by Billi Jean
He nearly hauled Beauty out of the shop.
“This is a great place, can we look around?” Beauty tilted her head and waited for the older witch’s answer.
“Sure, why not, lovey? Just call if you need anything and keep that male on a leash, will you? All that testosterone in one dose might upset the balance in here.”
Beauty nodded, smiling at her, then shot him a dark look to get him moving forward into the shop. He barely had enough space to move, let alone walk around. The place was a disaster. Towers of bright jars, piles of multi-hued fabric, dried herbs, flowers, ropes of some grass, and even a few dried, and he hoped, stuffed animals littered the crooked shelves. Candles, silver jars, cups, saucers, pots, cauldrons, pans, teas in all kinds of tins, jars, and boxes cluttered available space. He jerked Beauty back from a live lizard on a half tree trunk and she oh’ed at it like it was a cute baby. Shit, the thing looked like a Komodo dragon.
“This is great. Get one of those baskets and stop frowning.”
He frowned harder, tempted to pull her out of the store because who the hell knew when the place would tumble down. Even walking had hazards. “You call this great? It’s a—”
“Torque, get the basket.” She cast him a fierce glare then patted his ass. “Please?”
“Fine, but are you even sure any of this is still good?” he asked, sceptical anything in this mess could still be worth using.
“It’s good. Everything is guaranteed potent,” the witch called and laughed. “Sorry, but you don’t talk softly, big guy.” She came around the corner revealing a set of pearly whites with her big purple lipstick grin. “But why not tell me what spell you’re up to and I might be able to help.”
Beauty looked uncomfortable for a moment, then raised a delicate shoulder in a shrug. “I’m browsing, hoping something will come to me for healing. Maybe a wound that won’t heal?”
The witch cast him an interested look, then gazed at Beauty with her deep blue eyes. “For you or the boy toy?”
Boy toy? Damn witch. He glowered at her.
“Umm, not me, but really, I like to make things. Maybe if I look around something will come to me,” Beauty hedged and the witch focused on her. If she watched her any longer, Torque was gonna have to do some damage.
Beauty didn’t miss a beat. She dug her sharp nails into his wrist and told the nosey witch, “I think about the ingredients and sometimes it all works out.”
The older witch blinked, clearly startled. “You don’t have your spell ready? Your list?”
Beauty shifted her feet and glanced around. He stepped forward but she hit him in the stomach with her hand and hurried on to say, “No, but I’ll know when I see it.”
His phone interrupted the rest of their conversation. Jaxon. Damn the male, what now?
“Yeah.”
“Hey to you too. Do you have a sec?”
“Well, I answered.”
“I thought you might want to bring Beauty—”
“You’ll run the meeting or Sorcha. We need a day off. Aeros knows what’s up and besides, we’re shopping anyway and I promised her dinner.” Did he sound like a sap? Most likely, he realised when Jaxon grumbled something about being whipped.
“Just thought I’d ask. Things are brewing. Ah, yeah, so anyway, you’re good. I’ll fill you in, if need be.”
Jaxon sounded off his game. Shit. “What’s—?”
“No worries, I’ll catch ya on the flip side, my man.”
Torque contemplated his phone after Jaxon clicked off, looking up to see Beauty chattering away with the other witch, the two of them going through some odd-looking brown roots. Beauty glanced over and smiled warmly, her green eyes snapping with happiness.
Jaxon was holding back. Not a good sign. Maybe he’d bonded the human girl. Should he ask? Demand to see the human? If she was still a human?
He shrugged his unease over Jaxon’s life aside. Now he had to worry over the meeting. He knew they’d be back in the thick of things soon enough. What had Beauty said, a break before the storm. He wondered if she knew how true that was.
His mind went blank and he zeroed in on her removing her jacket, revealing that too-thin silk top and her dazzling ass in those jeans. Had that rip got closer? She jumped up on a stool, put one cute boot under her, and leaned over the counter.
