Nate made an approving noise from behind me. Maybe he even sounded a touch impressed.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked abruptly when we were halfway around, with the full diameter of the circle between us. “I’m trying not to be too suspicious. I really am. I’m pissed at you. But I’m trying to get over it.”
I poured more salt, focusing on keeping the line smooth and even. “Did Matthew tell you what I heard from Colin? About —” Shit, I really was getting soft. Mentioning Nate’s father felt cruel. “About what the Kimballs were involved in. Some kind of movement to reorganize supernaturals.”
Nate snorted. “Get us under someone’s thumb, you mean. My father was involved. That means they’re not out to help anyone. And yeah, he told us.”
That simple us caught me by the throat and made me swallow, hard. Nate was part of an us, and he didn’t even think about it. Everything he did was with Ian; even if they weren’t together physically, their mate bond made them one.
“Good,” I managed to say. “Then you know why I’m here. I’m as against that as anyone else.”
He hmm-ed but didn’t say anything else.
A minute later we met on the other side of the circle and stood back to survey our work. It looked good. Even and geometrically accurate.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Nate said quietly. “Even Matthew. I mean, I know it’s the spell and everything, but I think underneath that he was genuinely worried that asshole Taft had caught up to you when you escaped and then just disappeared.”
I turned my head and glanced at Nate, trying to figure out if he was fucking with me. I’d taken off the spell. Why wouldn’t Matthew tell Nate and Ian that it was gone? And his council, for fuck’s sake. That was their reason for suspending his leadership of the pack. All he needed to do to get back his full authority was show them the spell was gone, which meant telling them first, and then having Nate do a thorough magical examination to prove it.
Maybe he hadn’t had the time? But I’d been gone for days.
Well, fuck Matthew. If he had some reason for hiding it, he could stuff it up his arrogant alpha ass. I wasn’t a mind reader. And I wasn’t obligated to keep his secrets.
“I undid the spell before I left. There wasn’t any reason to have it in place anymore, and I hoped you all would take that as a goodwill gesture and let us go our own ways.”
There was a short silence. Nate stared at me, his eyes narrowed. “Um, no,” he said. “You didn’t. Matthew said the spell was still on him. Obviously you fixed the proximity effect when you got your magic back, but —” I raised one eyebrow, staring him down, wanting him to remember how and why I’d gotten my magic back. “Yeah, I know — I mean — yes, I fucking know that was my fault, all right? I got too confident. I thought it would hold you even if I wasn’t there. Fine. You won that round. Are you happy?”
“It wasn’t hard to break,” I said dismissively.
Nate’s face shut down completely, and he turned away. My heart sank a little. Well, there went the tentative rapport we’d built.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “And fuck you for lying about the spell on Matthew.” He whirled on me again, his eyes flashing. “And when this is over, you’re taking it off for real, you hear me? He doesn’t deserve this bullshit.”
I was going to argue, shout, something, but the sound of approaching voices shook me out of it.
Fuck this. Matthew probably hadn’t wanted Nate poking around magically for some other reason, or he’d wanted to show the council he could function even enchanted — or something, fucking whatever. I didn’t care. Matthew’s brother-in-law and council and pack were his problem, not mine.
I turned to see Ian coming out of the trees. “We’re done,” I said. “What’s their ETA?”
“Ten minutes,” Ian said shortly, not even bothering to add something insulting or threatening. “You two need to get in position.”
I nodded and walked past him, but he caught Nate by the arm, holding him back and whispering urgently in his ear. Probably more warnings about being alone with me, since Ian would be here dealing with the Kimballs directly while Nate and I focused on the spell from the background.
I wouldn’t stay there until it was all over, of course; at some point I needed to kill Parker. But I’d hold the spell with Nate as long as necessary. Bill Kimball needed his head pulled out of his ass, or this whole region was going to descend into supernatural infighting. No one wanted that. No one sane, anyway.
