Night Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel

by Jennifer Lyon

Her throat went tight with the sudden, intense urge to sing and call him back to her.

  Phoenix was sweating, his left eye was swollen, his right hand looked like ground meat, and he was still ready to rumble. “Get up,” he growled at Linc Dillinger.

  Linc’s gold eyes narrowed … well, one narrowed, the other one was ballooned shut. He rolled to his feet, then held up a hand. “I’m done.”

  Phoenix bounced on the balls of his feet. “Who’s next?” He glanced at Key and Ram, both sporting cuts and bruises. Sutton had a laptop on his massive thighs. He set it aside and rose. The man was a tank with a bald head, an eagle earring, and the ability to crush small cars.

  Perfect.

  Sutton had just stripped off his shirt when the sounds of boots striding across the warehouse caused them all to turn. Phoenix forgot about Sutton, his rage spiking. Axel. The man who refused to help Ailish. That memory surged through him.

  Axel said, “This isn’t your fight, Sutton.”

  Sutton’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. As a bonded witch hunter, he had even more strength. Maybe enough to put Phoenix on his ass and keep him there. Which was what Phoenix wanted, needed. Anything to make the pain stop. Sutton sighed. “He just got warmed up.”

  “Rain check,” Phoenix said to Sutton. These men were helping him vent, helping him cope with the bloodlust.

  Axel said, “I had no choice but to refuse to bring Darcy to the witch. Ailish is handfasted to a demon. I couldn’t let Darcy or Carla get near her. What if she turns?”

  Phoenix could barely contain his fury. “She was tricked into the handfast and has resisted for almost eight years. I saw her fighting Asmodeus in a mortal’s body. I saw her tortured in her sleep.” Barefoot and wearing only a pair of shorts, he stepped toward Axel. “She’s an earth witch. The Circle Witches refused to help her, and now we refused her. You were going to let an earth witch die from a rogue’s blade. How the hell does that jibe with our vow?”

  Axel reached behind his neck and grabbed a handful of shirt, yanked it off. “Have you looked at your biceps? More of the phoenix is rising, and there’s more flames. Has it occurred to you that she could call her phoenix, then become a demon witch and you’d be her familiar?” He pulled out his knife and tossed it.

  Sutton caught the hilt.

  Phoenix had seen his biceps, but it was Ailish who kept backing away from sex, not him. He’d said he wouldn’t slide his cock into her, but the truth was … he couldn’t be sure he’d control himself. The more he was with her, the harder it was to hold back. “So you would have let her die.” The words made his chest hurt again.

  Axel pulled off his boots. That left him wearing jeans and the hawk tattoo on his back that marked him as the chosen leader of the Wing Slayer Hunters. He moved to the middle of the blue mats. The workout area was a large square with treadmills, weights, and room for sparring. He fixed his green eyes on Phoenix. “Choice between Darcy’s safety from Asmodeus and healing Ailish? You know the answer.”

  He’d let her die. It ripped through him with blinding speed, the need to strike and destroy. He bent over, put his 240 pounds into tackling his hawk. They flew to the ground, and Phoenix slammed his forearm against Axel’s neck and pressed.

  Axel flipped him over his head.

  Phoenix rolled to his feet and spun into a roundhouse kick, catching Axel in the side.

  Axel grunted, grabbed his foot, and jerked him onto his back. He was on Phoenix in a flash, delivering a punch to his ribs and his face.

  Phoenix slammed his elbow into Axel’s ribs and heard a satisfying crack.

  The only sounds in the warehouse were the vicious grunts and thuds of flesh hitting flesh. Finally, Axel roundhouse kicked Phoenix into a wall, and Phoenix went down to his ass and stayed there. He held out his right hand. “Broken finger. Probably did it on your face.”

  Axel sank down against the wall and held out a bottle of water. “Ribs hurt like a mother. If I punctured a lung, you’d better run like hell when Darcy finds out.”

  Phoenix opened the bottle with his unbroken hand. “Hiding behind your witch?”

  Axel snorted. “How’s the bloodlust?”