He pocketed his phone and was behind Beauty in less than two seconds. Deep in her conversation with the other witch, she barely noticed him.
“And if you think this will aid…” the witch was asking, holding up some kind of leafy thing.
“No, no, not that.” Beauty shook her head, but pointed to the shelf behind the witch. “What of those two and then some of that blue powder over there?”
“Is any of this explosive?” he asked when the witch went to fetch Beauty’s things. He pulled her back down off the counter with a heavy hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “And why did you take that jacket off?”
“Because I’m hot,” she challenged, meaning it both ways.
He couldn’t argue with that so he grumbled a bit at her to not lean over the counter.
“You’re so cute. Go get us a drink. I need an espresso. “
He arched a brow at that. They’d loved most of the day, but still. “You need one, eh?”
“Yes, you kept me from my nap…” She kissed him softly, running a hand through his hair and using those damned nails on his scalp. Damn, it felt so good his dick hardened painfully under his loose jeans. “Maybe we can go on a carriage ride? Or movie before dinner? Ohhhh.” She made a soft happy sound and her eyes rounded out. “We could go eat dinner at that private place I showed you on the Internet. They have a private room.” She lowered her voice at the end, and shifted her hand off his chest to run over his arousal. “And you could be dessert instead of me for a change.”
She was sneaky. He knew exactly what she was doing, trying to take his mind off that rip in her jeans. If she thought his dick ripping free from his jeans would solve their problems she was wrong. He’d take her home so quick—
“But first, espresso, please. A double and one of those fizzy waters.”
“Beauty, we’ll both go get the coffee and water.” He wasn’t going to—
“Torque, it’s across the street, babe. Now, be nice and try it for me. Just once.”
He knew she meant leaving her for the time it took to get the coffee but his heart beat like crazy. His arousal waned and he sighed. Leaving her at the compound was one thing, here? Another thing altogether.
“Please, just try it. I will stand by the window and watch you.”
Well, fuck, he wasn’t a baby. But he did love her saying it like that, cooing it at him. He was a sap. Officially.
“No, you stay here, sit down though.” He wanted the jacket back on but stopped when she raised an eyebrow at him. “And I’ll get our coffees. Are you hungry, too?” He made himself ask. He really didn’t want to go. Maybe if he kept her talking…
Her eyes sparkled up at him. Busted.
She sent him a little warm mental caress and said, “No, babe. Just the espresso.”
“Just the espresso and water.”
She growled at him, then shocked him by pulling him down by his hair, and kissed him so long and hard he forgot the shop, the crazy witch that owned it, and his fear of leaving her. He forgot what century he was in.
“I love you.” She lingered over his mouth long enough to make him groan in frustration. His jeans were too tight again. Sending him an image of her jeans slinking down her bottom she wiggled it against his hand and smiled.
“I want that bottom bent over the desk, sweetheart,” he warned, showing her a few images of her plump ass exposed with her jeans shoved to below those wonderful ass cheeks. And him kissing every inch of it after he warmed each side with his hand.
“Ohhh. I like that. Now, quit stalling and get my drink.”
“Damn. Stay here,” he added just because he needed to say it. This was harder
than leaving for a Death Stalker hunt. He’d rather do that than go across the damned street and leave her. She was giving him a look that promised the couch and she sent him an image of the floor with no blankets.
He stalked away, glad his leather jacket hung down long enough to hide not only his weapons, but his aching dick. The woman wanted espresso at three in the afternoon.
A soft feathery touch traced over his face and he sent her a quick swat to her bottom when he glanced back and saw her kneeling over the counter again. She had the nerve to glance over her bare shoulder and wiggle that ass for him with a grin.
He was in so deep. Still, he sent a firm plea to sit the hell down and surprisingly she did. She also blew him a kiss before turning back to the other witch. Damn it, he could do this.
Beauty watched Torque practically race across the street, almost getting hit by a car twice. He glanced back at least five times before ducking his tall frame past the doorway and into the coffee shop.
