To Seduce a Witch's Heart

by Nadine Mutas

  He squeezed her hand. “That wolf is Arawn.”

  Merle blinked, swallowed, dumbstruck for a moment. “But…he’s not a werewolf.” His aura didn’t have the unique traces of shifters, the kind of otherworldly creatures who were two-natured, being able to switch between a human form and that of a particular animal.

  “No,” Rhun said, “that he is most definitely not. He can change into several different shapes, though, and this is one of them.”

  Unable to respond, Merle just stared.

  Rhun cleared his throat. “Thank you for seeing us,” he addressed the beast.

  “Shouldn’t you add my lord or something?” Merle asked anxiously, eyeing the otherworldly canine predator in front of her.

  “He’s not my lord.”

  If the circumstances were different, Merle might have laughed at the growl of indignation in Rhun’s mental voice. As it was, she could only swallow the lump in her throat and try to keep her hands from shaking. Arawn’s power was an overwhelming force tightening the air and pressing against her shields, a foreign, strange kind of magic swirling around him. Merle had never felt anything like it, and if it were up to her, she’d be happy if she’d never encounter it again. There was only so much intimidation she could take.

  “We’re here to ask for your help, if you can give it,” Rhun continued, coming straight to the point, much to Merle’s liking. The sooner they got out of here again, the better. “This is Merle of the MacKenna line of witches,” Rhun went on, gesturing to her. “We’re looking for her sister, who has been taken by one of my kind, but he’s being blocked by witch magic. We were hoping you might be able to break that blocking spell so we can find the demon who holds her captive.”

  Silence.

  Seconds ticked by. The wolf didn’t stir, didn’t acknowledge the request made to him in the least. The fact that Arawn didn’t even deign to change his form to human to talk them was a blatant sign of his condescension. His yellow eyes held a glint of boredom, and he stretched one massive paw in lazy comfort as he gazed upon the two supplicants in front of him.

  Rhun cleared his throat again. “We’d greatly appreciate your help, if you would be so kind,” he said quietly, and Merle could only guess what it must have taken him to use this deferential tone of voice. Proud and arrogant by nature, Rhun had never struck her as the type who would easily bow to anyone, and now he was as close to begging as she’d ever seen him. It tightened her throat, knowing he did it for her.

  The wolf flicked one of his ears and yawned, displaying a daunting set of sharp teeth, with fangs the size of Merle’s forearm. They gleamed brightly in the flickering light of the fireflies, the white a striking contrast against the black fur.

  “Now I see what you meant by unnerving,” Merle said, taking a cautious step back. Her skin prickled with warning, all her senses on high alert because of the imponderable creature before her. The effect his power had on her own was that of stroking a cat’s fur the wrong way.

  A muscle in Rhun’s jaw flexed, he took a deep breath and said, “Please consider our request…my lord.”

  Merle’s gaze snapped to Rhun, and her heart sank.

  “It’s okay, little witch.” The rigid way in which he held himself told a different story.

  Just when she wanted to reply something, the wolf moved. With a fluid grace seemingly at odds with his giant size, he rose to his feet. The room shrank in on itself. Arawn’s power compressed the air, and for the longest moment, he simply stood there, looming over Merle and Rhun, his eerie yellow eyes studying them intently. The fireflies surreptitiously floated farther away from him.

  Then, he shifted.

  The air around him blurred as if melted by heat, and in swirls of light and shadows, his form changed from wolf to man—a naked man.

  But Merle didn’t even have one second to take in the details of the nude body in front of her, because Rhun’s hands immediately came up to cover her eyes.

  “Rhun!” she hissed. “Quit that!”

  He ignored her swatting at his hands and kept her eyes covered. “Just preserving your modesty, little witch.”

  Before Merle could mentally yell at him that he hadn’t cared about her modesty when he’d paraded in front of her naked at every chance after she’d unbound him, Arawn spoke.

  “I do not involve myself in the affairs of witches.” His voice was a deep, deep bass, edged with a roughness that could abrade skin.

