by N. D. Jones
“It can’t be,” Eric said, with a violently painful shake of his head, wishing the horrifying sight away. “You’re in prison. I made sure they locked you up for what you did to those women, you sick motherfucker.”
“Well, as you can see, no prison can hold me.” He sneered down at Eric. “I’ve come for my due.”
The asshole turned away from Eric and walked toward Cynthia and Gen, their heads hung low, shoulders slumped, hair shielding their faces like a foreboding curtain to the entrance of a house of horrors. He reached Cynthia and very slowly, very deliberately slid his hands up her thighs, a hardhearted snake with foul intentions.
“Stay away from my wife, Stephen. Stay the hell away from her you monster before I—”
“Before you do what, baby brother? What do you think you can do to me that you haven’t already?”
Eric’s older brother sniffed the air like the depraved predator he was. “You’re pathetic.” Stephen ran one pasty hand through Cynthia’s heavily coiled locks before jerking her head up. “You can’t even shift to protect this hot wife of yours.”
He could see his wife’s face now. Mouth gagged, eyes glistening with terror. Her teary ocean-blue orbs looked directly into his enraged gaze. His insides boiled fury and fear the flames.
Stephen smiled at Eric. His twinkling blue eyes and handsome face always masked his true nature, a demon lurking behind the man. “I had to gag the little bitch. She tried to cast one of her spells and well…you know how I hate it when they try to fight back.”
The rage grew, burning Eric from the inside out when he noticed blood running from Cynthia’s nose and mouth and a puffy left eye that would be closed come morning.
“Damn you, Stephen, let my family go. This is between the two of us. Just leave them out of it.”
“You don’t understand, baby brother, this involves them intimately. I’ve spent the last two years in jail because of you. You could’ve saved me.”
“I tried to save you, but you wouldn’t stop. What kind of man would do the things you did to those women?” Thank Ra Gen wasn’t around back then. Out of Stephen’s reach. But not today. Fuck! “What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to stand by me, watch my back the way any good brother would.”
“You’re a lowdown, filthy rapist, for Sekhmet’s sake. I couldn’t support that. No real man does that kind of cowardly shit to women. No man I want to call brother.”
“Is that why you sent Mike after me? Is that why you let him beat my ass and haul me off to jail like some kind of common criminal?”
“You are a criminal. You hurt people. You didn’t give a damn about anyone but yourself. I couldn’t get you to stop, to turn yourself in.”
“You were just upset about Rachel,” Stephen casually threw out, as if what he’d done to her was of no import.
A snarl gathered in Eric’s throat, a fierce rage rapidly reaching the tipping point. “She was our friend, damn you. Sanura and Cynthia’s friend. Your fuckin’ witch to protect. A piece of shit familiar you turned out to be. Rachel’s never been the same, and it’s your damn fault.”
“No, baby brother, I think what you meant to say is that it was your fault. You can’t save them all.” He glanced at Cynthia. “And you won’t be able to save her either.”
“Please, don’t do this. Cynthia’s my wife, your sister-in-law. Don’t do this to her. I’m begging you.” Eric renewed his fight against the ropes. Skin tore. Blood spilled. Can’t let this happen. Won’t let it happen. Not again.
“If I recall, Eric, I begged you to keep my secret.”
Eric ignored the madman because, dammit, Gen was crying. And no wonder, glassy, brown eyes peeked through black hair, watching as Stephen focused his lascivious attention on Gen’s sister-in-law.
Still fighting against the bindings that kept Eric from his family and Steven upright and alive, Eric’s eyes fell to his wife. Radiant and courageous, she stared back at Eric with far too much concern for him. She closed her eyes, once, twice, three times. Each time opening them and then staring back at him before closing them again. His cat roared, and the man swore. Eric knew what Cynthia was doing, what she wanted him to do. And it made him feel like a worthless lump of male nothingness.
But fuck that. Eric Garvey wouldn’t close his eyes in order to spare himself while his wife was raped by his own damn brother. What kind of man did she think she married? A man who hasn’t been able to shift for two years. A man who’s wallowed in fear and guilt for far too long. A man who hasn’t acted like much of a man at all, relying on his wife and friend to take care of him.
