by Lori Drake
Oh god. What if I tell him they’re coming while I’m under the influence of his spell?
Chris stopped pacing and rubbed his face with both hands, wishing the thought had never occurred to him. It’d jeopardize everything. If he did try to escape, and failed, what would happen? He’d probably just end up in Marc’s study anyway. Whatever he did next, he couldn’t risk making anything worse. He had to act normal, or at least conform to expectations. He’d fought his way clear of Marc’s magic before. He’d just have to do it again.
Fifteen minutes later, Chris stood outside Marc’s study, staring at the ornately carved wooden door with a lump in his throat. He swallowed, drew a deep breath, and slumped his shoulders before knocking. There was a pause, then Marc opened the door himself.
“Ah, my wayward wolf,” Marc said, the hint of a smile in his eyes. “Come in.”
Submissive behavior didn’t come naturally to Chris, but he did his best to appear cowed as he crossed the office and settled into a chair.
“Thanks for coming by. I’m sure you would’ve preferred a nap.” Marc walked over to the desk and leaned against it in front of Chris, the same as he had on Chris’s other visits to his study.
“The thought did cross my mind.”
Marc held out a hand. “Here, let me ease some of that burden for you.”
Chris bit the inside of his cheek and placed his hand in Marc’s. It was easier to keep up the act when he didn’t meet Marc’s hypnotic gaze. Plus, keeping his eyes lowered would make Chris appear submissive.
The glow of magic sprang to life around Marc and spilled slowly down Chris’s arm. Chris’s skin tingled and he closed his eyes, biting his cheek harder as the warm energy spread across his shoulders and down his back, unwinding the knots in his tired muscles and restoring some measure of vitality.
“That’s much better, thank you,” Chris said, hoping it would make Marc stop. But no, the warm energy wrapped around his chest and spread lower, down his torso and into his legs.
“You’re quite welcome.” Marc enfolded Chris’s hand in both of his. “Open your eyes.”
Chris’s blood hummed with energy by then, but his eyelids were heavy. He dragged them up, but focused his gaze on the floor.
Marc leaned forward and lifted Chris’s chin. “Look at me.”
Chris lifted his eyes, fixing his gaze between Marc’s eyebrows. It was a trick he’d learned from growing up around so many alphas. You had to be careful about eye contact at times, but you didn't want to keep your eyes lowered in submission either. This was completely different. If he fell under Marc’s spell again...
“Did you learn your lesson today, Christopher?” Marc’s voice was low, like a verbal caress.
“Yes, sir.” Chris’s pulse raced, but was it fear or excitement? He couldn't tell. It was as if his whole body was full of light instead of skin and bone. He couldn't even feel the chair under him anymore.
Marc stroked along Chris’s jaw, rough with four days’ beard growth. “Why haven't you been shaving, my wolf?”
“I-I didn't want to.”
“Hmm. I see. You will shave tomorrow.” The hint of censure in Marc’s words was unmistakable.
Chris’s stomach tightened. “Yes, sir.”
Marc withdrew his hand and leaned back, studying Chris in silence while warm, tingly energy continued to flow between them.
“I must confess, I find you fascinating,” Marc said.
Chris had no idea what to say to that, so he held his tongue. His head felt light, and he wondered if he was about to pass out again.
“Normally I would find your resistance charming, but you are a puzzle I'm eager to solve.” Marc stroked Chris’s hand again, then tightened his grip.
Energy surged between them. Chris sucked in a breath and his eyes widened, instinctively meeting Marc’s gaze. It was a mistake. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but in that moment, Chris knew the truth. The eyes weren't windows to the soul—they were doorways to the mind. He was ensnared, unable to look away, his will to resist draining like water from a leaky bucket.
No, no, no!
He tried to call on his wolf to save him, but it'd been curiously docile through all this. There was no refuge, no escape from the torrent of magic that invaded his head, thick and cloying as it suffused every synapse.
“That’s better,” Marc whispered, smiling. “Isn't it, my pet?”
