Returned

by Samantha Stone

  Although Leila certainly didn’t have a death wish, she was the type to be tempted to press that Big Red Button after someone told her not to. Maybe it had something to do with allowing men to toss her high in the air most days, or how she took it as a challenge when someone told her a particular turn was impossible.

  Still holding Alex’s hand, Leila strode over to the books in question. He’d said she couldn’t touch; he mentioned nothing about looking.

  “No more secrets,” she murmured. Each book was obviously untouched—every page perfectly aligned with the other, and there were no bends in the spines. If she had to guess, she’d say they weren’t books at all, but a bunch of bound, blank journals sold in bookstores. “Tell me what these are.”

  To his credit, Alex only hesitated for a moment. His eyes grave, he crooked his finger at the door, and one of the large suede armchairs from his den floated until it stopped in front of him. Taking a seat, he gently tugged her hand.

  “I can get you your own chair, if you want,” he said softly.

  There was a level of vulnerability in his blue eyes that, for this moment, made him appear much less than the predator Leila knew he could be. Now, he wasn’t a warlock or a werewolf but a man who wanted to hold a woman.

  Making her choice clear, she draped herself across him so her legs dangled off the chair’s arm. She could have sworn he shuddered underneath her, but when she looked down to see his face, it was completely neutral, his eyes closed. Yet as he began to speak again, his hand light on her waist and trailing up her side, she had the impression that he sought comfort from her.

  “After I became a werewolf, and before I was brought to the clan prohibitum here, I killed a warlock. He was a German named Valter Forst, and at the time he’d found a way to hoard more power, from more conduits, than all the rest of the warlocks in the world put together.”

  Leila let her head rest on top of his, Alex’s soft curls tickling the skin on her face. He played with the tips of her hair, which was now resting in her lap after she’d put her hair up and taken it down more than a few times on the drive here. She didn’t press him but silently relaxed, grateful she was finally hearing the truth behind his past.

  “He planned to use that power simply to gain more, when at that point, he had so much there was no purpose for him to continue collecting. To gain this amount of pure energy, he murdered more creatures and humans than any warlock ever had—and he didn’t plan on stopping.

  “Valter made a mistake one night, after imbibing in a faery wine that can do one of three things: get you well and truly drunk, force you to tell your secrets, or turn you into a mortal for twelve hours. The drink itself decided, making it a popular Russian roulette of sorts for immortals who wanted to party. We were in a bar in Paris, and the drink made Valter tell us about the level of power he’d gained, while it got another warlock, Herman, drunk, and made me temporarily mortal. Unfortunately for me, Valter was not drunk, and clearly remembered having told us what he knew could be his downfall.”

  Alex met her eyes, his own flat. “Never let a warlock know your strengths. Luckily for Valter, it was easy enough to kill Herman—he was so intoxicated when Valter hunted him down, he didn’t have a chance to put up a fight.”

  “But how did you?” Leila asked. “If you were rendered mortal, it would have been…” She trailed off, unwilling to finish her sentence with her true thoughts.

  “A human fighting the most powerful warlock in the world,” Alex finished for her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she shivered. It was obvious who won, but the thought still terrified her: Alex, powerless, with someone at the height of his strength prepared to kill him.

  Never had she thought of Alex as the David from the David and Goliath narrative—frankly, she’d pictured the roles very much reversed. And that had been before she knew he was a warlock as well as a werewolf.

  “I took a page out of my culture’s book and set up a guillotine of sorts at the entrance of my house. When Valter came inside, the weights I’d attached to it brought the blade upon him before he could register what happened.”

  “Less David and Goliath, more homicidal Kevin from Home Alone. Gotcha.” She patted his hand thoughtfully.

  Sometimes, it was easy to forget Alex was French, since he had no hint of any accent other than a slight drawl from living in New Orleans for so long. Today, with the reminder that Alex had probably lived through the French Revolution, was not one of those times. She made a mental note to ask him about it sometime, when they had less pressing issues at hand.

  “Bringing this full circle—is Valter’s energy stored in those books?” Leila asked, suddenly not so keen to look at the objects in question. From Gris-Gris, she’d learned that such power could very well look back.

  Alex nodded, his eyes narrowing. “I’d had it hidden, except the books were stored in crates I buried. Somehow, in the middle of March, the crates appeared on my doorstep. There were no scents I could trace from them, leaving me no clue as to who returned the conduits to me other than the certainty that it wasn’t a warlock.” He smiled wryly. “If a single warlock knew, I’d be dead or locked in one battle after another until I died.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. “This single page had enough power to wipe out a building. Two pages, their power multiplying together, could damage an entire block.”

  With as many sheets of magic paper as he had, Alex possessed what could be more devastating than an atom bomb in the library he’d created for her and it was disguised as books. Part of Leila wanted to run away from it, just as she’d wanted to run the last time she’d seen a man open-carrying a gun so similar to the one that had shot her.

  But more of her was glad that if someone had this kind of potential for devastation, Alex did. She didn’t have to know everything from his past to understand he wouldn’t be able to cause harm to any one innocent, much less create mass casualties. Even so, this much power had to be a burden, if only because of the danger it placed him in.

