Her mouth felt made for his, soft and welcoming, and when a low sound parted her lips he tasted her sweetness, giving her his tongue to stroke hers as he urged her closer. The press of her firm breasts burned into the vault of his chest as he lost himself in the kiss, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head and tangling in her damp, heavy mane.
Summer clutched at his arms, her nails pricking his flesh and sending a jolt of heavy need into his groin. He tucked his arm under her bottom and lift her off her feet. The rub of her sweet curves against his coiled muscles made him gasp. Then the edges of the robe fell open.
Summer wrenched her lips from his.
“Michael, please,” she breathed. “We can’t do this. It’s not…us.”
She sounded confused, as if her own words puzzled her. But somewhere through the haze of desire, her words rang true. Slowly, he lowered her back onto her feet. But as he did, he allowed himself to take a long look at her ripe curves and tight pink nipples. Willing his hands not to touch her, he dragged the robe closed and belted it. As he did she covered his hands with hers, and he closed his eyes and fought against the beast of need roaring inside him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Now she touched her hands to his cheeks, her slim fingers cool against his overheated skin. “I don’t want to do this to you.”
Her words must have broken the spell, for his head instantly cleared, and he took a step back to break the physical contact between them. The last surge of carnal madness quieted, and he was able to look at her again without wanting to lunge at her.
“You should get dressed, and then we will go.” He saw her expression. “You cannot stay here.”
Summer began to reach out to him and then let her hand fall to her side.
“But why not? We have some kind of connection, you and I. I could feel it.”
“You felt your power overtaking me, and it dragged you along with it,” he told her bluntly. “I believe you were born a witch.”
She blinked at him, pulling the robe up tighter. “A witch? I don’t think I deserve–”
“A Wiccan with powers of magic. A real witch.”
She gaped at him.
“Are you serious? Like Halloween, that kind of witch?” She shook her head. “That’s crazy. Witches are just fairytale villains.”
“They exist in the real world,” he said. “They look like ordinary humans, but they have powers like yours. They are called Wiccans, and you may be one of them.” He held her gaze. “Search inside yourself. You know you have power.”
Though she looked as though she’d argue, she only bit her lower lip. He stared mesmerized for a moment before coming back to himself.
“I am sending you to them so they can determine if you truly are a Wiccan. If you are, they can train you to control your power.”
She gave him a sharp look. “How could you tell I’m one of them? Are you a witch, too?”
“No. I am not Wiccan.” He turned away. “I know what you are because I am a witch hunter.”
CHAPTER FOUR
AS MICHAEL DROVE toward Times Square, Summer tried to work out everything he’d told her. Since she had never considered witches could be real, it was just as difficult to believe Michael hunted them. She wanted to dismiss everything he’d said as delusional, and would have, except for how she’d survived in the park. Then there had been that moment in his apartment, as if they’d been drawn together by unseen forces for a kiss. One minute she’d been folding her clothes, the next she’d plastered herself all over him. If she was a witch, then why would she be throwing herself at a witch hunter?
“Wait a minute.” She turned to stare at him. “You weren’t watching over me at the park, were you? You were hunting me.”
“I was observing you,” he said flatly, “to determine if you were using your power to harm humans. Had you done so, I would have hunted you down and…stopped you.”
“Why would I hurt humans? I’m human,” she pointed out, and then frowned. “I am human, aren’t I?”
“You are mortal, for now.” He glanced at her and sighed. “Summer, I don’t have all the answers you want. Atwater will have to explain it to you.”
“You mean the guy who is taking me away to meet my witchy people?” She saw him nod once. “So then he’s one, too, right?”
“He is a warlock. Witches are female,” Michael said. “Before you ask, yes, I also hunt warlocks.”
“But not him,” she guessed. “Your friend Atwater, you have him on speed dial to come rescue homeless women who have forgotten that they’re witches, or don’t know that they are, or whatever my deal is.”
“The warlock is not my friend,” he said, his expression darkening. “We have some history together that forged a truce between us, but he has no more love for me than I for him.”
“Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better.” She sat back and stared at the traffic ahead of them. “Tell you what, why don’t you just drop me off at the park? I was doing fine there,”
He made a turn into a dark alley and shut off the engine before he turned to glower at her.
“In the park you were living like a beggar, bathing from a sink, eating handouts, and hiding from the police. How is any of that fine?”
“There are plenty of people in the city who have it a lot worse than I do.” She clenched her fingers to keep her hands from shaking. “Besides, whatever made me lose my memory probably happened in the park. Maybe someone is there right now, looking for me.”
“Such as the man who tried to rape you tonight, perhaps?” He got out of the car and came around to open her door. “Come. We must walk the rest of the way, and Atwater will not wait forever.”
Summer ignored the hand he offered her and climbed out, shouldering her backpack as she stalked out of the alley. Everything Michael had told her was beyond unbelievable. Any ordinary person hearing him go on about witches and warlocks and powers would have called the police and had him carted off to Bellevue.