  Rhun removed his hands from Merle’s eyes, and she blinked at the sight in front of her. Arawn had gotten dressed in flowing black pants in the meantime, leaving his upper body bare, and he patted the head of the fox that had apparently brought him the piece of clothing. The small canine touched his muzzle to Arawn’s hand and then trotted away, disappearing in another tunnel leading from the room.

  Arawn turned to Rhun and Merle. His hair was of the same shiny black as the fur of his wolf form, and his build was just as massive, with muscles speaking of frequent use and a physical strength rivaling the force of his aura.

  “This is not only a witch affair,” Rhun pointed out politely, not showing any signs of intimidation in the face of a power like Arawn. Probably a smart move. “It’s a demon who took Merle’s sister, and he collaborates with a witch to absorb the girl’s powers.”

  Arawn waved his hand. “Particulars.” His eyes in human form were dark, not brown for all Merle could discern, but of some color courting shadows and depths. Right now, they still held a glint of boredom and indifference. “It is still witch magic you ask me to break.” His gaze fell on Merle, and she flinched under the force. “This is a matter for your Elders, not for me. Besides,” he said, turning away, “your sister is a witch. If she cannot defend herself against a demon, then maybe she deserves her fate.”

  The callous remark struck Merle like a blow to her guts, and she spoke up before thinking. “She can’t defend herself because her powers are locked inside her!”

  Arawn paused and slowly turned to her.

  “Merle.” Rhun’s voice inside her mind, warning.

  “Explain,” Arawn said. It was a low, quiet command, but a command nevertheless.

  Merle shifted her weight, anxiety crawling up her spine on icy feet. But she wouldn’t back down now, not when she’d just caught the first flicker of interest from Arawn. “My grandmother bound Maeve’s magic inside her when she was a child.”

  “Did she now?” Arawn’s voice was soft, deceivingly benign, but there was no mistaking the underlying danger in it. “Whom did your sister kill?”

  At that, Merle sucked in air. Arawn was astute, and she realized too late she should have maybe kept this information to herself. Next to her, Rhun was tense enough to snap some sinews.

  “Don’t,” he said in her head.

  “Answer my question.” Arawn’s gaze drilled into her, eroding her resistance.

  “Half my family,” Merle whispered.

  Arawn tilted his head, the movement nothing human. “Interesting.”

  Underneath the focus of his scrutinizing eyes, she almost squirmed.

  “How old is your sister now?”

  “Twenty-four,” she said, unable to stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. It was too late now anyway.

  Arawn studied her for what felt like hours, with an intensity that made Merle’s pulse pound in her head like drum beats.

  “You are the head of your family?” he asked, the rugged lines of his face unreadable.

  “Yes.”

  “Your witch line’s affiliation is fire?”

  Merle’s pulse spiked. Most families kept their elemental affiliations secret, as the knowledge could be used against them—each element had its weakness, an Achilles’ heel, and exploited cleverly, it could neutralize the witch’s powers. How did Arawn—?

  “Answer me.” His deep voice rumbled through her, made her gasp.

  She fought the compulsion, and yet—“Yes.” Spoken through gritted teeth, the words forced out of her by the power swir
ling in the air, seeping through her defenses.

  Arawn regarded her for a moment with shadowed eyes. His gaze flicked to Rhun. “I assume you have a mental imprint of the blocking spell.”

  Rhun nodded with a grim expression. “It’s too faint to trace it, though.”

  Arawn waved that away and looked back at Merle. “I can break the spell for you. Be aware, however, that I will ask for something in return for my assistance.”

  Merle swallowed past a throat gone dry. “I don’t have much money, but my family has some antique jewelry pieces. They’re worth a lot.”

  He gave her a smile that scared her lifeless. “I am not interested in money or baubles.”

  “What do you want?” Her voice shook.

  “That, fire witch,” he said, “I will tell you when I come to collect it.”

  “This was a bad idea,” Rhun said in her mind. His mental voice was strained with urgency. “Let’s leave. We’ll find some other way to break the spell. One that doesn’t involve giving carte blanche to the bogeyman of all otherworld creatures.”