  “Laying low.” Finally, he could draw a breath without feeling the poisonous craving. Now he just felt pain. He flexed his right hand. The right index finger was dislocated. Wincing, he set down the water, got hold of the finger, and yanked. He felt a flash of hot agony, then it faded away. “Much better.” The rest of the bones and joints were in place. He healed fast, so no big deal.

  Axel pointed out, “Yesterday you’d never have been able to drop me.”

  Phoenix leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Her blood is powerful.”

  “And you got a hell of a lot of it, judging by your strength.”

  “Too much. Her powers wouldn’t heal her, but poured into me. I gave her my blood to save her.”

  “Shit, Phoenix. You’re binding yourself tighter to her. This isn’t one of your hit-and-run rescues.”

  He opened his eyes, saw the other hunters standing around, their gazes riveted. He’d made no secret of his choices. He’d rescue women, hunt down the men hurting them, and fix the problem. Instant hero and then he was gone. He didn’t want to be in a cage again, growing to care about someone so much that fear for her ruled his life. It made his goddamn chest hurt worrying that when the next crisis came, he might not get there in time. Might find her … He shook it off.

  Ailish was different. She was fighting, and not just for herself. She’d saved her friends, too. Phoenix turned his head, looked at the man who had his respect even if they didn’t always agree. “I’m not running this time, I’m sticking.” The words surprised him, but they pleased the phoenix on his biceps. “Darcy or Carla found out anything more on breaking the handfast?”

  “Don’t think so, but you can ask Darcy yourself. She’s upstairs in the condo.”

  He nodded his thanks, ran a hand through his hair, wiping away blood and sweat. “I need a shower first. Sutton, you got the cameras working on the outside of my house?”

  “Yes, all set up.”

  Phoenix nodded. “Thanks.” The cameras had already been in place but not activated. Sutton did his computer shit, whatever that was, and now they could all keep an eye on the house.

  He climbed to his feet. “I’ll grab a shower and check on Joe and Morgan—” His new BlackBerry rang from where he’d left it on the weight bench. He hurried over to it. After looking at the screen, he put it to his ear and said, “Haley, thanks for the tag back.”

  “I only have a couple minutes, but it sounded important.”

  “It’s about Ailish Donovan. Do you know her?”

  “She’s a witch, Phoenix. You need to stay away from her.”

  He almost smiled at her orders. “Too late. I need to know more about her. Obviously you know her, what’s her story?”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  He recognized the caution in her voice that she got whenever she was trying to protect someone. His only choice was to tell her the truth. “She’s my soul mirror, Haley.”

  She drew in a breath of pure shock. “She’s handfasted to a demon.”

  He hated that. “I know. But is she on the level? She says her mother tricked her into the handfast. And that her mother tried to kill you to force her—”

  “It’s true. She was only sixteen! And God, so freaking naïve and clueless. Ailish saved my life and paid for it with her sight.”

  He felt his wings expanding in relief as Haley backed up Ailish’s story. But his gut churned at the knowledge of what Ailish had suffered. In spite of the multiple poundings he’d taken from the other hunters, his muscles twitched with the urge to hurry home to Ailish. “Why didn’t you tell me, us, that Ailish was in town?” If he’d known this stuff from the beginning …

  “Yeah, right. Tell the cursed witch hunter where the vulnerable witch is,” she said dryly. “I’ve spent years trying to keep you out of trouble.” She sighed
, then said, “Maybe I should come back?”

  Her last sentence caught his attention. Haley was decisive and took action. She didn’t dither like this. He’d known her a long time, and only one thing made her unsure of herself. “Who’s the guy?”

  Silence.

  His radar was pinging. “Haley.”

  “I have to go. Be careful, Phoenix.” She hung up.

  Phoenix looked up at the other hunters watching him. “Good news, Ailish was telling the truth.” He zeroed in on Key. “Bad news, Haley’s hooked up with another loser.” She’d disappear until she got this one out of her system.

  Phoenix had talked with the witches, but they needed to know more about Ailish’s handfast. Axel wanted information on her mother—if demon witches were in Glassbreakers, the bonded hunters, Sutton and Axel, had to find and kill them. They’d come up with a plan to have a phone conference with Ailish after getting some sleep.

  It was pre-dawn when he stopped at his house, planning just to check on Ailish, then leave before the bloodlust or sex lust turned him inside out. He’d sleep at the condo. But when he walked in, he could feel her unease and smell a lingering burnt butter scent.

