“Now we will see what we will see, Tatyana Petrova,” he said in a low, rough tone of voice. The remark was ominous at best, but Tatyana was surprisingly unafraid within the circle of his secure arms. She looked up at him, her body shaking and her teeth chattering, and when she met those mystically bright eyes, she realized that her life had just changed irrevocably. Perhaps it had even happened the minute she’d fallen through his door and into his hands, and she just hadn’t realized it.
This man was meant to change her life for all time. That was why she couldn’t let any harm come to him. That was why she’d run out into obvious danger. Fate had demanded it, and she was merely there to fulfill. Otherwise she would’ve been denying herself something incredibly important, and she could never have brought herself to do that.
An explosive shower of sparks from above and to the right of them drew their attention. Tatyana blinked up into the dark of the ominous storm for a long moment, trying to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. Was that really a man flying through the air? No. Two men! And one was preparing to throw an enormous ball of fire that even now was forming between his spreading hands.
A gentle finger touched the bottom of her chin, softly pushing up until her gaping mouth closed with a click of her teeth. Her wide, shocked eyes turned up to Hunter’s and she suddenly understood why his eyes looked as if they held the supernatural in them.
Because they did.
Hunter’s dark head lowered until his lips were brushing against her ear, the contact eliciting a totally different kind of shiver inside of her. “No one will hurt you as long as I’m alive, Tatyana. If you can believe nothing else, believe that.” He drew back, his finely sculpted lips trailing along her cheek until he was able to look into her eyes. “I have to help my friend, angel. I’ve your strength to bring with me now,” he said, squeezing her hands once tightly. “Find shelter and stay there where I can see you’re safe while we dispatch this threat. Promise me you’ll do that and stay out of danger.”
“I w-will,” she chattered with a nod.
He pushed her away suddenly, breaking the link of their hands as he moved off. The moment their palms parted, Tatyana was overwhelmed by a rapid sensation of loss and weakness. She staggered as her heart throbbed painfully in her breast, as if every cell of her body demanded she throw herself back into his arms, soak up his heat, and thrive on his energy. He was watching her, saw the impulse in her eyes and body language, and raised a staying hand to hold her at bay.
“GO! Now!”
And just like that she was obeying him, running away from the house and toward an enormous oak tree, flinging herself behind the sturdy trunk. Heart pounding in the vicinity of her throat, she dared to peek around the shield of the tree. She needed to see and to know what was happening to Hunter. She held out her cut hand, staring down at it for a second, somehow understanding that the overpowering compulsions she felt had something to do with whatever magic it was he had worked on their bleeding palms.
Magic.
Had she truly ever known the real meaning of the word? Tatyana doubted that very heartily as she watched events unfolding before her with the horrifying clarity of crossing out of one world, and into another. It was like the first time one’s eyes were opened to the nature of people, love, or the world. It was both agonizing and distressing as well as enlightening and empowering. She watched it all with wide eyes, not feeling the icy sleet clinging to her unblinking lashes.
Hunter flew up from the ground with mighty propulsion fueled by his anger and outrage. At the same time his mind was working hard on all that he’d seen and all that he knew. There had been five parts to that shadow when it had separated. He’d dispatched one female and he doubted she’d recover too quickly. Nox was engaging the male that had been battering him and Tatyana with fireballs. Ryce had said that two others were in combat with him. That left one unaccounted for, and that one, he was certain, was by far the most dangerous of them all. Hunter was also certain there was a specific goal for this attack, and he needed to figure out exactly what it was before it succeeded and weakened Willow Coven even further than it already was without Gracelynne and the others to fight with them.
The enemy had attacked when Kaia wasn’t there. They were attacking when Asher was unaccounted for. The timing gave them the advantage of numbers, of course, but there had to be more to it than that. There had to be a definite objective to their artful battle tactics. It was clear their intelligence was dated since they didn’t know that Willow Coven’s powerful Sentinel had returned to the fold, so whatever they’d planned for this night had nothing to do with himself. With Gracelynne out of the picture for now, the most powerful target would be Ryce, but it was still highly unlikely they would seek out Ryce before knocking out all his support. No. They would target the next most powerful after Gracelynne.
