by Mina Carter
The battered door and cobweb-covered utility shelves next to it suggested no one had been down here for a while. The rusted cans just visible despite the spiders’ best efforts were at least a couple of decades old. Which meant this place wasn't just unloved. It was abandoned.
Lilly kept her eyes forward despite the sounds of movement behind her. She was stuck in a basement with a bear who was quite possibly mad, either through enchantment or with lust, it didn't matter which. The end result would be the same.
He would rip her to shreds.
"Hey Bennett." She kept her voice low and calm as she turned around. She couldn't afford to make any sudden moves. At this point, Bennett could interpret anything as hostile, and trapped by the spell, she couldn't get away. A quick look around confirmed there wasn't even anywhere to hide. The same shelves as by the door lined the walls, the detritus of family life just visible under the dust and cobwebs.
"You remember me, don't you?" she said, keeping her gaze downcast and not looking at him directly. That could be seen as a challenge, and without the ability to fight...
Instead, she focused on his feet. The fact that she could see them, see human feet, was a good sign. It meant he hadn't completely lost himself to the madness yet.
"It's me, Lilly."
Please remember me.
She froze as he emerged to white shadows. He was still in human form, but just barely. Fur poked over the top of his shirt, and the fabric strained at the seams over his shoulders. His dark eyes locked onto hers and she caught her breath. There was nothing of Bennett looking back at her. It was just his bear.
He took a step forward and she stiffened. She couldn't run, even if she hadn't been held by the spell. If she did, he'd be on her in a heartbeat. But he didn't roar and charge like she'd expected him to. Instead, he walked toward her.
Each slow step sent her heart rate higher, her blood pounding in her ears. She didn't try to talk again, not even when he reached her and leaned in to sniff the side of her neck. With every second, she hammered at the door that kept her from her bear, and tried not to think about how quickly Bennett could have fangs in the soft flesh of her throat
His lips brushed her throat and she froze, her breath catching in her throat. A soft whimper escaped her before she could stop it. She closed her eyes. This was it. She had nowhere left to go, nothing left to fight with, and no way to reach Bennett. Not with him held fast in the clutches of the witch’s spell.
"Shh." His voice was strangely deep. "Not fear. Safe."
That wasn't Bennett. Lilly's eyes widened, and she turned her head to meet his dark gaze. Shit. She was talking directly to...
"You're his bear." she breathed in wonder.
There were stories, some going back to ancient times, about shifters whose inner beast could operate independently, even taking over the human body like the human could control the animal form. They were seen as either blessed by the moon or cursed, depending on what time period the story was from. But they'd long been considered a myth, just a fairy tale told to bear children.
Slowly Bennett's bear nodded, dark eyes locked on hers.
"Man asleep. Sick," he offered. "Stink female made him sick."
"Stink female?" Lilly frowned. "You mean the witch? You could sense the spell she used?"
The bear nodded, a displeased growl in the back of his throat.
"Made man want you." He looked her up and down, but there was none of the lust of matestrike in the dark orbs. "You not ours."
"No." she breathed, hardly able to believe what was happening. Somehow Bennett's bear had managed to not only take over but also fool the witch and Harrison. It was more than she could have dared to hope for...
"No, I'm not. You see that? How? Bennett was so convinced..."
The bear huffed. "Man stupid. You not our female."
She didn't know what to say to that. How could his bear know that when Bennett didn't? Ruthlessly, she shoved the thoughts away. They could work all that out later. Right now, she had to find some way to save Morgan.
Witch-bitch and her merry little band planned to strip his magic and kill him—using her face—and she couldn't allow that to happen. Even if he was a lying, two-faced asshole who'd only used her to scratch an itch, she loved him, more fool her, and she couldn't let them kill him. Not while she still had breath left in her body.
"Okay," she paused to pick her next words carefully. She'd never thought she'd ever be in the situation where she'd be speaking directly with someone else's bear.
So how did she reach it? It wasn't like speaking to her own bear... She froze. Why not? Why shouldn't it be exactly like speaking to her own bear? They were the same, weren't they?
"Okay." she reached out and put her hand on his arm. He reared back for a second until he realized the touch was non-sexual. Bears were just tactile creatures. "It's okay. I have a male, but he's in danger. Can you help me save him?”
“You help man? Take stink-thing away?”
She nodded quickly. “My male? He can fight Stink-woman. Stop her things. Okay?”
She held out her hand, holding her breath as she waited for him to trust her. To help her.
Relief punched out of her lungs in a rush as he took both of hers in his larger ones. A frisson of something passed between them. Without the shield of his humanity, she could feel the power that resided in his soul.
“Your bear pretty,” he smiled. “But hiding. We stop her hiding now.”
With those words, he shoved his shift magic through their joined hands. Agony flared through her, magic exploding through every cell in her body as the other bear shattered the spell that held her captive.
Lilly screamed.
Chapter 10
Morgan had been born into a coven. Which meant that he'd grown up with mind games and politics. The magical community was not a nice one, not at all. A seemingly normal conversation could be fraught with danger in a society where the slightest inflection or hand gesture could mean the other was casting a spell.