Since Matthew was probably following Ian, I detoured a little bit and approached the spell-circle clearing from another direction, weaving my way around tree trunks and brushing my fingers over them as I passed. I murmured to the trees, and to the life of the forest, asking it to acknowledge me and help me. A faint susurrus of branches tickled my ears, and a tingle of answering deep magic rose through my feet and prickled my fingers where they touched bark.
Nate jogged into our clearing a moment after I stepped into it. His lips were swollen and shiny and his hair was even more tousled than it had been before.
I pointedly ignored it, kneeling down by the circle and taking up my position.
Nate mirrored me. He was breathing hard, but it evened out after a moment, and I matched my breaths to his.
All we had to do was wait.
Chapter 15
Taken
It wasn’t long before I knew they were there. They must have parked farther out and walked in, which was why they’d taken a little longer — but they were there. I could feel their life forces approaching when I extended my senses, reaching out through the forest’s rich green to find the smudges of alpha-red and regular old werewolf-orange.
Nate reached across our carefully arranged spell components, holding one hand palm-up and the other palm-down. I matched him, and we joined hands, going into that space under the mundane world where the energies flowed, visible to those with the talent and training to see them.
The book’s incantation only required one vocalization, so I let Nate take the lead on that, concentrating on echoing his meaning with my own power.
The spell built between us. It layered, and folded, and started to thrum with magic. We could hold it for a bit, but then it’d need to go somewhere — which meant Matthew and his pack had to lead our attackers into the trap quickly.
Shouts broke out. I had to force my hands not to tighten around Nate’s. We needed calm. Focus.
It was hard when I knew Parker was right there, coming for me.
Harder when I knew the Armitages were outnumbered, and that Nate and I had to get this right.
Howls rose over the shouts; they were shifting.
“Ian says now,” Nate gasped.
“I didn’t hear —”
“Through the bond! Now!”
Fuck, I was an idiot. I threw all my strength into the spell, concentrated on Nate’s power, and triggered it at the same moment he did.
Our combined strength flowed through the spell and hit the salt circle like a grenade, lighting it up as brightly as a magical floodlight.
More shouts and howls, this time filled with rage and frustration. We’d caught them, it sounded like. And I could feel them now, a couple of dozen weres, battering against the circle’s boundary and trying to force their way out.
They didn’t stand a chance. Our spell was fucking solid.
I opened my eyes, a smile blooming across my face — and at the edge of the clearing, ten feet behind Nate, stood Parker.
My heart went crazy, fluttering like a trapped hummingbird, and my smile froze in a rictus. Parker was grinning, his teeth bared and elongated, his claws out.
And he ran straight for us.
I didn’t have a choice; I broke the connection to Nate and leapt to my feet, lashing out with a burst of power that nearly drained my reserves, but that should have taken Parker down and left him writhing and foaming at the mouth.
My magical attack parted around him like river water around a boulde
r, flowing over him to either side and dissipating into the ether.
“Nate, run,” I choked out, and I dodged around our circle, trying to get between him and Parker.
Nate looked over his shoulder and his mouth dropped open; he flailed to the side, but Parker was on us.
Without taking his gaze from me, Parker swiped out with one arm and raked his claws down Nate’s back. Nate screamed and fell to the ground, blood drenching his tattered shirt.
I charged in, throwing more magic at Parker that bounced off of him uselessly. “Got you, fucking bitch,” Parker growled, and then he had me.
A howl rang in the distance — Ian, probably, feeling his mate’s terror and pain.
Claws pierced my sides as Parker heaved me over his shoulder. The clearing spun in a dizzy blur: the guttering candles, trees around us, dirt and pebbles, Nate’s prone body covered in blood. My mouth opened in a silent, breathless scream of rage and guilt. Parker wanted me, and Nate wasn’t anything to Parker except unlucky enough to be near me. Parker couldn’t be allowed to kill anyone else, ruin any more lives, especially not because of me. I hopelessly reached for Nate, projecting as much pure strength as I could at him, praying it’d help keep him alive. I hadn’t seen how deep the wounds were. He could bleed out in minutes.
