The Witch's Daughter (Rune Alexander Book 7)

by Laken Cane

  The Witch’s Daughter

  By Laken Cane

  Copyright © 2015 Laken Cane

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Kelly Eurton Reed

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, association with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. Ebook copies may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share with a friend, please buy an extra copy, and thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  For more information about the author, you can find her online at

  www.lakencane.com,

  www.facebook.com/laken.cane.3,

  www.twitter.com/lakencane,

  www.amazon.com/author/lakencane

  Dedications

  For those still full of hope and those who believe in magic. For those who know that death is only the beginning and that love is more powerful than evil. For the protectors, the dreamers, and the creators. To those who refuse to give up.

  Stay fierce.

  Table of Contents

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Part Two

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Part Three

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Part Four

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  About Laken Cane

  Part One

  No Choice

  Chapter One

  “Rune,” he murmured. He closed his eyes and said it again. “Rune.”

  He was crying. She saw wet tracks of tears on his familiar, beautiful face.

  But it couldn’t be.

  She stared, silent.

  Disbelieving.

  He started toward her but she shook her head to halt him, then pressed a fist into her stake wounds. “Not possible,” she said.

  He waited.

  “It’s a trick,” she continued. “Damascus is fucking with me.” She nodded, and continued to stare, unblinking and…

  Horrified.

  It wasn’t possible.

  He was dead.

  She’d killed him.

  She’d held him as he bled out on the white, cold snow of Wormwood.

  She’d thought of him every single day since.

  Every second.

  Because she simply hadn’t realized what he’d meant to her until he was gone.

  Until it was too late.

  If she had it to do again, would she have been so muddled by her monster that she’d have been able to resist her love?

  To have cared that she might have destroyed the man he was?

  No.

  Fuck, no.

  Maybe not.

  “Rune,” he said, again. That was all. Just her name. And in her name was everything.

  His desolate stare was too much for her to bear.

  She took a step closer to him. She tried to speak, but her teeth clacked together so violently she couldn’t get the words out.

  Oh God, how she wanted to touch him.

  Wanted to see if his flesh would be warm beneath her fingertips or if he would simply disappear and she would see that she’d…

  “Holy fuck,” she exclaimed. “It was the blood. I fed on that bastard and now I’m hallucinating.”

  He blew out a hard breath and the air from it caressed her skin. “Come here, sweet thing. Please. Come here.”

  And it didn’t matter that she was sure she was imagining him, that she was hallucinating, that the grief and devastation she’d feel all over again when he disappeared would kick her ass. It just didn’t matter.

  She ran to him and slammed into his body. She flung her arms around him and squeezed so tightly he grunted.

  And he was real.

  He was fucking real.

  “Z,” she cried. “Z.”

  Oh God, he was real.

  He murmured nonsense, whispered her name, and groaned as he roamed her body with his hands. “It’s you. It’s you.”

  “How?” she asked. Afraid to believe.

  But she knew.

  “No human can cross over to Skyll, Rune. Unless that human is dead, the worlds have aligned at the perfect moment, and the human is sucked in...”

  Z had died in Wormwood.

  And had crossed over to Skyll.

  He was as real as she was.

  Alive.

  He was alive.

  She didn’t know how to process it.

  She pulled back so she could look at him, then ran her hands over his arms, his face, his chest. “I miss you. I miss you so much.”

  “Missed, sweet thing. Missed me. I’m here. You’re here…” He shook his head, his voice unsteady. “Did you…” He hesitated.

  “I can’t die, Z. I came to find Damascus. To take a cure back to keep the Others alive.”

  But…go back? Leave Z and go back to her world?

  Could she do that for any fucking thing, for anyone?

  No.

  God help her, no.

  She didn’t think she could.

  He stiffened at Damascus’s name, and then went still. “You know a way out of here? A way back home?”

  Shit. “Z…there’s no way you can go back. You’re…”

  You’re dead there.

  He nodded. “I know. But you…you can’t go back, Rune.”

  She hooked her hand around his neck. “I don’t want to try to figure that out right now. I’m barely able to accept that I’m standing here in the dark holding you. Holding my Z.”

  She let go of him suddenly and stepped back, closing her eyes.

  She clenched her fists and kept her eyes closed for as long as she could stand to.

  When she opened them, Z was still there, staring at her, unsmiling.

