by Leia Shaw
Destiny Bewitched
Leia Shaw
Copyright 2012 – Leia Shaw
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 9781476167695
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form except for the inclusion of brief quotations in review without written permission from the author.
To Jay –
for spending hours going over fight sequences and weaponry with me
Chapter 1
Orange hair caught the light and shone like fire. A young woman swung her sword, slicing through flesh with a skill and brutality that didn’t fit her small body. She ducked and dodged blows coming from all sides. Her counterstrikes flowed with grace, the sword like an extension of her arm. It arched over her head and whistled through the air. She twisted and spun and thrust. A beautiful, violent dance.
Geo watched, transfixed, as the three werewolves in crinos form, circled her, growling furiously. Patches of fur covered their seven foot tall muscular bodies. Blood dripped from gashes in their chests and stomachs. Even with her long sword, she couldn’t quite reach the only place they were vulnerable – their necks. But the werewolves were holding back. They wanted her alive.
With a warrior’s cry, she slashed through the stomach of the biggest werewolf. His eyes lit up with rage. A terrifying snarl echoed around them. And a flash of fear tightened in Geo’s chest.
Fear? He shook his head. It was none of his business why the werewolves wanted the girl. It definitely shouldn’t concern him why a woman, quite possibly a human, was alone in the Underworld in the first place. A werewolf claw nicked the skin on her belly where her shirt rode up. The crimson blood against her pale skin bothered him more than it should. He grimaced. Keep walking. He’d survived in the Underworld as long as he had only because he minded his own business and kept to himself.
But his gut churned at the thought of leaving the woman in the hands of the werewolves. He looked back at the fight. She held her own – a fearsome little thing – but her limbs sagged and her reflexes seemed a bit slower. The ire in the werewolves’ eyes continued to grow. They’d lose their patience soon.
An open satchel on the ground caught his eye. A brown book with a worn cover sat halfway out of the bag.
A Grimoire.
His heart jumped with excitement. She was a witch.
A feminine yelp of pain snapped him out of the daze and he swung his head toward the sound. The witch fell lifelessly to the ground, blood trickling down her temple.
The biggest werewolf – black as night with pale blue eyes – let out a deafening roar. His claws curled and drool fell from his muzzle. With heavy thuds, he stepped toward her, still snarling. He reached down –
Stop.
One mental command and the three werewolves froze. Geo gave the order for them to stay while he placed the Grimoire in the satchel and threw it over his shoulder. He walked to the woman, unconscious on the ground. The werewolves’ gaze followed him, icy cold and promising vengeance. He lifted the witch into his arms and faced them.
“I’m sorry, but I need this one.”
The biggest beast growled. They weren’t in a forgiving mood. If he was smart, he’d kill them. Whatever plan they had for the girl was, no doubt, a nefarious one. But, a vampire had to feed, werewolves had to mate. It was the way of his world.
He looked down at the bundle of redemption cradled in his arms. His world rarely included witches stumbling around the most dangerous parts of the Underworld. Maybe, at last, luck was shining down on him. Maybe, with her help, he could finally return home.
Chapter 2
Samantha woke with a pounding headache. She groaned and rolled to her side. Her muscles screamed in protest. Her sword arm felt like jello. A piece of hair fell across her face, tickling her cheek. She swept it away and her hand came back sticky and wet. Blood?
Panic gripped her and she choked on a gasp. Memory took her backward like a movie on rewind. The deal with the dragon, the door to the Underworld, the werewolf attack. Then blank. And now a headache and sore muscles? Well, at least she wasn’t dead. With a lot of effort, she cracked open her lids.
Her gaze darted around the semi-darkness. She was in a small wooden cabin. A fire crackled in a hearth on the other side of the room. It lit most of the cabin, but it was the dark corners that unsettled her. A few pieces of handmade furniture stood ominously in the firelight. And she lay on a pallet of some sort.
Wincing in pain, she shifted to sit. A rectangular wooden frame formed the raised surface for a bed. She looked down. Underneath her, a shoddy hand-stitched quilt of mismatched fabrics made up the mattress. It seemed clean at least. She did a double take at a few spots of blood then shuddered. Or not.
Looking around the space again, it appeared she was alone. Was this a werewolf cabin? Was the door unlocked with no one to guard her? She rose to her shaky feet to find out.
Footsteps thudded outside the door.
“Shit,” she whispered. Desperately, she searched the room for something she could use as a weapon. Her gaze fell on her satchel.
Yes!
She sprung across the room to her bag and shuffled through it. The footsteps grew closer. “Come on, come on, come on.”
The door knob jiggled.
“Aha!” She pulled out a piece of chalk and drew a circle on the floor around her, chanting a protection spell.
The door opened just as she finished. A tall figure, shrouded in darkness, stepped into the cabin – his size accentuated by his heavy footsteps. Her heart seemed to stop beating.
The man stepped into the light of the fire and she finally got a good look at who held her captive. She blanched.
