Savagery & Skills: Books 1-4

by Ciara Graves

  The crystal ball fell from my fingers, cracking against a stone on the ground.

  The fog inside rose and with it came a scream that did not sound like the witch’s.

  It struck me deep to my core, and I staggered away from it.

  I had the strangest urge to protect the woman who had screamed, but who the hell was she?

  The sound died away, and I walked through the forest, heading back down the mountain. When I had cell service again, I called Shane.

  “You coming back soon?” he asked. “Lacy’s chomping at the bit here to go track you down.”

  “I got what I needed. On my way back now. Any sign of Seneca yet?”

  “No, but I’ll keep looking.”

  “Good, because we need her. I think we just found ourselves an unwilling ally.”

  “How are you going to get her to talk to you without killing you?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? I wondered the same, until I remembered the human girl she protected that night. Lexi. She’d called her Lexi.

  “I need you to go to Madwich. Track down a girl named Lexi. We’ll need her.”

  “I’ll find her. And the witch?”

  A crash sounded in the distance as the shack collapsed from the flames

  “What witch?” I hung up and blurred away into the night.

  Chapter 7

  Seneca

  I flipped the lights on inside the cottage and went straight for the fridge and a bottle of wine.

  The week had finally come to an end, and after an hour of saying goodbye to Owen’s family, we were finally able to get out of there and get home.

  All week long, I had to sneak away to check in with Minnie to see if there’d been any more news on Draven. Though I was annoyed at her for her lack of helpful answers that day in the café, she was my eyes, so to speak, when I wasn’t in Madwich.

  Aside from Lexi being out on her own again, there was nothing to report. No sign of Draven, or any other vampires in town, for that matter. It nagged at me. He was not the type of vampire to nearly be killed and leave it alone. We had unfinished business. He was waiting for me to be seen and since I’d been gone for a week—

  “That went well, don’t you think?” Owen said, cutting through my thoughts. “Seneca?”

  “Yeah, no, it was completely relaxing. I had a great time,” I rambled, pouring a large glass of red wine. “You have a great family. They’re all really nice.”

  “If you had such a great time, why are you chugging that glass of wine?”

  “I’m not,” I said in between large gulps. “Just ready to get back to normal, is all.”

  “Normal, as in, your risking your life again?” He rested his hands against the counter opposite me, watching me.

  “Something like that.”

  He hung his head, like I’d disappointed him, and I set my glass down so hard I was surprised it remained in one piece.

  The sound startled him, and he frowned. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “No, but you want to. So, go ahead, let it all out.”

  “Stop it,” he said.

  I poured more wine into my glass and waved for him to spit it out.

  “I don’t understand why you’re acting like it was a terrible week. My family likes you a lot. Mom kept asking when we were going to be back, so you could spend some time with her and my sisters. They want you to be a part of the family, as do I.”

  His words reverberated a panic in me, and I emptied my wine glass. Be a part of the family, as in becoming a part of the family by marriage. That was nowhere in the cards for me, especially right now, with Draven out there dogging my steps and Minnie’s warning about danger on the horizon. Or the fact that Macron appeared to be alive, after all.

  “Why do you look like I told you your dog died instead of that I want you to be a part of something amazing?” he asked quietly, hurt. That’s all I’d been doing to him lately, hurting him.

  “Owen… I…” I grunted in annoyance and my inability to speak the truth. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Do this. Keep pretending that everything is right in the world,” I blurted. “Being with your family, seeing how happy they are together. And how happy you are… you won’t get that with me. I didn’t belong there.”

  “They wanted you there,” he argued.

  “They did, but I was about ready to tear my hair out,” I admitted, hating how the words were tumbling out of my mouth so carelessly. “I never grew up with anyone but my parents, and then I lost them, and there was no more happy family life for me. No more family at all. I see what you want me to be and it kills me because I can’t be that for you.”

  He swallowed hard, moving around the counter. He reached for my hands, but I drew back, confused by my emotions as much as he was.

  “If you would let yourself enjoy life instead of fighting it every time something good happens—”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “Then what is it? Tell me, please, because right now, I don’t see the problem.”

  “Because you don’t want to. You want to pretend that our lives can be perfect. That we can be like your parents and have a normal, white picket fence life.”

  “We can, if you would let it happen.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  My yell shocked us both. He started to speak then stopped, shaking his head at me.

  “I don’t,” I went on, quieter. “It’s not who I am. That kind of life is out of reach for me, and I’m okay with that, even if you aren’t.”

  “You talk as if you’re a terrible person who doesn’t deserve a good life,” he mumbled.

  “Maybe I am,” I said, and he scoffed. “I’ve killed people, Owen.”

  “As part of your job,” he argued.

  I stalked away, wishing more than anything, we did not have to have this argument right now.

  “You’re not a cold-hearted killer. You’re not a murderer.”