A soft growl rumbled from Chris’s throat. He was no one’s pet. He was a wolf. He was a Grant, in every way that mattered. He might not be able to break eye contact, but he managed to jerk his hand away, recoiling with enough force that he tipped his chair over. He tucked his legs in and rolled backward, landing in a crouch with his fingers splayed for balance on the thick green carpet.
“I’m not… one of your pets.” Chris had to force the words out. The magic was still inside him, pulsing and swirling like a living thing.
The surprise in Marc’s eyes was extremely gratifying, but it was also short-lived. He held out a hand and lifted his fingers slightly. Chris lifted into the air. He stretched his legs out automatically, trying to remain in contact with the floor, but he ended up hovering a few inches above it. Marc turned his hand over and made a circle with a finger. Chris’s arms tightened against his sides, as if bound by invisible rope.
Chris clenched his hands into fists, but with a simple crook of Marc’s finger, he was floating through the air across the room to hover in front of Marc.
Tilting his head, Marc studied Chris as one might a bug under glass. “Magnificent,” he murmured. “You are truly a marvel, Christopher. It’s been a long time since I encountered such a strong mind.” He reached out and touched a fingertip to the base of Chris’s throat, running it down until it reached Chris’s collarbone. Marc traced Chris’s collarbone lightly until it disappeared beneath the V of his open-collared shirt. The contact left a trail of tingles in its wake, the energy trapped in Chris’s body responding to its master’s touch. Chris tightened his jaw and remained stubbornly silent, once again looking anywhere but Marc’s eyes.
“I have to know. How did the witch resurrect you?”
Chris blinked, startled out of silence. “What?”
“The old witch. The one Eric failed to bring me as he promised. It was her, wasn’t it?”
“No…”
“Really? Who, then?”
Chris swallowed. The mere tip of Marc’s finger in contact with his skin all but compelled him to answer, the way the magic inside him responded. But he didn’t want to.
Obviously sensing resistance, Marc flicked open the top two buttons on Chris’s shirt and placed his palm on Chris’s chest. The corresponding surge of magic bowed Chris’s back. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. And then the words flew out in a rush. “I wasn’t really dead. When Joey destroyed the dagger, my spirit went back to my body. I’m—” He managed to clamp his jaw shut.
Marc arched a brow and caught Chris’s chin with his free hand. “You’re what, Christopher?”
Chris struggled against the compulsion to answer. It swirled in his chest, dancing beneath Marc’s hand. “An astral walker.” He slumped against the magical bonds holding him, defeated.
A delighted chuckle rumbled from Marc’s throat. “Oh, my dear boy. You are simply full of surprises—like one of those Russian nesting dolls. I can’t wait to find out what lies at the very center. Here I thought I was adding a resurrected wolf to my collection, but you’re so much more than that, aren’t you?”
Marc’s fingers stirred against Chris’s chest, lightly stroking. It wasn’t a lover’s touch, but rather like the affectionate stroke one might give a prized animal. Chris wanted to be revolted, but the magic still flowing through his body wouldn’t let him. The magic trilled in pleasure and vibrated in his chest. As if that weren’t enough, his body betrayed him further, eyes shifting to meet Marc’s once more like moths drawn to a flame. In seconds, he tumbled into his captor’s hypnotic gaze.
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“That’s it, Christopher. Give yourself to me, and there will be no more struggle, no more hurt.”
Chris tumbled down the rabbit hole, scrambling for purchase at the last instant, but to no avail. It was as if a door slammed shut in his mind, blocking out everything else but the peaceful serenity that this powerful man offered.
Marc smiled, and Chris’s entire being vibrated with happiness. His arms loosened at his sides, and his feet touched the floor once more. He sank to his knees, gazing adoringly up at the man who had set him free.
“Feeling better, my dear?” Marc brushed a hand over Chris’s head, smoothing his hair.
Chris’s eyes slid shut, and he sighed in pleasure. “Yes, master.”
22
“Eagle team to Alpha team. How copy?”