His powerful legs were wrapped in brown leather. Small pouches and odd looking things dangled from a thick belt at his waist. Was that an animal foot? Olive skin with a strong jaw and prominent, slightly crooked nose gave him a flawed yet handsome appearance. Not at all what she expected.
He addressed her, his voice deep and husky. His language sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t understand him. When she stared blankly, he tried again.
Then it hit her. Greek. She had the urge to roll her eyes. Of course it was the one subject she’d failed during her short time of witchcraft mentoring.
With a sigh, he withdrew the cowboy hat from his head. She gasped. A pair of impressive rust-colored horns rose up from his skull and extended backward like a ram. His hair fell around them, almost masking them.
Her captor was a, “Demon,” she whispered breathlessly. Not for the first time in her short mortal life, Samantha was in deep shit.
He nodded. “Ah. English, then?”
She couldn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on his horns. But that couldn’t be right. The illustrations of demons she’d seen depicted small men with baggy skin and rows of pointed teeth. The horns were the same but his height, muscular build, glossy brown hair and full lips…something didn’t add up. Then again, she wasn’t a cackling hag covered in warts either.
The demon’s lips quirked at one corner. “I’m glad to see you have some fear. I was a little worried when I saw you picking a fight with the werewolves.”
That pulled her from her daze. She scowled. “I wasn’t picking a fi –” She cut off when his eyes crinkled around the corners. He was teasing her?
His gaze swept down her body and stopped at the ground. “A protection circle? Very good. Now come out of there.” He turned away and stepped toward the fire as if he fully expected her to obey. He lifted the lid on the cauldron. A heavenly scent filled the room.
He turned back around and stopped when he saw she hadn’t moved. “All right. Stay there if you’re more comfortable. What’s your name?”
She pursed her lips. “
Never give a demon your name,” Selene, her witch mentor had instructed. Demons were one of the most dangerous creatures in the Underworld. They had the unique ability to influence one’s mind, manipulating people to do as they commanded. Their influence grew more powerful as they learned more about their victim. And it all started with a name.
His brows shot up at her silence. “Don’t want to talk to me? Why not? Cause of these?” He rubbed his hand over one of his horns then chuckled when she continued to stare. “I didn’t save you from the werewolves only to harm you. You’re safe with me.”
She exhaled a humorless laugh. Safe? With a demon? Talk about an oxymoron. “Where’s my sword?”
“Hidden, but secure.”
Forcing her voice to be strong though she trembled inside, she demanded, “Give it to me.”
The demon gave her a curious look – as if he was surprised by her courage. Job well done if she’d fooled him.
“So you can stick me with it like you did the werewolves? No thank you.”
She huffed though he had a point. “Why did you save me from them?”
“I just so happen to need a witch.”
Her gaze rested on the cauldron over the fire. “Am I the last ingredient for your demon stew?” Though her tone was sarcastic, her stomach churned at the thought.
He merely looked her over and answered, in a casual tone, “You would make terrible stew meat.”
She had the distinct feeling he was laughing at her. “Please let me go, demon.”
“Geo.”
“What?”
“My name is Geo. Won’t you tell me yours?”
She shook her head.
“Stubborn girl,” he mumbled. He turned to a rickety old cabinet and pulled out two bowls. He scooped one into what looked like soup and held it out to her. “At least eat something.”
Her stomach growled as she gazed longingly at the bowl. She hadn’t eaten more than a couple granola bars in two days but she refused to move from the circle. If he brought it just a little closer…
She held out a hand, beseeching him to give it to her in the circle.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded and held the bowl away. “Come sit near the fire with me and you can have it.”
With a grunt of displeasure, she clenched her fists and remained where she was.
“Come now, little witch. You can’t escape without some nourishment anyway.” His lips twitched. Teasing her again?
But Samantha hadn’t managed to stay alive among the foulest warlocks for twenty-three years by trusting just anyone.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” he asked, eyeing her chalk circle.
She should’ve made it bigger. Then she’d at least have room to sit down and stretch out. She looked down at her bare feet. Bare? He took her converse sneakers? Smart demon. “You said you needed me. What for?”
He sighed and lowered himself to the floor by the fire, bowl in hand. “Tell me first why you’re here in the Underworld then we’ll get to my purpose.”
She bit down on her bottom lip.
“Are you this difficult about everything?” He sipped his soup from the bowl.
“Generally,” she answered honestly. She stared at his horns.
He noticed her gaze and rubbed one self-consciously. “This is…temporary.”
Temporary? According to the legends, demons were a botched experiment by Merlin, an infamous sorcerer from Wales back in the tenth century. He tried to create the ultimate weapon – an indestructible creature that could control people’s minds. Most sorcerers didn’t like to admit it, but Merlin had been bat-shit crazy. The daimonas were obsessed with chaos and destruction. They didn’t take orders. They lacked organization and self-discipline. Hard to make an army with vicious little boogars that could decimate a city but acted like five-year-olds on crack. Merlin ended up with a big problem that ran the risk of giving sorcerers a bad name, something they’d never allow – the self-righteous pricks. Gethin, the Red Dragon of Wales and guardian of the Underworld helped sweep it under the rug. He owed Merlin a favor after he freed him from a trap and gave dragons the ability to take human form. So into the Underworld went the screwy little miscreants.