Stephen ripped Cynthia’s blouse, sending buttons flying, revealing a white laced bra with pink roses. He licked his lips at the sight of her. “Oh, yeah, your wife’s so damn hot. Too fine for a wimp like you.” He slid a finger under a bra strap, caressing, playing, and then tugging. “I’m going to enjoy this, and you’re going to watch, knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do to save her.”
Eric’s heart stuttered then stopped. In slow motion, the scene played out before him. Stephen grabbed her breasts. Stephen ripped her bra. Stephen untied her legs. Stephen yanked off her pants.
Stephen.
Stephen.
Stephen.
The boiled rage detonated, shattering Eric’s senses and his beast’s cage. The lumbering snarl grew into an incensed growl. The roar ripped through Eric. A howl of repressed were-cat magic followed; an animal too long denied its freedom. That, too, soared to life, stretching, tearing, and clawing its way to the light, forcing its own rebirth.
When Cynthia’s tear-filled eyes slammed shut with defeated revulsion, he was by his witch’s side, his cougar knocking Stephen the hell away from his wife.
And before the bastard hit the floor, the cougar was ripping into him, white fangs gleaming sharp and lethal.
The magnificent roar of a proud cougar brought Sanura back. The joyous sound slammed into her, breaking her waning concentration. The spell slipped away. Her magic dispersed.
Sanura blinked away the residual image of Eric’s cougar. “Can you hear them?”
“Of course. Eric’s purring now, and Cynthia is crying. Should we check on them?” Assefa glanced at the wall separating the guest room from the master bedroom.
As much as Sanura wanted to see Eric’s tawny-colored cougar, now wasn’t the time. “No, they need time alone. Besides, I thought you were sleepy.”
“Do you honestly think I can go back to sleep after what you just put me through?”
“What I put you through?”
“Don’t give me that innocent tone. You just had me pretend to be a psycho rapist.”
“But—”
“And…I had to allow Eric’s cougar to damn near rip my heart out.”
“Did you get hurt?” she asked with a conceited grin, just to annoy her prickly agent.
“That’s not the point, Sanura, and you know it.” Assefa rubbed his chest, the place where Eric’s virtual cougar had clawed at “Stephen.”
“It’s exactly the point. Your Mngwa is much too strong to allow harm to come to you in a magic-induced dream. You’re the only one who could’ve gotten through to him. I couldn’t maintain the integrity of the illusion and pretend to be Stephen. As it was, I kept screwing up the lighting. I needed you, Assefa. Partners, just like you said.”
“Yeah, well…next time you get to play the psychopath. Better yet, let us never do that spell again.” Assefa rose from the floor and helped Sanura to her feet. “I don’t think what you did is a cure.”
“It may not be the cure you envisioned, my narrowed-minded chemist, but it’s indeed a cure. Feline thrombosis is not a disease of the body but of the mind. It may have physical symptoms but the cause is psychological in nature. Until yesterday, I thought of it as a physical condition only. I didn’t understand Eric’s rapid descent over the past couple of weeks until I put all the pieces together. I should’ve thought of it before.”
&
nbsp; “Thought of what?”
He gestured for her to precede him onto the bed. She did, sliding over and leaving him space to join her. Covers came next. Assefa tucked them into their hips, backs pressed against pillows and headboard. In spite of what he’d said about not being able to sleep, the spell had drained them both, a typical byproduct of strong magic use.
“What is your greatest fear?” she asked him.
Assefa gave her question a few seconds of thought before answering. But when he did answer, it was exactly as she’d expected. “Not being there for the ones I love. Not being able to protect those nearest my heart.” He stared at her then, his chocolate eyes filling with understanding. “You’re a damn excellent psychologist, Dr. Williams.”
“It took me long enough to figure it out.”
“Sekhmet endowed warlocks with the ability to protect the females of the species by giving us the spirit of cats. For those witches that we love, if we are unable to shield them from harm, then what good is our inner cat?”
