He took in the words and let them linger in his mind as he replaced the scroll, and then walked back to his bedroom. Summer lay sleeping so peacefully he almost changed his mind, but he knew it had to be done before someone came to the apartment and saw her.
Because it felt right Michael rested his hand on the top of her head, unconsciously willing the power in her to help him as he cast the spell. Cloak this woman with a lad’s guise, of light hair and dark eyes. All who behold her will see nothing but that which is he. So may it be.
An amber light shimmered over Summer, cloaking her in the illusion that altered her feminine form to that of a tall, lean young man. Her long tresses lightened to a white-blonde and shrank to a short cap of hair around a solemn, lean face, and even her clothes shifted to more masculine versions in plaid and denim. By the time the light vanished Michael could see no trace of Summer’s true form in the lad who lay sleeping.
Forgive me, Beauty. He touched a cheek that appeared flat to feel the sweet curve beneath the illusion. I wish I could be anyone else for you.
CHAPTER THREE
“SUMMER.”
THROUGH THE green mist Troy lunged for her hand, and felt his own smash into something hard. Glass shards pelted his face and chest as he bellowed her name again, only to find himself in a candlelit room, his hand bleeding and Erica Buchanan’s hands shaking him hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“Troy Atwater, look at me.” The High Priestess of the Silver Wood coven turned his bewildered face away from what was left of the shattered mirror on the table so that he looked into her tear-filled green eyes. “Yes, you’re here, with us. You’re home.” She gave him a tight, fervent hug.
Troy dragged in a deep, steadying breath as he shed the last traces of the spell that had, at least for a few moments, allowed him to communicate with Summer.
“Why did you bring me back? She was in the meadow with me. Right there, not more than a hundred feet away. Damn it, I could smell her.”
“Dream-speaking can seem very real,” Erica said, her red curls falling around her scarred face as she bent over to wrap a soft cloth around his bloody fist. “But you were not in the meadow. You never left this room.”
Troy rested his brow against his uninjured hand, recalling every detail he could remember. “She was afraid, and begged for my help. She’s back in New York.” An ugly anger welled up inside him. “He took her. That son of a bitch.”
“Troy, we will sort this out, I promise,” Erica said. “For now you must rest.”
“I don’t have time for that.” He began to rise, and found himself being shoved back in the chair by his father’s hard hand. “What are you doing? I have to get on the road before morning.”
“It’s almost noon,” Abel Atwater told him, dragging his hand through his silver-streaked black hair. “The spell took you so far into that witch’s mind it took all night and this morning for Erica to bring you back.”
“What?” He glanced at the windows, and saw the slant of the sunlight confirmed the time. “How could a simple dream-speaking have kept me enthralled for twelve hours?”
Erica exchanged a look with Abel before she said, “I don’t think it was the spell, my dear. While you were in communication with Summer your eyes filled with green light. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years.”
“Neither have I, but I can tell you what it means,” Abel said flatly. “She’s more powerful than you––than any of us. So before you even think about going after her, consider what she might do to this coven if you bring her back.”
Facing his father was like gazing into a mirror at his future self. They shared the same striking features, bright blue eyes and long-limbed, strong physiques. Their manes of dark hair even sprang from the same widow’s peak. What Troy could never understand was how they could look so much alike and be so completely different in mind and heart.
As High Priest of Silver Wood, Abel had every right to protect his people, but Troy knew this wasn’t about Summer or any threat she might pose to the coven. His father had always had an unyielding, suspicious nature, and still thought he had the right to control every aspect of Troy’s life. Years ago he had driven Troy to leave Silver Wood to join the Magus Corps, and now he was trying to stop him from saving a woman who had become not only his friend but his lover.
You can’t keep using me to avoid dealing with your family problems, Summer whispered from his memory. Your dad has every right to be suspicious of me. I’m suspicious of me.
Troy stood and turned his back on his father as he said to Erica, “Thank you for helping me locate her. I’ll call when I can.”
He went to the room he had shared with Summer and took his overnight bag out to pack. Another time his father’s obstinacy might not have provoked him so strongly, but learning that Michael had taken Summer had sent his temper soaring into the red ranges. He knew Summer cared for the Templar, and Michael must have felt something for her, or he would never have risked bringing her to Troy.
Why would he take her back to New York, when he knows what the order will do to her if she’s captured? Troy knew Michael’s struggles with loyalty and honor better than anyone. Has he finally given up, or gone over the edge?
The sound of a throat being cleared made Troy turn around to see Erica’s brother, Ewan Buchanan, standing on the threshold.
“I’m sorry, Ewan, but whatever it is will have to wait. I’m leaving.”
“Over which I heard my sister and your father shouting.” Ewan’s merry brown eyes took on a sorrowful tinge. “Troy, I know this is none of my concern––and you know I try very hard to stay out of these familial tussles––but perhaps you should wait a day before you travel. Only to rest,” he added when he saw how Troy’s jaw set. “So that you are fully ready to rescue young Summer.”
“Every moment I delay places her in greater danger.” He stuffed some clothes in the bag and went to the cabinet where he kept his weapons. “I can rest when we return.”