Some, like Morgan, were so good that they didn't even need those. The innate ability to cast was so rare Morgan kept it to himself, making sure to put on a show when he cast unless he was absolutely balls to the wall. Some spells—like the one he'd needed to save Kacie, Dean's human mate, when she had been injured—were too complicated even for him to cast unaided, but the majority, especially combat spells, were at his command with just a thought.
However, a lifetime of noting every move the people around him made meant that Morgan was hyper-aware. And there was something about Dean that was just a little bit off.
"Any idea where he's got her?" Morgan asked, tension running high as Dean drove them out of town. "How long has he had her?"
Every cell in his body hummed with concern and anger at the idea of Lilly in Bennett's clutches. Matestrike was no joke. According to Dean, people died in its grip. Both the afflicted and their victims.
"Do you think he'll..."
He couldn't get the words out. If Lilly refused Bennett or fought him in any way, then he'd kill her, and they both knew Lilly wasn't one to take being kidnapped lying down.
"Probably already has," Dean replied dismissively. "He's always held the hots for her. I imagine he ripped that pussy up as soon as he got her somewhere secure."
It took real effort and a lifetime of experience for Morgan to keep his expression unchanged. The casual cruelty and disinterest in the comment took his breath away. It was like Dean had forgotten that Lilly was one of his bears.
More than that, she was his head enforcer. The relationship between a prime and his or her head enforcer was a complex and close one. In some ways, it was closer than that of mates. When he'd first come to Beauty, he'd been jealous of the link Dean had with Lilly, especially since he wanted to be close to her himself.
So for Dean to make such a comment... something was wrong. All Morgan's hackles went up and he slid a sideways glance at his friend—who was now no longer a friend but the en
emy.
His agile mind worked at the problem as Dean drove them out of town toward--surprise surprise—the Black place. He didn't think that Dean had suddenly had a personality transplant—he'd lived and fought beside him for years in hellholes well behind enemy lines that no one would admit to having troops in. He knew Dean, inside and out, which left two options. Either he was under the influence of a spell, or this wasn't Dean. Normally he’d have pulled a little magical investigation to figure out what he was dealing with, but not now. He didn’t want to tip whoever it was off that he knew.
Magic was involved both ways. Which meant whoever was pulling this shit had fucked up. They'd given him advance warning of what he was walking into. It might only be the tiniest clue, but he'd operated on less before and come out the winner.
Determination wrapped around the anger coursing through his soul and he cracked his knuckles. Whatever these assholes were playing at, they would regret fucking with him. When it came to Lilly, his need to protect wasn't just soul deep, it was apocalyptic. The whole scorched earth thing...? Yeah, that was going down.
"How'd you know where he'd taken her?" Morgan asked as they pulled up behind the back of the main house and got out of the vehicle.
He kept his tone light and conversational, treating Dean exactly the same as he would normally treat him, even though he knew his friend was compromised. That was half the battle with situations like this, and he knew from experience not to show his hand too early. He had the advantage here—they had no idea he was onto them already—and he wasn't about to waste it.
Dean joined him around the same side of the truck and indicated one of the barns set behind the house.
"Will Reed called me," Dean said, his manner changing as they rounded the edge of the first barn. For a moment, Morgan looked at him in surprise, wondering what the hell he was doing. Then he realized Dean was trying to move like a soldier. Or rather, like someone who had never been one thought a soldier moved like.
Quickly Morgan blanked his expression. The man with him wasn't Dean. Not even a Dean who was be-spelled.
Relief rolled through him. Good. That meant if shit went went sideways, as it often did when magic was involved, then he didn't have to worry about having to fight or worse, kill, his best friend.
"Keep quiet." Dean murmured, nodding toward the last of the barns. "They're in there. We have the element of surprise."
Oh, we most certainly did. Whoever had cast the spell had paid so much care and attention to appearance, even replicating the tiny scar at the corner of Dean’s mouth, but they had completely ignored the most important part of the whole facade: actually acting like Dean Sterling.
Idiots. He took his position on the opposite side of the main door to the Dean lookalike. On the left. It was a further indication that this wasn't Dean. He always preferred to take the left. It made no difference to Morgan. He could come out kicking ass and taking names, no matter what side he was on.
Dean lookalike held up three fingers, then two, then one ... counting them down. On zero, they kicked the door in and burst into the barn with a crash of breaking wood.
In almost the same breath, Morgan twisted, blue flames crawling up his arms, and blasted Dean with a fire bolt. The bear prime was caught by surprise, taking the shot in his side and flying backward to crash into a pile of old pallets. He didn't get up, blood trickling down the side of his face.
Slow clapping got his attention and he turned, hands spread ready to cast, to find a welcoming committee. Anderson, Harrison, an older guy he didn't recognize, and a woman he definitely did. Ms. Modern Wicca, with her selfie perfect 'witch' look stood next to the older guy, her expression smug.
Older guy was the one clapping, his face wreathed in smiles of amusement and condescension. Like he was the cleverest person in the room and wanted everyone to know it.
Magic-user.
Morgan recognized the type. He'd seen them often enough before he'd left the 'loving protection' of the coven. A little bit of power and they got all pumped up on their own importance and thought they were gods themselves.
