To Seduce a Witch's Heart

by Nadine Mutas

  “No!” Isabel cried out, swiveled around and hit Rhun with a blow of power that sent him crashing into the wall once more.

  And that was all Merle could take.

  With a scream of pure fury, she lashed out at Isabel with the unadulterated force of her magic. It wasn’t a spell. It was a visceral blast of her powers, a stroke that originated deep within her and sliced through the other witch’s shields like a laser through metal. Isabel jerked, choked, and toppled over, her head hitting the concrete with a nauseating crack. It wasn’t the impact that had killed her, though. Merle knew, with instinctive awareness, that the Elder’s organs inside her had been fried, that her heart had exploded inside her chest.

  Merle didn’t care. The iron grasp keeping her down finally thrown off, she’d jumped up and run over to Rhun before Isabel had even hit the floor. Now she cradled Rhun’s head in her lap, touched his wrists, muttered every damn healing spell she knew to close his many wounds.

  To restart his heart.

  “Don’t you die on me, Rhun. Don’t you fucking die on me!”

  Tears clouded her vision, and she clutched him, willing him to live. Opening his mouth, she slit her wrist on his fangs, not even wincing at the pain. She pressed the wound against his lips, squeezed until her blood squirted out.

  “Drink.”

  She prodded at his mind, brushed him with her powers, searching for a spark of life—however tiny—which she could nurture. He remained motionless, his mind a dark void, his aura gone. Still, Merle kept up her efforts, refusing to accept what would break her more than anything.

  “Come back to me. Just come the fuck back to me!”

  A glimmer of life deep inside his mind.

  Merle drew in a sharp breath and mentally grasped for the tiny spark. She picked it up, cradled it like his head in her lap, wrapped it in her powers.

  “Live.”

  Rhun’s heart jolted into motion. He latched onto her wrist, and Merle gasped. Catching herself, she stroked his face as he sucked her blood in greedy pulls. Tingles of pleasure rolled through her veins, but the sensation soon subsided, her body growing numb from the amount of blood he was taking. The room spun. She slumped down next to him, her wrist in his grasp as he continued drinking. White spots in her vision, draining color from the world. Her own heart beat slower, slower.

  “No.” A deep voice in her head. “Merle.” Power, stroking along her mental senses. “My Merle.”

  The spinning stopped. The little lights danced before her, faded. She blinked, sucked in air as her vision sharpened again, refocused—and filled with a face that, even coated in blood, was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “Rhun…” She gave him a shaky smile, relief a glowing warmth inside her. Raising a hand, she feathered her fingertips over his eyelids—closed to allow her touch—down to his mouth. “I was so scared you were dead.”

  A kiss on her fingers, a devastating smirk playing about his lips. “What’s a little draining of blood?” His voice was as hoarse as if he’d been screaming for hours. “Takes more to kill me, little witch. After all, I’m used to bleeding for you.”

  “You’re awful.” Said around a desperate laugh, tears of joy spilling over. And she kissed him then, not caring about the blood on his lips. The only thing that mattered was the demon who’d somehow become the center of her world.

  But—there was one other thing that mattered.

  “Maeve,” she rasped. “We have to find her.”

  He nodded, released her, got to his feet, and helped her stand as well. “She’s around here. I can hear her heart beating.” When Merle stared at him, he added, “Courtesy of my senses being in overdrive in this shithole.”

  “There’s a door.” Merle’s voice trembled. She pointed to the corner of the room, where she’d spotted a door leading to the back of the warehouse while she’d been huddled against the wall during the demon fight.

  Rhun was at the door within a second. A faint click as the lock became disabled. His hand on the knob, he paused, glancing at Merle over his shoulder.

  “You should be the one to go in first,” he said. “She needs to see your face.”

  Merle nodded, walked over on shaky legs, her body still weakened, and laid her hand on his. Together they opened the door.

  What she saw when she stepped into the room would haunt her mind for the rest of her life.