Ewan laid his hands on the upper curve of his heavy belly.
“As long as you’re sure. Where have they taken her? Is there anyone at Magus Corps I can call to send assistance?”
“She’s somewhere in New York City, and no, Magus Corps doesn’t handle this sort of thing.” That was a lie; he could make one call and have the city under siege by his comrades by nightfall. Troy was almost tempted to, for Michael was a formidable fighter, but for centuries he had kept hidden from everyone the outrageous pact he’d made with the Templar. This, too, had to stay between them. “I can find her myself, Ewan. Don’t worry.”
“May the Lord and Lady watch over you,” the older man said, making a benevolent gesture of blessing before he retreated.
Troy made it to his Jeep before his younger brother, Wilson, Abel’s apprentice, Lachlan, and every dog in the coven intercepted him.
“I’m going after Summer,” he told them, but when he pulled the driver’s door open Lachlan’s heavy hand slammed it shut, and the dogs began to collectively growl. “You really don’t want to fuck with me now, Dr. Doolittle.”
Lachlan’s face turned red. He’d always been sensitive about his ability to control animals.
“Abel said you’re not to leave the mountain.”
“Abel doesn’t have a say in it.” Troy shifted his gaze to his brother’s dark face. Although Wilson looked nothing like him, he could see their father’s intransigence seething in his bitter dark eyes. “You’ve wanted me gone since the day I brought Summer here, and now you’re going to stop me?”
“Give us a minute, Lachlan.” Wilson waited until the apprentice warlock reluctantly stalked off before he said, “I don’t give a damn what you do. Go, come back, it doesn’t matter to me. But Aileen is about to have our baby, and we don’t know anything about this woman except that she can’t control her power. That makes her dangerous, and a threat to my mate and my child.”
“You’re wrong, Husband,” a soft voice said from behind them. “Summe
r would never harm us. As it happens, she saved my life and our baby.”
Troy turned to look at Aileen, whose luminous gray eyes were dark with worry and fear. “What do you mean?”
“I promised Summer I wouldn’t tell anyone,” the pregnant witch admitted. “But she can control some of her power now, and she used it to prevent a bad accident from happening to me.” She regarded her husband. “The baby and I would be dead now, if not for her.”
Wilson paled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I might have, if you weren’t running around acting like a jealous idiot.” She turned to Troy and handed him a small leather bundle. “Some healing potions you may need on the journey. The vials are marked.”
“Thanks, little sister.”
To annoy his brother he kissed Aileen’s cheek before tossing his bag in the back and climbing in behind the wheel.
Wilson drew his wife back from the Jeep, a possessive arm around her thin shoulders as he glared at his brother.
“Try not to get yourself hacked to pieces.”
“I’d never make you that happy, Brother.”
Troy started the Jeep and drove off.
CHAPTER FOUR
DAWN ROUSED SUMMER from a green darkness, and when she opened her eyes she saw gray silk sheets, black carpeting, and white walls. Michael’s apartment. Her captor now sat dozing in a chair beside the bed, the thin morning light revealing two day’s worth of whiskers shadowing his face.
She sat up, glancing down at her unbound hands, and went still as she saw long, masculine fingers and square palms.
Her hands were not her own.
Slowly she climbed out of the bed, standing on sturdy, long-toed feet that looked nothing like her own. She raised her head to see the reflection in the mirror above Michael’s dresser, and saw a frightened, young man staring back at her with big brown eyes. When she raised her hand to touch her cheek, he did the same.
Am I dreaming again?
Summer walked toward the mirror until she stood six inches from it, and extended her hand. The young man did the same, and touched his fingertips to hers. Which looked exactly like his fingertips.
That’s me. I’m a man.
Summer backed away from the mirror, running her hands down her body to feel her breasts where she saw a flat male chest, and the curves of her hips where she saw only flat, lean flanks. Now she could also feel the energy humming over her skin. She was carrying some sort of new body ward. Unlike Troy’s, this clung to her like invisible paint, and was many times stronger than the spell he’d cast.
Michael did this.
She heard a low rumble and turned to see her captor stirring. She took a step toward him, intending to slap him awake, and then backed away. She was so angry she was afraid to touch him––afraid of what the unknown power seething inside her might make her do.
Get away from him. Now.
Carefully she moved back through the open doorway and out into the hall, where she walked silently through the apartment to the front entry, which she found locked.
She reached out to the keypad beside the door and closed her eyes, recalling what she had seen Michael do the first time he had brought her here. She slowly punched in the same numbers, and the door unlatched and opened.
She darted out and ran for the elevator, changing direction at the last moment for the emergency exit. As she shoved the door open and fled down the narrow stairwell she heard the heavy thud of footsteps running over her head, and climbed onto the handrail to slide down to the next landing, and the next, until she reached a padlocked iron gate that closed off access to the remainder of the stairs. A small sign bolted to the gate read Under Construction, In Case of Emergency Use Fire Escape with an arrow that pointed to the small window beside her.
