Dark Elements: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 8 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by LJ Swallow

  As Sam stands at the bar, two other men I recognise from my Friday nights here join him. A conversation starts, delaying Sam’s return, and my neck prickles as they glance over at me. Prize.

  Now I’m paranoid.

  Ty’s close to them and stares into his glass as the low conversation continues beside him. Eventually Sam returns with two drinks.

  “They not joining us?” I ask.

  “Nah. Not tonight.”

  I look over. No friends. No Ty.

  My options just narrowed down.

  “Do you know that guy who was at the bar?” asks Sam.

  “No, I met him tonight. We talked, that's all.”

  “I’m probably stepping on his toes chatting with you. The Enclave guys looking for a bit of rough come down here a lot. Sector girls who dress the way you are now send a signal. The guys prefer them clean and smelling nice.” He laughs. “Like you.”

  “He knows I'm a Scion.”

  “Ah. Okay.” Sam swigs from his bottle and then chews his lip, studying my face. “Do you have to go home soon?”

  “Why?”

  “We’re having a party—a few of the gang. Wanna come?”

  A party the polar opposite of the one I ran from tonight. “I don’t think I’m quite dressed for your kind of parties.”

  “You look gorgeous, I told you. C’mon…” Sam wraps a too friendly arm around my shoulders. “Maybe someone there can help you out with finding somewhere to stay when you leave.”

  Tempting. “Um. Maybe.”

  He shifts closer and whispers in my ear, hand settling on my waist. “I won’t tell anybody you’re a Scion.”

  His signals are less subtle than Ty’s earlier on, but also less arousing. Because I’m nervous? Or because Ty is the one I want attention from?

  “Ah, what the hell,” I say, letting alcohol make the decision for me. “I’ll just use the bathrooms before I go.”

  “Sure! I’ll wait for you here.”

  I don't reach the bathrooms. Somebody roughly grabs my arm and drags me to one side, into a quiet corner between the bar and hotel lobby.

  2

  “Don't be so fucking stupid!” I twist my arm away. Ty's furious eyes bore into me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Talking to a friend.”

  “A friend, huh?” Ty crosses his arms. “So you found someone you want to fuck?”

  I cringe at the word. “Why is it your business?” I snap.

  “Because if you stay here alone you will get hurt, and that's not happening. I've booked you a room. You'll be safe there until you sober up and realise how stupid you’re being.”

  Stupid? “I don't need you to book me a room. I'm leaving.” I make to walk away, and he curls his fingers tighter around me. “Let go of my arm.”

  “You're making a huge mistake.”

  “I'm not going to hide in a room.”

  “You're not staying here to be raped and murdered.” His hand closes around my wrist and over the Scion mark, and I tense. His reddened knuckles contrast with his pale hands. Has he hit somebody?

  “What makes you think I’ll be raped and murdered? That’s a bit over the top. I’m going to a party with friends.”

  The blue eyes scrutinise mine again, and I glimpse a strange earnestness in them. “Trust me, Cora. I’m helping”

  I pull my wrist away. “I need to do this. I need to get away. You don't understand what I'm facing. My family descend from the original families, and I'm bred for this. My parents are willing to sacrifice their daughter to maintain the status quo. That life will kill me!”

  “I suspect you're stronger than that.”

  I gesture at myself. “What if the Regent chooses me? Then I will be dead within a year. How many Scions die when pregnant with a Regent's baby? The last Regent took three wives before one bore him a child.”

  Ty's face shifts to concern. He has no answer. There is none. Few humans survive a pregnancy with a Regent's baby. Humans intermarry with lesser witches and have no issues, but something about the ruling Hyland family’s blood is different. A poison. If the Scion survives, the Regent baby weakens her for a short, painful life. She no longer has the strength or ability to do or be anything but a trophy on the Regents arm as others take care of the child.

  If she's lucky—or unlucky—she can produce more children. That's rare, but the last Regent Queen bore two sons for the Regent to choose between. Many don't agree with the outgoing Regent's choice of heir. He passed over the older brother for the younger and broke a lineage rule nobody dares challenge.