  Shit, she’d been having nightmares. It was the same scent he’d smelled two nights ago in her house. He tracked her scent and the sound of music down the stairs to the gym. It was the size of a three-car garage. Across from the entrance, he had a treadmill, an elliptic, and two stationary bikes facing a TV that dropped from the ceiling. The left side had all his weights and a rowing machine. The center was open, with blue mats for sparring, and the right side had the heavy bags. The stereo blasted out some head-banging music, and Ailish was working one of the bags.

  She knew what she was doing. For a minute he watched, transfixed. Her punches were good, but her power was in her legs. Stepping crescent kick, flying side kick, jump spinning hook kick—they were all fast and brutal. Witch hunters had the speed and strength of several men, but a witch … she was pretty much a mortal physically, except for the chakras where her magic lived. Ailish had trained her body into a tool to banish demons.

  Damn, she was beautiful. Dressed only in a shirt and panties and completely uninhibited and comfortable in her body. Working out her pain. “Ailish.”

  “Not now. Go away.” She worked a few more kicks.

  Her scent filled the room. Slight coconut of her blood, the heady scent of mango and sweat. But the burnt butter smell was still there. He knew what she was doing, trying to work off the pain, the endless frustration. She was leery of being touched. Didn’t know how to trust herself or a man with sex. But fighting? That she knew. He stripped off his boots and socks, then walked across the mat. “Want a—”

  She spun with a side kick and caught him right beneath his ribs.

  He grunted, twisting enough to slide the kick off him.

  She jumped back, hands up and in a staggered stance. “Don’t touch me.”

  His blood went hot. There was no other way to describe it. The bloodlust crouched down in his veins, ready to spring. But there was something else, something darkly sexual and erotic that wanted her to not back down. To come at him with everything she had. Her arms were tight with tension, the muscles in her thighs were ready to pounce, and she was so damned sexy that he could barely breathe. “What are you going to do to stop me?”

  She bounced on her feet.

  Her breasts moved beneath that shirt, and his brain stuttered.

  Ailish hopped and in a smooth movement lifted her knee and snapped her leg up, then brought her heel down in a path right for his face.

  He ducked back just in time. Damn, she played rough. “Not bad. For a girl.” He purposely goaded her, testing her control, seeing how she fought. “Got anything else, or—”

  She slammed her fist into his jaw.

  Phoenix caught her wrist and felt a spray of her lust-pain. She was clever and had followed the sound of his voice with her fist. But she needed more, more relief and more trust. He jerked her forward. “You’re going to have to do better, little boxer. You want to fight with me, you’d better bring your A game. I’m not a girl, babycakes. And I’m not a mortal man. I can put you down on this mat and keep you there without breaking a sweat.” He knew this was dangerous, but Ailish needed relief and she needed to learn to trust him. He just had to keep the bloodlust under control.

  She drooped a bit and sighed. “You’re right.”

  He let go of her wrist, telling himself that he wasn’t disappointed. He was a witch hunter; he could hurt her, damn it. She was being smart. Hell, she wasn’t going to goad the curse in him. He turned toward a small refrigerator where he kept bottled water. “I’ll get a couple—”

  She hit him in the back of the knees, buckling his legs. He dropped to the mat and rolled before her next kick caught him in the head. Phoenix snapped up to his feet, closed his mouth, and watched his prey. She was crouched, her arms up for protection, head tilted as she tracked his moves. Her face glowed, her witch-shimmer sparkled. The witch was having fun. She liked fighting. She wanted to fight, he’d give her a fight. He moved, his feet barely touching the mat as he circled her.

  She caught his movement, turning with him, keeping him in front of her.

  No way in hell was he going to risk hitting her. Instead he dropped to a crouch, swung a leg out, and caught her in the ankles.

  Her feet flew out from under her. She hit the mat on her back and rolled, putting distance between them to recover. Phoenix didn’t give her the chance. He leaped, caught her around the waist, and threw her back to the mat. His mistake was slapping his hands onto the ground so he didn’t land on her.

  Ailish drew up her knees and kicked him off her.

  They were both on their feet, circling.

