Rescued (Book One of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel

by Hunter, Hazel

  Erica kept her expression bland. She and Abel had been casual lovers for years, but she had insisted on them keeping it concealed from her brother and the rest of the coven. After having a prophetic nightmare about seeing the High Priest butchered during a bonding ceremony with her, Erica also refused Abel’s many requests to formally mate.

  “Brother, as I’ve told you, I’m quite happy being single and childless,” she lied.

  “Doesn’t hurt to look, does it?” Ewan patted her hands. “You might find a man with whom you can finally be happy.”

  “I am too old and set in my ways now, my dear.” Before he could begin another argument over the matter she kissed his cheek. “When you run out of stars to count you should try the lightning bugs. Good-night.”

  Erica retreated to her rooms to bathe and prepare for bed, but when she emerged from the bath she found Abel stretched out naked on her bed and looking through the profiles Ewan had given her.

  “I thought you were going to wait in your rooms for me.”

  “I grew tired of waiting. Ewan is still matchmaking, I see.” He tossed aside the paper and reached for her, drawing her down beside him. “I locked the door this time.”

  “We must be quiet.” Erica switched off the lights before she unbelted her robe and pulled it off, draping it over the foot board. “Aileen and Wilson are just down the hall.”

  “Mate with me,” Abel said as he rolled on top of her, “and we won’t have to sneak around anymore.”

  Erica’s temper suddenly flared up. “I don’t want to be a mate, or a mother, or anything but myself.” She wrapped her legs around him. “Now, either pleasure me, or go back to your own room.”

  Even in the darkness she could see the slow smile that stretched across Abel’s face as he pressed into her. He rubbed her soft nipples, teasing them to hardness before using his tongue on them while he inched into her.

  Erica focused on relaxing and welcoming him, keeping her eyes closed as she reminded herself that this was her friend and lover, and not the monster that had destroyed her life and ruined her for all men.

  Years of love-making had taught Abel what she liked, and he gave it to her with a deep, slow pumping of his shaft, his hands stroking her breasts, his mouth mapping her face with teasing kisses. She felt a moan rise up in her throat, but Abel clamped a hand over her lips.

  “Shhh.” He nodded at the door. “Someone is out there.”

  His hand and the prospect of being discovered sent Erica into a panic, which Abel misinterpreted as passion. He pressed her face against his shoulder as he murmured lusty, sexy words against her ear, his cock hammering into her now.

  Erica held on and closed her eyes, trying not to shake herself to pieces as he finished. Once he had he rolled away from her and quickly fell asleep, she retreated to the bath to take another shower, and scrub away the hateful memories that haunted every inch of her scarred body.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TROY WOKE TO the sound of birdsong, and saw a sprig of green in front of his nose. He sat up to see he and Summer lay in the center of the meadow in front of his house, which was no longer frost-covered or dead. Thick soft green grass dotted with wildflowers extended in a broad circle around them, and also streaked over to the house and back to his Jeep. Down at the creek more grass and blooming flowers clustered at the spot where Summer had fallen.

  Memories of the night he’d shared with her came flooding back to him, and he smiled as he recalled how beautifully she’d responded to him. Although she obviously had little experience, Summer had been an eager and exciting partner who took as much pleasure in his satisfaction as her own. Her frank sensuality and willingness to be as playful as she was passionate had aroused him so much he’d spent most of the night buried inside her.

  The fact that they had ended up sleeping in the meadow didn’t worry him as much as what effect it would have on her.

  “Summer,” he said, stroking her cheek.

  “I know. It’s everywhere I walked.” Without opening her eyes she snuggled closer. “The question is, how did we get out here? I don’t remember getting up and leaving the house, do you?”

  Troy recalled falling asleep with her in his arms in front of the fireplace.

  “More of your mysterious magic?”

  “Sure, blame me for everything.” Summer stretched before she propped herself up and looked around. “Even more interesting, we’re both still naked, but I’m not cold at all. You?” When he shook his head she concentrated for a moment. “Something brought us out here, but it wasn’t me.” She turned her head to scan the meadow and yawned. “I would kill for some coffee. This isn’t a Wiccan version of a practical joke, isn’t it?”

  “Not in my coven.” Troy pulled her over on top of him and stroked his hands down the long, lovely lines of her back. “Kiss me.”

  Summer obliged by lowering her head and daintily touching her lips to his.

  “Good morning,” she said. As she felt him rub his erection between her thighs she smiled. “That would be lovely, but you don’t have a condom on you, Major.”

  He nipped her chin. “How do you know?”

  “We used all three that you had last night.” She braced her hands against his chest and rested her chin on top of them. “So unless you made good on your threat to go back to the pavilion for more, you’re out of luck.”

  Troy rolled her onto her side and reached down to slide his hand between her legs.

  “There are other ways, my lovely lady.”

  “We shouldn’t. They’re going to be worried about us,” she predicted. “Plus if we go back, you can restock and then we can…” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

  “Oh, we will, have no doubt,” he grumbled, and scooped her up in his arms as he stood and walked down to the creek with her. “Hold on to me.”