Annali.
That would require drawing her out. The house was bespelled and warded. It would be much too difficult to breach the coven defenses embedded permanently in the walls of Willow House. The attackers would know that. So how to draw out Annali?
The Blessing Tree.
Hunter flung himself around in the air to look toward the coven’s living power center. He saw Ryce embattled with two warlocks in his path, being kept too busy to prevent what would come next. Hunter could feel it, the impending action and threat. The warning rang through him, a cry from the tree herself as she realized she was in dire threat from an enemy. It was a cry that would sing sharpest to Annali. Anna’s spirit was connected to all the plants of the earth. She felt them all on a soulful level, shared their lives and experiences as if they were hundreds of thousands of little pets so precious to her. The Blessing Tree was the progenitor of all of Willow Coven, but to Annali she was the mentor goddess, beloved mother, and most precious child all in one.
The cry of the grand willow ricocheted through every single member of Willow Coven, disrupting precious concentration and sending pain rippling through each of their bodies. It was a reflex, part of the Blessing Tree’s defense system, but it didn’t mean the tree was in danger of destruction. That didn’t stop each of them from being forced to fight for recovery. To keep themselves on task rather than rushing to do the old willow’s bidding as her protectors.
All save Annali.
Hunter heard the crash of glass as Annali burst out of the window of Gracelynne’s suite in full, beautiful fury. Her hair flew wildly in the storm winds, the wet causing her fallen curls to separate from one another until she looked like a stunning gorgon in her vengeance, with snakes of curls and fury-filled eyes of burning bright lavender, fierce enough to turn any enemy to stone should they dare to cross her. Once she was free of the wards of the house, she cast her best traveling spell, burning precious energy. Annali wasn’t a spellcasting witch as a rule. She was an Alchemist. Bottles of concoctions carefully cooked and measured, burnt herbs, and crushed powders were her forte, and in this she was a witch without compare. She had latent powers, of course. They all did. However each had a specialty in the coven and potions were hers. So when she cast her teleportation spell, she was effectively using almost all of her latent power at once.
Hunter swore aloud. He needed to go after her, but he couldn’t leave Tatyana and Gracelynne unprotected either. He had to chance it, though. The house wards would have to suffice to protect Gracie. As for Tatyana ...
He swung back to see her peeping up at him with awe and shock written clearly across her features.
He’d gone too far to shy away from the path now.
“Come!” he commanded, his voice like a clap of thunder in the night as he reached out both hands toward her. He uttered the accompanying spell and a tether of bright blue energy, exactly the color of his eyes in that moment, whipped out to lash around her unsuspecting body. He heard her cry out in surprise, but his senses were steadily being filled by her spirit and emotions, and he realized she felt no real terror at this frightening world she suddenly found herself plunged
into. Fascinated, awestruck, and filled with understandable trepidation, but no true fear. He was almost infuriated by her lack of self-preservation. This was no amusement park ride she was catching thrills on. She should be showing a proper respect for the danger she was in.
The tether he’d strung between them retracted toward him, plucking her up off the ground and flinging her quickly into his waiting arms. He caught her against himself with a grunt from the impact. It wasn’t the most ideal spell when one was in flight, but it cost little energy and was effective enough to get the job done. She exclaimed on the rush of her forced exhalation, her hands whipping out to clasp him about his shoulders. Tatyana clung to him for dear life, realizing that he was the only thing keeping her in the air. He was satisfied to see she had that much sense at least. But he couldn’t fault her too much. At least she wasn’t screeching hysterically and crying with feminine fear. To be honest, there were probably very few human men who wouldn’t be weeping for their makers by this point. Tatyana Petrova was either very brave or incredibly foolhardy.
“Hold on to me very tightly. Whatever you do, don’t let go until I say it’s okay. Do you understand?”