  “You’re holding back, hunter.”

  “You’re going down, witch.” And she was, just as soon as he figured out how to get her down without hurting her. Not that he wanted this to end. He was having too much fun. She was good. Nowhere near as good as him, but good. Strong and sexy. It was a hell of a turn-on.

  “I’m sure I will, but I’m going to kick your ass before that happens.” She spun around, and he braced for her kick.

  Instead, she cracked him in the face with her elbow.

  The blow rang in his head. Damn it, she was smart. He’d been looking for the kick, ready to grab her leg and dump her on that delicious satin-covered ass. Okay, maybe he’d been thinking that he’d have her legs spread, and he’d be able to see her—

  She kicked him in the solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs.

  Phoenix blinked once, then pulled his head out of his ass. Her face was set, but he could see the grin teasing her full mouth. If her golden shimmer were any brighter, she’d be able to flag down airplanes. Proud of herself, was she? “Ever heard of Chuck Norris?”

  Her hands dropped a fraction. “Who?”

  He aimed carefully and spun into a roundhouse. At the last second, he pulled his kick to keep from really hurting her and caught her in the shoulder. She flew a few feet across the mat.

  She landed and he was right there, dropping down on top of her, pinning her on her back. He locked her wrists in one hand, trapped her legs between his. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest as she panted. With his free hand, he checked her shoulder where he’d kicked her. “Chuck Norris. The supermortal whose solution to every problem is a roundhouse kick. Now admit defeat, baby, I have you pinned.” Her shoulder was fine.

  “Admit defeat?” She laughed in his face.

  God, she was hot. And shit, her scent was changing. The acrid burn was gone, replaced by the rich, buttery scent of arousal. His dick got hard and heavy, growing against her belly. “You’re a bad little witch. Fighting makes you horny.”

  She started to struggle, warm pink staining her face. “Let go and I’ll show you—”

  He leaned down, brushing his cheek against hers. “It’s sexy as hell,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve never met
a woman like you. So strong, hard-assed, and willing to back it up with action.”

  She stopped fighting him. He could feel her pulse jump. “I wanted to sing. Even once I was awake, the more the lust beat at me, the more I wanted to sing.”

  The bird ruffled on his biceps, as if begging her to sing, to free him so he could touch her, be with her. He felt the same way, a deep longing wrapped around his hot desire. Pulling back, he looked at her face. “If you didn’t sing, how did you get out of the dream?”

  “Dug my fingernails into my thighs.”

  With her pinned beneath him, he couldn’t look at her thighs, but he hadn’t smelled her blood or seen any marks earlier. Putting his forehead against hers, he said, “So you came down here trying to work off the pain. Why didn’t you just relieve yourself?”

  Her body went tight, coiling with frustration. “I can’t. I’ve tried, but … I can’t.”

  He knew damn well she wasn’t squeamish about touching her own body. “Can’t how?”

  She closed her eyes. “Come. Somehow the demon keeps me from that.”

  His biceps started to burn, while a roar raced through his head and enraged his blood. She’d been suffering like this for almost eight fucking years? And he’d kept pushing her, kissing her … then leaving her to suffer more! He shoved off her, keeping hold of one hand, and pulled her to her feet against his chest. “I’m taking you to my bed, where it’s going to be just you and me. You can come as many times as you want, as many times as you need.”

  She raised her left hand. “The handfast—”

  He swore he heard a crackle of flames, similar to the way a lion would roar. “The phoenix will keep the demon out.” He turned, tugging her behind him. “Stairs.” He led them up, wound through his house.

  She stopped in the hallway before his bedroom. “Your soul … I’m barely holding on to mine, I can’t be responsible for yours.”

  He turned and swept her up in his arms. “There are other ways to bring us both pleasure,” he said as he walked into the room and kicked the door closed. He laid her on his thick comforter and stood between her legs hanging off the edge. Drawing his hand down her belly, he fingered the edge of her panties. “I’ve been imagining what’s beneath these. You’re bare there, aren’t you? All that soft skin, swollen and wet …” He looked down at the black satin stretched over her mound. His heart pounded, his mouth watered. “Your mouth tastes like warm mango, what will you taste like here?” He drew his finger along the material to the heat between her legs.