CONTENTS
Title
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Book 3 (Excerpt)
More Books
Note from the Author
Copyright
STOLEN
SILVER WOOD COVEN BOOK TWO
By Hazel Hunter
STOLEN
Silver Wood Coven Book Two
Just as Summer settles into her new life with the Silver Wood coven, her world is upended. Templar Michael Charbon inexplicably kidnaps her from the very place he’d sent her for safety. Though still suffering from amnesia, Summer has learned of the long enmity between Wiccans and Templars, and tries everything to escape him. But as he thwarts her every attempt, the fierce desire that has always bonded them surfaces.
Though hundreds of miles away, warlock Troy Atwater will not give up. Taken from under his nose, he pursues his lover with a single-minded quest: to reclaim her and kill the Templar. What he finds when he tracks them down, however, rocks him to the core. Not only are Summer and Michael lovers, he finds himself drawn to join them.
What none of them know is that Michael has come under the suspicion of his Templar brothers. Though he’d thought to save Summer from a calamity at the coven, he has unwittingly placed her in grave danger. Warlock and Templar must work together or see their lover destroyed.
CHAPTER ONE
SUMMER WOKE UP alone in the dark. Feeling dazed and sluggish, she grimaced over the faint burning sensation in her nose and the awful taste in her dry mouth. When she tried to touch her face she discovered her wrists had been bound together. Shifting her legs revealed the same thing had been done to her ankles, and that she’d been left on top of a bed with cool, clean, silk sheets.
She rolled onto her side to push herself upright with one elbow, squinting as she turned her head. She couldn’t make out any details of her surroundings. Her first impulse was to shout for help, but that might bring whoever had taken her and left her tied up. The last thing she remembered was walking in the woods outside the pavilion. Whoever had done this obviously had grabbed her there, but who? And why?
Sensory memories began scrolling through her mind: her name being whispered softly, the firm grip of hard hands, a cloth with a terrible chemical smell clamped over her mouth and nose. The remorse in his cool green eyes and his voice as he’d said to her: I am sorry, my Beauty, but you must come back to me now.
“Michael?”
Summer was shocked as much by the memories as the croaking sound of her own voice, and the stabbing pain that bounced inside her head and just as quickly vanished.
Struggling against the knots binding her proved useless, so she wriggled toward the edge of the mattress, hoping to ease herself off. When she reached it the silk sheet under her slipped, and she fell to the floor with a loud thud.
She heard heavy footsteps outside the room and rolled, hoping to wedge herself under the bed, but a door opened and the sudden brightness made her freeze like a doe caught in headlights.
“Summer.” Michael Charbon lifted her with his strong arms and placed her back on the bed. He ran his hands over her, checking her arms and legs before peering at her face. “You shouldn’t have woken so soon.”
“I guess you didn’t use enough drugs.”
Her voice still sounded horrible, but what upset her more was the sense of relief she felt as soon as he touched her, and the pleasure she took in looking at him.
Tall and powerfully built, Michael strongly resembled a warrior ready to fight for his life in some dangerous arena, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and run her fingers through his short-cropped golden hair and listen to his deep voice rumbling in his broad chest. He had made her feel safe and protected from the moment they’d met, when she’d been a homeless amnesiac in Central Park, and he had saved her from a dangerous rapist.
The problem was that Michael wasn’t her friend. He was a Templar witch hunter, and she was a witch. He had abducted her from the safety of Silver Wood, the coven that had taken her in and had been training her to control her power. What was even more confusing was that Michael himself had arranged to send her to Silver Wood to keep her safe from the Templars.
He obviously changed his mind, or he wouldn’t have brought me back to New York City. So why do I still want to throw myself in his arms and kiss him until neither of us can think straight? To cover her confusion Summer asked, “May I have some water, please?”
He nodded and left her, returning a minute later with a chilled glass bottle, which he uncapped and held to her lips.
Summer drank half the contents before she gasped and turned her face away. “No more, or I’ll be sick.” She ignored the wonderful heat and smell of him as she glanced around her. “This is your bedroom, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He capped the bottle and placed it on the night stand. “You should try to sleep a few more hours now. The effects of the drug should wear off by morning.”
The light came from behind him, shadowing his features, but Summer could hear the concern in his tone. She’d felt the same thing in his touch; maybe he hadn’t brought her here to hurt her.
“Michael, why did you bring me back? I was happy with Troy and his people––and I was safe with them, too. You knew I would be. You sent me to them.”
“It was a mistake.” He switched on the bedside lamp before he rose and walked over to look out the bedroom window. “Have you remembered anything more?”
“No, but I’ve discovered a few things.” Summer glanced at the distance from the bed to the door, and wiggled backward until she could prop herself up against the pillows. “I’ve been cursed, but the curse stopped working a couple weeks ago. It turns out I’m also not a green witch, and I suck at actual gardening, but I can bring dead plants back to life.” She leaned over and began to unpick the knot in the cords around her ankles.
