by J. C. Wilder
“Let’s begin.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a fat vial of pale yellow liquid. After opening the cap, he dipped his fingers in the substance.
“Guardians of the watchtowers, I call upon you to attend our circle here.”
He placed his slick fingers at the middle of the candle and moved his hand upward, smearing the oil on the white wax. Then he returned his hand to the middle and swept the oil down to the base.
One by one, he walked to each of the remaining candles and performed the same ritual. When he reached her side, she felt the energy pulsing within his body, so different from just an hour ago. The sensation reminded her of the time she’d veered off a walking path at Yosemite National Park. It hadn’t taken long to get lost in the woods, and to get her bearings she’d stood in the deepening gloom and listened to the forest around her. Silent, still, she imagined she could smell the wilderness emanating from his skin.
Her heart slowed and fell into rhythm with his. When he moved away, the sensation remained. Her body vibrated with the power of five hearts beating in unison. Tingles of energy shot down her spine, and she gazed around the room. Three vampires, who shouldn’t have a heartbeat at all, looked as stunned as she felt.
“I call to you, Goddess, to attend our circle here.” He raised his hands toward the ceiling. “Maiden, Mother, Crone, you who gave life to everything in the universe, I call upon you to attend me tonight.” His voice was deep, rich and it echoed off the walls of the room. Each syllable rocketed through her body filling her with energy, magick. “Those who strive to subvert your work, our work, have no power within this circle.”
The temperature at her back dropped. Goose bumps broke out on her skin, and it took everything in her power to not turn around. She felt as if hundreds of eyes were watching, waiting to see what would happen next.
“I call upon your power to turn the darkness to light within this sacred place. Banish that which is evil and protect that which is yours by right and natural law.”
The temperature dropped to the point she could see her breath. She shivered, and the air began to stir as if someone had left open a window. The flames danced in the draft as the air in the room thickened. It was becoming harder to breathe, and her fingertips started to tingle.
“Protect your children and cast out what is malignant. Those who serve themselves by doing harm are not welcome here.”
Her vision wavered as if the room were suddenly underwater. Everyone was still in place, but it felt as if she were suspended in gelatin, alive and breathing but unable to move. Had she fallen asleep standing up?
A slight movement caught her attention. Sinjin lay undisturbed in his dark sleep, his features slack. Her gaze moved over his beloved face when a shift in the shadows sucked the air from her lungs.
A few inches above the center of Sinjin’s chest, pale gray smoke gathered. It formed a small undulating cloud that grew darker and thicker like a brewing storm cloud. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t.
Were the others seeing this?
“Protect your son, Damien St. James, so he may work in your name. Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
The power of the ancient language rolled through the room, and the smoke continued to thicken and expand. Val’s deep voice joined with Quinn’s, and the smoke churned even faster.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
The cloud increased in size.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
The color turned dark, and Maeve felt the pulse of evil as easily as their shared heartbeats. Shai’s voice joined the men’s.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
The cloud expanded, slowly casting Sinjin’s body into shadow.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
Sunni’s voice joined in, and the temperature in the room continued to fall. While she felt the cold, she wasn’t actually cold herself. It was the oddest sensation.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
A scent like that of burning leaves filled the room. Her lips began to move, and she joined in the chant.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
The words increased in volume and speed until nothing was recognizable. It was like the drone of a fly in her ear. The words were torn from her very soul.
“Nas miosa imich an seo-a mhain an leus failte.”
“Be gone, Mortianna. Your dark magic has no place here.”
Quinn’s quietly spoken words had a cataclysmic effect. The chanting stopped as the cloud began to shift, forming itself into a sword wielded by a giant hand. The sharp point was directed at Quinn’s chest.
Oh my god…
It was huge, easily spanning the width of the pentagram on the floor. Her heart leapt into her throat as a war cry rent the air. Maeve sucked in a deep breath only to realize she could move again. Her hands clenched, and she slammed them against her lips, sealing the scream inside.
The sword arched toward Quinn, yet he didn’t flinch. As the tip would’ve reached his chest, it lost form and surrounded him. For a moment he was lost to her, and her heart skittered.
“No.” She started toward him. She couldn’t let him go down like this.
“Maeve,” Val’s voice broke in. “Look.”
Through the shifting darkness, she caught glimpses of Quinn’s pale clothing. He stood in the midst of the darkness, strong and proud. She skidded to a stop when he began to laugh.
The rich, vibrant sound expanded through the room coating every corner, every inch of the space and its occupants. Maeve felt her lips curl upward even though the desire to attack the darkness was strong.
As if hit with a dose of fresh air, the smoke scattered, thinning out to regroup in a corner of the arched roof. A faint, ghostly wail sounded and it began to fly around the room, bouncing off walls and skittering across the floor.
When it came straight for Maeve, she dropped to the floor. The heavy iron candelabrum tilted, and for a second she thought it would come down upon her. Suddenly it righted itself when the cloud slammed into the massive center window. The glass exploded outward with a horrific crash, and she winced at the sound.