She nodded vigorously, her clutch around his shoulders tightening dramatically, one of her long legs even going so far as to snake around one of his. The enthusiastic clasp brought them intimately close. She unwittingly drew his thigh between her own. Despite all of his concentration on the dire task at hand, there was no way on earth he could ignore that intimacy. They were both bathed in frigid water, yet there, in that space, she was all supremely natural heat. The contrast demanded his attention, tugged at the chemistry between them, stirred a dark hunger within him that was purely masculine, though not purely human.
Hunter didn’t have the time to relish the power of that delightful stimulation, but it was an excellent resource he immediately drew on. The sexual energy sparking through him and between them powered his next spell. It consisted of a single word, coupled with a firm image in his mind of his destination. In a flash of nauseating colors and a distortion of the visual space around them, they left the air above the manse and appeared ankle-deep in a frozen puddle just to the left of the Blessing Tree. The sudden biting cold soaking into Tatyana’s sneakers made her surge up against him reflexively and Hunter felt his body explode with heated need. It was so raw and unrefined, so unexpected under the circumstances, that he stumbled back awkwardly under the onslaught. His instinct for self-preservation made him pry her off of himself, even though totally opposing instincts only wanted to draw her closer.
“Go!”
He shoved her, probably too forcefully if her staggering attempt to recover her balance and the surprise on her face were any indication. He tore his gaze from that baffling female, though, and searched for another one entirely.
Annali was thrown full in front of the Blessing Tree, using her physical body as a shield, her hand raised high, gripping a small glass potion bottle. The enemy hovered dark and ominous before her, the dominance of him singeing across Hunter’s tastebuds and creeping along the back of his scalp. The physical presence of the male warlock alone intimidated. He was several inches over six feet, taller even than Hunter’s 6’2”. He had a shadowed, rugged visage; menacing with its dark, slashing brows over glittering obsidian eyes that glared with the black light of his magic. His chiseled lips were sculpted into the cruel lines of a confident sneer. A scar cut diagonally over his upper right cheek, starting at the edge of his right nostril and arcing up to his right temple. His black hair, colored like a moonless night sky, was plastered all around his head and neck and shoulders.
Hunter knew him instantly.
He should. He had been the one to give him that distinctive scar.
However, that had little to do with his recognition. He had known him since the day he’d been born.
“Braen.”
The announced name got the warlock’s sudden attention, alerting him to Hunter’s appearance. Those sinister eyes widened with obvious surprise for just a moment before narrowing with ominous contemplation on him.
“Well, well ... the prodigal son returns,” Braen mocked him, adding a derisive laugh to the observation. “You’ve impeccable timing as usual, Brother. How remarkable. Only just arrived, are you?”
“As you see,” Hunter said shortly, his feet bracing apart aggressively and his hands curling into anticipatory fists.
“I must say I’m disappointed in Ryce. One little attack and he runs crying for his Sentinel to come home? My coven must be more intimidating than even I supposed,” the warlock mused.
“Your coven.” Hunter barked out a laugh of distaste and contempt. “I should have guessed it. You and yours have been a thorn in Willow Coven’s side for far too long, Braen. What are we calling ourselves nowadays? What source of poisoned power are we using this time?”
“You may call us Belladonna Coven,” Braen invited silkily.
“Belladonna Coven has never been anything but a stain on the face of this otherwise beautiful planet!” Annali spat angrily, her hand with the potion in it still raised aggressively. Her grip was almost tight enough to crush the glass, Hunter observed. He’d never seen her so incensed before. Then again, it had been a very long time since someone had dared to attack the Blessing Tree. And for the threat to be Braen of all people, the brother he’d turned his back on and the one who had ...
“Really?” Braen mused softly; his smile for her was almost handsome with its sudden flash of white teeth. His easy charm was shining through now that he was scaling back the influence he had been using to cast a pall of intimidation against Annali. “We’ve hardly crossed paths at all this past decade, Annali. How do you presume to know anything about Belladonna Coven after all this time?” The smile turned in shape ever so slightly, but there was no mistaking its cruelty. “Unless you are feeling a little homesick for the days when we were known as Hawthorn Coven, my tasty little sweet?” Braen licked his lips with obviously lewd intentions.
