Trent: Her Warlock Protector Book 7

by Hunter, Hazel

  “You’d better.” Efrim poked a finger in his chest. “She’s special, and I mean that literally, but you already know that don’t you?”

  Trent blinked at him. “Sir?”

  Efrim shook his head and put a hand on one of Trent’s shoulders, turning him aside and leaning close.

  “My mother was gifted. She saw and understood the world in a way only a few of our tribe ever could have. It was a once in a generation gift that passed me by, but I know that Elaine’s like that. She has abilities that I can’t understand. I saw how that responsibility weighed on my mother, ate into her even with the Council of Elders to help her. You’re like her, aren’t you?”

  “Gifted as you put it?”

  “Almost magical,” Efrim added in a knowing tone. “Son, she needs guidance with this and I just can’t help her. I wish my mother were here but she’s not. I’m glad she has you.”

  Trent struggled to keep the smile on his face. If only Efrim knew he’d be dropping her off at the Atlanta coven, that he couldn’t commit to a relationship. He shook the older man’s proffered hand.

  “Sir, I’ll make sure she’s protected and has all the guidance she needs. Believe me on that.”

  And that was mostly the truth. The Atlanta coven could care for her. He knew that. So what if his inner wolf was snarling in disgust? So what if his own heart was cracking in two? It was what was best for both of them in the long run. It had to be.

  “Good,” Efrim replied. “She’s been hurt before but by one of her own. I think you can help her be who she should be, and I’m glad for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think Sam and Elliot are fighting over primo booth space.”

  Trent chuckled to himself as the other man hurried away to stop a dispute. However, the laugh died in his throat when he glanced back to the stand and realized that Elaine was missing.

  “Elaine?”

  He rushed to the abandoned funnel cake stand. Opening up his senses, Trent caught the scent of hay and freshly cut grass mixed with the wolf musk that marked Elaine. She’d headed toward the parking lot. Following the scent led him to the empty space where a car had once been.

  “Damn it.”

  “Hey, city boy,” Floyd said from behind him. “Have you seen Elaine?”

  “No,” Trent said, whirling toward him. “I was about to ask the same thing. Why?”

  “The sheriff had more questions for her. I know she was supposed to help with the festival, but he says it’s urgent. They think there’s a breakthrough.”

  “Oh really?” Trent asked, eyeing the hulking man.

  “Yes, really, lieutenant.”

  Trent didn’t even wait for the other man to lunge, just dove out of the way and worked quickly to free the dagger from his boot. The Knights had been here all along, waiting for the right time to grab Elaine.

  Floyd lunged at him again and Trent hissed as the other man’s blade sliced through the skin of at the side of his abdomen. Warm blood welled from the wound, as Trent dropped to his knees. The Knight lashed out again with a fierce uppercut to his chin. Trent spit blood and rolled with the impact, away from the other man’s blade.

  Staggering to his feet, Trent leapt for Floyd. He plunged his dagger into the other man’s shoulder. His inner wolf howled in rage and satisfaction as the giant shuffled drunkenly from the impact. Trent stabbed him again, deep in the other shoulder. Blood was flowing freely from both, the copper scent assaulting his nostrils. Despite everything, Trent’s mouth watered, but he forced his beast aside.

  Not now.

  He needed information, not the kill.

  Dodging a frantic lunge from the other man, he twisted around and pressed his blade to the other man’s throat.

  “Where is she?” he demanded, drawing the edge close enough to draw a rivulet of red from Floyd’s neck.

  “Nowhere, warlock.”

  Trent’s heart stopped beating. Floyd had to be lying. She couldn’t be dead. The Knights loved their torture sessions.

  “You lie!” Trent shouted, digging the knife deeper until blood was welling liberally. “Tell me now.”

  “She’s in Birmingham, monster, and that’s all you’ll ever get from me. She’ll be dead by the time you find her.”

  Then Floyd did the unexpected. He savagely pressed his throat against the dagger, slitting his own jugular. He fell to the ground as the wound gaped and spurted.