  Blocking out the assault of images and scents, Merle operated on automatic, her movements a blur. Rhun helped her release the shackles with mental commands, though he stayed back in the shadows. When Merle ripped the bloody sheets loose to wrap them around the nude, battered figure of what had once been her baby sister, she couldn’t even sob. Couldn’t break down.

  Some pain was just too much.

  In a face slashed beyond recognition, eyes fluttered open, homed in on Merle. Their color of fire and smoke was the only part of Maeve still familiar.

  Split lips moved, formed words that wouldn’t sound, but still, Merle heard them.

  You came.

  Chapter 23

  The bedside lamp bathed Maeve’s face in soft light, her features less haunted in sleep. Rhun had encountered his fair share of gruesome cruelty in his life, and still, what he’d seen in that room in the warehouse…it rivaled his darkest memories, chilled his soul.

  Made him want to kill that fucker all over again.

  Merle had taken care of Maeve after they’d returned to the old Victorian, had obviously cleaned her up after she’d carried her upstairs by herself, ignoring Rhun’s offers of help. He understood, though. The only time Maeve had looked at him, her scent had spiked with gut-wrenching terror. He was, after all, a demon of the same species as the one who’d held her captive, and Maeve didn’t know him, didn’t know anything but to fear him. If he touched her, even with the intent to help, it would distress her beyond necessity.

  Maeve hadn’t spoken a word since they’d released her, or at least not that he’d heard. He’d stayed back as Merle had taken care of her, giving the sisters some much needed time alone. While Rhun had showered off the blood and gore sticking to his skin and had put on the spare clothes he’d taken from Bahram’s apartment, Merle had put Maeve back in her old room, sitting down at her bedside after settling her in. For hours, she hadn’t moved away, holding Maeve’s hand, staring at her sister, and Rhun knew Merle hadn’t once shifted from her position because he’d checked on her about once every hour.

  The Elders’ arrival had finally pulled her away.

  Merle had called Lily on the way back from the warehouse, had explained what had gone down there and had asked her to hold the Elders at bay for a bit, give Maeve time to settle down. As usual, Lily had delivered, and it wasn’t until an hour before dawn—after Merle had spent half the night watching over Maeve—that the witches came to call.

  Now, after Basil had taken over Merle’s spot at Maeve’s side, after Merle had gone downstairs with Lily to face whatever was in store for her, Rhun stood in the upstairs hallway, looking into Maeve’s room.

  At a sister he’d been able to save.

  Her face was marred with slashes, wounds some of which so severe not even the most powerful healing spells would be able to keep them from scarring. Rhun remembered the glimpse he’d gotten of the rest of her body, knew her face hadn’t received the worst wounds of all. Not to mention the scars she’d carry in her soul and mind for quite possibly the rest of her life.

  But underneath it all, she was alive, she’d survived, and as Rhun watched her breathe, he felt a knot ease deep in his chest, in the deep, dark corner that held the memory of another sister. One he hadn’t been able to help. For the first time in his life, as he looked upon Maeve, he could let go of the guilt that had plagued him since he’d been a child.

  I’m sorry, Siani.

  With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let it go, let her rest, finally, in the peace she deserved.

  When he opened his eyes again, he found Basil had lifted his head
to scowl at him. The human male’s resentment was palpable, his dislike of Rhun obviously only held in check by the fact he’d helped rescue Maeve. Yes, there was grudging gratitude in his features, but everything else in the look Basil shot him now said Rhun was and never would be welcome among Merle’s friends and family.

  And Rhun understood. It was a folly to ever think other witches, least of all the Elders, would accept a demon at Merle’s side.

  Merle had been determined to fight for him, had been convinced the Elders would allow him to be free in light of his contribution to Maeve’s rescue. As voices raised in argument drifted up from below, Rhun knew she’d been wrong.

  Backing away from Maeve’s room under the watchful eyes of Basil, he made his way downstairs, following the sounds of the heated discussion. Merle’s voice rose above the others, angry, pleading, telling them how he’d found Maeve, how he’d killed the other demon and helped put an end to the atrocities committed by Isabel.

