“No fucking way!” My eyes shot wide, the urge to strike that face shockingly intense. “Wyatt?”
“Get yourself home,” he growled, then stood and slammed the door.
My vision wavered and I blinked away the blurriness. The spell he’d used to heal me was fading, fast. I gunned the engine and threw the SUV into drive. I needed to get home and assess the damage before I could spare the time to figure out whether or not I was going to have to kill the man.
Wyatt was the last person on Earth I wanted back in my life.
Chapter Six
I didn’t exactly remember making it home after the attack, but I must have because when I woke up, I was sprawled on my couch, face down wearing the same clothes that I had been when I was last conscious.
I groaned through the blistering headache that pounded over me. It seemed to radiate from my temples right down to my toes. I slowly rolled over to my back. Damn, I was in rough shape.
The sun was streaming through the sliding glass doors of my condo as I lifted my unnaturally heavy arm to examine my watch. Four. The question was, was it four the next day or four the same day of my botched attack? I slid my fingers into my pocket and retrieved my cell phone. I squinted at the tiny numbers. My vision still hazy, but I managed to make out the date. Same day.
I rubbed my face and slowly, gently, pushed myself upright. Another wave of dizziness washed over me as I braced myself against the back of the couch. My body ached with a dull thud and I could feel the utter lack of energy weighing down my limbs. Not only that but my powers hadn’t returned. I couldn’t feel any spark of even the tiniest pulse of magic and that scared the hell out of me. Normally, after tapping out, my powers returned once I’d slept. This time I’d used up too much.
I reached up to feel the wound on my neck and shuddered at the memory of being sucked by a vamp. It’d been my first true experience of being drained and I didn’t like it. The vamp had been nasty and brutal, ripping my skin open like you would a can of beans. I tentatively felt the edges of the wound. The puncture and tear marks were rough under my fingers, like scar tissue had bubbled and formed overnight.
“You’re awake.” Wyatt came waltzing into the living room, coffee mug in hand, cocky smirk on his face.
Without my powers, I hadn’t even known he was there. Worse, I hadn’t even smelled the coffee, for fuck’s sake. “Shit, I thought it was a bad dream. What the hell are you doing here?”
He perched himself on the edge of a chair, sipping his coffee slowly. “Didn’t you get your dad’s message?”
I clenched my jaw, shook my head. He looked good. Damn it. Too good for a dickhead. His black curly hair was longer than I remembered—a little past his shoulders—his skin more tanned, crow’s feet lining his eyes. He’d aged considerably, no longer the fresh-faced youth I’d once loved. His body was bigger too—bulky, muscle and sinew rippling under his black T-shirt as he lifted that damn coffee cup to his perfectly kissable lips once again.
Fuck.
“I’ve been ignoring his calls. The old coot is just spouting off again. End of the world shit.”
Lowering my hand to my lap, I glanced out the window once again, needing to look anywhere but at Wyatt. It hurt to see him, even after all these years. The bastard.
The sun was bright and streaming in, the warming rays nearly reaching me. I nudged my toe toward them, craving the rays like an addict. For whatever reason, the sun rejuvenated me, charging me up like a battery.
I pushed myself from the couch, fighting another wave of dizziness. Then I slowly made my way to the sliding glass door, pushed it open and let the sun stream in. I stood there, eyes closed, ignoring Wyatt and the body shaking thuds of my heart as it tried to fight its way out of my chest.
“He sent me to get you.”
I closed my eyes tighter, stepped out onto my balcony. The sun beat on my skin, tattooing me with its rays. Like a pilot light being lit, my powers reignited. It would take a while to build up my magic stores again, but it was working and that was enough to calm my anxieties.
Wyatt’s pulse of magic hit me a second after that and I swayed. I hadn’t felt his signature in eight years, but I would never, ever, forget it. Tears burned the back of my eyes. Too much. Too much. I needed him gone.
“Well, you’re wasting your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
“The electromagnetic storm is due in seventy-two hours. The Council wants all available witches home.”
“Listen, Wyatt.” I turned to face him, hands clenched into fists—fists I really wanted to plow into his face. “I don’t know what the Council or Father is playing at, but I will never go back to that hellhole. Especially not with you.”
He stared at me, not flinching, barely blinking. Emotionless as usual. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”
I sneered, anger pulsing. That old familiar feeling. If I had more magic available, I’d seriously blast him. “Fuck you, Wyatt. You still are, and always have been, a giant fucking douchebag.”
He put his coffee cup down on the side table and stood. I held my ground and my glare. He sauntered toward me. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart.” He entrapped me with those eyes, violet like a gem, sparkling, deep, mesmerizing. He lifted his hand to my face, his fingers brushing my cheek, thumb against my bottom lip.
I closed my eyes. His touch like a drug, one I’d craved from the moment I’d left him. He’d always had that effect on me, from the time that we were children. I’d found him utterly intoxicating.
“Go pack your bags. We’ll leave in an hour.”
Romance writers called Wyatt’s type “alpha”. I called it asshole. I opened my eyes. “I need a shower and you need to leave. Goodbye, Wyatt. I’d say it was nice seeing you again, but that would be a lie. The door locks on its own. Let yourself out.”