  Shocked, Trent staggered back, but then screamed in rage and frustration.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ELAINE WOKE TO darkness. Disoriented, it took several minutes to realize she was hooded. Beneath her, she felt something hard to which her arms and feet were bound. As the blood rushed to her head and dizziness set in, she realized she was lying at a steep angle, her feet above her. She squirmed, trying to get her arms free.

  Water poured over the shroud, soaking it until she coughed. It ran up her nose, burning her sinuses. She closed her mouth, but not before water had rushed down her throat. With a wild spasm, she coughed, lungs aching with the inhaled moisture. She tried to turn away, but the onslaught of water followed her. She couldn’t breathe.

  Just when she thought she’d pass out, the cloth was yanked up her face. As she sputtered and tried to catch her breath, she blinked back tears.

  Norine gazed down at her.

  Elaine barely recognized her friend. She was dressed in a black velour cloak adorned with a red cross of equal lengths. But it wasn’t the odd attire that filled Elaine with dread. It was the maniacal glint in her eyes, burning with hate and disgust.

  “You’re a Templar!”

  Norine laughed, a low and throaty sound.

  “Witches never were the brightest. I’m a cleric who works for the Order. Floyd and I were looking for you, after hearing about the powers of the Medicine Men and Women of your tribe.”

  Elaine swallowed hard while her inner wolf howled in rage.

  “It’s why you wanted to ‘help’ by taking my grandmother’s books and journals.”

  “All witchcraft must be stamped out, regardless of origin.”

  She scooped a dipper into the baptismal fountain just below Elaine’s head.

  Oh Goddess, no. Not more drowning.

  “You’re my friend,” she pleaded. “You’re my priest.”

  Norine’s eyes burned with fury, hard as sapphires.

  “You made your choice when you sided with demons and monsters.”

  “I’m not sorry about who I am, but you don’t have to do this. Please,” she begged, bucking against the board. “Just let me go. Trent and I will just walk away.”

  Norine snickered. “That will be hard to do.”

  “Why?” She asked, her throat as parched as the Sahara.

  “Because Floyd is very efficient at murdering pesky Magus Corps members who try and save foolish novices. Trent won’t be his first.”

  “He’ll lose. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  Norine nodded. “Maybe I don’t.” With that she yanked the cloth back down. Elaine sputtered, trying desperately to suck in precious air. “Now, tell me what you know about Trent, the Magus Corps, and the coven you were destined for.”

  Elaine wanted to shout “Go to hell,” but water flooded her face. The soaked cloth pressed against her lips, her eyes, and dripped up into her nose. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe, but she didn’t dare open her mouth. The water kept coming, even as she thrashed. There was no escape. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her chest wanted to explode.

  Trent’s face flashed in front of her, as her thoughts slowed. They had run. They had made love. They had flown. And now that would never happen again. As consciousness began to ebb, Elaine called out to the Goddess. With everything in her, she sent her remaining power up into the sky.

  • • • • •

  Trent didn’t care about the wound or the blood staining his car. He needed to get to Birmingham, though he already knew it had way too many churches in which Templars might hide. Elaine c
ould be anywhere.

  Grinding his teeth, Trent pulled off the road at the outskirts of the city proper. He swerved into a scraggly patch of dirt and weeds, with bushes that’d be tall enough. Hopping out and ignoring the wound, Trent struggled over behind the bushes. The change was slow, but eventually he stood on shaky paws. Rearing back his head, he took deep breaths and tried to find her scent. But there were too many smells of the city, too much exhaust, and oil and gas.

  Oh Elaine, I won’t give up. Goddess, please!

  As if answering his prayer a beautiful russet hawk circled above him. It wasn’t that the bird itself was familiar, just the way it cocked his head at him.

  Elaine?