Parker pinned me over his shoulder, even though I thrashed and kicked and shouted, and then he ran, at full alpha-werewolf speed, the trees flashing by and the branches whipping across my face. I kicked, and he dug his claws in deeper. A scream burst out of my raw throat.
My magic wasn’t affecting him, and he was carrying me away, and it was the end for me. He’d escape with me while all the others were dealing with the Kimballs. Ian might think I’d been the one to attack Nate. But they wouldn’t come after me even if Nate told them the truth.
My whole world narrowed to the smell of Parker’s body and the jouncing of my body over his shoulder, the whiplash as my neck took the brunt of our movement, the agony of five razor-sharp claws embedded in my hip, the wet heat of blood running down my thigh. And this was nothing, nothing compared to what he was going to do to me, how he was going to use and punish me for getting away the first time.
Another howl broke out, raw and deep and roaring, filled with rage. Tears burned my eyes. Nate. Gods, he might be dying, and it was my fault…
One more roar, this time closer — following us. Right on Parker’s heels. I craned my aching neck, struggling to see what the fuck was going on through the wetness in my eyes and the way I was bouncing on Parker’s back.
A big shape, an alpha, with claws flashing in the moonlight and glowing eyes.
Matthew.
It was Matthew, and he was sprinting after us full-out. “Taft!” he shouted. “Put him down and fight!”
Parker laughed, a deep, horrible chuckle that vibrated through me.
And then he dug his claws in again, using them to heave me off his shoulder. I cried out as he flung me aside, and I whirled through the air and struck a redwood, hard. Dazed, I slid to the ground, blood running from the wounds in my side and with all my bones bruised, my legs numb.
Redwood needles under my palms, little stinging pinpricks. My rasping breaths, every one making my ribs ache; clouds of steam rising in front of me in the chill pre-dawn air as I panted. My cheek rested on the forest’s detritus, gritty and poky and cold.
I tried to shove myself up. My arms shook too much. Behind me, claws whistled through the air and Matthew and Parker grunted and cursed.
At last I got my arms under me and rolled to the side.
The moon was starting to set behind the clouds, but my night vision was better than even the average werewolf’s, and the scene was as clear as daylight. Matthew and Parker grappled, claws digging in and legs straining, and then they flew apart. Drops of blood spattered away from them, but I couldn’t tell whose wounds were worse.
“I’m going to rip your guts out like you did to Tyler,” Parker snarled. He was half-crouched, eyes glowing with power and malice, and he started to side-step, looking for an opening. Matthew moved too. He was favoring his right leg. It would be healing by the second, but a second was all it would take. “I’ll drag the little bitch back home and he’ll spend the rest of his life chained up taking my knot. Think about that while you fucking die.”
On the last word, he lunged, his claws aimed straight for Matthew’s chest. Matthew dodged back, stumbled, and nearly went down — and Parker raked him across the lower abdomen.
Matthew let out a grunt of pain and stumbled again, but then faster than I could follow he was on the attack again, scoring a hit across the side of Parker’s thigh.
Parker grappled him again, and they both went down, rolling across the ground, snarling and clawing and trying to tear each other’s throats out. Redwood needles and dirt and bits of fallen branches flew in a cloud as they wrestled, and something wet hit my cheek: a stray drop of blood.
My own injuries were healing, and I could feel my legs again. I pushed up. I could hardly breathe, but that was fear as much as pain. I could hear distant howls, the Armitages and the Kimballs in whatever conflict Matthew had left to follow me.
Matthew had left his pack to follow me.
And that thought gave me more strength than hours of healing would’ve done.
I shoved myself up, getting shakily to my knees. Parker was on top now, and he slashed downward. He’d pinned one of Matthew’s arms with one knee. Matthew struck out with his other arm, digging his own claws into Parker’s ribs, and I heard the hideous, spine-tinging scrape of claws on bone.