  “I had the same thought,” he said. “But I was afraid you’d disappear.”

  He grabbed her then, as though he couldn’t bear not to touch her, and o
nly then did he relax against her. “You’re here.”

  His voice was soft and smooth and curled around her like a warm blanket in the coldest winter.

  But something was different. She didn’t want to know it, didn’t want to admit it, but he was different.

  She felt it.

  “Z,” she murmured. “Something…”

  But he kissed her and she forgot her worries. His kiss was desperate and full of torment, but it was also a kiss of love.

  The kiss borne of a love that had been building from the moment they’d met.

  She wound her arms around his neck and held him to her, moaning a little as she kissed him, held him, loved him.

  Because something was fucking wrong, and she wanted to ignore it and kiss him, kiss him until the truth was forced into her brain.

  Whatever truth it was would break her heart, and she’d had enough of that shit.

  He held her face between his hot palms, and his kiss said everything for him. It told her of his need, his longing, his pain.

  He devoured her with that kiss.

  For the first time, she let herself fall into Z.

  At that moment, she was his Rune and he was her Z, and there was nothing else. They’d lost each other, and then, unimaginably, miraculously, they’d found each other. Right then, she didn’t care if she might hurt or change or destroy him.

  He was there.

  Somehow, he was there, in her arms.

  That was enough.

  Z.

  I’m here, sweet thing.

  And he was.

  “I love you,” she said. “I always loved you.”

  Then there were no more words.

  She watched him as she helped him undress.

  It didn’t occur to her that they were in a dangerous situation.

  She didn’t care that they might have an audience.

  As booms and distant screams and explosions lit up the night, she kept hold of him, afraid he’d disappear.

  So afraid.

  She tossed her clothes aside with shaking hands and then she and Z collided once more, eagerly, with the single-mindedness of children. Hands grasping, lips searching, hearts bursting.

  There was simply nothing else.

  He worshipped her body, using every part of him to touch every part of her.

  For the first time in her life, she made love to a man.

  “Finally,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow as sticky and sweet as syrup. “I waited forever.”

  The ground was hard beneath her back as he lay on top of her, his hands gripping her arms. He stared down at her, his eyes as pure and full of love as they’d always been.

  She cupped his face with hands still raw and healing. “Z.”

  Do you remember when I killed you?

  Do you remember when you saved me?

  I remember when you loved me.

  Their souls recognized each other.

  “I remember,” he said.

  But his voice was sad. Regretful.

  She would not ask him why. Not then.

  “Z,” she murmured, over and over and over because saying his name made it real. “Stay with me.”

  “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard.”

  And that scared her more than anything.

  He entwined his fingers with hers and held them above her head, then lowered his mouth to hers. Stretched out, belly to belly, connected.

  In another world, you’re meant for me.

  In this world, I’m meant for Death.

  She moaned against his lips, trying to shut out the intruding voices.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered, brushing her lips with his tongue. “I’ve got you.”

  She felt it as he slid inside her, a connection deeper than sex or lust or even love. It was something she had no name for, and it was stronger than any world. Stronger than any death.

  And whatever it was, it would always be.

  No matter what.

  That’s what she’d have to hold on to, when…

  When things got bad.

  When I lose him again.

  But with Z inside her, on top of her, melding with her, she knew she had never really lost him, and she’d never really lose him again.

  He was part of her.

  Something changed at that moment, expanded, exploded…

  Became.

  She gasped against his mouth as her blood seemed to heat, to boil, as her mind and heart stretched and swelled and retreated, and then, something was created.

  Something was produced and twisted and shaped, and it was too much for her.

  Her body stiffened as she physically felt Z release inside her. His semen shot into her, hurt her, fixed her. Changed her.

  That very encounter, that very moment, was the reason she lived.

  She didn’t know why, couldn’t think why, but it was.

  It wasn’t her only reason for being.

  It was the biggest reason.

  She couldn’t scream, because it was more than a scream.

  Z was cemented to her. Neither one of them could move, or speak, or comprehend, as they were molded by unseen hands belonging to something greater than both of them.

  And when at last the hold was gone, she floated into blackness wrapped in his arms and knew that nothing would ever be the same.