  “The hell I’m not.” I whirled around to find him right behind me. “I have killed more people than I’ve been paid to. And you know what? I feel nothing when I do it. Nothing! I’m numb to it. There’s no remorse, no guilt. Only emptiness and the annoyance that it wasn’t the one being in this world I want dead more than anyone else. I am just like Draven.”

  “No, you’re not.” He grabbed my shoulders as if he wanted to shake the madness out of me. “Do not compare yourself to that monster.”

  “Why not? We’re the same. At the end of the day, we’re exactly the same.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am.” I removed his hands, then backed away. “I thought I could do this,” I said, motioning to the cottage. “Have the home and the garden, the boyfriend who’s always there for me, but I’m broken.” I took a deep breath. “And there’s no fixing me.”

  “You don’t have to stay this way.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe I like how I am?”

  “There’s no chance you mean that.”

  I waited for his words to sink in and that I was overreacting. Except that moment never came. A long time ago I accepted who I’d become and there was no more going back to change myself. This was who I was. End of story. “I do. I’ve thought it all along, but I was too much of a coward to admit it to myself. And to you.”

  “I don’t believe you. This Draven business is dragging all your past fears out. That’s all this is.”

  “Owen,” I started.

  He held up his hand. “If you’re asking me to leave you,” he said slowly, “if that’s what this is, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you know for certain, that the life you’re living right now would be better without me in it.”

  “I never said it would be better,” I told him. “But I can’t do this to you.”

  “You’ve done nothing to me.”

  “The sleeplessness nights? The constant worrying? I drive you nuts most of the time,” I pressed on.
<
br />   “If I didn’t want to be with you, I would’ve left.”

  “You feel guilty, that’s all this is.” I tried to make him see.

  “Or worry that the second I walk out that door, you’re going to fall apart.”

  I hadn’t been angry at him yet, but those words aggravated me more than anything else he said so far. “You think I can’t take care of myself? You think you’re really the only reason I haven’t gone insane and wound up locked up in a mental hospital somewhere? Or fallen in with the same sort of crowd who hires me to kill people? Is that it?”

  “So what if it is?”

  “You think I’m helpless, that what, if you leave, I’ll get myself in trouble. That I’ll get killed?”

  “Look what happened the first time you were on your own,” he shot back. “You were kidnapped by the worst vampire on the continent— hell, in both worlds. And the second time you were turned. Not like you have the greatest track record in the world, Seneca.”

  I slapped him so hard my hand went numb, but I was furious at his words.

  He growled as he glared at me, but then his words seemed to click, and he cursed, trying to reach for me.

  I raised my hand to punch him this time, and he paused.

  “How dare you,” I seethed.

  “Sen, I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t care.” I turned on my heel and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

  I locked it, then leaned against it as I sank to the floor. His steps moved closer, and I sensed him right on the other side of the flimsy wood. I heard him sit on the floor, too, though he never said a word.

  All week long, I told myself I was going to give being content and happy a try. That I could be someone whose thoughts weren’t constantly wandering in the darkness. Who was not concerned if her daggers were sharp or not, because she didn’t need them. Each time his sisters laughed with me, I wanted to feel it, really feel it, in my gut. Wanting to feel it, and being able to, were two very different things. Rudarius tore the ability to feel from me all those years ago. Macron’s leaving only solidified it.

  When Owen came along, I was drawn to him because I thought he could help me feel again. Instead, I let myself be taken in by this fantastical life that could never exist for me.

  My chest ached to imagine him gone, but at the same time, how could I keep dragging him through the mud with me? I had no idea what was going on inside my head anymore. It was all so damned confusing. And all the wine did was make everything fuzzy.

  I sat on the floor until my ass hurt and my muscles cramped in protest. At some point, I thought I dozed off.

  I hadn’t heard Owen leave, but also didn’t hear him on the other side of the door. With a grunt, I got up and quietly opened the door.

  The cottage was dark, but as I stepped out into the hall, I tripped over a leg and went tumbling down into Owen’s lap.

  He held me close, and I let him, as he rested his forehead to mine.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, brow wrinkling. “I don’t want to change you, I just want you to be happy.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, too. But I need time, and there’s a chance this is all I can ever be. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You could never do that. You hear me?” His lips brushed mine, and I let myself get lost in the moment. His love for me surrounded me, and though I told myself I felt the same for him, these last few weeks the hollow feeling I’d known before Owen returned. Bit by bit, it threatened to consume me until that was all I felt. “I’ll give you however much time you need,” he promised.

  I let him hold me then pick me up and carry me back to the bedroom.

  Time, there would never be enough of it for me to deserve Owen. Not even close.

  One day he would have to accept I was not the woman he thought I could be.

  Chapter 8

  Seneca

  A couple of days back from Valesk and Owen was driving me crazy all over again.

  Any time I left the cottage, he was right there with me. Even if he said he was going to do something else once we got to town, I’d catch him a few steps behind me, as if he expected Draven to appear out of nowhere.

