Trent: Her Warlock Protector Book 7

by Hunter, Hazel

  “True. Be careful on that note. You know the Corps rules. You help them find their roots, bring them into our fold, and teach them of our rituals.”

  “Including helping them reach their potential with sexual awakening, bingo. I’ve been coached in everything. Look, I’ve only fought for the Magus Corps, and I’ve never helped educate a new witch. Hell, I’ve never even thought about initiating.”

  “There’s no pressure on you to fully initiate her. Keep protection with you at all times. After all, lad, I was over three hundred before I found a witch I wanted to share immortality with. You just get Elaine up to speed with her true nature and protect her. Get her to agree to training with the Atlanta coven. That’s all.”

  “Then I can come back to D.C. like a good boy? Maybe you’ll want to send me out to Nowhere, Mississippi, next. Thanks but no thanks,” Trent finished, wishing that talking with the other man didn’t make him feel like a child. He could only blame the centuries of age difference between them for that. He was hotheaded and he knew it, but the whole thing grated. “I want back on the front lines. Anyone can collect a new Wiccan.”

  “No, they can’t. It takes a special type within the Magus Corps to do this job. You have it wrong. The older ones of us almost always work collecting the new witches. It’s the first few decades you train in combat and fight the Knights head on so you’ll be ready for this work.”

  Trent sighed and felt the wolf pacing just beneath his skin. He agreed with the restlessness.

  “If it’s so important then why didn’t I get sent until after I messed up?”

  His assignment in Washington had gone rogue.

  “Because I think you’re ready. To save the next generation of Wiccans is the highest calling we have and it does take the most finesse and skill because the Knights will stop at nothing to kill and torture them first. Don’t forget that. Just because you haven’t seen them yet, doesn’t mean they don’t already have plans in place.”

  “I know,” he said, starting to pace behind the couch. “It’s like you quote verbatim from the rule book.”

  “And who do you think wrote it, lad?” Logan prodded. “You aren’t getting reassigned, and, yes, until you actually complete something again and succeed the rest of the Corps isn’t sure about your place anymore.”

  Trent choked. He stopped pacing so quickly he almost dropped the phone. Fumbling with it, he brought it closer to his ear.

  “What?”

  “I believe in you. I fought for this assignment to be given to you. I’m only saying that you don’t have many other champions. Save Elaine and prove your worth, Lieutenant Williamson, or I might not be able to help you anymore.”

  “Logan…General MacCulloch wait–”

  There was a click on the other end that left Trent cut off and keenly aware of how alone he actually was. Sighing, he shoved his phone in his pocket and was about to hurry to his room to go back over his dossier on Elaine when he heard it, a shuffling in the copse of trees by his house. Looking up, Trent caught a now-familiar set of doe eyes go wide before him.

  Elaine was out there, naked except for some shrub she held over her breasts. Her hair was flowing free, thick with knots and brambles. Unbidden, Trent opened up his nostrils and noticed the change in Elaine’s scent, something wild and musky clung to her, deep and dark. The wolf form he often took was howling deep in his bones.

  She was like him.

  Before he could move, she bolted into the forest.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I WASN’T EXPECTING you today, sweetheart, but I really appreciate it,” Elaine’s father said, standing up to hug her.

  Efrim Blackhawk wasn’t too tall, maybe a couple inches taller than her, but he was where she’d inherited her athletic build and, of course, the olive-skin and dark hair. Now nearing sixty, her father’s hair was slate grey and pulled back in two long braids. Wizened eyes regarded her and she wished he didn’t always seem like a puppy, too eager for any treat she’d bestow on him. It was too much pressure for her.

  Chewing the usual tumult back, she faked a practiced smile for her father.

  “Well you wanted to know if I could help out with the Moundville Native American Festival, and I knew you were short-handed. I wanted it to be a surprise for you.”

  Her father smiled and kissed her cheek.

  “It is. It’s a great surprise. I wasn’t sure you’d want to do it, even if we’re pretty strapped.”

  “What happened?” she asked, falling into an easy rhythm with him as they settled at the kitchen table. She automatically dipped into the ginger snaps he kept in a jar there. They’d been a favorite of her grandmother’s and then a necessary staple even in the years after her death. “Usually everyone wants to help out.”

  “Mary broke her ankle last weekend, and she does the final booth and vendor arrangements. If you could help with the final set up details and calls.”

  “And?” she said, knowing it was never just that.

  “Well, Mary also runs the funnel cake stand.”

  “So you need me to learn the art of funnel? Frying some batter and all that?”

  “I know it’s a lot.”

  “I’ll help,” she said, patting his hand, feeling the way the creases were deeper than before. Maybe she needed to work harder to get him to quit smoking. “It doesn’t mean I’m doing this yearly.”

  “Honey, the tribe–”

  “Doesn’t need me, and one day I’ll move to Atlanta or Nashville or someplace bigger.”

  And hopefully find my place.

  Her father’s face closed off, and she wished her hearing wasn’t so acute. The weight of his sigh was like a gale to her ears.

  “All right, I’ll be glad for this one year. I can get the laptop and we’ll map out a plan of attack.”