  The bird screeched and angled toward downtown. Trent wasted no time following. The raptor led him north and finally stopped outside of an old, condemned Catholic Church in a run down part of town. Not that Templar clerics kept to one branch of faith or not. He assumed that Floyd’s accomplice had long ago scoped out and chosen an area that would suffice. It was good he’d already changed forms because any attempt to shift on hallowed ground would never work. Goddess, it was beyond him how this hawk had even led him. Whether the Goddess had heard his plea or Elaine had managed a level of control over animals few shifters witches ever had he didn’t know. What he did know was that Elaine was there. He could smell her and hear her heartbeat fluttering weakly.

  Baring his teeth, he burst through the doors.

  Elaine was strapped to an inclined wooden board, her head covered in a thick black hood. The cleric was dumping a bucket of water over her and screaming.

  “Tell me more about the Magus Corps! Tell me about your wolf!”

  Trent let out a loud howl.

  Though startled, the cleric dropped the bucket and laughed.

  “The puppy is here,” she sneered. “Good. I’ll get the information from him.”

  With that, she kicked the board’s gears and Elaine splashed down, her head completely below the surface of the water.

  Enraged, Trent lunged at her, but she was ready. The cleric launched holy water at him from the fountain, disorienting him. It stung his eyes, and he heard the metal tang of a sword being drawn. Though she might have temporarily blinded him, his hearing was unchanged. He leapt and twisted in the air. With a vicious chomp, his jaws closed on her throat. With a quick shake of his head, her neck snapped, and the cleric grew still in his grip.

  Trent spit her out.

  Rushing to the table, even his preternatural hearing failed to detect a heartbeat.

  Goddess no, he couldn’t be late, not now.

  Not after everything.

  Baying toward the sky, Trent closed his eyes and concentrated. Everything went slowly, as if each individual strand of fur had to suck back into his body, and each cell had to reshape itself. Still he was able to change, something that shouldn’t have been possible on hallowed ground.

  Finally, Goddess finally, he was human again.

  He untied Elaine and pulled her from where she’d been water-boarded. Her body was icy and limp in his arms.

  No!

  He started first aid, compressing her chest, praying to the Goddess in a terrified litany for his mate. He listened to her chest. Still nothing. He resumed compressions.

  “Please,” he muttered. “Elaine!”

  He pinched her nose closed, opened her mouth, and tilted her jaw up. He blew in a lungful of air––then another.

  “Elaine!”

  She coughed. With a watery sputter, she coughed again.

  “Thank the Goddess!”

  He swept her into a hug.

  Her lungs heaved as she fought for breath between racking coughs. Finally the fit ended, and she leaned against him, limp and trembling.

  “How did you find me?” she gasped. “I dreamed you did, saw myself flying on the wind to find your wolf.”

  He grinned and pulled back, running hands through her tangled, wet hair.

  “You didn’t dream it, you did it.”

  “No I didn’t. I was here.”

  He looked into her brown, doe eyes.

  “It was magic, and you’re more talented than I knew.”

  She slowly shook her head.

  “It doesn’t feel like that,” she said weakly.

  He scooped her up in his arms and stood.

  “Let’s just get you to Atlanta. Then we’ll talk.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TRENT STARED AT the two interlinked silver pentacles of the pendant in his hand. It was the official insignia for his newest rank, captain. It was everything he’d thought about and planned for in the last ten years. With it would come the chance to command a few Magus Corps first lieutenants of his own, probably even a choice for better assignments on the front line. Hell, it was the chance to cut down more of those Templar bastards, like the one’s who’d almost ended his Elaine’s life.

  No, not mine.

  He’d lost the ability to claim that when he hadn’t initiated her. He could stop a giant rampaging Knight from killing her or take on a cleric bent on torture. He’d bend his bones to any form to keep her safe. But when she’d needed him the most, he’d failed her.

  Only too late had he realized that all he really wanted was her. Why had it taken her nearly dying? Now that he had his rank, it felt hollow. He set the pendant down on the bed.

  “You’re shiny, I’ll give you that,” he said.

  “Mulling things over, Captain Williamson?” A familiar voice intoned.