  With an inconspicuous tug on her hand, he indicated her to back away. Merle didn’t move, squeezed his hand instead while still looking at Arawn.

  Her heart beating violently against her ribs, she asked, “One favor?”

  “No,” Rhun said.

  “Yes,” Arawn replied.

  “Only one, and after that we’re quit?”

  “You have my word.”

  “Merle, don’t do this. Do you have any idea what owing an open favor to Arawn might entail? He could ask you for anything.”

  “Whatever he’ll demand from me,” Merle gave back bitterly, “it can’t be worse than losing one more member of my family.”

  Rhun’s aura spiked with irritation and fear. “What if he asks you to swear fealty to him forever? He could make you crawl at his knees.”

  Merle glanced at Arawn. “One condition.”

  The shadows in his eyes deepened.

  “The favor will not entail me swearing fealty to you, nor will it end my life,” Merle said, succeeding barely in keeping her voice from trembling. “And the same goes for my sister.”

  Arawn held her gaze for a long moment, unblinking, and then smiled in the way that chilled Merle’s blood. “Agreed.”

  “Then we have a deal,” she said.

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment and turned to Rhun. “You will have to give me the imprint of the spell.”

  At the bristling in Rhun’s aura, Merle realized the implication of that statement.

  “Rhun,” she said, her chest tightening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was necessary… You don’t have to open your mind to him if you don’t want to. I…” Owing a favor to Arawn was her decision, the price she would pay, but it wasn’t her place to demand a mental strip of Rhun in front of a creature like Arawn. Even if Rhun managed to get the imprint of the spell to the forefront of his thoughts so that it would be easy to pick up without the need for further digging, Arawn would still be able to sift through Rhun’s mind unchecked. “We can just leave,” she said quietly, even though her stomach turned at the thought of how much longer Maeve would remain captive then.

  Rhun’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment, his eyes warm, glowing, before he faced Arawn. “I’ll do it.”

  “Rhun…”

  “Shush, little witch of mine.”

  Merle had never known her heart could break because she was loved too much.

  “Very well,” Arawn said, and held out his hand to the side.

  Even as Merle still wondered at that odd gesture and what the hell it was supposed to mean, a tree nymph appeared from another opening in the earthen wall. Clad in sheer, flowing silks, she approached Arawn and laid a dagger in his open hand, hilt first of course. Bowing her head, she backed away again. Arawn hadn’t even spared her a glance, unquestioned in his authority, and now he handed the blade to Merle.

  “I require a blood oath for our agreement.”

  Merle winced but took the dagger. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she placed the sharp edge of the blade on her palm and slid it open. Pain shot through her, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from cursing. Clenching her hand into a fist, she pressed until a drop of blood fell on the floor. “By the Powers That Be,” she said, “I will uphold my promise of a favor to you, Arawn, for your assistance in finding my sister.”

  Another drop fell to the floor. The magic bound her.

  Chapter 19

  It was dawn by the time they stepped back into Bahram’s apartment, where they would wait until they received word from Arawn. He’d told them it might take him a few hours to break the spell, so they’d decided they would spend the day resting, hoping by nightfall they could hunt down Maeve’s captor. The morning’s faint light had dispelled night and darkness, and Rhun’s powers had almost faded completely when he and Merle stepped into the apartment—and ran into the incubus who owned it.

  The demon stood in the hallway, in the process of zipping up a duffel bag. “Good,” he said to Rhun, his eyes gleaming with amusement, “you’re fully clothed. Was afraid I might see more of you than I prefer when I came in here. I tried to call your witch to let you know I was going to pick up some stuff, but I only got her voice mail.”

  “Oh. Right. My cell.” Merle rummaged through her purse, which Rhun had made her leave in the car before they took the lake route to Arawn. Of course, he hadn’t told her it was to keep the cell from being drowned. She’d have probably magically beaten him into finding another way to get to Arawn than by going for a swim.

  “Sorry,” Rhun said to Bahram while Merle checked her messages. “We were…indisposed.”

  “Uh-huh.” The incubus surveyed their wet clothes from head to toe, and raised an eyebrow at the water dripping on his pristine hardwood floors.

