman who spoke her mind.
“I want to take care of that cheek first. I’m sure there is a first aid kit in the bathroom.” He took her by the arm while she continued to hold the blood-stained napkin over her cut. “Sit.” He pointed to the toilet as he rummaged through the cabinets until he found some butterfly bandages and antiseptic.
“Are you capable of talking and bandaging me up at the same time?” She dropped her hands to her lap, glaring at him with eyes so dark he felt a trickle of fear creep down his spine.
“I can manage that.” He dabbed the cotton ball with the smelly liquid. “This going to sting.”
“Just start talking.”
“It started when the twins—”
“What twins?” Her mouth dropped open. “There are two Wolfairies?”
He should take a needle and thread and stitch his mouth closed. “Yes.”
She bolted upright, knocking him off balance as he slammed into the wall. “Jesus,” he muttered as he noticed a red stain on her shirt just on the side of her stomach above her hip.
“No wonder my father and my crazy coven is going even more bonkers over this.”
“I don’t follow,” he said.
“Power in numbers. After the birth of the twins, you can separate them, making sure at least one survives past the first month, ensuring the continuation of the new species.”
“They will both live, but thanks for the tip,” he said, tapping her other wound. “Take off your shirt.”
She glanced down, then folded her arms over her middle. “It’s fine.”
“That’s too much blood. Let me take a look.”
“What are you, a fucking doctor?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. When Gerri said his mate might be too much for even him, she hadn’t been lying. “Isidore, please. I’m trying to help.”
Sitting back down, she raised the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, exposing a white, lacy bra.
He smiled, half expecting it to be black, but it was a nice contrast to her tough exterior. It was hard not to stare at her round curves. He let his gaze roam her body slowly until he came to a tattoo of a grouping of beautiful butterflies. Green, blue, yellow, and then three large burn marks, two inside of the wings of the largest image.
The burns destroyed the precision of the lines in the tattoo, and marred her skin with red, raised circles.
“I thought witches could only have certain types of tattoos.” He knelt in front of her, letting his fingers trace the edges of the scars.
“We’re only supposed to ink our bodies with things that represent witchcraft.”
“Butterflies are believed to be the birth sigh of the Wolfairy,” he said softly.
“I didn’t know that.” She lifted her hand, curling her fingers through his hair, looking at him with tenderness.
“Who did this to you?”
“I found a good tattoo artist—”
“I meant the burns.” He leaned in, kissing one. His lips burned, and he jerked his head back. “I’m going to kill the person who caused you such pain.” He touched his lips, still hot from feeling her agony.
“You’ll have to stand in line behind me,” she whispered.
He let out a short laugh as he examined the cut on her side. “This one should probably have stitches.”
“There’s a needle and thread in the kit.”
He cocked his head. “That will hurt like hell if I do it.”
“Give me your hands.”
He rested his palms in hers, staring at how her hands fit inside his and how it made his heart race with something akin to passion, desire…love.
“I call upon the forces I know. Water, Fire, Earth, and Air. Take this wolf’s hands and guide them through my flesh while sending my pain elsewhere.”
“That’s going to stop the pain of me sticking you with a thick needle?”
“It will ease it,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You stitch me up and tell me how you learned to move objects.”
“Only if you tell me who hurt you.”
“Don’t forget the fairy thing.”
“I won’t.” He sucked in a deep breath as he tried to thread the needle with a shaky hand. He’d stitched a wolf before out in the field, but the idea of causing his mate any ache at all made him sick to his stomach.
Fated mate.
He blinked, before gently pinching her skin together. “You’re the only one who knows about this new power of mine.”
“It started when the twins were conceived.”
He shook his head right before he tugged at the string, amazed she didn’t flinch, though she did dig her fingers into his shoulder. “It started when my brother stepped up as Alpha of our pack. It was slow, and the first time it happened, I’d had a bit too much to drink, so I thought maybe I was hallucinating.”
“But you kept trying.”
He nodded before taking the pair of tiny scissors, cutting the thread after he’d knotted the fourth stitch. Snagging some gauze, he gently placed it over her wound and taped it in place. “Before I opened the door today, the biggest thing I had moved was a pizza box and a six-pack.”
“That sounds fantastic.”
“I’ll order one, and there is beer in the fridge.” He taped up her cheek, then rocked back on his heels. “When that witch came at you with a knife, I had no idea if I could stop her.”
“Well, you did. So, thank you for that. But I would have gotten the upper hand.”
“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” The pride that flooded his mind and soul over her abilities to protect and fight stunned him in ways he couldn’t imagine. He’d always pictured himself with a strong woman. One
capable of taking care of herself, but he expected it would be more like the ability to light a fire, or chop wood, not defend like a true warrior. “Let’s get that beer.”
“I’m game, but you still owe me an explanation for saying I’m—”
He pressed his finger against her soft lips. “After you tell me about the burns.”
She climbed up on the stool at the kitchen island and let her long, black hair down from her clip. He knew it would be long, but he didn’t expect it to flow over her breasts, bouncing around her middle. He swallowed, staring at her sitting there in just her bra and jeans.
“Can I get you a shirt?”
She looked down and gasped. “Um, yeah. That would be nice.”
He ripped his off and tossed it at her.
She groaned.
“Are you in pain?”
She laughed. “I’ve been wondering all night what you looked like bare-chested.”
“I see,” he said, unable to prevent his lips from curling up into an adolescent smile. He pulled two beers from the fridge, cracking them open. “You’re avoiding telling me what happened.”
She tipped her beer, before downing half of it in one gulp. “My mother loved butterflies, so I wanted to honor her with them.”
“Your mother passed away?” he asked, though he knew the answer. In his research, he’d learned her mom had killed herself. The only thing he didn’t know was why.
“When I was twelve.”
“You got that tat before you were even a teenager?”
“I was a bit of a problem child,” she said with a sweet smile. “Authority issues.”
“I hated being told what to do when I was a kid.” He twisted his body, showing off the large wolf tattoo that spanned across his shoulders. “I got that when I turned sixteen. My mother grounded me for a month, and my dad took away my motorcycle.”
“My dad just put his cigar out on my skin.”
The beer in his hands slipped through his fingers, fizzing all over him as it crashed to the floor. “What did you say?” He balled his fists, allowing a throaty growl to escape from deep in his gut.
“Please don’t make me repeat it. I’ve kept the tats and the scars hidden ever since.”