Overhead, an unearthly blast of lightning rent the sky followed by a crack of thunder that shook the house. The candle flames began to dance in the breeze from the broken window. Slowly, she got her feet. Val stood on the other side of the circle, his arms around both Shai and Sunni. They looked totally exhausted.
Quinn raised his hand, and an odd, disjointed clattered sound was heard. The shattered window reassembled itself, and the room was secured once more.
Seconds later came an unearthly wail of feminine frustration.
“Holy smokes, Batman,” Sunni whispered. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
Maeve’s gaze met Quinn’s, and they began to laugh. She launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. Tears stung her eyes when he held her tight against him. His body felt solid, strong and so dearly familiar.
“You’re safe.” Her voice broke. “I was so scared for you.”
“I felt your fear, but you held it in.” He pulled back, just enough that she could see his handsome face. “You’re a very brave woman, Maeve Leigh.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything—”
“A word of advice—” his pale eyes twinkled, “—when someone pays you a compliment, just say thank you.”
“Thank you,” she parroted.
“So, did it work, Quinn?” Sunni’s breathless voice broke in. “Is Sinjin safe?”
“For now. As long as the candles burn, the vampire will be untouchable but after that, all bets are off.” His gazed hardened. “We have three days at most.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall outside Maeve’s bedroom. Her heart leapt. Val and Shai were in the media room necking like two kids at the drive-in theatre while Sunni stood vigil
with Sinjin. After Bliss’s murder, Sinjin had been inconsolable, and the young vampire was one of only a handful who’d dared to pay a visit. Most thought Sunni was a silly little thing with more interest in her hair than preternatural politics, but Maeve knew better. Her space cadet demeanor hid a sharp mind and loyal heart.
That left only Quinn. Would he come to her tonight? Did she want him to?
Hell yes I do.
Her shoulders slumped when she heard his door close. Grabbing a pillow, she buried her face in it then let loose a frustrated groan. Talk about blowing hot and cold. She dropped the pillow.
Maeve wanted Quinn in her bed more than her next breath. After watching her lover cast that spell and feeling his heart beat in her chest, her awareness of him, physically and mentally, had skyrocketed. Her ability to compartmentalize her emotions had been destroyed and she felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. For the first time since Rebecca had died, she felt the desire to walk away, to turn her back on her quest.
And she was terrified.
He’d said she was brave and he couldn’t be farther from the truth. It was cowardice that held her in its grip. Her family had turned her away, unable to understand the horror that had taken one daughter and irrevocably tore Maeve apart. How could she expect a man, a stranger, to accept what those who loved her could not?
Being an immortal was a big part of the issue because he believed her kind, those made by vampires, were an abomination. After everything that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours, did he feel that way about her now? She didn’t know as she’d avoided having a serious conversation with him. It was one thing to think he would leave her and something else when it actually happened.
Denial was more than a river in Egypt.
Even though now she wanted nothing more than to spend eternity in his arms, she had to fulfill her quest. The only way her parents would find peace was with the death of their daughter’s killer. Barely a night went by that she didn’t dream of her family, and it was a secret pain that resided in her heart. Maybe, once Mikhail was dead, they’d soften toward her and she could see them—
Fool.
“Once he’s dead you’re a murderer,” she muttered. “That will ensure you’ll be welcomed with open arms. Hell, they might even throw a welcome back party at the club. I can see it now. Dear old Mom and I will wear matching dresses while Big Daddy will dig out his tuxedo. We’ll stand at a podium in a room filled with the upper echelons of the society circuit looking like we’ve been spun out of cream cheese.
“After many toasts, good old Dad will wipe away a tear as he says, ‘Our daughter has returned to us and if that weren’t joyful enough, she also killed a vampire, the creature who took the life of our beloved Rebecca’.”
Tears stung her eyes as she swung her legs off the bed. It would never happen. No matter what she did, her parents considered her dead to them, and that was that. It was her desire for vengeance that drove her, not theirs. Vigilante justice wouldn’t help them but hopefully it would silence the grief, the all-consuming guilt that ate away at her every waking moment.
And if it didn’t, the only acceptable option was ending her life.
Quinn’s handsome face came to mind, and she pushed off the bed. She’d never met someone like him, a man who’d touched her in a place she’d feared long dead. Just being near him made her feel more alive, more complete than she could ever remember being. Their time was limited. What if tomorrow didn’t come for her. Could she deny herself the pleasure of being in his arms for one more night?
No.
She didn’t want to be alone, not when he was within reach. Heading for the wardrobe, she removed her clothes as she walked, allowing them to fall to the floor in her wake. Opening the door, she rifled though the contents. Damn! Didn’t she have anything that wasn’t black? Just as she reached the back of the cupboard, she found what she was looking for.
Removing the padded hanger, her hand trembled.. Golden candlelight caused the rich green silk to shimmer and move as if it were alive. It was a silk shift and matching robe. Lacking any adornment, the chemise straps were set wide apart and the matching robe was long-sleeved and came to mid-thigh on her.
