Warrior Enchanted

by Addison Fox

  “I’d rather you stayed here.”

  Finley saw the tight line of his lips and realized, with absolute certainty, those words had cost him. “I need to get back to my life.”

  “To the people who set you up?”

  Ilsa let out a low whistle and mumbled, “Here come the fireworks,” but opted to say nothing else.

  Montana took a more proactive approach as Finley felt her move up to provide support at her flank. “Grey. Come on, surely we can put some detail on her until we figure out what’s going on.”

  “There is no other way. She’s in danger and it’s not a danger the average human bodyguard can deal with.”

  Montana reached for her hand and squeezed. “Well, you don’t have to scare her with it.”

  “Why not? You should know the feeling. You lived with it more recently than anyone else here. She’s become a target, Montana. I won’t shirk my responsibilities to keeping her safe.”

  “No one’s shirking anything.” Finley interrupted the brewing battle. “But I can’t just leave my job, Grey. I’ve worked too long and too hard to get it. If you think the situation’s that dire, I’ve got internal resources outside my immediate superiors and coworkers. I can get help and I can get protection.”

  “No.”

  As he dug in, the need to stick to her guns only grew. With a small smile, she turned toward the women. “Callie. Montana. Ilsa. Could I have some time with Grey?”

  A few murmured “of course’s” later and the kitchen was devoid of everyone but the two of them.

  “Why are you so insistent on this? And why do you care this much? I’d think you’d be glad to find a solution that got me out of your hair.”

  “I’m not looking for an easy solution. I’m looking for the right one.”

  “Well, keeping me here isn’t it.”

  “I think it is.”

  Frustration coursed through her in the same heavy, pounding waves of the bass music at his club. She’d never had any doubt Grey Bennett was a powerful man. Although it would have been easy to dismiss him simply as a New York club owner, his demeanor had always suggested more.

  But she’d confirmed it when some light digging on him turned up nothing. Not even a driver’s license.

  No one could live that far off the grid, no matter how hard they tried.

  Being that unavailable meant you proactively worked at it.

  Although it had taken her a long time, this case with Gavelli had given her a reason to talk to him. And once she’d been seen befriending the club’s owner, others were a bit easier around her. The bartenders were friendlier and the cocktail waitresses were a little freer with the small details that seemed like nothing but added up to some really large clues.

  It was clear nobody knew the whole story—nor did they even know a whole lot—but it was the stray comments she’d begun to weave together into something more.

  Mr. Bennett’s irregular travel schedule. His odd hours. The limited-access areas in the club.

  And the regular comings and goings of a group of very large men who frequented the club and the inner sanctum of Mr. Bennett’s office.

  The only reason she got that last bit was because several of the waitresses had their eyes firmly clamped on Mr. Bennett’s friends. And the first rule she’d learned, all the way back in the sixth grade, was that no one was quicker to share a wink and some gossip than a woman in the throes of a hormone rush.

  What she’d also discovered, despite her very best efforts, was that she was deeply, horribly and utterly obsessed with Grey Bennett.

  And that’s when she realized that perhaps she was playing this all wrong. She’d been so focused on getting away. Maybe she needed to change her tactics and focus on getting close. And getting some answers.

  Her gaze stroked over his body, the rich fabric of his suit doing nothing to hide the barely leashed power underneath. Finley felt the pull down deep inside, that feminine curl of need low in the belly, just before it settled between her thighs.

  “You can keep a watch on me, but I want to go home and I want to go to my job. I’ll check in. I can meet you or any one of these people you share your life with who you think can protect me.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  The fear from the night before struck with swift force. That moment she’d stood in the goon’s arms, realizing what a bad decision she’d made. Was she making another one? Even as she thought it, she refused to back down. Refused to live her life on anyone else’s terms. “It’s my final offer.”

  The subtle lines that bracketed Grey’s eyes softened along with his voice. “Why do you need to do this so bad?”

  “It’s who I am. I work for justice and I finish what I start.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “I have to do this.”

  “Stubborn,” he muttered, taking a step toward her.

  She forced herself to keep her gaze firmly on his, even as she wanted to look her fill of his broad chest and the power that hovered around him like an aura. “Clearly you’re familiar with the trait.”

  He didn’t reply, the moment heavy with unspoken needs as the memory of their kiss the night before swirled around her. In her mind, the memory wrapped around them both, and she could almost believe she was right as he took another step closer.

  “Who are you, Grey Bennett?”

  “I’m the man who’s going to find out who set you up and kill them.”

  “Kill them?” The luscious buzz that coursed through her body was immediately doused at his words. The gray of his eyes had gone a dark, steely hue and she couldn’t repress the shiver at what he implied.

  “You can’t kill anyone! And certainly not on my behalf.”

  Grey moved forward, up into her space. The corded muscles of his neck stood out in harsh relief. His breath was warm on her face and that thrumming low in her belly started again at the realization she needed only to lean forward a hairsbreadth to kiss him. “Try me.”

  He was so close—and what she wanted was so close—all she had to do was lean forward and take it.

  Take the moment and satisfy her curiosity.