“Precisely.” She found his large hands and wrapped hers around them. “Two years ago, Eric tried to stop his brother from pursuing Rachel, Stephen’s familiar and our friend.” She’d told him this before they began the ritual when he agreed that Cynthia and Eric couldn’t know. He hadn’t liked the idea of deception, but he could see the logic behind her scheme. “Stephen was Rachel’s familiar, but she didn’t want him as her mate.” The older Garvey brother was too much like his father. But even Mr. Garvey hadn’t stooped so low as to sexually violate three witches.
“One witch, then two, reported her assault to the Witch Council of Elders. Stephen argued that the sex was consensual. The Council asked them all to submit to a magical lie detector test. The women agreed, but Stephen refused. Eric tried to talk to him, to convince his brother to take the test and submit to whatever punishment the Council ordered.”
Sanura kissed the palm of one hand, allowing him to twirl her hair with his other. She wondered if Assefa knew how much he did that, how often he reached for her when they were doing nothing more than talking. But she’d noticed every subtle touch, every sweet attention.
“Stephen eventually went rogue and no one could find him. Mike searched but turned up nothing. Not until Rachel.” That had been an awful night, Rachel’s internal bruises uglier and more lasting than the ones on her arms, thighs, and neck. But she’d called Eric and Mike after the assault. “I thought Mike was going to kill Stephen. He nearly did. And Eric just watched. I can’t imagine how he must’ve felt, seeing the aftermath of his brother’s brutality.”
“Eric blamed himself for what happened to Rachel?”
She hadn’t realized exactly how much. “He did, and it wasn’t until today that I started to connect the dots. Within two months of Rachel’s rape, Eric started manifesting symptoms of the disease. I believe the adze’s attack on Gen is what triggered his sudden decline in health.”
“I remember how Eric looked at the hospital. I’d never seen a man so sad and angry at the same time. I guess while all of us were angry with the adze, Eric was angry with himself for not being able to prevent what happened to his sister.”
Sanura kissed his palm again, then the knuckles of the same hand, a reverent gesture she hoped he would understand. “My getting hurt by the adze was no more your fault than Rachel being raped by Stephen was Eric’s fault. He didn’t understand this, so Eric became sick and almost died as a result of misplaced guilt.”
When Assefa made to withdraw his hand, her grip tightened. Sanura wouldn’t let him retreat from this, not physically, not emotionally. If he could call her on her too-independent nature, then she could call him on this. “You carry the weight of the preternatural world on those big shoulders of yours. But your heart is even bigger, and the burden you harbor there heavier.”
“Sanura, I—”
“No matter how mighty and intelligent you may be, there will always be events and people beyond your control. You must accept this simple but difficult truth and learn to forgive yourself.”
“A doctor who makes house calls,” he said, in what Sanura’s come to recognize as his flirty tone. One of his many masks. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” She loved him as well, but he was trying to distract her. He was good at that. Good at cutting off conversations he’d rather not have. Yeah, well, she was having none of his special agent tricks. This was too important. He’s too important.
“I love you too much to allow you to keep blaming yourself for my injury.” She gave him a stern look and injected a fierceness in her tone he couldn’t miss. If she had to, Sanura would be the domineering goddess he’d accused her of being earlier. “I never want to have to do to you what I just did to Eric. I’ve known him since middle school, and it nearly broke my heart to use his love for his sister and wife to terrorize him into reconnecting with his cougar spirit. Gods, I never want to do that again, and I damn sure don’t want to do that to you.”
He said nothing, just returned her unblinking stare. Then he sighed. “Berber men—”
“I don’t care about Berber men. I only care about Assefa. And if you want us to be partners, then you must also be willing to accept my counsel, to understand that even the cat of legend can’t be there for everyone. Nor is he responsible for his witch’s every scrape and cut.”
Sanura crawled into his lap, feeling warm and sheltered when his muscular arms encircled her.
“I noticed you said ‘understand’ instead of accept.”
He would. She’d spoken deliberately. “I know you can’t accept such a truth, but you’re too smart to miss my logic. But you’re also stubborn.” Sanura grasped his face in her hands. “Don’t be stubborn, Assefa. Not over something as important as your mental health.”