“That we knew from the effect you had on the Conservatory gardens,” he said softly.
“This would be more like I killed the plants first, then replanted them because I felt badly, and whoosh, they grew like wildfire.” Once she freed her ankles she shifted over toward the edge of the mattress as silently as she could, and swung her legs over. “Everyone was pretty nice about it, but then, they’re nice people.” She stood and took a step; her legs felt a little numb but supported her weight. “How have you been?”
Summer didn’t wait to hear his answer, but tiptoed across the room and stepped out into the hall. She fled down the hall toward the front room and freedom. She was a few inches from the entry door when a big arm encircled her waist and dragged her back against Michael’s big, hard body.
“I would have made it if you hadn’t drugged me,” she muttered as he swept her up in his arms and carried her back to the bedroom, where he placed her back on the bed and retied her ankles together. Tired now, she watched him knot the cords before she asked, “So what have you been up to? Is winter your busy season for hunting and torturing witches, or do they give you some time off for the holidays?”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “I am not a torturer.”
“Then why am I tied up, Michael?” She watched his eyes, which looked haunted, and felt a surg
e of anger. “Did you want me to be helpless, and entirely at your mercy? I am. I have been since the night you saved me.”
“You are the least helpless female I know.” He got up from the bed and pulled the coverlet over her. “I would never harm you, Beauty. You know this.”
“I know you knocked me out, tied me up, and took me away from people who were helping me. From Troy, who trusted you.” She wanted to sound angry, but it came out exhausted. “What are you going to do now? Turn me in to the Templars? Since they do like to torture witches, that’s going to inflict a lot of harm, me-wise.”
“I will help you regain your memories, and then I will move you to a safer place.” He bent over and switched off the lamp, and then briefly touched her cheek. “Go back to sleep, Summer. I will be watching over you.”
Just to spite him she wanted to stay awake for the rest of the night, but her eyelids went on strike and the rest of her body wouldn’t cross the picket line. Until the drugs wore off she wouldn’t be able to escape Michael, if that was even the right thing to do. As she drifted off she thought of Troy, and how frantic he must be by now. In the morning she would have to persuade Michael to call him, and at least let him and the coven know she was safe.
CHAPTER TWO
SUMMER KNEW SHE was dreaming when she opened her eyes again; she stood in the center of a beautiful formal French garden that she had never seen––and yet somehow still recognized.
“Of course you know it, bébé.” An older woman with flowing brown hair and jewel-bright eyes took her arm, and began leading her along a path made of polished flat circles of violet-green jasper. “You played here when you were a little girl. When we were hidden from the greed of the world.”
Although she spoke in French, Summer understood every word. She also saw that with every step they took the beautiful flowers and plants around them began to wilt and grow brown. “Why does the garden die?”
“They found me. I always knew they would, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.” The woman stopped and clasped Summer’s hands in hers. “Forgive me, bébé. When you bring your mates together, and come into your power, you will understand.”
“My mates?” Summer’s eyes widened as the woman’s body grew transparent and then faded away. “No, don’t leave me again. Maman.”
“Summer.”
The smooth tenor of Troy’s voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, and Summer hurried through the dying garden toward it, reaching out for her lover.
“Troy, please, I’m here.”
Darkness enveloped her, whirling her away to the meadow in front of his home, where the sunlight poured over her with all the bright heat of mid-summer. Troy stood just a short distance away, his tall body shrouded in a green mist; his heavenly blue eyes piercing as he stared at her. When she took a step toward him he held up his hand.
“Don’t come any closer. If you do I’ll lose you again.”
“I won’t leave you.” She wanted to run to him, and throw herself in his arms, but when she tried to take another step something held her rooted to the ground. She glanced down and saw her feet tangled in a thick mat of wildflowers that were growing incredibly fast and twining their stalks around her legs. “Troy, help me.”
“I’m trying,” he said. “Erica is looking for you. I can see you in the mirror, but you’re sleeping. Do you know where you are?”
“I’m in New York,” she said. “Michael took me back. Troy, he doesn’t want to hurt me. I’m safe for now, I think, but something’s wrong. He has me tied up.”
“You hold on,” Troy said, his voice filled with fury now, and like the older woman his body turned transparent and began to fade. “I’m coming. I’ll find you, I promise.”
Tears stung her eyes as she reached out to him. “Don’t hurt Michael, Troy––Troy.”
The wildflowers abruptly dragged her down into the earth, the soil swallowing her up as she plunged deeper and deeper–
“You have nothing to fear from me.”
Summer opened her eyes to see Michael sitting alone in an armchair before a fire. He held out his hand to her, and without thinking she hurried to him, flinging herself into his arms.
“Don’t cry, Beauty.” He pulled her onto his lap and held her like a child, tucking her head under his chin and stroking her back with a soothing caress. “I am here. Nothing can hurt you now.”