  I asked him once to leave it alone and that I was fine, but all he did was grunt and ask if I was going to stop going after Draven.

  I hadn’t bothered answering, and he continued to be my overbearing shadow. Having nightmares every night wasn’t helping my case at all. I woke up screaming each time. Owen was there to pull me back from that dark ledge, but when he asked about them, I shrugged it off and said I was fine.

  The nightmares shifted from being about what Rudarius did to me to seeing Macron in trouble. I’d seen him two more times, warning me to stay away. Whether he saw me or not, I had no way of knowing, but my gut told me he was there, and he was alive. Owen refused to hear any of it, and continued to brush off my concerns. That pissed me off more than his following me around all the time.

  A week after we got back from Valesk, I stopped talking to him. The conversation about my needing time and his waiting came back to bite me in the ass. I should have ended it that night, but once again I was too much of a coward to follow through.

  “How long are you going to give me the silent treatment?” Owen asked as he joined me one night in the garden.

  I shrugged, not bothering to look up from my weeding.

  “You’re acting like a child.”

  “Me?” I snapped, throwing weeds over my shoulder, attempting to hit him in the face. “You’re the one stalking me. I need space to do my job, and you are not letting me do it.”

  “I want you to stop searching for Draven.”

  “Ha, right. I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Why do you want to find the vampire trying to kill you?”

  “Once.” I got to my feet and poked Owen hard in the chest. “He tried to kill me one time. Just once. If he really wanted me dead, he would’ve been back by now, or sent more of his goons to eff up my life. But he hasn’t, so back off. I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “Is it so hard to understand I care for you?”

  “That’s not why you’re doing this.”

  “No? Then why?”

  I marched through the garden, the orbs changing from calming blues and violets to angry oranges and reds as they channeled by emotions. “You think if you push hard enough, you’ll finally break through whatever wall you think I have up. That you’ll convince me I don’t have to do this job any longer. I like my job, Owen, I like it, and I’m not about to quit. Besides, if I don’t find him, the Feds are going to turn on me, remember?”

  “I told you I could take care of it for you.”

  “I don’t want you to. Get it through your thick demon skull, alright?”

  I threw the back door open so hard it slammed into the wall, denting it. I searched for my leather jacket, pulled it on, and hurried toward the front door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out. I’m going out, and you can stay here or go back to Valesk, I don’t care, but you are not coming with me.”

  “It’s night. Draven could be out there.”

  “Which is why I’m going out armed.”

  Owen reached over my head and pressed his hand to the front door, preventing me from opening it.

  I sighed and yanked on it. Though I was strong, he was stronger. Freaking demon strength.

  “I don’t want to do this right now.”

  “Your nightmares have gotten worse,” he said as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “You won’t admit it, but you’re getting worse, too, and it’s because of that vampire.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Hide? And what? Hope the problem resolves itself?”

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  The dark tone made my skin itch. “What did you say?”

  “If getting rid of Draven will help you stop being crazy like this, I’ll take care of him. Tonight.”

  “You can’t go k
ill him,” I pointed out. “You’re a bodyguard for the ambassador. You’ll be arrested for murder.”

  “You could be, too.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “but I’m not connected to any political office. And as much as you think you could do it, you’re not a killer, Owen. Murdering him would tear you apart.”

  He clenched his jaw as he narrowed his gaze. “You’re saying I’m weak?”

  “Not what I said at all. I’m saying, between the two of us, you’re the good guy. I want you to stay the good guy. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along, if you’d take the time to listen.” I tugged on the door again, but he didn’t budge. “You are not going to kill Draven. If he comes for me, it’ll be the last thing he does, but I’ll end him at my hand.”

  He growled quietly, but the conflict was clear on his face.

  “Owen, let me go, alright? I’ll be back in a few hours. Just need to clear my head.”

  It took a minute, but his hand fell, and he backed away from the door.

  The confusion warring with hurt on his face nearly stopped me from leaving, but I had to get away from him.

  I slipped out, leaving the door open and wandered into the night, heading toward the center of town.

  I glanced back once when I sensed eyes watching me, but Owen remained in the doorway. I hated myself for being so vicious toward him, but what did he expect me to do? If he killed Draven, it would solve one small problem for me and create an even worse one for himself.

  If I was lucky, Draven would show up tonight, we could have our fight, and I would kill him and be done with it. Agent Williams couldn’t complain to me if his target was dead. The danger would be off the streets, and his agents would be safe from one threat, at least.

  Madwich was a mostly supernatural town, so the sidewalks were busier when the sun went down. Most of us preferred the dark. I could be out in the sun, but every now and again, I was drawn to the night and the bright moon in the sky. It soothed the vampiric side of me and stopped it from lashing out in anger. That anger had grown of late, another tidbit I failed to tell Owen. As had my urge to drink blood. I cooked my meat a bit rarer than usual, but that wouldn’t be enough, I sensed.