  Summer shrieked as a small tornado of droplets rose from the creek and pummeled their naked bodies with icy water before spinning away and dropping back into its source, leaving them both chilled but clean.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “We needed a cold shower, and I doubt there’s any coffee here.” He set her down on her feet and lowered his head to kiss her thoroughly. “I don’t feel the curse anymore, do you?”

  Summer looked as if she was going to say something, closed her mouth quickly, and then grimaced.

  “I don’t really know. You’d better re-ward me, just in case.”

  Troy used water from the creek to invoke another shielding spell, but when the misty water net tried to wrap itself around her it slid to the ground and formed a puddle around her feet.

  Summer stared down at it. “So that’s not good.”

  “Be still.” Troy passed his hand over her body, and felt a new barrier of energy in place. “It’s you. You’ve warded yourself.”

  “I don’t know that spell yet,” she countered. “I’m still on the basic curative herbs and flower poultices lesson.”

  “Come on, I need to get you back to the pavilion.” He reached for her hand without thinking and felt his own pass through her ward without hindrance, which shouldn’t have been possible. When he took her hand, he felt the field of energy around her stretching to envelope him. “You don’t have to protect me, Summer.”

  “I’m not,” she insisted. “It’s just doing it on its own.” She turned her head to look at the other side of her body. “Something’s wrong with it, though. Like something’s missing.” She moved her hand back and forth. “Here.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

  He walked with her back into the house, where they went into the dining room to retrieve their clothes. Troy came to an abrupt halt when he saw his mother’s carved furnishings, which over night had sprouted tiny branches with new leaves.

  “Whoa.” Summer’s eyes widened before she gave him a panicky look. “This is not me. I couldn’t have done this, I swear.”

  Troy released her hand and walked over to one of the chairs, carefully
inspecting it before he stroked a bright green leaf that had sprouted from the end of the armrest. It was so odd and yet so lovely a thing that it immediately invoked the image of his mother’s smiling face.

  “If I did this, I am so sorry,” Summer was saying. “I never meant to ruin it.”

  “You didn’t, sweetheart. My mother was so kind-hearted that she never cut down a single tree. She carved only from wood that had already fallen and died. She would have loved to see this.” He glanced over at her. “Thank you.”

  Again she looked as if she wanted to say something, only to turn away. “No problem.”

  As they dressed Troy saw how she kept frowning at the down comforter where they had made love.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you see those?” She pointed at some long depressions in the surface of the covering. “The little one in the middle there is where I fell asleep, and you were on that side, right?”

  He eyed the spot. “I think so, why?”

  Her hand shifted to indicate the depression on the other side of the spot she’d made.

  “Who was there?”

  “No one.” Yet as soon as he said that he remembered a pair of jade green eyes staring at him from the shadows. “I must have rolled over during the night.”

  Summer gave him a long, silent look.

  “Right. That’s the only logical explanation.”

  Once they dressed Troy used his power to douse the fireplace and then walked outside with her to see the rejuvenation of the meadow had expanded several more feet and was moving into the trees, where several oaks were beginning to put out new leaves.

  “If it wasn’t so pretty, it would be creepy,” Summer said, and hugged herself. “How could I be doing this? I haven’t even cast my first spell yet.”

  Troy had considerable power as an elemental, and knew other warlocks with similar abilities who could command fire, air, light and even huge herds of animals to do their bidding. In all the centuries he had walked the earth, however, he had never seen anything like what Summer could do simply by walking across a meadow. Yet just as he was about to tell her that, he realized he had not yet revealed that he and the other Wiccans were immortal. That and the doubt and fear in her eyes made him draw her into his arms.

  “We’ll find the answers,” he promised her. “Together.” He kissed her brow and then reached into his jacket for his phone. “Let me call Erica and let her know…” he stopped and stared at the distorted screen.

  “What is it?” Summer glanced down at the phone, and then went still.

  Troy turned the phone over in his hand to check the back before he met her gaze.

  “I got the case at an art shop.” He touched the little olive branch growing out of his shattered display. “The guy makes them out of olive wood.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IN THE NORTH Abbey sparring chamber Alvis Berenson came at Michael with his practice staff aloft in a full frontal attack, but at the last moment whirled around in an attempt to strike him from the side. Michael parried the hard blow and rolled his wrist, circling the wooden staff with his own before knocking it from Alvis’s ham-size fist.

  “You are like the fucking bee,” the Norseman grumbled as he retrieved the weapon. “Always darting in to sting instead of battling face to face like a man.”

  “You are not a man, Brother,” Michael told him flatly. “You are a mountain, and to fight you from the front is like trying to push one aside. With a finger.”

  He gave him a properly respectful bow.

  Alvis uttered his high-pitched laugh as he bowed in return.

  “You have a quick tongue, Charbon. May your sword arm be as strong in the coming weeks.”