"I must admit, I didn't expect you to make this so entertaining." he said, dropping his hands. "Or to nuke your only ally so spectacularly"
Morgan shrugged. "That wasn't Sterling. He was just pretending to be."
"If he was using an illusion spell then that would have cut off when he was knocked out," Ms. Wicca argued.
Morgan gave her a hard look. Did they really think he was that stupid? "No. All it means is that he didn't cast the spell."
He transferred his attention back to Anderson and the old guy. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast you all to hell right now. Because I'm not seeing Braun or Bennett anywhere here. Where are they?"
"Safe." Old guy answered, his voice hard.
"And as long as you cooperate, they'll stay that way." Anderson broke in, his sharp look at his companion saying he didn't like the magic-user taking over. Morgan filed that nugget of information away for later. Dissent in the ranks was something he might be able to use.
“Cooperate? That’s a good one.” Morgan allowed his broad grin to spread over his face and flexed his fingers. Who the hell did they think they were messing with? He wasn’t some coven-soft magician who would run at the first threat. He was a battle-hardened warlock, tested in the fire of—
“Before you start slinging spells,” Ms. Wicca’s soft words got his attention, and she held something up in the palm of her hand. “You might want to consider the health and well-being of your little bear-girlfriend.”
Morgan’s blood ran cold as he recognized the object in her hand. A destructia orb. Its black glittery surface swirled with what looked like quicksilver storm clouds. It was unmistakable. If there was just the one here, then he might have a chance, but one orb could never contain a spell as devastating as destructia. There were always three, not including the control orb Ms. Wicca was holding.
“Where are the others?”
Ms. Wicca grinned, but it was Anderson who spoke. “One is with your girlfriend. The others are near Sterling, and that fucking skin, Creed. Now you’re going to do exactly what we say, or we’ll blow the lot.”
“What do you want me to do?” Morgan kept his voice level and calm, trying to figure this out. He knew Anderson’s angle. He’d wanted more power in the clan as long as Morgan had known him, and Dean had blocked him at every turn. So getting rid of Dean and his enforcer team made sense. “Why not just blow them up right now? It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Just saying the words sent a cold sweat down his spine. His friends gone. Lilly… gone.
“Yeah, no.” Older guy broke in. “That’s not going to work for us. Mr. Riley wants a nice transition of power that can’t be questioned by the rest of your furry lot. Half your bears being blown up? That’s gonna raise too many questions. Far better if a few have accidents, and then a pit challenge, so our man Anderson here takes over.”
Morgan snorted. “Yeah, right. Like either Dean or I will let that happen.”
He flexed his fingers and the blue flame up his arms swelled to prove his point. Forget a handgun, he was a quicker draw with a spell.
“We have plans for Mr. Sterling, don’t you worry. But you? You’re going to do exactly as you’re told and step into the circle.”
The two witches stepped aside to reveal a magic circle sprayed on the packed dirt floor of the barn. Morgan’s heart froze in his chest at the sight of it. He recognized it instantly. Every coven-bred magic-user would.
It was the circle they used for the worst kind of magical offender, the kind who had committed crimes so heinous they couldn’t be trusted with magic anymore. The circle on its own wasn’t dangerous, but once inside, and if they spoke the incantation that went with it, the spell would flay the magic from his very soul, separating him from the witching and the power of the earth itself.
He would be… human.
He laughed. “Really? There’s no way I’m stepp
ing into that.”
He might look like a swan on the surface, but underneath he was paddling like fuck, trying to think of a plan. There had to be a way out. A way around this that didn’t involve people getting blown up or him losing his magic.
“Tick tock, loverboy… make your decision.” Ms. Wicca held up her hand, waggling the orb at him. Her kohl-lined eyes studied him closely. “Of course, there is a third option…”
His gaze latched onto her with laser focus. “What?”
She smiled wide, like a crocodile that had seen its next meal. “Your father wants you back, Arran. Retake your oaths, and swear fealty to the covens again…”
“Who the fuck is Arran? I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else, doll.”
She laughed, sharing a look of amusement with the older guy. “Oh, I doubt that very much. We know who you are... Lord Arran of Evamendes, heir to the Passenfal coven. Your father is eager for you to return to take up your rightful place at his side.”
Anderson about choked, looking between the magic-users and Morgan.
“Spellslinger here is a fucking lord?! No way.”
Ms. Wicca looked at the bear like he was something nasty she’d scraped off her shoe. “Lord Arran is from one of the purest magical bloodlines in the world. I utterly fail to see why he would even talk to creatures like you, much less ally himself with your prime.”
She transferred her attention back to Morgan and gave him a sultry look. “Come back to us, Arran. Rejoin the covens and claim your future.”
He folded his arms, shaking his head. “I’m an oathbreaker. Ain’t no coming back from that for anyone.”
And there wasn’t.
She shrugged. “As coven leader’s daughter, I will vouch for you. I’ve wanted you since I saw you in Mercy’s Fall last year. You did take a little tracking down, though. And that stunt with the demon?” She shuddered, and then smiled. “It was worth it though, to ensure you were who I thought you were.”