She lifted her head. “You hurt me, Michael. Why did you take me?”
“He is falling in love with you. I saw it in my dreams.” He studied her face. “And you care for him. You gave yourself to him.”
“I care for you,” she whispered. “I would have stayed with you.”
“It could never be, my Beauty.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I am a priest, and you are a pagan. I belong to the order.”
“None of that matters.” Power bloomed inside as Summer pulled her hand away and pressed it over his heart. “You are mine, Michael Charbon.”
Wildflowers shot up around the armchair weaving around them and enveloping them in a soft, fragrant cocoon. Michael’s eyes filled with awe and wonder, but no fear, and as Summer touched her lips to his she heard once more the old crone’s voice.
This man is thine now. The triad is now complete. Do with him what thou will, Guardian.
• • • • •
Michael woke with a muffled groan, and immediately knew three things: he had not been cocooned by wildflowers; he had fallen asleep in his armchair and had been dreaming; and the weight on him was not made by his guilt but by Summer, who lay sleeping in his arms.
Michael knew he should carry her back to the bed, but he would not have another chance to look at her or hold her like this again. So he filled his eyes with her, from the top of her thick, sun-streaked brown mane to the high, elegant arches of her pretty feet.
The changes in her were subtle but he could see them: the healthy bloom to her skin, the silkiness of her hair, the serene smoothness of her brow. She had begun to lose the gauntness inflicted by living homeless in the park. It was obvious she had been well cared for during her time at Silver Wood.
Summer shifted, snuggling closer to him and slipping one hand to rest against his chest. Michael went still as he saw the shredded, burnt cords hanging from her wrist. He looked down at her feet and saw the bonds around her ankles had suffered the same fate. Had she used some Wiccan magic to free herself? If she had, why had she come to him instead of escaping?
Troubled now, he gathered her up carefully and carried her back to his bed, where he removed the ruined cords before tucking her in. She frowned slightly before she sighed and settled onto her side, resting her cheek against her hand.
Michael clenched his fists as he stood over her, his cock swelling and his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to wake her with kisses on her luscious mouth and long neck as he unbuttoned her blouse to bare her beautiful breasts to his eyes. His hands ached to cradle them and squeeze them as he suckled her and tongued her until she cried out for his cock. She would feel like hot honey on him as he sank into her–
Summer murmured something in her sleep, and a tear slid down her cheek as she repeated it: “Troy.”
This is the fool I am, Michael thought bitterly. Standing here wanting her while she dreams of him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket like an angry wasp, and he retreated, closing the door to the bedroom before he answered it. “Charbon.”
“Michael, my son. I was told you were traveling to Philadelphia.” Nathaniel Harper’s tone was sharp with annoyance. “Did you find the witch there?”
“No, master.” It was not a lie; he had found Summer in New Hampshire. “She is not there.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” Nathaniel’s tone grew chilly. “With Gideon’s illness we are in need of the Emerald Tablet more than ever, and only she can lead us to it. Still, you are making more effort with this task, so I will not complain.”
Complaining was all Nathaniel ha
d done since assigning him to find Summer. The traitorous thought shamed Michael, and he closed his eyes briefly. “Thank you, master.”
“You should know that my steward left the Abbey yesterday without permission and has not yet returned,” Nathaniel said, his voice tight now. “It seems he has taken Augustin with him as well. If you see either of them, do not attempt to confront Gideon alone. Contact me and I will send Alvis to help you contain him.”
Michael felt sick. Gideon Edmunds was a ruthlessly trained fighter with centuries of experience in battle, and the immortality sickness he suffered was known to inflict extreme, delusional paranoia on those it afflicted. He could easily wage a one-man war on humans and cut a path of death and destruction through the city.
“Has he shown any signs that he has become unstable?”
“None that I have observed, but he has been concealing much from all of us. This, too, he may have hidden.” The Temple Master sighed. “Whatever state you find him in, my son, remember that he is still our brother, and worthy of our respect and care for his loyal service to the order.”
Unlike me, Michael thought, hating himself even more now. “Yes, master.”
After he switched off the mobile he took down one of his paintings and opened his wall safe, removing one of the spell scrolls he kept there. In this Michael had also secretly defied Nathaniel, who had expressly forbid every Templar from employing any form of magic while carrying out their duties. Since Nathaniel planned to use the Emerald Tablet, the oldest grimoire in the world, to wipe out the Wiccans, Michael no longer felt any guilt over his own modest collection.
The scroll he removed detailed an alteration spell, which he had used more than once on himself during his patrols in order to evade notice. Like the others he had written it himself, as he had long ago learned he had a natural inclination for spell casting. He’d also learned a great deal about magic in the past by observing Troy Atwater, who had used it more than once to save both their lives during their escape from the Saracens.
Stolen (Book Two of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel Page 1