  They hung up their practice weapons before leaving the sparring chamber and stripped out of their clothes before stepping into the adjoining sauna, a rare indulgence Nathaniel had installed for the use of his warriors after their bouts. The other Templars sitting inside the steamy chamber rose and left as soon as they spotted Alvis, who watched them go with a contemptuous smirk.

  “Why are you the only one who does not shun me, Charbon?” Alvis asked as he tossed a dipper of water onto the heated rocks that generated the steam.

  “I expect they have heard the stories about your berserker days among the Vikings.” Michael leaned back against the wet wooden wall behind him. “They fear what they do not understand.”

  “So they shun what they fear.” Alvis spat on the floor. “Like mortals, they are.”

  “Any man who beholds you knows his heart to quail, Brother,” Michael told him. “You are eight feet tall, and three times as wide as any of us.”

  “I cannot help my size.” The Norsemen sounded sullen. “In my village, when we were not off a-Viking, I was worked like a beast because of it. I bore the yoke on my shoulders, and dragged the plowshare across the fields. If not for our lord Master Harper I expect my bones would be buried there now.”

  Michael nodded. “So would we all be dead and dust.”

  “As we are alone I would speak to you about a concern.” Alvis rubbed a huge hand over the bristling hairs that covered his skull. “You have been watching Gideon of late. I see the wariness in your eyes. Do you think him a traitor?”

  “No,” Michael said honestly. “But there is something amiss with him. Have you seen his mouth working?”

  Alvis nodded. “He chews on that cigar to hide the twitch. Sometimes when he comes in of late, he stinks of women and fornication.”

  Michael felt startled. “You think he is violating them?”

  The roof beam shoulders shifted. “It does not matter. Women are the daughters of Eve. They condemned us all to sin and suffering. If he returns the same to them, they likely deserve it––and he cannot be held accountable for his sins anymore.”

  Hearing that from the most fervently devout Templar Michael had ever met confused him. “Why not?”

  “Eternity is what plagues Gideon now,” Alvis informed him. “He suffers from immortality sickness, and can no longer be trusted to serve and protect our lord, or carry on the work. When we strike at the pagan gathering in the White Mountains, I will stay behind at first to perform the kindness of dispatching him.”

  Hearing the location of the attack made acid bile surge up in Michael’s throat. Silver Wood coven was located in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. To keep from puking in front of the Norseman, Michael asked a question.

  “Does the Temple Master know about your plans for Gideon, Brother?”

  “He ordered it,” Alvis said. “You will be leading the men into the fray, so I wished you to know how it would be at the rear.” He studied his face. “You are pale now. Surely you have heard this is what is always done, to release our ailing brothers from their torment.”

  Michael nodded. “I did not imagine Gideon to be so stricken. It is a terrible way to lose a brother.” He stood. “I must report for patrol duty. Thank you for the match, Alvis.”

  Michael showered and dressed as fast as he could, so he could get to his car and call Atwater from his encrypted phone. On his way out of the old church, however, he was intercepted by Nathaniel.

  “My son, I need to speak with you,” the Temple Master said. “I am deeply troubled by your lack of progress in tracking the witch who escaped us.”

  “Are you equally concerned about your steward going mad?” Michael countered without thinking, and then felt the burn of regret. “Forgive me. Alvis just informed me about Gideon’s condition, and what is to be done about it.”

  A flicker of anger passed over Nathaniel’s features before he sighed.

  “It was a very difficult decision. As much as I wish we could save Gideon, we cannot allow our brother to descend into lunacy and run amok. You will say nothing to the other men about this, Michael. It is a private business.”

  He ducked his head. “As you wish, Master.”

  “Soon we may never again have to end the suffering of an ailing brother,” Nathaniel continued smoo
thly. “With all the wisdom and power it contains, I feel certain that the Emerald Tablet can be used to cure immortality sickness.” He reached up to pat Michael’s cheek. “Find the witch, my son, and bring her to me, and we may yet still save Gideon.”

  Michael bowed and then watched the Temple Master walk away before he went to his car and pulled out his encrypted phone from where he kept it taped under the driver’s seat. He dialed Atwater’s number only to hear it go directly to voice mail. He opened his mouth to leave a message before he abruptly ended the call.

  This was no longer about Templars and Wiccan, it was about life and death. Summer was the key to finding the most powerful grimoire in existence. If the pagans used her to find the Tablet, they would have the means with which to wipe out their old enemies. If it fell into the hands of the Templars, they would do the same. Anyone wielding such a weapon would rule the world, and since both sides were immortal, that would be for all eternity.

  I know what my duty is, Michael thought. That is why she was brought to me.

  He programmed the GPS before he called the North Abbey. Augustin Colbert answered.

  “Let Master Harper know that I have received a new lead on the whereabouts of the witch, and I will be traveling out of state to follow up.”

  “Where are you going?” the clergy aide asked.

  Michael glanced at the GPS display, which showed he would arrive in the White Mountains of New Hampshire in four hours.

  “Philadelphia.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE SHOUTING MATCH between Troy and Abel started shortly after they arrived back at the Silver Wood pavilion, and was loud enough to carry from the library to the kitchen.