These Arms Of Mine

by M. L. Briers

  “She does have a name…”

  “Funny, I thought they were interchangeable, but obviously that’s where your problem is.” Julian offered back.

  “My problem would be if I miss the opportunity to catch the one I’m looking for.” Nathaniel said, making sure to keep his voice as void of emotion as his blank expression.

  “You have nothing but time. If he kills the witch then you’ll catch him the next time, or the time after that.” Julian said, unimpressed by Nathaniel’s obvious attachment to his newest witch.

  “What can I say? She’s a very good witch.” Nathaniel offered back with a glibness about him that Julian wasn’t buying.

  “And you are a very bad liar.”

  “I thought I was a very good liar. You seem to change your tune as the mood and years suit you.”

  “Now you’re deflecting…”

  “Of course I am; you’re annoying me,” Nathaniel said on a sigh.

  “And the witch doesn’t annoy you?”

  “No.”

  “There’s something wrong with you. You are developing feelings…” Julian sneered.

  “Feelings? Don’t be absurd.”

  “And yet here you are – guarding her house – guarding her…”

  “Perhaps that’s a by-product of being this old. I can see the big picture.” He shrugged.

  “Well, perhaps someone should stake you before you give all vampires a bad name.”

  “Go home, Julian.” Nathaniel begged.

  He couldn’t deal with Julian’s particular brand of honesty – not when Morgana could be in danger. Maxi was a seer, and he doubted that she’d steer a fellow Fae wrong…

  “I will. So should you … You can’t protect her Nathaniel. She is not immortal, and when her time is up … she’ll die.” Julian said as he pushed up to his feet and started to turn away.

  “Oh, there are one million possibilities before I let that happen.” Nathaniel muttered, but Julian heard it anyway, and he stopped in place to look back over his shoulder.

  They were vampires. They didn’t get to live in the real world and put down roots. Not real roots that endured. Not ones that mattered, and that was the problem, they shouldn’t matter.

  Julian had noted in his dealings with Nathaniel that the man seemed to be changing and that wasn’t a good thing. That kind of change could bring attention that the man didn’t need right to his doorstep, and the doorstep of the little witch that he seemed to have taken a liking too.

  The thing that Julian didn’t like in that whole scenario was that innocent vampires tended to get caught up in the sweeping punishments that followed. The elders wouldn’t stand for anything that shone a light on their existence, and if Nathaniel kept going then he might just be drawing that kind of attention.

  “Why this witch?” Julian asked, unsure what had gotten into such a normally uncaring, unfeeling man that he knew Nathaniel to be, and turned him into the kind of sap that would put a witch in front of his own safety.

  “When I figure that one out I’ll get back to you.”

  ~

  ~

  ~

  Reed Collins sat in the front seat of his pickup truck and eyed his prey. The man had never been backwards about coming forwards and snatching the life from anyone that was harming him or his pack, but this was different – he’d been told that the witch had a vampire protector.

  That wasn’t good news in his book. The woman would have been easy pickings normally, but he’d been watching her for a few days, and the source was right – the dark witch was indeed being protected by a vampire.

  It might have made it harder to get to her, but it was still doable.

  It had to be for the sake of his pack.

  He just needed to bide his time. That in itself was a problem for him. Patience had never been high on his list of priorities to get a grip on – he didn’t have the right kind of a personality for it.

  Being a wolf shifter gave him a lot of strokes to his personality chart. Aggression – short tempered – protective – possessive – all a big fat check on that list … add to that the fact that he was an alpha and they all went through the roof.

  But it was that protection gene that was flaring at the very moment in time. The witch was out to harm his pack and that made her a dead Fae walking in his book.

  The sooner the better.

  His eyes took in the sight of her as she opened the front door to her nondescript little house and stepped out into the light of day. His wolf growled within him, and that deep sound rumbled within the closed space of the truck.

  He could practically taste her on his fangs. She was his – sooner would be good, but as long as that vampire was hanging around on the rooftops and shadowing her every step – he knew that he’d have to wait for the chance to snatch her away.

  Morgana – he grunted at the absurdity of her name. Talk about putting a giant damn neon billboard above her head to point the way to the witch inside her.

  “Dead witch walking…” he growled as she started off down the street.

  His eyes flicked upwards to the roof of the house opposite. There was her protector, skulking in the background, and following along behind her like a lost puppy.

  Reed knew that the time would come when that vampire wasn’t looking – was otherwise occupied, and that would be the time that he’d have her at the end of his claws.

  His beast growled within him again…

  He could hardly wait.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~

  Morgana snapped on the overhead lights in the small backstreet shop and flooded the room with artificial light. She stopped in the doorway and looked inside – something felt off – as thought someone had been there, or maybe they were still inside.