“That is one bonded male you have there, sweetness.”
The woman was kind, warm, and fuzzy really. Under all that makeup and layers of purple cloth, she had a gentle soul.
“Yes, you could say that.” She sighed happily and sent him a mental kiss to his jaw. He sent her a weary sigh, as if the shopkeeper in the coffee shop was not moving fast enough. Poor man. And not her mate. Espresso only brewed so fast. Thank the gods, she hadn’t ordered a cappuccino. Danu only knew what Torque would do to the guy if he had to wait for the milk to steam.
“He has a scar that won’t heal?” the witch asked, drawing her attention off her miserable man.
She considered the other woman for a long while before slowly nodding.
“Ah, well, that is a tricky thing. It might have poison in it or it might be spelled. Or it might be a wound from a Death Stalker’s blade.” She drummed her nails on the countertop louder, then suddenly snapped her fingers, startling them both by the look of the woman’s face.
“What?”
“You can do a seeing. He’s your mate. You should be able to see if it’s a spell or a poison.” She smiled as if that was that.
Well, shit, as her mate loved to say. Now what? Confess she didn’t remember spells, only knew somehow what went with what when she saw the ingredients and knew what she wanted? That would be a pleasant conversation.
“Or perhaps you didn’t learn that spell yet? It’s harmless. Mostly.” Blinking, the woman nodded, firming her bright lips. “Here, sweet, follow Ol’ Maude. You’ve not gone to the book section yet.”
Book section? As in spell books? Now why didn’t she think of that? Torque had piles of books. But would he have healing books? She somehow doubted it. She jumped down and managed to follow the other witch without toppling anything over. It was truly amazing the balancing act going on with all her stuff. And how she got everything to stack up like she did was amazing. Nothing short of a miracle. If the ground so much as shook with a truck passing it would take days to put everything back together.
“Ah! Here we are…spells…spells…spells…ah!” With another snap, Ol’ Maude waved her hand and a big thick tome floated down from under a huge stack of books. Dust flew around in the sunlight, gleaming in the shop window as the book slowly lowered to the witch’s waiting arms.
Well that explained how she got things from up top and probably how she stacked them too.
“Here we go, sweet, just let me see… “Trailing off, she thumbed through the book and mumbled a bit before grinning up at her. “Here we go. It’s all very simple.”
Beauty took the book gingerly, more than a bit overwhelmed by the older woman. The book looked old, yellowed even and smelt musty but the flowing script on the page was clear enough.
“Thank you. And this has what? The spell to see a wound? What else does it have?”
“Bits and pieces, really, a healing witch wrote it, Belinda. Did you ever study her?”
When Beauty shook her head, the witch tutted at her. “What a shame. What are they thinking…”
Suddenly Beauty felt something, like fingers down a chalkboard, only her back was the chalkboard. The shop dimmed from her vision and in its place she saw something, dark, evil, staring at her. She jumped back and knocked down a tower of books, spun and sent a mental call to Torque.
Through their bond she felt him drop something hot on his hand, coffee, then he too dimmed and all she knew was that Death Stalkers were on their way.
How? How did she know that?
Chapter Seventeen
Next to her in the shop, Beauty became aware that the witch still stared at her, had possibly even said something. Only now the witch’s eyes became unfocused and a slow hiss escaped her clenched teeth. “Where’s that male of yours, sweeting?”
Beauty swallowed, feeling a shifting in the air. A sense of great unease.
“Torque, come to me, now.”
“Don’t move, Beauty. Don’t fucking move. I’m there.”
The witch murmured something but Beauty couldn’t catch it. Her head pounded and something like a shiver, but more like a shudder rippled up her spine. Pain was on the horizon. Horrible, sickening pain. Through numb lips she managed to say, “Don’t. My mate is coming—”
The door crashed open. Torque was by her side and had her behind him in a blink.
“I set my wards, warlock, no need to worry.”