Parker howled in pain, but he didn’t stop trying to pin Matthew’s other arm. If he got both knees on Matthew’s shoulders, Matthew was dead.
My heart raced and my gut heaved; panic took over, blurring my vision. I couldn’t use my magic. Parker was immune to it, somehow, and there was no time.
“Arik, fucking run!” Matthew shouted, as he bucked to try to throw Parker off. Parker wobbled but landed even harder. “Run! Back to Ian! He’ll protect — fuck —”
Like fuck I was running back to Ian, I couldn’t leave Matthew, I couldn’t do anything…oh gods, oh gods…Parker was immune to my magic.
I looked around wildly, praying for some miracle.
The forest. Parker was immune to my magic, but the trees weren’t. The trees, that had welcomed me to their forest and shown me the currents of their own subtle magic.
I slapped my hand flat against the trunk of the massive redwood Parker had thrown me into. The bark was damp with my blood. Thank fuck, that would conduct my magic even more effectively. Goody two-shoes mages like Nate treated necromancy and blood magic like anathema, but blood and bone held power like no other substances on Earth.
All my magic, all of my life force — I tore it out of myself and slammed it into the ancient tree, begging it to wake, to speed up, to burst out of its narrow track of lethargic, incremental growth and movement. To leap into action, in a way trees decidedly didn’t.
For a long minute, too long, I thought I was throwing my energy away, that it would be absorbed into the tree’s massive life and dissipated into the earth.
But then the tree woke. It stirred with a deep, rending groan, its branches popping and its trunk pulsing under my hand. The tree felt me, and I could feel its curiosity in turn. What was happening in its forest? No one had spoken to it in rings and rings.
Please, I whispered through our connection. The light-haired one. He wants to hurt me. To break and burn me. Please!
The tree shuddered with displeasure.
With a tremendous creak and a rushing like a gale-force wind, the tree moved, a branch trembling, then swinging, and then striking straight down. I turned in awe, just in time to see Parker pulling his arm back, claws aimed right for a killing stroke across Matthew’s neck — and the tree branch swung down instead, whacking him off of Matthew like a perfectly-placed golf ball, sending him flying through the air and straight into the trunk of another tree.
I used a burst of magic to send my fervent thanks to the tree and pulled myself up, trying to crawl to Matthew.
But then he groaned, pushed himself off the ground, shook his head like he was clearing the ringing in his ears, and staggered after Parker.
Matthew stood over Parker for a moment, his shoulders heaving with the effort it had taken him to cross those few feet. I thought he might gloat, or say something clever; I would’ve, if I’d had the breath for it. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do at moments like these? Like, yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker?
But Matthew proved once and for all that he was more practical than I was.
And also how completely lacking in squeamishness.
With a heavy sigh, he knelt down by Parker, who was stirring slightly and moaning. Not dead yet, and apparently that was something Matthew meant to remedy as quickly as possible.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust as he took Parker apart with the efficiency of a butcher having a bad day and wanting to get it over with and go home. Matthew pulled something out with a zipper-like ripping sound and tossed it aside. Oh, ugh. That was Parker’s spine. Yeah, and that looked like his lungs. No way was that healing.
Slumping down against my friendly tree, which was still vibrating slightly from its mighty effort, I absently patted its trunk gently, soothing and thanking it.
Even in my fairly varied experience I’d never seen anything so gruesome. My heart lurched, and then set up a pitter-patter rhythm that had my vision shaking and my hands trembling.
The kind of man who could kill like that — kill for me — calmly, methodically, and without qualm, just because it was necessary…that was a man I could trust. Depend on, even. If I hadn’t been half-dead with exhaustion, my cock would’ve been hard. I’d never wanted anything more in my life than I wanted Matthew to kiss me in that moment.
Captive Mate (Mismatched Mates Book 2) Page 15