  She reached out with her magic and bounced it off every corner of the shop – pushing outwards into the stock room at the back, and the space where she made her potions and brews for the selective clientele. It bounced back at her with just a small vibe…

  “Your delivery came early…” Joseph announced from just over her right shoulder, and she jumped in place. Even if she’d been half expecting someone to jump out at her, she hadn’t expected it to be from behind her…

  “Jesus, Joseph!” She grumbled, taking a step into the shop and turning to look at her human neighbour on the south side small merchants row of niche sellers…

  “Ok, firstly, taking the Lord’s name in vain…?” He gave her a teasing sour look. “That’s not cool for a witch. I’d have to say you have a big strike through your name already, but, damn, Morgana … talk about getting on God’s smite list … and wasn’t there a Mary in there somewhere?”

  His brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and she couldn’t say that her racing heart was particularly reflective of that right then. His boyish good looks and charm only went so far, but he was a friend, and human, so she held onto the need to zap his backside.

  “Trust me when I say that I’m only going to kill you once, Joe…”

  “I’m not entirely sure what that means…” he rolled his eyes towards the crack laced ceiling of the shop and considered it. “Nope, must be witch humour, which, I’m entirely fond of by the way…”

  “Good to know, and what was the second thing?” Morgana asked, trying to swallow down her heart from her throat and back into its rightful place within her chest.

  “The second thing?” He frowned.

  “You said – firstly, which implied there was a second thing, but this is you, and you are male – so – that whole … oh, look, boobs – distraction thing applies…” She offered him a smug grin.

  “Yeah … I like boobs…” he nodded solemnly, trying to look vague. Then he snapped to it, “sorry, what were we talking about?”

  “Funny.”

  Morgana narrowed her eyes on the man and he gave her that boyish grin, plus the dimpled cheek one to add to the distraction.

  “Me too by the way.” She offered back and his eyes lit u
p like a kid at Christmas.

  “Really…? Is that why you won’t go for a drink with me?” He asked, a teasing look of hope in his eyes.

  “Nah, that’s not it,” she shook her head and said no more.

  “Oh, yeah!” He announced just as she was about to turn away from him. “You’re right … secondly…” He waited for her to turn back towards him, deliberately keeping her in suspense.

  “Don’t bust my chops…” Morgana tipped her head to one side and placed her hands on her hips, giving him an expectant look.

  “Me…?” He frowned, then he was beaming her that smile again. “Never…”

  “Spit it out, Joe. I have a shop to open…” Morgana shrugged.

  “You had a delivery. I let the guy in…” Joseph offered, looking as if he wanted a pat on the head and a Scooby snack.

  “Thanks…” she offered back. “And you stayed with him, right?”

  “Of course,” he rolled his eyes in his head. “Mostly … a pair of boobs walked by on a great pair of legs…”

  “Thank you, Joe…” Morgana shooed him back out of the door and he chuckled. “He put the boxes in the back.” He grinned before he turned and walked away.

  Morgana watched him go for all of a few seconds before she turned and closed the door behind him, locking it with her magic, and pulling the blind down.

  It had worked out great between her and Joe – they helped each other out and both had a key to their respective shops for things just like a missed delivery, but the trouble was … she wasn’t expecting anything.

  Morgana turned on her heels and stared at the partially drawn curtain that separated the front of the shop from the more magical influences at the back. Her heart was thumping within her chest…

  An unexpected delivery wasn’t the end of the world for most businesses, but she’d felt that something was wrong – out of place – when she’d walked through the door. Now it was time to deal with whatever it was, and she wasn’t exactly happy about it.

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this…?”

  Morgana started towards the curtain. It was fair to say that her heart had only just slide back down into her chest from the fright that Joseph had given her, and now it was pounding quite happily there, and in her ears…

  Something definitely felt off.

  It felt supernatural in origin, but considering that she was a witch, and in a shop surrounded by the magical and mystical – she couldn’t put much stock in that summation.

  She ducked through the open gap in the curtains and eyed the boxes on the counter top. They looked like every other delivery that she’d ever had…

  “Hiding in plain sight…” she grumbled to herself.

  She could feel the hairs on her body start to rise to the occasion the closer that she got…

  “In for a penny…” she reached out for the scissors on the counter as though the boxes themselves were going to jump up and attack her.

  Her top lip twitched, and she hated that, but no more so than when her nose did it … and there it went. Her nose started to twitch like a damn rabbit and she sighed.

  “I’m guessing anything other than a magical serpent that leaps up and tries to kill me would be a blessing…” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to talk herself into opening them or out of it…

  She felt a tingle to her shields…

  She opened the scissors and used just one edge to run along the tape and unseal the first box. Smallest first…

  She didn’t put the scissors down, still intent on using them should something jump for her…

  “Come on, Morgana … you’re being a girl…”

  She reached out and flicked the flap, pushing up on her toes to peer inside. It was still too darkly lit for her to see anything.