  Logan MacCulloch stood in the doorway to Trent’s guest room. The Atlanta coven had at least three guests today.

  “General MacCulloch, you didn’t have to come all this way to present this.”

  “A senior officer has to present the insignia. I stick to the rules––most of the time.”

  Trent had to laugh. There were many things that Logan MacCulloch was, but by-the-book was never one of them.

  “Still, it’s appreciated. A promotion was the last thing I expected after being shipped to the middle of nowhere.”

  “There’s sometimes little difference,” MacCulloch said, “between an assignment you need, and one we need.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The Corps suspected Elaine would be special, as did I, though in a different way.” MacCulloch fixed him with a wry smile. “I thought she might be special to you.” For a moment Trent had to wonder at how transparent he was. “I’ve centuries on you, lad,” MacCulloch said, clapping him on the back. “One day, you’ll understand.” He laughed a little. “But it’s not complicated. It’s really not. Your head said one thing, and your heart said another. Now that you have your promotion, what do they say?”

  • • • • •

  Though Elaine knew that Trent’s room was only up the hall, she stayed put. The pain of seeing him, being near to him, and not having him, would be too much. Especially after everything they’d been through.

  Instead, she’d busied herself with studying her grandmother’s journals. The room she’d been given on the old plantation was spacious, bright, and comfortable. There was hardly reason to leave. She gazed out the second-story window to the giant spreading tree that hung thick with Spanish moss. Besides being introduced to the High Priest and Priestess of the Atlanta coven, she’d kept to herself, trying to come to grips with how her life had changed. The heartache of separation still twinged: the loss of Rainstone, leaving her home, family and friends…and soon Trent.

  She’d played out his rescue of her from Norine a thousand times. But the end was always the same. Eventually he would leave. She glanced at the door. He wouldn’t go without saying goodbye, would he?

  Just then there was a small knock. She started a little at the timing and realized it was probably just one of the coven come to check on her again. Everyone had been so kind.

  “Come in,” she said.

  To her shock though, it wasn’t a member of the coven.

  “Trent,” she breathed, almost not managing to say his name.r />
  He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

  As quickly as her heart had leapt into her throat, her stomach sank. This was it. He’d come to say goodbye. As if to confirm it, those beautiful, tawny eyes of his bored into hers. They were tinged with a somberness that could only mean one thing. He held out something in his hand. She could hardly tear her gaze away from his face to look at it. It was a necklace.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “This is the next rank up,” he said. “I’m a captain now.”

  Her throat went dry.

  “That’s great. That’s what you wanted.” She paused as her chest tightened, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. She turned to the window, but closed her eyes. “So it’s back to New York or D.C. now?”

  “No.”

  What?

  His hands gently gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “I’ll stay here,” he said, the nearness of him almost overpowering. “If you’ll have me.”

  Her head was swimming as she absorbed the scent of him and the warm feel of his hands.

  “But I thought–”

  “So did I,” he said, laying a finger gently across her lips. They tingled at his light touch. “But now I know. I’ll follow my heart, country gal, and that means you.”

  Her heart beat so hard she thought it might break through her breastbone.

  “Trent,” she managed. “Please be sure. I already thought I’d lost you. I can’t do that again.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said, leaning down to her, his lips brushing hers. “Not ever.”

  • • • • •

  Trent was a lucky bastard and he knew it. The most beautiful witch in the world was his. He kissed her, softly at first, reveling in her taste. But as she responded, the feral side of him took over. His mouth enveloped hers, his tongue spearing into her, as he laid his claim. He could hear her harsh breath and the wild fluttering of her heart. He could smell her sex. She was as ready as he was. His fingers found the top button of her blouse, but that would be too slow. Without warning, he ripped it wide open. Their mouths separated as Elaine gasped, swaying. With a low growl, he bent his head to her breasts, and unbuttoned her jeans. He gnawed at the tender flesh, pushing the pants and panties down her hips. He deftly undid her bra and in moments, she stood naked before him.