But this “temporary demon” had intelligent eyes and what appeared to be a conscience. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. It went against all her instincts, but she didn’t really want to stand in a circle all night, and the soup did smell delicious.
“I’m here to retrieve my sister.”
“By yourself?” At her nod his brows descended. “You have no escort? No protector? Where is the male responsible for you?”
She blinked once then waited for him to correct himself. When she realized he was serious, she rolled her eyes. “Oh my Lord, I’ve died and woken in a historical romance novel.”
“Clearly much has changed since I last observed your world.”
Clearly. And she’d be educating him promptly.
“Where is your sister?”
“The Underworld Games.”
His expression darkened and he set down his empty bowl. “The Underworld Games? A mortal witch? Impossible.”
Placing a hand on her hip, she told him irritably, “It’s not impossible. She was taken to repay my father’s debt to the overseer. You have to let me go, Geo. She’s only fifteen. Her powers haven’t manifested yet. She’s defenseless and surrounded by creatures she’s never seen before. Who knows what they’ll do – ” Emotion lodged in her throat, choking off her words.
Geo’s expression softened as he gazed at her. “Even if you’re right, how do you plan to save her? You’re skilled with a sword, yes, but there’s only so much one mortal witch can do.”
Well, yes, there was that. “I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
He stared at her for a long moment then, seeming to have made some silent decision, stood up and declared, “All right. I have a deal for you. I will take you to the Games and you will do something for me in return. It’s a three-day journey through some of the most treacherous terrain in this realm. You won’t make it by yourself, sword or no, fearsome female.” A smile played at his lips. But not in a condescending way, more as if he was remembering something. “I will escort you, keep you safe, and procure food.”
This was starting to sound a lot like, me Tarzan, you Jane. And just what did he want in return? The way he was ogling her body, it had better not be what she thought. Her gaze swept over his fitted brown t-shirt, bulging muscles visible through the fabric. Although….
“In exchange,” he started, catching her gaze, “you will contact Gaia and tell her of my good deed. That’s all. Just one small favor.”
Not a bad deal. If the werewolf fight was any indication, she was unlikely to survive a three-day journey toward the arena. That was assuming she even knew how to get there, which she didn’t. She’d walked into the Underworld yesterday without a plan, carrying only a satchel of essentials and her sword. She really needed to work on the whole looking before she leapt thing. But Nikki was here, somewhere, and Samantha was her only hope.
Could she trust Geo? A demon. No matter how temporary he claimed his…condition was, he still remained a demon. Evil. Selfish. But he’d offered her food. He’d made no threats against her. And deep down in her gut, she felt his goodness. There was more to this demon than met the eye.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re going to travel with me for three days and all you want in return is for me to send a little message to Gaia?” It sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was.
“Does it look like I have anything better to do?”
Well, no. “What do you have to offer me for protection? Can you do any cool tricks?”
He smirked once then sobered. With a compelling voice he ordered, “Step out of the circle.”
And damn her body for wanting to obey. Quickly, she locked down on her muscles to keep from moving. But it didn’t matter. She groaned with the effort to rem
ain still. Only a moment later, both feet were out of the circle – her only protection, gone.
“Come,” he commanded from across the room.
She couldn’t resist gliding toward his silky voice no matter how hard she tried. Standing before him, she kept her gaze on the ground, silently wishing for the strength to pull away.
“Kneel.”
She dropped to the ground, wincing at the hardness under her knees. Damn him. She was vulnerable – at his mercy in every way.
“Look at me.” His voice was a tender whisper.
She raised her head. Warm copper eyes stared down at her. There was no pride or arrogance there. Intelligence. Compassion. Could she truly have found a…good demon?
He lifted his hand toward her face and she flinched. But to her surprise, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She almost purred.
“Such a pretty girl.” His husky rasp slid through her like a shiver. “Do I meet your approval?”
Oh yes. She nodded then pulled away from his hand.
He spun around, giving her his back. “I’m also handy with a sword.” She felt her eyes widen when he pulled out the biggest sword she’d ever seen from behind the cabinet. More than four feet long, he handled it with ease.
He chuckled when she gulped. After he placed it back behind the cabinet, he asked, “Now will you tell me your name willingly or must I pull it from you?”
She hated being on her knees in front of him. “Let me up and I will.”
At once, she felt his power recede. Her body was her own again. She rose to her feet and dusted off her jeans. Geo turned and dipped the second bowl into the cauldron to retrieve more soup.
“Sam,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
“Sam? A boy’s name?”
“Short for Samantha.”
A heart-breaking smile stretched across his face when he turned from the cauldron. “Samantha, sfagéa to̱n lýko̱n, me ti̱n omorfiá kai ti̱ fo̱tiá.” He held out the bowl full of soup and she snatched it from his hand before she could remember her manners.