“I’m not your sweet, you prick bastard!” Annali spat with fury, her face turning a mottled red with the heat of her rage. Hunter had to fly with all speed to catch her arm before she threw her weapon down at Braen’s feet. The warlock was baiting her purposely for a reason and Hunter wasn’t going to let her find out what it was the hard way. Not so long as he was there to prevent it.
“Easy, honey,” he soothed softly, his thumb flicking gently over her roaring pulse as he tried to communicate the need to keep her head. “We all know where your true home is, Annie. Nothing he says will ever change that.”
“And what of you, Hunter? Where is your home these days? Will you be staying?” Those merciless black eyes drifted over Hunter’s tense posture, then slowly slipped away and traveled to the woman who hadn’t been able to move beyond a few steps away from the drama unfolding before her. Hunter knew it wasn’t just idle curiosity that held Tatyana there. Now he saw the fear she’d lacked earlier. It was what had locked her into place. “Ah ...” Braen mused with speculation. “With such pretty lures, perhaps even I would leap out of my stream to flop around on deck.”
“Hunter ...” she whispered hoarsely, her voice inaudible over the slushy fall of ice from the sky.
It was her terror that spoke to him, seeking solace and assurances that he didn’t have. He hadn’t come up against Braen in a decade, and he had no idea how far his enemy’s powers had advanced in that time. Hunter had no way of reassuring Tatyana that he could protect her and Annali at the same time, never mind himself as well. There was something he was missing. He was sure of it. Braen was far too calm. Too complacent. The one thing that would never change; Braen would always display his arrogance and egotistical satisfaction when he felt victory was at hand.
What is it, damn it? What am I missing?
“Not to worry, Sentinel of Willow Coven,” Braen laughed with dark amusement. “I didn’t come prepared to face you this night. I’m not so foolish as to risk myself without a better pl
an. Even now the other members of my coven are withdrawing from their battles. The night is yours. Savor your victory, for it will not last or be repeated.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Hunter bit out as he searched for telepathic confirmation from the others. There was apparent truth to the High Cleric of Belladonna Coven’s statements. Ryce and Nox were pursuing their enemies to the edges of the property.
Braen merely shrugged, his smile sly and full of lies.
“If it will make you feel better ...”
Braen spoke a Word as he lifted his wide hands, his palms thrown out toward Hunter and Annali. The Word was very old and Hunter didn’t recognize it. He tensed, unable to prepare for the unknown assault with anything other than a hastily erected shield he hoped was barrier enough to protect himself and Annali.
Tatyana saw a blue bolt of static electricity snap through the suddenly visible wall of energy protecting Hunter and Annali from the warlock, and every psychic alarm she had suddenly rang out. She saw Braen’s hands cock at the wrists and face downward toward the ground at the last possible second. Tatyana suddenly knew with a strange clarity she’d never really known before. There was no doubt. No shock. In spite of all the overwhelming input assaulting her untried senses and her natural human resistance, she simply accepted the facts of the moment and reacted to them.
A Russian phrase her mother had always used to tease her leapt to the front of her mind. Before she could reconsider the impulse, she spoke the words with a strong conviction of purpose. She felt an influx of energy run through her from the ground up, her body locking under the shock of it as her virgin experience with the call for power rocketed through her and flew through the conduit of her nervous system before seeking her targets.
Hunter felt power sizzle over the fine hairs at the base of his neck, then the slam of undeniable connection biting through his body, entering through the cut of invitation across his palm and demanding his full attention. Even as blinding sparks of black lightning erupted from Braen’s hands, Hunter and Annali were ripped away from the anchor of the ground and sent tumbling awkwardly into the air away from the Blessing Tree and all of her saturated branches.
Hunter Page 8