  “How can you insist on binding him again?” Merle’s voice shook. “He’s proven himself over and over!”

  “He was bound in the Shadows for a reason,” one of the Elders gave back. “His help in this matter is appreciated, but however good his recent deeds may be, they do not outweigh the innocent lives he took before he was leashed.”

  “He’s only ever taken one innocent life!” Judging by her voice, Merle was close to tears now. “And it wasn’t even cold-blooded murder, more like manslaughter—he was set up and manipulated. Doesn’t that count as mitigating circumstances?”

  If he hadn’t been weighed down by misery, Rhun would have smirked at her use of law-speak.

  “Do you have proof of that?” Juneau’s voice.

  A small silence.

  “He told me what happened,” Merle said with the stubborn strength Rhun had come to love.

  “And you believe him.” Not a question, more like an accusation.

  “I know he’s telling the truth.” Ah, her adorable defiance was audible in every word.

  “No,” another Elder said, “you don’t know. You believe him because you’ve become attached to him. And that is the problem—your feelings for him cloud your judgment.”

  “Which is why,” another witch chimed in, “it is better you not have any say in this matter.”

  “We have already discussed this among ourselves before we came here,” Juneau said. “Our decision stands—you will bind him again.”

  “The hell I will!”

  “Watch your language, Merle.” Juneau’s voice was sharp as a whip, then gentled again. “If you cooperate and send him back to the Shadows, we will remit the punishment for your initial transgression of unbinding him without our consent.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  A silence that stretched taut.

  “You have shown a troublesome inclination for disobeying the laws we live by,” Juneau said quietly. “If you continue to demonstrate disrespect for your Elders’ orders, your punishments will become more severe.”

  Rhun could virtually hear Merle grind her teeth. “I’ll take my chances,” she said grimly.

  “Don’t be foolish,” another Elder said. “He’s just a demon.”

  “He’s my fucking demon!”

  “Easy, little witch,” Rhun said in her mind. “You don’t want to cause an Elder-stampede, do you?”

  Merle swiveled around as he strolled into the living room, the corners of his lips twitching up at the sight of the shocked and alarmed expressions of the witches present.

  “Ladies,” he said, taking a bow.

  Juneau’s gaze hit him with the force of a swung baseball bat. “This is not a discussion you are invited to, demon.”

  “Ah.” He came to stand next to Merle, his arm brushing against hers. “But I might have something to contribute.”

  “Rhun, what—” Merle began, but he covered her mouth with his hand, his gaze on Juneau.

  “What will be the nature of Merle’s punishment if she refuses to bind me?” He dropped all playfulness.

  “That is none of your business,” one of the other Elders said, a blonde with the aura of a healer.

  “Tell me.” His eyes were still intent on Juneau’s, not backing down from the most powerful witch among the Elders.

  After a long moment, Juneau answered calmly, “She will have to bear the burden of upholding the balance for all of the witch lines in our community for as long as she refuses to bind you.”

  Rhun barely kept himself from flinching. Such a punishment would render Merle in major pain for almost every day. Images of her bleeding in the car, screaming in agony, her flesh torn open to leech her magic, flashed through his mind, and his blood heated, burned in his veins.

  “And if she does bind me,” he managed to say past the raw pain inside him, “she’ll go without punishment?”

  “Yes,” Juneau said.

  His hand fell away from Merle’s mouth.

  Love, he thought, is feeling someone else’s pain more than your own.

  He turned to Merle, stroked a finger down her cheek, and stole a soft kiss.

  “Bind me.”

  Merle stared at Rhun, thunderstruck, her heart squeezed tight in her chest. “What?”

  “I want you to bind me in the Shadows.” His face was serious, as was his aura, vibrating with regret, grief—and grim determination.

  “No.” She shook her head, frantically, numb with denial.

  “Merle.” Juneau’s voice filtered through the turmoil wrecking Merle’s mind and heart. “Be reasonable and bind him.”