He didn’t try to pull away this time. Instead, he kissed her nose, then her lips. It wasn’t a passionate or heated kiss, but a kiss of love and tenderness.
“I won’t.” He hugged her again, before settling them fully under the covers. He said nothing more because, for a man like Assefa Berber, no more words were needed. He didn’t lie, didn’t say what he didn’t believe, nor did he make promises he couldn’t completely commit to. So when he said, “I’m proud of you, you’re an unbelievable woman,” Sanura couldn’t help but turn in to him, her eyes shamefully moist, face buried against his neck.
Woman. Everyone else only saw the fire witch of legend, a goddess made flesh. But Assefa, the second son of the House of Berber, a government-trained agent, a were-cat of immense power, saw the woman.
“You’re such a girlie-girl, Sanura.” He stroked her hair.
“I know.”
“And you’re getting me all wet.”
“I know.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m beat.”
“So am I.”
“I’m even too tired to make you pay for using sex to distract me for that binding spell of yours.”
She laughed. “Just admit that I outsmarted you.”
“I will when you admit that you’re into threesomes.”
“I’m not. I just…well, you were just…I mean the two of you…Stop laughing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“You’re welcome, Eric. You don’t have to keep thanking me. Yes, I will give Assefa your best. Yes. Yes. All right, I promise the five of us will have dinner together next weekend if you get off the phone and get some rest. Love you, too. Bye.”
“That’s the third time he’s called since we left his house. To say he’s grateful would be an understatement.” Assefa sat in their oversized bed, the elegant coral bedding surrounding him exquisite and undoubtedly expensive.
Sanura crawled into bed and sidled up next to her familiar. “I don’t care, as long as he stays healthy. Eric’s the brother I never had. I don’t know what I would do without him.” Or you, she silently added.
“Dear friends are hard to come by,” Assefa said. “When we’re fortunate enough to find them, we need to hold them close
to our hearts and never let go.”
Sanura started tracing circles on Assefa’s bare chest, teasing him with licks to her lips when he peered down at her. “What about lovers? Boyfriends? Familiars?” She placed a kiss on his muscled chest between each word, a wet a punctuation mark. “They’re even harder to come by, especially in one man.”
“Have you found the one man who can fill all those roles to your satisfaction, Dr. Williams?”
“I have”—kiss— “and I intend to keep him close and to never let him go. Now,” she said, her tone serious, eyes lifted to Assefa’s, “if I could only rid myself of an uptight, too-smart-for-his-own-good were-cat posing as a full-human FBI agent.”
“Damn you, woman, and your mouth.” Assefa snarled. Then he attacked. Wicked fingers found sides, back, and legs.
She howled. Laugh-tears bubbled up, uncontrollable and free. More tickling and even louder laughter followed, Assefa relentless in his assault. “Stop, stop,” she screamed, gasping for air. “I give up.”
“You don’t know when to give up.”
He moved his assault to her exposed feet.
Sanura wailed. Giddy and happy, she squirmed from one side of the king-size bed to the other in a futile attempt to free herself from Assefa’s determined hunt.
“I see I have to show you who’s boss,” Assefa said, his own laughter reverberating through the large chamber. He lightly swatted Sanura on her bottom before he resumed his tickling onslaught. “This is payback for this morning, my kinky witch, and don’t even think of trying that binding spell on me again.”
Sanura did, but as soon as she parted her lips for the incantation, Assefa captured them in a domineering kiss. Every time she tried to cast the spell, his lips were there first, sucking the words from her mouth, stealing her breath. His magic was powerful, intoxicating, and so utterly masculine. It made her feel weak, strong and loved.
The strength of it overpowered Sanura, causing her to writhe in ecstasy, scream in pleasure, and cry in wonder. He showed her who was boss. His unique brand of magic rivaled hers, and she accepted the defeat with grace and dignity. Well, as graceful and dignified as any woman could be naked and sweaty, sounding like a devoted Orioles fan every time a batter hit a home run.