I left him standing there, hoping he would take my word for it and just leave.
Five minutes later I was standing under the warm spray of my shower, my head tilted up, the water cascading over my face, washing away all trace of the battle. As I soaked and then lathered my hair with shampoo, my brain sorted through the conflicts. The shitshow that went down back at the den had been a close call and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, if Wyatt hadn’t shown up, I would be dead right now.
That thought alone left me feeling vulnerable, insecure and damn angry. How could I have let myself get into that situation in the first place? How could I let Wyatt see me like that? I was supposed to be doing good for myself. I was supposed to be strong. No damsel in distress. He was probably getting so much pleasure out of the fact that I’d needed him. He’d saved my life and it was all because of my stubborn stupidity.
I hadn’t been fully charged and I’d walked in suspecting that the witch I was after was better trained than I was. Most of the witches I tracked were undereducated and therefore easy targets. This one had escaped me twice. Not only that, she’d wielded power that I couldn’t match and she was in league with vampires.
It was a sobering thought, but it didn’t dampen my resolve to seek justice for my clients. I might have taken on more than I could handle, but that didn’t mean I was going to give up. No, it meant that I was going to have to change my game.
I abandoned my loofa sponge in favor of my fingers, scrubbing away the blood from my flesh with tentative strokes, especially around the scars on my neck. I hadn’t looked in the mirror on my way into the shower, so I didn’t know just how healed it actually was and I didn’t want to reopen the wound. Wyatt was a skilled healer, the golden boy of the Witch Council. He’d always been a better witch than me. Straight A student, mastering his Latin, spells chanted to perfection. Powerful.
Another reason to hate him.
I never truly fit in there with the Council. We’d lived on the compound grounds of The American Council of Witches from the time that I was born.
All of the Council members and their families did, along with the professors and students who were teaching and training at the Academy. It was all supposed to be one big happy family of witches.
My parents were high ranking Council members themselves, who continued to go on jobs on behalf of the Council despite the danger usually involved. They were trained warriors, skilled spell-casters and strong negotiators. And my sisters had been following right behind them.
My parents specialized in enforcing the Council’s various spell-casting rules. There were certain “classic” spells that really should never have been created in the first place, like soul stealing, or identity theft—physically taking over another person’s body, creating zombies if you will. If one of the Council’s trackers got a whiff of an illegal spell being performed, they would send out my parents to deal with it. And dealing with it usually led to bloodshed and death for the offending witch or coven.
I, on the other hand, had been struggling to keep my head in the books when I really wanted to be out causing trouble. I didn’t abide by my professors’ warnings, abused my powers whenever I could and snuck off campus at any opportunity. I was a wild one, desperate for fun and excitement. My tracking ability was so powerful that my instructors always looked the other way when I didn’t quite get a passing grade on whatever test I was attempting. Wyatt called me lazy. I was a black sheep and a troublemaker. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I had life by the balls.
I was nineteen when my sisters died, when my mother fell into a grief so profound that it was like she was in a coma, when my father began to lose his mind. A year later I was living in Florida, away from my people for the first time in my life. I soon discovered that the solitary life suited me. Exile worked in favor of my personality.
As I rinsed the suds from my hair and body, scrubbing away the last of the blood, I realized I might have finally met my match. This witch I was hunting was clearly clever and conniving. She was smart enough to expect me to come back for her yesterday and bold enough to wait. She had the support of the vampires and she wasn’t backing down or going to make it easy for me to capture her. And since I couldn’t upgrade my education in the next few hours, I needed some way to best her which might have to come in the form of my weapons.
Perhaps the trick with this witch was to go against the norm, attack her with a crossbow instead of a stun spell. Treat her not as a witch, but as I would an unknown supernatural. Attack her with brawn instead of brains.
I turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body as I used another to dry my hair. I glanced into the bathroom mirror and did a double take, reaching for the wound on my neck. I cringed as I ran my fingers once again over my bruised and battered skin, the fine, lumpy scar throbbing with pain. The vampire had done a number on me, that was for sure. The scar ran from nearly my jaw line to my collarbone in a wide arch. It was nasty looking still, even if it was healing at an incredible rate. A wave of anger rolled through me and I pulled my hand away.
Payback was definitely on my list of things to do today.
“You should let me dose you again.”
I yelped, my heart thundering. Wyatt stood inside the doorway, one shoulder propped against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
“How long have you been standing there? I cast on that door, how’d you get in?”
He snorted. “You’ve never taken your powers seriously. Your spells are weak.” He pushed himself up, moved toward me, hand lifting as if to touch me again.
I smacked it away. “Don’t…”
Within seconds, he had me turned around and in a bear hug, his strong arms pinning me, encasing me, and damn if I didn’t get excited. I liked it rough with Wyatt. I liked how he alphaed me in bed. And he knew it. Bastard. I was wet for him and he probably knew that too.
Using one arm to hold me still, he yanked my head to the side. I watched us in the mirror as the steam abated completely. His brow was furrowed while he examined my neck, fingers tracing lightly over the bubbled skin.