  “This is why you want to leave?”

  “No, I want to leave because I don’t fit. I don’t want to fit. It’s okay for you. You can do what you want. You don’t have the Scion label stapled to your forehead.”

  He laughs. “You mean stamped on your wrist. And you’re wrong.”

  I fight a smile. “Whatever. Wrong about what?”

  He reaches out and touches my cheek, the gesture taking me by surprise. His fingertips are soft, the touch feather light, but his look is heavy. “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  “I'm leaving with Sam,” I say softly and curl my fingers around Ty’s to move them from my face. Mistake. I should never have touched the man, because now I don’t want to let go.

  “No, you're not. You didn’t hear what he said to his other friends. I did.”

  “And what was that?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “And you’re staying with me.”

  Ty slides an arm around my waist, hand firm in the small of my back. Ordinarily, I'd slap away the fingers holding me immobile and telling me what to do, but not this time. My sixth sense tells me Ty isn’t lying. Seconds pass, counting down to a decision he's waiting for: him or Sam. One my body makes for me. His leg touched mine when he took hold of me, and the lingering contact disarms my usual alert system.

  Is it the mystery over who he is? Or his insistence he wants to protect me delving into a deeper need I deny? No. This man is hot as hell and knows the effect he has on me from the first time we spoke.

  I reach out to touch his face and run a finger across his stubbled cheek, towards his lips. Ty's eyes darken and he seizes my hand, pulling it from his face and kissing my fingertips.

  Holy crap. The simple touch runs through my arms and delves deep, deep down to the primal part I deny, dragged out in an instant. Ty drops his hand and yanks me closer, mouth brushing my cheek as he settles his lips against my ear.

  “Stop looking at me like you want to devour me,” he whispers.

  “I am not!”

  “I'm going to kiss you.”

  And just like that, he does. Out of the blue. Sudden. No tentative mouth touching, no permission waited for. I've no doubt this man takes what he wants, when he wants. Men like him piss me off, but him... he could do anything, and I doubt I'd stop him, because if he didn’t, I suspect I would.

  So I'm surprised when his kiss gently teases, gauging my response as his mouth moves softly against mine. Not what I want. I push my lips against his, a sudden desperation for his attention taking over. I don't care who he is, or his intentions because mine aren't good either. His lips are firm and warm, softer than I imagined. When he runs his tongue along my bottom lip, the tingle spreads across my face and I'm gone.

  I wrap my arm around Ty's neck, steadying myself, and kiss him back. He doesn't need any more indication, and his hand slides into my hair, holding my face tightly to his. He delves his tongue into my mouth, snatching my breath. The taste of him bursts across my lips and buries inside, firing heat and need; his subtle scent imprinting on me.

  Pressed to him, my body shakes in anticipation of his touch, his skilful kiss spiralling me further away from the evening and into an unknown future. I’ve never been kissed like this. I never knew it was possible for my body to fill with desire from just a kiss.

  I slide my tongue to meet Ty's, and a
s the intensity of our kiss grows, he makes a low sound in his throat. Ty stops and pulls his mouth away; his breath comes in warm bursts against my face.

  “I told you, you should stay,” he says, voice thick with desire matching mine.

  “In the room you conveniently booked?”

  He circles a finger in the small of my back, as arousing as his kiss, his body firmly against mine. “Or I could take you home?”

  Ty slams the door behind us, hands immediately on my face, holding, devouring, greedy. I drag my hands beneath his shirt, across the hard abs beneath. In response, he presses himself harder against me. Wet heat floods to my core as his hard arousal pushes against me.

  He ruches my skirt and grabs my ass, fingers slipping beneath the edge of my panties, against my ass, and I ache for him to move them. I grasp his shoulders as he lifts me and wrap my legs around his waist. The movement brushes him against my clit and I groan, tightening my legs.

  He holds me easily with one arm around my waist, as if I weigh nothing to him, and reaches behind me. Ty yanks the zip and slides his hand along the exposed skin.