  For all she knew, there were other side effects he chose not to share with her.

  “Do you have any plans for this?” Sinking continents, turning the moon into cheese, making sure another Deadpool movie was made, perhaps…

  Again, Alex nodded. “I’m going to use it when the warlocks get closer to ending all creatures. I haven’t worked out how I’m going to use the conduits to stop them, but there’s more than enough energy here to complete the job.”

  Something that had been tightly clenched in Leila’s belly, something she hadn’t been willing to acknowledge since the moment she learned Alex was alive, relaxed. He might be a warlock, but his loyalty was to the pack, to werewolves. Before he’d used magic today, he’d reacted as a were would, his claws protruding from his fingers and his eyes changing color to the gold they were when he was in wolf form during the full moon.

  Now, she knew whose side he was on. She was so relieved she felt practically boneless.

  A cell phone rang, but the flip phone Alex produced wasn’t the iPhone she’d seen him tapping throughout the day. He took one look at the small, dark gray screen and scowled.

  “I have to go—the float’s up to something, and if I’m too uninvolved they’ll suspect the treason I’m guilty of.” He unlocked his other phone and held it up to Leila. “This is where the car that blew up the beach house went. I’ve been tracking it, and it hasn’t left this location for an hour. Once I’m finished with the float, I’ll check out this place.”

  The address was in Broadmoor, not far from Alex’s house. Quickly, Leila stored the numbers in her memory for later use.

  “You’re no prisoner here, but know that no one can feasibly harm you while you’re in my home. If someone so much as enters the property, I’m alerted. There are spells attached to talismans that will react appropriately for different creatures, virtually guaranteeing your safety.”

  It seemed to pain him, allowing
her the freedom to leave. From the line between his brows and the twitching muscle in his jaw, it was obvious he wanted to take it back and lock her in while he was gone.

  That he didn’t was the only reason she’d stay. Besides, she didn’t have to go anywhere until rehearsal tomorrow. She hadn’t told Derik and Ursula, who’d translated over FaceTime, about her kidnapping—that opened a can of worms she simply didn’t want to get into with her boss—but he’d been sympathetic about her dead cochlear implant batteries. Because there were no other dancers with the surname Murphy at the company, she’d figured going back to work tomorrow would be safe enough.

  She’d also sent Dr. Cooper a quick e-mail explaining an emergency occurred, and she was sorry for missing their meeting. He wasn’t the type to take well to missed meetings followed by excuses, but it was all she had to give him. Hopefully he’ll respond somewhat kindly.

  For now, staying in the comfort of Alex’s home sounded nice. “Can you set those spells to leave Wish and Molly alone if they wanted to stop by? I promised him I’d let him know where I went, and I have some dance clothes at his place that he can bring me for tomorrow.” She raised a hand before Alex could say anything. “Our performance is in less than a week, and one of our girls became injured, leaving almost the entire show in the air. I will not miss another day of rehearsal.”

  Alex sighed heavily, albeit drawing her even closer to him. “I know how hard you worked to earn your place at the company,” he murmured in her ear. His hand rubbed over her shoulder.

  So fast she didn’t understand what was happening until it was done, he spun her so she straddled his waist, her face hovering barely a centimeter above his. Alex had made his move. He waited, his expression unreadable, for Leila to make her decision.

  It was exactly how it always had been: he put her comfort before his own, refusing to let her see how much he wanted her. It was his way of protecting her from the pressure so many women felt from men, but today, after he’d chosen to keep away from her for so many months, she wanted him to tell her about his desire.

  Through a series of circumstances beginning with attending an all girls’ secondary education and ending with her refusal to speak following her parents’ deaths, Leila had never kissed a man, and no man had ever kissed her.

  Letting her eyes flutter closed, she leaned down until there was the barest of space between her lips and Alex’s. She could sense his warmth, so close her lips brushed his as she spoke.

  “What do you want, Alex?” She pulled away slightly, teasingly.

  With the new distance between them adding up to all of five inches, he growled low in his throat, his severe frown contradicting the playful warmth in his eyes.

  “This.”

  That rough, rumbling sound coming from any other man would have terrified her. But this was Alex, the epitome of danger…and yet Leila’s very definition of safety.

  So she leaned in and took exactly what she’d wanted for over a year.

  Their kiss started out gently, his soft lips pressing against hers, his hands on her waist solid, unmoving, and her hair falling in a curtain on both sides of them.

  Leila was finished holding back. She’d spoken with him for hours and if she were honest, there were small pieces of that time when she’d forgotten what her voice was capable of. And still, she’d controlled it. There was no doubt in her mind that she could stop herself from hurting him if she needed to.

  So she leaned into him, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth like she’d read in Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist and allowing her full weight to rub against him in a less calculated move that just felt right.

  Apparently, that was the push Alex needed. The caution he’d so carefully clung to disappeared like a ghost caught in the light. Leila gasped into his mouth as his hands moved up her back, touching every millimeter of flesh through her leotard. His tongue met hers and they danced, pressing so hard against each other they banged their teeth together at least twice.