The only thing keeping Summer from running as fast and as far away from him as she could was the unshakeable sense that he wasn’t crazy, and that everything he had told her was true. Michael did behave like a hunter. The effect she had on people and gardens could only be called magical. And what she’d felt just before they’d been shoved together to share that weird, mind-boggling kiss back at his apartment had been decidedly supernatural.
She glanced at Michael, who looked as bleak as she felt.
“If you’re not Wiccan, what are you?”
“I belong to the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon,” he said, and steered her around a corner.
The name sounded terribly familiar to Summer, but not in a good way.
“Is that a veteran’s association?”
“No.” His mouth twisted. “We are more commonly known as the Knights Templar.”
Summer almost tripped over her own feet. “Excuse me. You’re what?”
“You heard me.” He gave her a sour look. “Stop gaping at me like that.”
“Michael, even I remember that Templars were wiped out in the Dark Ages.” When he shook his head, she frowned. “Okay. So what does that make you? A priest, or a monk?”
“We regard ourselves as warrior-priests.” He stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to change. “My parents gave me to the order when I was an infant. I honor them with my service to the Almighty.”
“By hunting witches.” Of all the professions she imagined Michael to have, being a priest was not one of them. “So why aren’t you wearing a robe or a collar or something to warn unsuspecting women to avoid throwing themselves at you?”
“We Templars rarely have much contact with women.” He took hold of her arm to stop her, and peered across the street. “He is here.” He turned to her and slipped a small card into the front pocket of her backpack. “That is the number for my mobile. Call me only if you are in danger and you can’t find Atwater.”
The prospect of leav
ing Michael finally hit home. Summer wavered, caught between panic and nausea. She swallowed past a constriction in her throat.
“Won’t you let me stay with you? You’ve got enough room at your place, and I won’t be any trouble, I promise.”
His expression softened. “You belong with Atwater and your people. They can protect you, and help you become what you were meant to be.”
Summer tried hard to keep her tears from welling, blinking them away.
“It’s because you’re a priest, right?”
“It is what I was meant to be.”
He took hold of her hand and led her across the street to the front of the hotel.
Summer saw a dozen men in front of the hotel, but when a tall, dark-haired man stepped out of the shadows she somehow knew instantly that he was Atwater. He moved with the same silent, lethal efficiency Michael possessed, and he was just as alert, his eyes scanning the faces around him before he approached them. His build was less bulky than Michael’s but no less intimidating, for he had a purposeful fluidity in his movements that reminded Summer of something silent and deadly slicing through the water, like an orca.
“You took your time, Paladin.” The Wiccan’s voice had a pleasant, melodic quality that sounded as silky as Michael’s voice was rough. He didn’t hesitate to extend his hand toward the other man. “What did you do, stop for souvenirs?”
“You complain too much, Pagan.” Michael clasped Atwater’s strong forearm as he did the same, something Summer had only seen done by actors playing ancient warriors in a movie. “You must take her from the city at once. I am not the only hunter in this sector.”
“Watch for my flame trails.” Atwater turned to Summer. “I’m Major Troy Atwater from the Magus Corps, Miss Summer. I’ll be transporting you to Silver Wood coven in New Hampshire.”
“It’s just Summer.”
She had never seen a man with such heavenly blue eyes, which perfectly matched the glints in his silky mane of shoulder-length black hair. His features were equally striking, and just looking at the sensual fullness of his mouth made her own lips tingle. The fact that she was so strongly attracted to him should have made her feel ashamed, or even angry with herself. But instead her head was swimming. She was torn at leaving Michael, had nearly begged him to keep her. Yet the man to whom he gave her exuded a calm power that summoned something deep within her. The nearness of Michael behind her and this new man in front of her stoked a new desire. Somehow standing between them was exactly the place she should be.
“Why do I have to go so far away?” she blurted out.
Atwater exchanged a silent look with Michael.
“The Templars and our people are enemies. If his comrades discover he’s been harboring you, he will be regarded as a traitor––and Templars hate traitors even more than us.”
Summer’s throat tightened as she turned to Michael. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It is of no consequence now. Go with Troy, and be happy, my Beauty.”
He touched her cheek briefly before he nodded to the major and walked away.
Summer stared after him, while her stomach knotted so tightly she pressed her hand to it.
“This isn’t right. He can’t just go like this.” She stared up at Troy, who was studying her face. “He wanted me to stay with him. I could feel it.”
“Lady, you’re radiating so much power right now soon everyone within a three-block radius is going to want you to move in with them.” Troy took her arm and guided her away from the front of the hotel. “Michael has been alone for…a very long time. He’s used to it, and it’s what he wants. Now I need you to put a lid on your ability before you start a riot.”
Summer saw some of the interested looks she was getting from everyone they passed.
“I could do that?”
“I’m one of the most powerful warlocks on the east coast, with body wards that can deflect even the most lethal spell, and even I want to take you home and chain you to my bed.” When she gave him an irate glare his beautiful mouth stretched into an unrepentant grin. “There, that’s better than looking like you just lost your best friend.”