  She nodded and, before she could stop herself, asked something completely different.

  “Was there ever anything strange about Grandmother?”

  “She was the most gifted Medicine Woman in three generations of the tribe. It wasn’t odd, just powerful, but I guess you’d have to believe in the old ways to understand about that.”

  Elaine bit the inside of her lip to keep from saying anything damning.

  “No it’s not like that. I’m not closed to everything. I love the journals she willed me.”

  Understatement.

  “But you never come around here.”

  “I never come here because Stephen and his crew never warmed much to me after we broke up, and…because it’s just not my home.”

  Her father let out a long sigh and she caught something in his breath she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. The usual minty scent of his tooth paste was there, but there was something deeper, almost like decay and that scared that deep wild part of her she’d begun to stop questioning.

  “You need to move on from that,” he countered.

  “And you,” she said, snatching the Marlboros from his shirt pocket, “definitely need to lay off these. Call it intuition that I got from Grandmother or just flat-out logic.” She set them on the table. “The point is with Stephen, I’ll forget when they do.”

  “The point is with your grandmother, it wasn’t just intuition. She had abilities.”

  “Abilities?” she prodded, trying to stay as neutral as she could.

  “I believed in them. She always just knew things, communed with her spirit animals. Maybe it seems sappy to you or to your mom–”

  “Did Mom ever say anything bad about all of this?”

  “No, but I could tell she humored it. I love Jen, still do in a way. It’s just you’re reaching out for the first time into all of this since your Grandmother’s will was read,” he frowned and rubbed a hand through his braids. “Don’t lie. Is something wrong?”

  She hesitated and this time bit her cheek strong enough to draw blood. “No, but maybe I regret not getting to know everything I possibly could have about her. I guess I’m trying to make up for lost time. Now, tell me more a
bout the art of funnel cake making…”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TRENT WILLIAMSON HAD faced Knights with honest-to-God broadswords in battle, faced down the most painful torture spells of the Templar’s clerics, and even withstood a good reaming from some of the highest generals in the Magus Corps. But none of that had ever made his heart race the way that seeing Elaine walk into Chez Tonton had.

  The woman was inhumanly beautiful, and that sexiness called to both him and the wild wolf permanently curled into his nature.

  Of course, he noticed most of the other men and a few women cast their glance towards the young Miss Blackhawk. Anyone with working eyeballs would notice her. She had her coal-colored hair curled in waves about her shoulders, but held back on one side with a diamond pin. Her curves were poured into a tight black dress that was cut high on her thighs, just low enough to still be polite in mixed company but high enough to leave his cock hard and wanting. Trent flashed back to his shower a few days ago and groaned.

  It was going to take every bit of training and restraint he’d learned to keep from throwing the dishes to the floor and fucking Elaine right on the table.

  When she got closer and he saw the five-inch stilettos, he recalculated his odds of not going caveman on her down from ten to only five percent. Reaching down delicately, he adjusted himself and took a few calming breaths before standing up. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself, but the wolf side of him was howling and encouraging him to claim her right there.

  As her scent wafted toward him––a mix of that same green, cut grass and now that deeper, animal musk since her naked run––he fought harder to remind his civilized half why he couldn’t give in.

  “You look amazing,” he said, standing and kissing her cheek.

  Elaine blushed and those haunting doe eyes dilated, staring back at him. Hmm, so he wasn’t the only one aroused. Interesting. He could work with that.

  “You probably say that to every girl you date.”

  “No, trust me, you might have caused a few divorces to start tonight. I can see women glaring at significant others all over.”

  He pulled the chair out for her. It squeaked across the floor and made him shudder. The loud squeal assaulted his sensitive ears the way a normal human felt about nails on a chalk board. He noticed that Elaine was recoiling too. He wished he could offer her some public comfort.

  Kindred.

  That thought flittered through his mind, but she wasn’t ready for all of that, not yet. The best he could do was offer her a polite smile and pretend not to notice her discomfort as she sat down.

  “So now that you’ve picked up business for every divorce lawyer in the Miracle City I have a question–”

  “Magic,” she corrected, winking at him and picking up the menu. “It’s the Magic City. If you’re ever going to be a real Bham citizen, you’ll have to learn at least a few things about it. But your question?”

  “Well tell me about yourself. Do you only do the riding thing and how long have you been at it?”

  It was odd, playing this part. He knew how to be covert in theory, the ways to work around a target and have them tell you what you wanted with small lead-ins. Yet all of this felt like a violation, especially since he’d glimpsed her naked in the woods. After all, he already knew most of her answers, had skimmed her dossier a dozen times.

  Elaine, however, wasn’t aware she was more on a stakeout than a date, and answered back with her eyes wide and glittering.

  “I always wanted to ride. My dad got me into it, but then I took it up officially with a stable when I was in middle school. Rainstone’s been my horse since college. Leasing took forever, but I shoveled enough horse crap and did enough side work around the barn to earn him free and clear.”

  He grinned, despite himself, at the pride in her voice. Granted, he’d only seen her twice before, but there was something intoxicating about her pure joy with her familiar. Clearly, that was Rainstone, the one animal who would respond to her faithfully, even if Elaine didn’t know that yet.