  A rush of air exploded in her ear as a loud crash hit behind them. Finley felt her world tilt as Grey snatched her up in his arms and dragged her to the far side of the kitchen.

  When they came to a standstill, she looked over Grey’s shoulder, shocked to see Drake cradling Emerson in his arms.

  Rogan watched Eris slip from the bed and pad toward the bathroom. The sounds of the shower started almost immediately and he briefly toyed with joining her before he acknowledged he needed to get going himself. Grey and Drake had walked into a shit-storm the night before and he knew they needed his help.

  Even as the urge to stay pulsed with a steady throb in his veins, he dragged himself out of bed and crossed the room to his clothes. There was absolutely nothing healthy about what went on between the two of them, and the closer he got to her, the more he put his family at risk. But like a drug that hooked after one taste, he couldn’t stay away from Eris.

  She fucking owned his ass.

  And while she might be known as the goddess of discord in the rest of her life, he’d never felt this content in all of his.

  He was already thinking about how quickly he could get back to Vegas—back to Eris—as he spied his jeans. Bending down to snag them, he slammed his shoulder on the small table the hotel had placed there, presumably for decoration.

  Fuck. Not only did the woman make him mindless, now he could add clumsy to the list.

  He picked up her heavy purse where it had fallen to the floor—what the hell did an immortal need with a loaded handbag?—and dropped it back on the table. A loud ping caught his attention, and he spied her phone still on the floor and lying along a back leg.

  As he reached for it, the text that had caused the ping still showed on the phone’s flat screen.

  Rogan read the display, everything inside of him going cold and numb with the reminder of who she really was.
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  THE PISCES SAW ME AND KNOWS WHO I AM. I’M GOING AFTER HIM.

  Chapter Ten

  “Drake!” Emerson clung to his midsection as her feet took purchase on the ground. He’d done this…this thing…midargument at her house and she hadn’t quite caught her breath. “What the hell’d you do that for?” She ran a hand through her hair, dragging on the spikes as she puzzled through what they’d just seen.

  Her brother. And that weird thing with his eyes. And the snake.

  Oh God. Magnus had turned a snake loose on Drake and then just vanished.

  “I wasn’t interested in waiting around to find out if your brother was going to reappear with his big, fat snake in tow.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s a friendly euphemism.” Finley moved forward to take a seat at the oversized table that dominated the kitchen, her smile gentle as she added, “Or a reference to He Who Must Not Be Named. Come on. Sit down.”

  Emerson smiled back, calming for the first time at the attempted humor. “It’s not. He was bitten by a snake.”

  “Who was?” Finley and Grey asked in unison.

  Emerson pointed at Drake, who looked surprisingly well—not to mention melt-your-self-control sexy—where he stood near the table, reaching for a banana. “Him.”

  “You fucking idiot,” Grey muttered. “How the hell did you have enough energy to port the two of you over here?”

  “We had to get here. It was that simple.”

  “Yeah, well, the laws of physics weren’t in your favor on this one. You’re lucky you both got back in one piece.”

  Drake ignored him and tossed a pointed look across the table. “Ms. McCrae’s still here, Grey?”

  Finley’s avid gaze took in all of them and Emerson heard Drake’s subtext loud and clear: Should we be talking about this in front of her?

  “Yes, and if I have anything to say about it she’s not going anywhere.”

  “And if I have any say in it, I am,” Finley shot back.

  Although still shaken by her brother, Emerson couldn’t deny her interest in what she and Drake had interrupted in the kitchen. It was obvious Grey was deeply conflicted about what the woman was doing there. And equally obvious that he didn’t want to let her leave.

  Finley spoke first. “Look. Something’s going on in here and I’ve no doubt it defies the laws of nature and pretty much everything else my rational, lawyerly brain has believed in my first thirty years of life. So what I’m asking is if one of you will take pity on me and tell me what the fuck that is.”

  When everyone just stared at her, she added as an afterthought, “Or at least tell me about the really big snake.”

  “Fine, tell us.” Grey sighed, nodding, and Emerson thought it was even more curious to see just how tightly he focused on Finley. She’d only met the man on a few occasions, but her impression of him was that he didn’t do relationships. The careful way he looked at the lawyer had her rethinking that opinion.

  “He was attacked by a snake. At my house. By my—” Emerson’s voice broke off as the reality of the words hit her. “By my brother.”

  “What was your brother doing with a snake?”

  Finley’s immediate curiosity only reminded Emerson of all the things she didn’t know about her brother. And all the fears she harbored for what he’d possibly become.

  Was Drake right? Was Magnus involved in some sort of dark magic?

  She’d felt dark magic before—the insidious way it teased and taunted the senses. The promise offered by that abuse of power was a heady rush, like standing on the edge of a precipice with the absolute certainty you could fly.

  And Magnus had made that strange comment the first night he was back about using her powers to her advantage.

  But she just didn’t feel it.

  Of course, he was her brother. Was it possible he could mask it from her? And her magic had worked to remove the poison.

  Maybe the real truth was that she just didn’t want to see him in that light.