  Chapter Two

  “When I first awakened here,” he told her, much, much later, “my mind was confused.” He lifted a hand from her belly and gestured helplessly. “I can’t explain. I was like a child just born. I floated in darkness as my mind reknitted, as the person I am now was formed.”

  “You’re still Z,” she insisted. Implored.

  He kissed her cheek, then her forehead, and finally, her lips. “I am Z.”

  But…

  “Tell me,” she said, reluctant to hear.

  He gave a long blink. “I’m forgetting everything that came before.” His eyes, vivid and sorrowful in the moonlight, glistened.

  It only took her a second. “You’re forgetting me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep and dark and so full of pain it hurt her head.

  “Not your fault,” she managed.

  Something hurt.

  Pain, insidious and sharp, tunneled its way into her chest.

  Her mind was like a can covered with nail holes, and her chaotic thoughts were seeping through all the rusty openings.

  “Don’t fall apart,” he said. “Because no matter if I forget who you are, I’m never going to forget the feeling of loving you.”

  Despair squeezed her, and she buried her face in his warm neck. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “I’m always going to be part of you, sweet thing. That’s a truth you can carry with you. No matter what else happens.” He rubbed his thumb over her temple. “I’m always going to be in here.” Then he placed his palm on her scarred chest, over her heart. “And in here.”

  He hesitated, as though he didn’t want to actually speak the words, but then he did. “Even if you go back.”

  “God, Z.”

  “Existing here, pining for you, for the crew…” His voice was hard, for a second, with anger. “It’s hell, Rune.” Then he tried to smile. “Without those memories, this place is only the edge of hell. I can learn to live with that.”

  And she was glad for him.

  Truly.

  “I told stories,” he said. “Every night. To anyone who’d listen. I told them about you. About Shiv Crew. About who I was. The stories will live on even when I have no memory of them as anything more than imaginary tales.”

  And it hurt him, that thought.

  Even more, perhaps, than it hurt her.

  “We’ll have this moment,” she said.

  “Forever.”

  “Z.” Her voice hurt her throat.

  He sighed. “There’s a battle ahead.”

  She nodded.

  Oh yes, there was a battle ahead.

  More than one.
>
  She wanted to fall through the cracks of darkness she could see waiting past the creaky floorboards of her mind, but the pain wouldn’t let her.

  And she couldn’t sleep, anyway. She couldn’t waste what time she had left with Z.

  They held each other for the rest of the night.

  When dawn arrived, she imagined she could already feel a difference in him.

  His agony was a little less.

  He smiled when he looked at her, and his eyes held something besides horror and misery and longing. They held joy.

  “What’s this?” She traced her fingertips over a blue tattoo drifting in small, flowing cursive over his ribs. “You got a new tattoo.” Then she released an unintentional sob when she read the words.

  Rune Alexander, the tattoo read.

  Across his ribs.

  Her name.

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  He lay still beneath her caress, watching her.

  “My Rune,” he murmured, finally, when she couldn’t talk. “My sweet thing. In all the worlds, there is only you.”

  She put her lips against his warm, familiar skin, saying nothing. Just feeling his skin against hers. Inhaling his scent. Allowing herself to really grasp the fact that he was alive.

  That would be enough.

  It’d have to be.

  “Z,” a quiet voice said, and Rune turned quickly toward the sound, snarling at the intrusion.

  She didn’t want it to be over. Not yet.

  “Blue,” Z said. He sat up and reached over to snag Rune’s hand. “This is Rune.”

  Blue was aptly named. Everything about her was blue. Her short, dyed hair, her clothes, her eyes, even her lipstick.

  And there was something in her gaze that made Rune grind her teeth—not with anger, but with jealousy.

  Blue knew Z.

  The girl stared calmly back at Rune, showing no fear. “I figured. We kept guard all night.”

  She gave a quick motion with her blade and another woman stepped out of the trees and walked forward. She was plain, unassuming-looking. Flat. Until she looked at Rune, and there in her eyes was all the beauty and fire missing from her features.

  “This is Nadaline,” Z said.

  “Mad Nadaline,” Nadaline clarified, her voice bland but thick with a deep southern drawl.

  Rune narrowed her eyes. “If you know who I am, then you’ll know there was no need to guard us.”

  “Weren’t guarding you from enemies,” Nadaline said.

  Blue pointed her chin at Z. “We were guarding him from you. Just in case.”