  “Well he’s huge. Why not get a smaller horse?”

  “He’s what I could afford and he’s amazing. No one believed he’d be as good at jumping and dressage. I mean, I ride English too. It’s the more complicated style with the smaller saddle. We could teach you that too,” she offered, frowning at the selection in the green padded menu in her hand.

  “No thank you, my ass was sore all week and that saddle felt plenty small.”

  Trent figured it was time to pick up his menu as well and try making a selection.

  “Well at least it’s a nice ass,” Elaine quipped and then slammed her mouth shut. “Oh God, just kill me now. I didn’t think about what I was saying.”

  He smirked back at her and sipped his water.

  “No I think I like what you’re saying. It’s not like I haven’t been counting down the days until tonight, country gal.”

  She rolled her eyes and thumbed through the pages more.

  “Well, city boy, I might find that hard to believe. I figure you must have broken a dozen hearts in New York and I’m nothing special.”

  The wild side of him howled again, wanted to tell her that her scent, the very sight of her, was everything he could ever want. He tamped that desperation down.

  “Actually, I haven’t dated all that much in a while.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the waiter. Trent was vaguely amused that the poor sap had to wear a bow tie and tails. Chez Tonton was trying awfully hard to be fancy.

  “Have you decided?”

  Trent looked over the selection and realized it was all in French, that they assumed you could read it. The few things he knew, well, he wasn’t into goose livers or charcuterie.

  “So the escargot snails thing?” Elaine started, and her skin had taken on a green pallor. “I saw this special on one of those educational channels about what happens when snail’s parasites get into your lungs, so maybe not.”

  Trent opened up his hearing and noticed the pounding of her heart as well as the nervous sloshing of her stomach. He offering a forced smile to the waiter.

  “Maybe a few more minutes.”

  Trent imagined talk of “Philistines” as the waiter moved onto another table.

  “So you haven’t been here before, Miss Blackhawk?”

  She shook her head.

  “I know it’s supposed to be really good. My friend Carrie, well, her last date brought her here, and she raved about it. I wanted to show you that we could be sophisticated too.”

  “We’re next door to a wine bar and across the street from some amazing statue work at the center of Five Points. I believe that. But it doesn’t mean I’m in the mood for livers and garden slugs.”

  “Snails.”

  “Same difference. Why would you come here if the food isn’t your taste?”

  “Because of the sophisticated part, and, besides, I’ve been to New York a few times. I figured you had a sophisticated palate just by default.”

  He chuckled. Maybe he should have developed one in the last two plus decades with the Magus Corps. He’d traveled all over the world, and he’d also had access to the reserves of money that only immortals could truly accrue. In his daily life, Trent wanted for nothing. While he’d had the freshest sushi on earth in Tokyo or Indian cuisine so spicy he’d thought he’d been cursed in New Delhi, he was a simple guy at heart. It annoyed the hell out of the Commandant.

  “My favorite meal is still this pizza place on sixth. The best thin slice you can get anywhere. There’s also this great diner, makes chicken and waffles at three a.m. Refreshes someone like crazy after a long night.”

  She nodded fiercely. “Oh then you’d love the pancake house a few blocks over. They have this amazing special like that, and the best blueberry compote ever. I can’t tell you how often I binge there when I’m studying for finals.”

  “Studying?” he asked, even though he damn
well knew about what she did at Tuscaloosa.

  It was more of that role he had to play. It chafed, but he’d be able to be honest soon enough. Besides, it was funny that waffles were the solution to hunger whether it came from killing Knights Templar or slaying the latest final.

  “Psychology. So, maybe, just maybe we’re trying too hard to impress each other,” she said, standing up.

  He took the opportunity to admire her legs and licked his lips a bit.

  Maybe one day without even any barriers between them, if she’d have him…

  “And?”

  “We, city boy, are getting some waffles,” she finished, doing a mean impression of Donkey from Shrek that had him rolling and everyone, including the violinist in the corner, glaring at both of them.

  Yeah, highbrow they were not.

  • • • • •

  “This is really amazing!” Trent exclaimed and Elaine hoped he wasn’t doing that just to humor her.

  As far as local points of interest went, she knew that Vulcan couldn’t hold a torch to Lady Liberty, but she loved that lookout point all the same. After their second version of dinner, she’d slipped off her shoes and they’d walked up the hill from Five Points to the statue. It was about a half-mile trek and she was pleased that Trent never even broke a sweat doing it, even in the heat of late Indian summer. Years of hard farm labor made her constantly active, and Elaine appreciated men who not only looked fit like Trent, but had the stamina to go with it.

  Mmm, yes, definitely the stamina.

  The giant statue rose high above the hill, perched in a park by a ridge that overlooked the glittering lights of downtown far beneath them. It stood on a pillar of brick first but then towered high, the largest cast iron statue in the world, and it depicted the proud god of fire. He was forging and looking down on a city that had once made its name as an ironworks capital.

  The Magic City had reinvented itself as a hub for medicine, a city full of some of the best hospitals in the South, if not the country. Through all of it, over the last century, Vulcan had seen it all, and even been rehabbed himself so he gleamed again.