Summer thumbed the window lock, but when she tried to open it she discovered it had been painted shut. At the same time she heard Michael on the stairs two flights above her. She pulled off the plaid shirt she wore, wrapping it around her hand to protect it before she punched her fist through the center of the glass. The window shattered, and she knocked the big, jagged pieces away before she climbed out onto the icy metal slats of the fire escape platform.
A big hand reached out and clamped around her ankle. “Summer, stop.”
She tried to kick herself free from Michael’s grip, but he used her struggles to unbalance her, and she fell on her bottom hard before he dragged her back inside. She struck at his face and chest with her fists, opening her mouth to scream, only to be turned around and clamped against his chest, one of his hands pressed firmly over her lips.
“I will not hurt you, you know that,” he murmured as he lifted her off her feet and carried her easily up the stairs. “Stop struggling. There is nowhere you can go that they will not find you. You must stay here with me.”
Once they were back inside the apartment he set her down, murmured some words and took his hands away. Light shimmered as the body ward vanished, and Summer’s body returned to its natural appearance.
“So you did that to me, too.” She realized she was standing there in her bra, and shook the broken glass from the blouse around her fist before she simply dropped it. “Why?”
He looked away from her. “Changing how you look is the only way I can keep you safe.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell your Templar pals?” She eyed the door, and wished she’d taken the elevator down instead of the stairs. “That I’m, what, your boyfriend?” She frowned. “Is that why we can’t be together? You’d rather have a man in your bed?”
“What? No.” His green eyes turned frosty as he glared at her. “I cannot have a female here. I told you that Templars avoid women.”
“That’s right, you’re a warrior-priest. You’re not allowed to have fun at all.” Suddenly furious, she went to him. “Or have you decided to break your vow of celibacy, Michael? Is that really why you brought me back?”
He went rigid as he looked over her head. “I can never be with you. I belong to the order.”
Summer slapped him, and as the pain of it blazed over her palm and up her arm, she watched the red mark of her hand appear and then fade almost instantly from his cheek. She couldn’t hurt him, and knew he wouldn’t strike back. But thinking straight took a back seat to her temper, which went from seething to nuclear so quickly she thought she might explode.
“I don’t care about your order, or your vows, or your prissy rules.” She shoved his chest, which was like trying to push over a brick wall. “And you’re lying. You’re not afraid of them. You’re afraid of me.”
Now his gaze dropped to her face, and his mouth tightened. “Go back to bed.”
“Sure, no problem. I like your bed. The silk sheets feel amazing.” She traced a rough heart shape over his sternum with a shaking finger. “Why don’t you join me? Isn’t that what you really want?”
“Summer.” He sounded like he was grinding his molars together now. “Enough.”
“You could have had me before you sent me away. But that’s all right. I was with your friend, Major Atwater, at Silver Wood. Several times.” Her hand flew up to his neck as she pressed closer. “Would you like to hear what Troy did to me? Maybe it will give you something new to think about the next time you take matters into your own hands.”
His big hands clamped on her shoulders as if to thrust her away, but his fingers moved against her skin with caressing gentleness. The practiced indifference faded from his features as he tugged down the straps of her bra.
His touch sent an explosion of sensations through her.
“I dreamt of you with him,” he said, his voice growing deeper and rougher. “I watched you pleasuring him with your mouth.” He cupped her chin to lift her face, and stroked his thumb across her lips, parting them to test the edge of her teeth. “I watched while I buried myself in your wet, hot softness.” He slipped his other hand between her legs, pressing his fingers against her. “Here.”
Summer felt the anger in
side her shifting into a different heat, one that flooded into her breasts and burned down into her lower belly.
“Don’t fool with me, Paladin.” She used Troy’s nickname for him deliberately, to remind him of the other man in her life. “I’m not going to walk away again.”
“You asked what I wanted.” He began mapping her face with his mouth, his fingers sliding into her hair, his palm stroking over her thigh and hip to settle at her waist. “It’s you, Beauty. I want you. Only you. Always you.”
• • • • •
Summer linked her hands behind Michael’s strong neck as he lifted her off her feet, and met his lips with a sigh of relief. His mouth began the kiss as a reverent caress, but when she opened for him and he tasted her with his tongue, his grip tightened and he ravished her mouth.
An image of Troy doing the same thing came over Summer, and the emptiness she felt since being taken from him returned like the throb of a wound. But it wasn’t guilt over offering herself to Michael––it was frustration, as if she still wasn’t complete.
Why do I want them both? What woman needs two men?
Michael broke off the kiss and nuzzled her neck. “Do not think of him,” he muttered, as if he could read her mind. “This night belongs to us.”
Summer closed her eyes. She had given Troy his night alone with her, and now it was time to do the same for Michael. But soon she needed them together with her, her pagan and her paladin, for she sensed that was the only way they would survive the coming horrors. She opened her eyes to see Michael watching her face.
“Michael, if we do this, it can’t be undone.” She sensed it meant even more than becoming lovers, but she didn’t know how to put that into words. “Be sure this is what you want.”
Stolen (Book Two of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel Page 2