  “I don’t know. All I do know is he had this enormous snake on the floor in front of him in his room. It matched the tattoo that covered his shoulders, which I didn’t even know he had.”

  “You didn’t know your brother had a tattoo?” Finley probed.

  “He’s been gone a long time.”

  “And has now made a sudden return, reptile in tow?”

  “He’s always lived slightly on the edge, and it got worse after my mom died. But the snake and the tat.” Emerson looked down at her arm with a rueful smile. “I’m not against tattoos, mind you. In fact, I’m rather fond of mine. But, I can’t explain it. There’s something wrong with his. And it made the whole experience even more…unsettling.”

  Something tickled the edge of her memories. She’d been so focused on the snake that as she thought back over it, Emerson realized there was more to it all than the actual animal.

  What was it?

  “What was unsettling?”

  Finley’s warm smile put her instantly at ease and, in that moment, Emerson suspected the woman was an incredibly good lawyer.

  “He controlled the snake in some way.”

  “Until it looked like he couldn’t control it any longer,” Drake added. “The snake was after Emerson. I don’t think he’d purposely meant to hurt her, which is why I assume her brother lost whatever measure of control he had over it.”

  “So then it attacked?” Grey pressed them.

  “It was aiming for me, but Drake leaped in front of it like some freaking Secret Service Agent.”

  “That’s a rather romantic gesture.” Finley’s gaze jumped from Drake to Grey. “You’re quite a bunch of men.”

  “It’s not romantic. It’s—” Emerson stopped herself as Drake’s attention washed over her, his interest in her answer palpable. Why was her first reaction always to fight?

  “Okay. It is sweet,” she conceded, “even if it’s the height of stupidity to throw yourself in front of an eight-foot coiled snake.”

  “Has your brother ever owned snakes?”

  Emerson was surprised how Finley’s cool reasoning and pointed questions calmed her and helped her think. And each question managed to focus more on what she’d seen back at her own home. “No, never. In fact, he never had that reptile interest a lot of boys go through. He was more of a dog lover, a let’s-go-out-in-the-backyard-and-play-ball sort of boy.”

  “A regular Boy Scout,” Drake muttered as he stood, polishing off his second banana. She marveled at his iron-willed strength as he crossed to the Sub-Zero refrigerator. No one would have ever known the man had had venom coursing through his body fifteen minutes before. “Anyone want a beer?”

  Emerson gave an absentminded yes as she watched the play of muscles across his broad back. The material of his T-shirt had ripped in long strips where the snake had attacked, and the tanned skin underneath fascinated her as he reached into the fridge for the beers.

  As he leaned forward, she saw a gap in the material of his shirt and caught sight of the ink that rode high on his shoulder.

  With a rush of awareness, the abstract thoughts she had about her brother solidified and the missing connection between his tattoo and the snake she couldn’t quite place came together.

  The snake tattoo on his shoulders had writhed in matched motion with the live one on the floor.

  Magnus fell to the floor in Eris’s living room with a heavy thud. He still hadn’t figured out this damn porting thing and he sucked ass at it.

  He hated being terrible at anything. Which really was a fucking joke since, other than the cold-blooded killer gig, he sucked at everything.

  Including playing at Warrior.

  What the hell had he been thinking, letting the snake out in his grandmother’s home? With his sister just down the hall?

  But the power.

  All that coiled power that lived just under his skin. It called to him, taunting him to play with it. Even now, he felt it writhing across his shoulders, begging to be le
t free.

  Struggling to his feet, he cursed himself a million times over for the lunacy of his actions. But damn if he’d figured out a way to control himself yet.

  To control it yet.

  Eris had explained the snake lived in his aura—whatever the hell that meant. All he knew was that he suddenly had a tattoo that writhed and moved and wanted out.

  It was like puberty all over again, except instead of a dick that got hard, all he wanted to do was play with the immortal power Eris had bestowed on his body. And like the dick he’d had no clue what to do with when he was thirteen, he was pretty much equally in the dark now.

  Eris materialized in the room, a supremely self-satisfied smile covering her face until she caught sight of him. The smile vanished in an instant and her voice was hard when she spoke. “I gave you a very simple set of directions to follow.”

  He knew where the smile had come from, but opted to keep his own counsel on that one. It was a juicy tidbit that would come in handy sooner or later. “The mobsters you wanted dead have been taken care of. Besides, I needed to come here. I needed to get away from my sister.”

  Eris nodded as she tossed her purse on the couch. “Does she suspect something?”

  You mean when I set a huge snake loose on her and her boyfriend? Keeping his own counsel on that little tidbit as well, he simply opted for, “She’s highly intuitive.”

  Whatever smug bemusement Eris had arrived with was gone by the dark look in her narrowed eyes. “Yes, but does she know?”

  “No.” The response came out quickly, but even as he thought it through Magnus acknowledged Emerson didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

  He had no doubt his sister suspected something was going on with him, but she could guess for a million years and she’d never figure out what had happened to him.

  Would never guess the power of the choice he’d made.

  Or what he’d abandoned to possess it.

  “She’s quite a powerful woman, from what I understand. And a witch to be reckoned with. You’re absolutely sure?” Eris probed once more.