  “No!”

  “Do it, little witch,” Rhun said in her head. “I don’t want them to hurt you because of me. And I sure as fuck won’t stand around while you suffer for me. Bind me.”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head again, her throat working hard to swallow what was a horrendous lump. “I can’t send you back. Don’t ask me to do this.”

  “Bind him.” The voice of another Elder, the head of the Michaels family line.

  Merle couldn’t see her, her vision narrowed on Rhun, her only focal point amid an unraveling world. His pale green-blue eyes studied her, took in her face as if drinking her in, like a desert plant would soak up the last drops of rain before the drought set in.

  “If you don’t bind me now,” Rhun said mentally, “I will attack the Elders in front of you just to prove them right. I’ll start with the hag with the bad wig over there.” A pause. “Seriously, with hair like that, she deserves to die.”

  How could he make a joke at such a time? And damn if that didn’t break her heart even more with a rush of the impossible love she felt for him. “Rhun, no, I can’t…”

  A smile that shattered her. “Don’t force me to spill blood, little witch of mine.”

  “Merle,” Juneau said, “don’t stall any longer. Just bind him.”

  A chorus of voices rose around her, hailing down on her, demanding she do the impossible.

  “Do it.” Rhun’s mental tone softened, grew so quiet it was barely more than a whisper against her thoughts. “You deserve better than a demon, Merle. Bind me.”

  She shook her head, her heart shriveled. Rhun cupped her face, kissed her softly, stepped away—and made as if to charge the Elders. With a silent sob, Merle broke.

  “Into hunger, pain and darkness,

  hidden from the light,

  I bind thee in the Shadows,

  in never-ending night.”

  Writhing, the Shadows came, tangling, snaking around Rhun’s legs and upwards.

  “Leashed and helpless, thou shalt pine…” Her voice cracked on a sob.

  Rhun held her gaze, his aura steady, warm, trusting.

  “…held ever after by the magic of my line.”

  His eyes stayed on her as the coiling, smoky blackness took him over, swallowed him soundlessly, and in the last seconds, he smiled at her.

  Rhun’s clothes fell to the floor, empty. The Shadows had taken him back.

  Merle stood
there, numb, feeling nothing. Around her, there were movements, sounds, scents and colors, people talking to her, touching her, and the world somehow demanded to keep moving. Merle moved along, said what was expected, what was necessary, but she was a wraith in a world that had lost meaning.

  Acting on basic social survival mode, she finished the meeting with the Elders, walked them to the door, declined Lily’s offers of staying over and comforting her, returned the twins’ hugs without feeling, hanging on by a thread.

  It was only after she’d politely forced Lily and Basil out of the house with promises of calling them if she needed support, only when the Victorian echoed with her lonely breaths, that Merle paused in front of Rhun’s empty clothes—and broke down.

  She collapsed onto the floor, sobs tearing out of her, tears spilling, the despair ripping her apart. Grabbing his T-shirt, she buried her face in it, breathing in his scent, while her body shook with her cries.

  She rocked back and forth, her power bucking underneath her skin with the need to speak the words that would unbind Rhun again. Her heart broke with the knowledge she couldn’t. Before they’d left, the Elders had cast a spell that would alert them if Merle tampered with the Shadows, and they would come after them both with a vengeance if she tried to bring him back.

  And she knew, without a doubt, that Rhun wouldn’t accept his freedom, that he would pressure her into binding him again as long the Elders threatened to hurt her for it.

  “You damn stubborn demon,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying, her heart an open wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. She kept crying, cursing, wailing at how fucking stubborn he was, how much she’d fallen for him, but above all, she cursed herself for not being strong enough. To fight for him, to hold on to him, to not give in under the pressure of Rhun and her Elders.

  When after what seemed like an eternity of burning anguish, Merle finally wept in silence, only broken by her occasional sniffs, she heard it.

  Soft footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming closer. Quietly, Maeve sat down beside her.