  We land on the bed, Ty's weight pressing me into the soft sheets. Kneeling back, Ty slips my dress from my shoulders and pulls the smooth material to my waist. I look up into his sparkling eyes, the heat growing beneath his gaze. With one hand, he grabs his shirt and drags it over his head. The powerful shoulder muscles flex as he does, and I sit, dig my fingers into his arms, and attempt to drag him onto me.

  Ty sits back and drags both hands through his hair as he stares down at my breasts swelling beneath the thin lace bra. The perfect physique beneath this man's shirt draws more breath from me. He's lean, ripped, and holy hell, if I had bad thoughts about this man before, they're downright disgusting now.

  “Fuck,” he growls and stands, hands still in his hair.

  I prop myself on my elbows, confusion setting in. “Okay?”

  “Fuck!” Ty turns away from me and my shaking arousal pushes at me to do something, not stop.

  I stand and run my hands along his back, along the knotted muscles in his shoulders. At the same time, my dress drops to the floor. I smooth fingers down the chest I'm desperate to have pressed against mine, my arms barely circling his waist as I seek out the button on his jeans.

  Ty grabs my fingers. “I should go.”

  My head screams what the fuck? but I rein it in. “Go?”

  Disentangling himself from my hands, he turns and rakes his gaze along the length of my body, mouthing fuck to himself again. His Adam's apple moves as he swallows hard.

  “Why go?” I ask. Please take the rest of your clothes off. “You can't want to.” I press myself against him and tug his face to mine by his unruly hair.

  In seconds, I'm back on the bed, Ty dragging me onto his lap, kissing me as if he never wants to stop. I wait for him to unhook my bra, to touch me, but his grip remains firmly on my waist.

  He stops again and buries his face in my chest, my heart thudding against his rough cheek as he places his mouth on the soft swell.

  “If I do anything else, this will cause so much fucking trouble I don't need.”

  I hold Ty against me, shifting in an attempt to move his mouth closer but he pulls away.

  “Cora, you're a Scion.”

  “I don't care,” I whisper, “I won't tell anybody.”

  Ty breathes out a laugh. “If only the world was that easy.”

  “Stay,” I whisper and attempt to kiss him again.

  Ty swears under his breath and his mouth meets mine with a new ferocity. I curl my fingers into his short hair and press myself into him, not wanting this over any time soon. My frustration mounts when Ty moves my hands and grips them in one of his.

  Something hits as hard as the passion. He doesn't want this? But his lips tell me a different story. Lips he takes off mine.

  Cupping my chin with his rough fingers, Ty rubs my cheek with his thumb. “Look at me,” he whispers.

  I meet his eyes as he drops my hands and moves his fingers beneath my hair and to the nape of my neck. The prickling sensation turns into something else as he continues to trace a pattern, a repetition of movement. I part my lips, aching for more I know isn't coming when he closes his eyes, hiding his reflected need for more.

  Ty's grip tightens, and a wooziness from more than our passion takes over. His touch on my neck takes on a pattern and a hypnotic sensation joins it.

  Magic.

  I look back, wide-eyed through the growing haze. “Why?”

  I grasp at him to stay upright. My head lolls back and he removes his hand, catching me under both arms. Ty sighs and gently places me backwards into the sheets.

  If I could cry and scream I would, but not at Ty, at myself for falling into a trap. Witches from the Enclave play games with humans, abuse their power, and I've heard whispers of things like this. I'm a Scion and the ultimate prize for him.

  And there is nothing I can do.

  3

  My dry mouth joins a pounding headache, and I refuse to open my eyes, drifting in and out of sleep. Covered in thick blankets, the soft bed moulds my aching body.

  The night's events catch up and I startle awake.

  Hotel room.

  Ty.

  Magic.

  I freak out, running hands over my clothes, but they're intact. My muscles ache, but there's no soreness between my legs. Why would he bother to dress me again anyway? Or leave me here? Whoa. I rub my head and shame spikes my stomach; maybe he did save me from myself.