  The seriousness of it all, the pressure of their need evaporated, allowing a level of playfulness Leila had never imagined. His whiskers, short enough to have grown in from this morning, tickled her, causing her to giggle. They grinned at each other between kisses, temporarily not a banshee hiding from assassins, or a warlock housing more power than anyone ever needed, but a man and a woman delighting in the feel of each other’s arms.

  Alex’s flip phone buzzed again, the plastic trembling against Leila’s hip.

  For a long moment he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes squeezed closed as if looking at that phone meant delving back into reality.

  It was Leila who pulled away first, after pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth.

  “Go on,” she whispered, threading her fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Alex nodded. As he rose to leave, taking a page from a book on the shelf and stuffing it into his pocket, shadows began to cling to him like armor. Layer by layer he covered himself, if by choice or habit, she couldn’t be sure.

  By the time he left, there was only a nearly imperceptible glint in his eye that told her who he really was—otherwise, he would have been unrecognizable.

  Good. She wanted him to be as protected as possible against the other warlocks. There was no doubting what he told her; if they knew what he held, Alex would soon be dead.

  Please, be careful, she willed him silently, even though he’d already been gone a few minutes. Beau paced between her and the door, taking it upon himself to be her guard in Alex’s stead.

  “I’ll protect you too, handsome,” she murmured, patting the dog on the head. From the teeth she’d seen every time he smiled at her, his tongue hanging merrily, he’d have a bite comparable to a werewolf’s. Between the two of them and the security measures Alex assured her were in place here, she felt utterly safe.

  In the den—she wasn’t quite comfortable being near the conduits alone—she turned on the television, her legs curled up underneath her, and fulfilled her promise to Wish. Once he knew her location, reassured of her safety, she dialed Briony.

  The witch/werewolf hybrid answered the video call with a smile brightened by the glow of her pregnancy. Briony had always been beautiful, but expecting a child made her look more vibrant than ever. Her hair shone, and her skin glowed like a photoshopped makeup advertisement.

  The other woman’s apparent perfection would have made Leila self-conscious, except Briony couldn’t have cared less about her appearance…or anyone else’s. Rather, from the way the other woman’s warm brown eyes flicked around, Briony was probably considering Leila’s aura.

  Which, apparently, revealed a little more than she would have liked.

  Briony’s beamed happily, her eyes twinkling. “So Gris-Gris helped? She mentioned some humans successfully blew up most of the beach house, but she put it back together.”

  Taking a chance, Leila swallowed, hard, and signed, Lower the volume on your phone. Just in case.

  Once Briony acquiesced, Leila spoke. “Gris-Gris put the beach house back together, and Alex’s car. A new, not-very-Alex car—not his old one.”

  For a moment Briony’s eyes widened in shock, but she composed herself quickly. As she hadn’t commented on the reclaimed love Briony saw in her aura, she didn’t mention Leila’s use of her own voice.

  Leila was grateful for the reprieve; they had enough to talk about as it was.

  “He may need Gris-Gris again, or some kind of backup.” Quickly, she rattled off the address she’d remembered from Alex’s spelled GPS. “It’s nearby, and that’s where he’s going once he’s finished with the float. Whoever sent that missile into the beach house is there.”

  “We’re friends, Leila,” Briony reminded her gently. Gris-Gris itself popped into view beyond her right shoulder. “Something you told me was a lie.”

  Fair enough. “It’s not true that I think Alex needs backup. He do
esn’t.” Her reasoning behind the judgment was not something she’d share with anyone. The more who knew, the more danger Alex would be in. And she had the distinct feeling being part of a warlock float alone was a major risk.

  “But the pack could sure use him, and I know he’s willing to help. This could be a way to bring them back together.” She didn’t add, “Without anyone fighting Alex,” but Briony understood the implication.

  Gris-Gris and Briony exchanged a long glance, as if they were having a silent conversation. From outside of the camera’s range, Sebastian stepped into view, his arms crossed despite his auburn hair sticking straight up from his scalp, as if he’d been pulling it upward in frustration.

  Leila could hardly blame him.

  “You’re both right,” Sebastian said, addressing his mate and her familiar. He glanced at Leila. “Heath and Sophia, who are supposed to find you anyway, will meet Alex at that house. Gris-Gris will accompany them without their knowing and intervene should one of them attack him.” Sebastian took a ragged breath, and the lights of the bedroom he stood in quivered. “I’m only doing okay with this because I know Alex, and I don’t doubt where his loyalties lie.”

  Briony stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “But Gris-Gris has her own reasons,” she said in a voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper.

  The cat looked Leila straight in the eye, and she almost thought the conduit raised an eyebrow at her. It vanished, leaving Briony frowning thoughtfully and Sebastian dragging his hand through his hair while the electricity around them became more and more temperamental.

  Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Leila said her goodbyes and hung up. Soon, Wish would drop by with some clothes and essentials for tomorrow, and not long after that Alex would return, hopefully completely unharmed.