  “Sorry about that,” Merle muttered, following his gaze and shifting her weight uncomfortably. “We’ll clean that up.”

  “Oh,” Bahram said smoothly, “no worries, honey. You can drip on my floors any time.” He gave her a smile of sensual invitation, took a step toward her and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  And that was when Rhun charged him. With a roar, he slammed the incubus into the wall, decades of friendship erased within seconds, drowned in a fit of rage and possessiveness.

  “Rhun! Gods dammit, stop!”

  Merle’s voice filtered through the red haze clouding Rhun’s vision, but it wasn’t enough to make him loosen the grip he had around the other demon’s throat. All he knew, right at this moment, was that he needed to eliminate the threat to his female. And then haul said female away into a cave somewhere and—

  “Rhun!”

  Something kicked him in the back of his knees. He doubled over, growling with pain, and let go of the male. Turning around, he faced his witch, who fisted his T-shirt—and kissed him.

  His rage dissolved in a whirl of pleasure and contentment.

  With a low sound of appreciation, Rhun pulled his female close and kissed her back, delighting in her scent, her softness, the way her hands stroked his neck and face. He sighed against her lips, tangled his fingers in her hair, caressed her silky skin. Mine. His heart filled with a tenderness threatening to melt him. As if she’d known just what he needed, Merle had reacted in the only way that could have reeled him back from his rage. Sanity trickled into his mind, and when she broke the kiss, he noticed the glint of anger in her eyes.

  Uh-oh.

  “That. Is. Your. Friend.” Her voice was clipped, and she emphasized each word with a swat at his chest. “What is wrong with you?”

  “It’s okay,” Bahram said, cracking his neck and rubbing his abused skin. His golden eyes were far too perceptive when they focused on Rhun. “I was out of line. I didn’t know she’s your m—”

  Rhun cut him off with a sharp look. “It’s all right. I’m sorry I snapped. No hard feelings?”

  The incubus glanced from him to Merle and back a
gain, then shook his head. “No, man. I understand.”

  No, you don’t. Rhun gritted his teeth. His best friend might have realized where Rhun’s territorial rage stemmed from, might understand that, as a demon, he was an irrational pile of base instincts around his chosen mate, lashing out at any potential male threat to his claim. But he’d never understand the pain Rhun felt at being unable to finalize the bond with Merle.

  Well, of course he wouldn’t. Bahram didn’t know Rhun was living on stolen time, that he was scheduled to return to the Shadows soon. Rhun hadn’t had the chance to tell him. And maybe it was better he didn’t. If his friend started looking at him with pity, it might just break what was left of Rhun.

  “Thanks, buddy,” he said instead, grabbing Bahram’s neck and shoulders in an open hug.

  “What’s going on?” Merle asked, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “What’s there to understand?”

  Rhun let go of Bahram and shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

  It was no use telling her. It wouldn’t change anything for the better, explaining to her he’d picked her to be the one he’d mate with, in an intuitive, subconscious choice defying all reason. He wasn’t mated to her yet, but his heart, body and mind had already shifted into the mode for it, which was why he’d lashed out at Bahram. Up until he’d finalize the mating bond, he’d morph into a cave-demon version of himself around other males who so much as looked wrong at Merle. Even his best friend.

  Telling her that would only hurt Rhun. As long as he didn’t acknowledge it with words, he could pretend it didn’t tear him apart that much.

  He couldn’t—wouldn’t—mate with her. Doing so would render her unable to emotionally bond with anyone else, and, with Rhun bound in the Shadows, that would mean she’d wither away her life in loneliness. And as much as the thought of her with another male brought Rhun to the verge of losing his sanity, he would rather rip out his own heart than subject Merle to a life without love.

  So, there it was. He’d officially turned into a pathetic excuse for a demon, brought to his knees by a female. Arawn had seen the extent of his weakness when he’d stripped Rhun’s mind, had seen the emotional chaos he was in because of one fine witch—and he’d laughed. The fucking bogeyman of demons had mentally laughed at Rhun. Arrogant son of a bitch.