  I stagger out of bed and open the blackout curtains. The sun sits high above the dilapidated tower blocks in the near streets. Early afternoon? Shit.

  The hotel room window looks out across parts of the city I never see. The Old Town area in the sector is partially demolished, a no-go area where the lowest caste live; drudges whose lack of intelligence leaves them herded into menial jobs. The place is well policed and any trouble is soon quashed. Would the enforcers have found me before or after someone attacked me last night? I swallow down the sick feeling. Did Ty save my life?

  Hundreds of years ago, the world shattered. Creatures they never knew existed, ravagers, rose up and decimated the human population. Humans alone weren't powerful enough to keep the merciless, inhuman creatures from slaying us, and the witches revealed themselves with a promise to help. Now we hide behind walls, the powerful witch magic keeping us safe from the danger nobody could control. I've heard we're not the only sector created, but contact was lost with anyone outside at the beginning.

  The aristocratic humans living in this part of the old world surrendered their rights and handed over their power to witches. In return, the witches surrounded us with magic strong enough to ward against the death waiting beyond the walls.

  I gaze at the purple glow of the tall, magical barrier protecting the sector. Behind, the darkness spreads into the emptiness where there are never signs of life. Where evil and death wait.

  Nobody came looking for me after my disappearance last night, yet I still failed in my mission thanks to a man who decided to recuse me from myself, then left his scent on my body and a desire to find him. The enormous self-control he exercised must be for one hell of a reason.

  When I find Ty, I'll confront him. He won't get away with treating me like this. Even if things could've been much worse.

  I chew my nails. What now?

  My bag.

  Shit.

  The blue handbag rests in the corner of the room, zipped, where I dumped it last night. My hands tremble as I open the bag. Purse and keys... no book.

  Fuck. I tip the bag upside down and scrabble through the contents. My small, black pocketbook never leaves my bag unless I'm writing in, or attempting to learn, the spells I copy from any book I can lay my hands on. Scrunched up tissues, pens... No book.

  I sit back on my heels and clutch the empty bag, sickness filling my body. Please, please let the book have fallen out in the bar. I'm not supposed to know any spells, let alone
try to use them. Don't let a witch be the one who has it. My panicked brain turns over thoughts and excuses. There's no proof the book is mine, Ty won't want people to know he was here and the reason I'm not home—surely?

  Three rules written into the Accords count as treason, and one is humans attempting to learn magic. But I need to learn magic. This is my Plan B—if I'm forced into marrying a witch, I want to protect myself from any magic that could be used to control me.

  One way or another, my life will remain my own.

  “Where the hell have you been, Cora?”

  The minute I step over the threshold of my house, the yelling that's ever present in my life starts.

  With her raven black hair pulled onto her head into a tight bun, my mother's skin stretches further along her cheekbones. She chases a youth she lost years ago rather than accept age with grace. Recently, she's spread the battle against the ageing process to her body too; her slender, bordering on emaciated, frame accentuated further by the scarlet red dress hugging her figure.

  No sneaking past for me, then.

  My mother grabs me by both shoulders and shakes me until my teeth ache. Then she steps back and examines my clothes with narrowed eyes. The same clothes I was supposed to wear to last night's Gathering. “What happened to you last night?”

  “Nothing. I panicked. Went to a bar.”

  “A bar?” I wish my mother would lose the high-pitched tone. “Where?”

  “In the sector,” I mumble and adjust my strap.

  The grip on my shoulders tightens. “Look at the state of your clothes and hair. I know you were out all night, but if you let one of those vile people touch you...”

  I drop my gaze to the floor, accidentally insinuating guilt.

  “Cora! Have you... with a sector dweller? Again? Please, Cora, say no.”

  “No, I did not,” I half spit as I look up. “Happy?”

  “No! We are not happy! Yesterday was a celebration and you ruined everything.”

  “I only missed the first Gathering. I wasn't the only person in the Enclave who did.”