“I think I just did.” She glanced back over her shoulder, but Michael was gone. “How do I put a lid on my whatever-it-is?”
“Your power is linked to your emotions, so calming down would be a good start.” He stopped by a brand new, dark green Jeep and unlocked the passenger door, holding it open for her. She hesitated. “We really do need to get out of here before another hunter picks up your trail, or that cop over there decides to shoot me for stealing the love of his life.”
Summer saw a patrolman across the street giving Troy an ugly look, and how he had his hand resting on his sidearm.
“Right.” Reluctantly she climbed in and buckled her seatbelt.
Troy went around and got in behind the wheel to start the engine.
“Michael told me you were swaying humans in the park to show you compassion. When did the desire compulsion drop into the mix?”
As he pulled away from the curb she had two abrupt, warring urges: to throw herself at Troy, and to jump out of the Jeep and run all the way back to Michael’s apartment.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He reached over and took hold of her hand, and drew it to the side of his strong neck, pressing her fingertips against his skin so she could feel the frantic thud of his racing pulse.
“This is what I mean.”
Summer felt a shivery thrill, and an aching need to move her fingers down so she could pull the edge of his shirt free from his jeans and slip her hand inside it.
“I’m doing that to you?”
He nodded. “Me, Michael, and anything male that comes near you, I imagine.”
“That’s never happened before now.” She took her hand away and stared at it. “Back at the apartment there was a moment…we kissed. But if Michael’s a priest, that had to be me, compelling him to do it?”
“Probably.” Troy merged onto the freeway. “When Michael became a Templar, he took a vow of celibacy.”
She heard the odd shift in his tone. “You don’t approve.”
“I think it’s unnatural,” Troy admitted. “But sex is as sacred to all Wiccans as it is profane to the Templars. Probably another reason we don’t get along.”
“Well, I’m sorry I did that to you,” Summer said. “I’ll try not to in the future.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll take about five hours to drive up to Silver Wood, so why don’t you lower your seat and take a nap?” Troy suggested. “I’ll wake you up when we get close.”
“We need to stop at one of those big box stores on the way,” she said. “I need to pick up some necessities.”
“Silver Wood will provide whatever you need,” he assured her.
“Does Silver Wood have a nice selection of lingerie?” Summer asked sweetly. “Because I’ve been wearing and washing out the same bra and panties every day for the last three months, and at this point, new underwear is not only necessary, it’s a deal-breaker.”
Troy chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”
CHAPTER FIVE
STOPPING AT A store for Summer to make her necessary purchases took only fifteen minutes, and by the time they reached New Haven, she had fallen asleep. Once Troy cloaked her with a sound-damper spell, he took out his mobile and called in to Magus Corps headquarters in Boston.
“Major, according to the roster you’re supposed to be on leave,” the duty officer told him.
“I am, but there’s been a complication.” He quickly related the situation and what he knew about Summer without mentioning Michael Charbon. “I’m transporting her to Silver Wood for evaluation. I’ll stay there with her until we can determine the cause of the memory loss and where she is in her development, but I’d like to consult with Artephius on some details.”
“I’ll transfer you.” The officer put him on hold, and after a short interval the line clicked and a stern,
querulous voice answered it. “You know what they say about warlocks who can’t relax or take time off. They turn into me.”
Troy grinned. The old warlock had helped found the Magus Corps, so he wasn’t exaggerating––and due to his great age, there was no one among their ranks more familiar with oddities and aberrations among their kind. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Arte, but I need your expertise on how to best deal with a foundling. She’s an untutored witch whose ability appears to be in flux.”
“Are you annoying her, too?” the older man asked. “That generally ramps up power levels among females.”
“The flux is not in intensity. It’s in effect,” Troy said. “She seems to be a green witch who generates a proximity field with a strong compassion compulsion. When I met her, however, I felt physical and emotional desire for her.”
Arte grunted. “That’s certainly refreshing. Witches are usually the ones groveling at your feet. To what degree did it affect you?”
“I’m still fighting a fairly vicious urge to carry her off, mate with her and spend the rest of eternity guarding her and getting her pregnant.” He sighed. “This shouldn’t be happening. Aside from the fact that I have no desire to take a mate, I’m carrying full body combat wards.”
“It’s not her ability that is arousing your inconvenient yearning,” the old warlock said. “Our particular gifts are bestowed at birth. They can be diminished or strengthened, but they cannot be altered or supplemented. It’s more likely that you’re dealing with a spell she’s cast, or a curse that was placed on her.”
“She can’t cast spells yet, and even if she could I’d sense it.” He glanced over at Summer’s peaceful face. “Why would someone curse her to be desired by any man who comes near her?”
“Think about it,” Arte told him. “With such a lure she’d be constantly pursued and fought over no matter where she went. She’d have to live in an abandoned monastery just to get any sleep. Rather a nasty curse to use against a female.”
Although what the old warlock said made sense, Troy still wasn’t convinced.
Rescued (Book One of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel Page 3