Joey rolled her eyes and lifted the walkie-talkie. “We’re in position, Adam. What do you see?”
“You’re not supposed to use names on an open channel! Jeez.”
A nearby snicker was swiftly silenced by a shushing noise.
Joey sighed. “Eagle team, report.”
“No movement on the perimeter or at the windows. They’re all buttoned up for the night.”
Hardly surprising, given that it was just after two thirty in the morning and their scouts hadn’t found any sentries.
“Okay, we’re going in,” Joey said.
“We’ve got eyes on your six, Alpha. Out.”
“That kid plays too much Counter-Strike,” Joey muttered to herself, clipping the walkie to the waistband of her jeans.
They crept along the bushes to the front gate with Sam in the lead and Cathy behind him. Joey glanced over her shoulder at the wolves at her back. All wore matching black sweats and tee shirts—stretchy fabric that would easily shred in a shape-shift with minimal pain. She had no idea where the new clothes had come from, only that Sam had done as she asked and made it happen. Adam, Jenny, and Itsuo had taken up lookout positions on high ground. It was to the wolves’ advantage that the Eastgate compound sat at the foot of a small mountain range.
Joey stood to one side while Cathy worked on the front gate’s wards. The gate was a weak spot in the perimeter where the wards were easily and routinely lowered to let people and vehicles pass through, making it the most logical point of entry. Joey shifted her weight between her feet and fiddled absently with the enchanted bracelet Cathy had given her before they left. She glanced over her shoulder again at her unlikely strike force: eight wolves from three packs, united by a single purpose, all under her command. Her responsibility, her mother’s voice in the back of her head reminded her, as if she weren’t anxious enough about breaking into a powerful witch’s lair.
The gate clicked and the magical glow around Cathy winked out. Joey straightened, senses buzzing in anticipation. She motioned for Sam and Jessica to take point and padded along behind them as they passed through the gate and into the compound.
“Remember,” Joey whispered as they walked up the front drive, “quiet as church mice.”
Jessica shot an annoyed look over her shoulder, but said nothing. She’d been giving off “pissed at you” vibes ever since they arrived, probably over being left in the dark after Chris was kidnapped, but on the whole, had been quite a team player. They’d have to talk eventually, but now wasn’t the time.
The front door opened as soon as they stepped onto the porch. Even though Cathy had told them that Naomi would be there to open the door, Joey’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She hadn’t expected the spy to be quite so on the ball. They slipped into the house unchallenged and, it seemed, undetected.
Joey looked around the darkened entry as she slipped inside, comparing it in her head to the version of the map Chris had given her.
Naomi urgently motioned Cathy over and whispered, “They moved the medium. I don’t know why.”
Joey stepped closer to the witches. Just because her wolf hearing had allowed her to hear Naomi’s whisper didn’t mean they’d be able to hear her whispering in return. “Do you know where?”
Naomi nodded, and Joey considered the options briefly before turning to the wolves. “We’ll split up. Jess, Sam, Jon, and Lucy with Naomi. I’ll take Dad, Ben, Colt, Justin, and Cathy and go after Mom and Chris.”
They silently reorganized themselves and headed off in different directions. This time, Joey let Ben take point as they crept up the old wooden stairs. She winced at every creak. The house was so quiet that she suspected a pin drop would echo.
At the top, she counted the doors until she stood in between the two that should house her mother and Chris. Who should she rescue first? How on earth could she choose between them? It probably didn’t matter, but right then, it felt very important.
“Someone’s coming,” Justin whispered. “We need to get out of the hallway.”
Joey pointed at Adelaide’s door. Cathy channeled a tiny bit of power and the door lock disengaged with a soft click. They hurried inside. Joey was the last, and closed the door behind her as quietly as possible.
“Reginald?” Adelaide sleepily greeted them.
“Shhh, quiet, darling,” Reginald replied. “We came to get you, but we’re being sneaky.”