“Ouch!” I grunted through clenched teeth.
He smirked, pressed harder. “So, you’re a big bad hunter now?”
He’d been snooping. I glared at him, wishing death, dismemberment, whatever.
“Found your license. Your dad won’t be happy about that.”
“Fuck you,” I growled, twisting against his body, tired of this game.
He snapped his gaze to meet mine in the mirror. “You’ve gotten crass, Kali. You were always defiant, but never crass.”
I opened my mouth to swear at him again when his magic flowed through me, his healing touch like a balm, coating my wound, soaking into my flesh, the muscles of my neck losing all tension. I shivered, relaxed into him, my legs wobbling.
He brushed his lips against my ear. “It’s good to see you again, sweetheart.”
I opened my eyes, locked onto his again and worked my hand loose. I raised it up like I was going to caress his cheek. When my fingers hit his flesh, I let a stun spell go, zapping him with a jolt that had him flailing backward into the tub.
“That’s for touching me.” I tightened the knot on my towel and I glared down at him, watching him grunt and struggle to rise from the slick tub. “You call me sweetheart again and I’ll zap your balls.”
I walked out of the bathroom, leaving him to recover.
Spells are weak, my ass. Didn’t see that one coming did ya, asshole?
Chapter Seven
I was dressed and brushing my hair by the time Wyatt stumbled out of the bathroom, not at all graceful. It made me smile.
“Not playing fair, sweetheart.” He collapsed onto my bed with a grunt. “When did you become a dirty witch?”
I snorted. “Dirty witch? You have no idea.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail and turned to look at him, leaning against my dresser, arms crossed “I need you to leave, Wyatt. Seriously, I’ve got a job to do.”
He craned his head up, eyebrow cocked. “What, get yourself killed? You so anxious to get away from me that you want to die?”
I shook my head and moved into my closet so I could retrieve another of my pre-packed weapons bags. “That was a mistake, I’ll admit it, okay?” I dropped the bag on the bed next to his head. “It won’t happen again.”
He shifted to his side, rolling his head onto his hand, leaning on his elbow. “You look great, Kali.” He scanned my body. He was always really good at making me blush. He also didn’t pay a compliment unless he meant it.
I turned my back on him, all but running into the closet to get more weapons. He unhinged me. Always had.
Once I got the heat under control, snatched the few knives I had and a crossbow, I walked back into the bedroom. He was rooting through my weapons bag, lips pursed.
“You have no sense of property do you?” I stood in the doorway, crossbow cocked on my hip.
He glanced up at me, a stake in one hand, cuffs in the other. “You’ve got some magic laced on these. Not good magic, but still…”
I huffed out a breath and walked to the bed. I put the crossbow down and tossed the knives inside. “You don’t know how badly I want to shoot you right now.”
He smiled. “I bet.” He rolled up to sit, dropping my stuff into the bag. “Okay, Kali, let’s talk.”
I shifted my weapons around, maximizing the space, zipped the bag up and laid the crossbow on top. I needed bolts. I went back to the closet for those. “We don’t have anything to talk about. I’m not going with you. Dad is insane and his predictions are inaccurate. All the experts are saying this solar flare is nothing.”
“Your mother is awake.”
I froze in the doorway of the closet, on my way out with a handful of bolts, tears welling at his words. “Wha…” My voice stopped working. A sob caught in my throat.
Wyatt’s face was deadpan, no sarcasm in h
is words. He was serious. “She came to a few days ago. Your dad tried calling. Couldn’t get you. Sent me.”
“Is she talking? What is she saying?” My mom was awake. My mom. My mom.
“She asked for Leila, Destiny and you.”
The sob escaped this time. I lifted my hand to my mouth. My sisters. My legs wobbled. “She doesn’t remember?”
Wyatt shook his head, ran his hand through his hair. “She remembers. She had a vision. One that supports what your dad is saying.”
My mom was a gifted witch with psychic powers. She couldn’t read people so much as she read events. Where my dad dabbled with spells to help him see into the future, my mom was the real deal.
“What did she say?” The problem with divination though was the potential for misreading. Deciphering the wording was key.
Wyatt shrugged. “Guess you’re gonna have to come home to find out.”
“You asshole!” Power surged over my fingers, a flash of anger that made him smile.
“You gotta get that under control, Kali. You’re volatile with your magic. It’s a waste of power.” He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think about things. Maybe pack a bag or two while you’re at it.”
I picked up the crossbow, sorely tempted to plug him with a bolt. Instead, I dropped the weapon and snatched up my cell, then punched my dad’s number.
“Kali! Is Wyatt there with you? When are you coming home? Your mom—”
“Yes, Dad, I know. Can I speak to her please?”
“I…oh…yes…of course.” He sounded deflated but what did he expect? I might be able to forgive him, maybe. But forget? Never. He’d made the call to send Leila and Destiny out that night. He’d known the danger. They weren’t ready for it. Blood was on his hands just as much as the Council’s.
“Kali?”
My mom’s voice, oh god, the sound of it made me weep. Tears streamed down my cheeks. How I longed to hear her again.
The Dark War: The Dark War, Book 1 Page 4