It was the perfect outfit for seduction.
Her hands shook as she slid the cool silk over her nude body. Glancing in the mirror, she noticed how the chemise skimmed her curves, covering them yet accentuating them at the same time. It was rare that she felt like a woman. Before the nightmare began she’d loved dressing up, doing her hair and breaking out her dancing shoes. Afterward she had turned away from anything remotely feminine, not wanting to attract undue attention, the same type of attention that led to her downfall.
Now, her clothing choices could be described in two words, black and manly.
But this, this was a whole new world. Maeve had little experience with seduction because men had been easy in college. In her experience, men really were like the old joke. To get them into bed all women had to do was show up naked with beer. She and Rebecca would laugh at the ease of their conquests though her sister had been far more brazen than Maeve.
Her hands shook as she pulled on the robe then secured the sash. Catching her braid, she unwound the long, thick plait, spreading the red curls across her shoulders. Even with the fireplace, she felt cold from the inside out. Only one thing could warm her, and he was in the next room.
Picking up a candle, she exited them the room, her steps slowing the closer she got to his door. What if he turned her away?
What if he doesn’t?
Good point.
His door was partially opened, and she noticed a wrinkle in the rug had prevented the door from closing. It would seem the fates were on her side, tonight. Peering through the slim opening, she caught a glimpse of a good-sized fire crackling in the fireplace and dancing shadows on the wall.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, wincing at the creak of metal on metal. Stepping inside, she soothed the wrinkled carpet with one foot before easing the door closed. His room was much warmer than hers. Then again his fire was bigger.
And that’s not the only thing big in this room…
A silly grin touched her mouth and vanished almost as quickly. This was not the time for high school jokes about the size of his…feet. She was a confident, intelligent woman, and she was here to seduce a man who set her body on fire.
“Quinn?”
She almost didn’t recognize the squeaky voice as her own, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Yeah, she was confident all right. Look at her, Miss Kick-Ass-And-Take-Names-Later could barely get a word out without sounding like a mouse for crying out loud. Shai would get a big kick out of that. Holding her candle higher, she stepped to the foot of the bed.
Really, that’s all Quinn was, a man, a guy. Just an ordinary—
Witch.
Run-of-the-mill—
Heart-stoppingly handsome—
Man.
Make that sex-machine—
Well, not right now anyway. Right now he was a sleeping man who, unlike her, wasn’t tying himself in knots thinking of the woman who’d thrown him on the gym floor and had wild monkey sex with him.
Talk about deflating.
His silky blond hair was tumbled over his brow, giving him the appearance of an exhausted child. His skin was golden against the pale sheets and it appeared he slept in the nude. She licked her lips. The silk sheet barely covered his hips and the line of pale hair that dissected his flat stomach vanished beneath the sheet. He lay on his side, arm outstretched as if reaching for someone on the empty side of the bed.
Well, hell, now what did she do? Climb in bed with him? Wake him up? Leave? Take advantage of his slumber and pull down the sheet so she could stare at him until he woke up?
Stepping closer, she reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed against the warmth of his wrist. When they touched, a shimmer of energy ran up her arm.
Strike that. This was no ordinary
man.
What she’d witnessed downstairs was certainly testament to that. Just touching him was seductive. The feel of his skin beneath her fingertips, the gentle tickle of the hair on his arm beguiled her. Being near him, she felt a strange sense of peace that had only existed when Rebecca had been alive. In that moment she felt more alive, almost…hopeful.
Maeve stilled. For her, hope was the most dangerous emotion there was. Having hope meant the possibility that her circumstances could change. That she could change and become something different, someone better than who she was now. And hope meant the potential to find love and happiness for herself.
No, no, no.
Her throat tightened. Quinn was a witch of tremendous power, a man of strong ethics and certainly too good for the likes of her. She was tainted, impure. He deserved a woman who was whole, not broken like she was.
When she turned to leave, strong fingers latched onto her wrist preventing her escape. Her gaze flew to his face, and his eyes gleamed in the darkness.
“Don’t go.”
Quinn scooted into the middle of the bed, pulling back the sheet to welcome her. Silent, she placed the candle on the nightstand before climbing into the bed with him. When he pulled the comforter over her, she realized just how chilled she was.
“I’m so cold.” She was dismayed to hear her voice break.
“Let me warm you.”
He opened his arms and drew her close, tucking her into his side. His heat seared her skin and tears began to fall as sheer, delirious pleasure moved through her soul like a soft breeze. Maeve ducked her head, pressing her nose against his shoulder to inhale this scent. Her hands came to rest on his chest, and his heartbeat thudded against her palm.
Slowly she raised her head. Her nose bumped his and they both smiled. Silently, they gazed into each other’s eyes. No words were necessary. His quiet acceptance of her was a balm to her soul. Their breath mingled and a slow tingle ignited in her body. Calm now, warmth spread between them as their breathing mated as intimately as their bodies had hours before.