By the dim light of the moon filtering in through the blinds, Joey watched her parents embrace. It choked her up, but she swallowed the emotion and closed her eyes, focusing on her hearing until she picked up the sound of footsteps in the hall. Justin had good ears. The footsteps passed the door without stopping, and there was a quiet click of another door opening and closing down the hall.
“Do you think it’s safe to go back out there?” Ben whispered.
“Not yet. They might have been on the way to the bathroom,” Joey whispered, then padded softly over to her parents. She touched her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, you need to get ready—”
Adelaide turned from Reginald and wrapped her arms tightly around Joey. Her wounded stomach twinged as she was squeezed, but it wasn’t bad enough to make her cry out.
“—to go.” Joey hugged Adelaide back.
While Adelaide was changing, the sound of running water confirmed that the person in the hall had been on the way to the bathroom rather than from it. Joey soon heard the footsteps passing again on their way back to wherever they came from. Joey opened the door and made sure the coast was clear, then slipped into the hallway with the others crowding behind her.
This is going well. Too well.
Joey kept her ears alert for any further encroachments while Cathy magically jimmied the lock on the door across the hall. Joey had to fight the urge to bounce on the balls of her feet again. Her stomach fluttered with mix of anxiety and nerves. They’d moved Dean. What if they’d moved Chris too? Naomi would have told them—if she’d known. Joey sprang forward when Cathy gave the nod, pushing open the door and slipping into the darkened room beyond without hesitation. Did the others follow her? She had no idea. Her eyes were glued to the bed, where a lump under the covers told her someone was there.
Wasting no time, Joey hurried across the room. The floorboards creaked softly under her feet, but she was beyond caring by then. The figure on the bed lay curled on one side, facing the wall, not stirring in the slightest. Her nostrils flared, catching a familiar scent, and she leaned over the bed to peer at its occupant’s face in profile. Relief flooded her. It was him.
In silence, she shook his shoulder to wake him. He didn’t stir.
“Chris,” she whispered. “Wake up, baby. The cavalry’s here.”
There was no response.
“Chris!” she said a little louder, and shook his shoulder harder.
“Is something wrong?” Justin whispered from across the room.
“He’s not waking up,” Joey said, doing her best to keep the panic from her voice. She touched her fingers to his neck. His skin was warm, and his pulse thrummed evenly under her fingers.
Cathy appeared at her side, features pinched as she peered down at Chris’s slumbering form. “He’s sleeping,
but there’s some sort of outside influence at play.”
“He said they’ve been manipulating his dreams,” Joey said.
Cathy nodded, her eyes lingering on Chris. “It’s more than that. This isn’t a natural sleep. It’s an enchantment.”
The others came to stand around the bed, looking on. “I can carry him out if need be,” Justin whispered.
“Kiss him,” Ben said. Joey shot him a look, and he held up his hands. “It works in fairy tales.”
“Silence, children,” Cathy said. “I’m thinking.”
Joey pressed her lips together and folded her arms, drumming her fingers against her biceps as she waited. “Let’s get him out of here and deal with it once—”
Adelaide put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Their eyes met, and Joey sighed but held her tongue.
Cathy stripped the blanket off Chris and cast it aside. “There must be something…” she mumbled to herself as she began searching the bed.
The ancient clock on the nightstand ticked away, gradually eroding Joey’s patience. They needed to get out of there. They needed to get Chris out of there. She’d give her godmother twenty more seconds, and then they were all leaving, whether Chris was awake for it or not.
Chris lounged in the sun like a lizard on a rock, soaking up its warmth. The salty sea air blew across the beach, tickling his nose with the scent of seaweed and brine. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to do this, despite spending so much of his life living on the West Coast. A sense of peace and contentment filled him, from the soles of his bare feet to the top of his head and everywhere in between. The only thing that would make it perfect was…
The thought faded before it’d fully formed. Nothing could make it more perfect. He opened his eyes and turned his head, glancing over at the dark-haired beauty sunning herself on the blanket beside him. Karina lay on her stomach with her head on her pillowed arms and her red bikini’s strings untied to ward off unsightly tan lines.