Torque tensed. The breath knocked out of her on a gasp when she felt something. A deep touch. Quickly, she shut the pain down. If Torque sensed pain from her, he’d lose it. He suddenly stepped away from her and drew an enormous sword.
“Stay,” he ordered in a voice she’d never heard him use before.
“Absolutely not.”
All hell broke loose. The witch beside her went flying through three bookshelves and a few dozen piles of her things to land in a silent heap twenty feet away. The shop erupted in what felt like a whirlwind, but instead of a funnel cloud, a figure dressed completely in black, even cloaked and face concealed under black, stood in the middle of the storm. None of the flying debris hit him. And none hit them.
Torque glanced down at her once and squeezed her arm. “Drop the book and shift out of here. Go home. Directly home.”
“No. Not without you. No. I won’t.”
“Beauty, do it!” he shouted at her above the sound of the storm, his grey eyes silvered out with rage.
“No, Torque. I will not. You come too or I’m staying,” she told him calmly. She was keeping the flying shop of horrors from hitting them. They both knew it. If she left—she blinked. She had no idea what Torque could or couldn’t do. And now was not the time to find out. She tightened her hand on him and shook her head at his angry expression.
“Torque.”
He was seething. Under her palm, he was tense, hard, and nearly rippling with the need to do damage.
The figure raised his hands and five more of what looked like him appeared in the shop, all of them with swords out and ready. The feeling of unease grew to a sickening assault on her senses. She needed them gone. Now.
“Now, Torque!”
Torque was shaking and not from fear. He was livid. And some of his anger focused directly on her.
Well, then. She took things into her own hands.
She dug her nails into his biceps and she shifted them out, but not to their home. She took them to the other side of Paris where she’d read about a private restaurant, then immediately to a bookshop in London she’d wanted to go to. As soon as the room became visible, she shifted again, this time to Alaska hoping to ease Torque’s temper, but the humid, mosquito-filled summer air only made him try to break her hold. Desperate now, she shifted to a football field in Scotland.
As soon as they felt firm ground, she let him go. The moonlit field was deserted. She still moved away from him, giving him space. He was raging mad. At her, at the Death Stalkers threatening them, and most assuredly, at the mage.
“What the hell?” he roared, coming after her.
His face was so full of fury she felt certain he was going to blow. His silver eyes flashed down at her, his handsome face was a mask of flushed masculine rage.
Not about to let him yell at her, she held her ground. “You need to calm down. Tell me—”
“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down!” he shouted, so angry he took a menacing step towards her. He went to grab her jacket and she stepped back and knocked his hand aside.
“Torque, stop it!”
“Don’t you ever do something that stupid again. Don’t you ever—”
“Stop yelling at me!”
“I wouldn’t be yelling at you if I was killing Death Stalkers—”
He broke off in mid-rant and stormed away from her, stalking to the other side of the huge arena. She turned and walked in the opposite direction and took a seat in the stadium. Things were a mess. He was angry, she got that, but part of her felt as if he thought she was weak. Again.
Tears filled her eyes. Maybe he was right because she’d known two things at that shop of horrors. Torque would die before letting her get hurt. And she’d not survive his death. He was strong. So strong, she had to fight just to feel her own power when he was near her. He was including her now, but she still felt as if any misstep would prove she wasn’t strong enough. But she knew, absolutely knew, he couldn’t have won against those men. Somehow, she’d sensed the Death Stalkers before they’d touched down in the shop. The witch had too, so had Torque, but did they also sense a connection? A means to find—her eyes widened. A means to find her?
Was that possible?
If it was, why hadn’t they come to her before? Why would they want her?
Her head hurt. The pain making this all the more miserable. She wanted Torque, his warmth holding her tight so she could think this through. If the Death Stalkers could somehow trace her, then wouldn’t they have come to the lodge?
The barrier she’d hit. The protection spells.
The Immortal Council would use the same. What had Torque said? They would frown on an unknown witch shifting in…but maybe that meant no one could shift in, or maybe the compound had its own protections.