  She pushed back the second flap with the sharp ends of the scissors, and her eyes went wide as her heart jumped right back into her throat and she tried to gasp a breath in through the restriction; all while jumping backwards away from the counter…

  “Not a blessing … not a damn blessing … serpent good…”

  ~

  ~

  ~

  Morgana would much rather have been drinking a nice stiff shot of something that was one hundred proof, and yet, she consoled herself with the cup of tea – that in truth was more sugar than anything – as she sat at the counter in her shop – because her legs were still shaking and threatening to dump her on her pride on the floor – and sipped from the scalding brew.

  She even needed to use both of her shaking hands in an attempt to be able to get the cup to her quivering lips without spilling it down herself.

  She eyed the curtain as if something was going to walk through the gap at any moment and scare the bejesus out of her … and it did…

  “You called. I came … what’s that stench? Wet dog?” Nathaniel pulled a sour face as he scared the hell out of her, just appearing through the gap – all silent and stalky like.

  “Cut out the creepy vampire stealth thing!” She bit out, putting the cup down on the counter in front of her so as not to spill any of the hot brew as her hands shook harder…

  “Creepy…?” Nathaniel raised his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Come now, I’m anything but creepy…”

  “You are, and you’ll be dead creepy in a minute…” she hissed back. Right then she was in no mood for his particular brand of humour.

  “Too late, someone beat you to that one over a hundred years ago…” Nathaniel flashed her his best smirk, and she grumbled, giving him a dark look in return. “Coffin humour not to your liking today, got it.”

  “Being a smug, smirky, self-centred, jerk isn’t to my liking either, so could you cut that out as well?” Morgana shot back, flicking her hand towards him and knocking the hot brew. It splashed over the rim of the cup and onto the counter and she seethed inside…

  “What is that smell…?” Nathaniel looked around again, distracted.

  “Sage!” She snapped back … she’d managed to fire up a smug stick with her magic…

  “Not that…” he said on a shake of his head…

  “Vanilla…” she’d also lit several incense burners…

  “Still not the scent I’m trying to pick out…”

  “Couldn’t be what’s in the damn box, could it?” She ground out, blotting the spilt tea with a handful of napkins and waving an absent hand towards the boxes behind him.

  She didn’t want to look at them again. Looking at them would remind her of what was inside and she was dearly trying to burn that image from her mind.

  Nathaniel frowned as he turned on his heels and strolled back towards the counter. He reached out a hand and tentatively nudged open the top of the box.

  His head tipped to one side. His eyebrows reached up for his hairline, and he regarded it for a long moment…

  “I’ve heard of a rabbit’s foot…” he started.

  “No funny, Nathaniel!” She bit back.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t order this off the internet…” He offered back with a smug expression, but his lips were drawn tightly and his mind was already working overtime…

  “Gee, ya think?” She tossed back.

  “And so…?” he turned back to look at her.

  She was flustered. Pale.

  He’d noted it when he’d first seen her, and every inch of him had responded to it – so much so that he’d been close to letting his fangs and claws out expecting someone to be in hiding ready to attack him, and he’d kept up the banter to put them off their guard…

  Now he knew differently.

  Now he knew why she looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  “I don’t know…”

  Morgana turned to look at him then. Her eyes were wide and her manner guarded, and if he was a betting man then he’d have to place a bet that her magic was at hand and ready to strike out at the perceived danger that box represented.

  “Hmm…”

  “Don’t … Hmm … me!” Morgana
snapped back. “See, this is exactly why I do not relish working with you…”

  CHAPTER TEN

  ~

  “With? Interesting choice of words…” Nathaniel tipped his head to one side and considered it.

  “Don’t start with me … not now. Not with that…” She tipped her chin down towards her chest and narrowed her eyes…

  “Thing?” He offered and she screwed up her face.

  “Thing in a box in my shop…” she finished.

  “Instead of out running the land?” He teased and she gave him a death glare. “Do we know the owner?” He asked, turning and reaching into the box.

  Morgana shivered as he lifted the bag containing a wolf’s front paw in the air and inspected it. It had been cut just below the joint…

  “Not funny…” she ground out.

  “Well, not for the shifter…” he said tossing it back into the box.

  “Nathaniel…” She bit out between clenched teeth, and he cleared his throat.

  “Fine. But, I somehow don’t think the owner is going to come and claim it, Morgana…”

  “Seriously?” She shot back, offering him another death glare. “It was sent to me, Nathaniel…”

  “I can see that…”

  “Why would someone send me a shifter wolf’s front paw?” She bit out.

  “A sign of affection…”

  “Can you be serious…?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted. “I know – I know – I don’t have a leg to stand on…”

  “Nathaniel…” She sighed.

  “Ok, I’m more or less done. I’m not sure how this is my fault…”

  “I never said it was your fault…”

  “It was implied with the whole – this is why I don’t relish working with you – jibe.”

  “I’m in no mood for your…”

  “What’s in the other box?” He pointed … and she shrugged.

  “You really think I was going to open that considering what was in the first one?” She demanded.

  “Good point,” Nathaniel flicked out just one claw on his index finger and sliced through the tape holding the flaps together…