Hunter

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “Yes,” she managed to whisper through her abruptly dry throat, her heated body rapidly parching her. God, he’s the sexiest man alive, Tatyana thought keenly. She licked her lips as he pulled back to look into her eyes. He lifted his thumb to her wet lips and traced the moisture.

  “Tatyana, you’re going to need to stay here at Willow House for the next few weeks at the very least. I’m sorry. I know this will disrupt your life—”

  “Nope. No disruption at all. Here’s just fine,” she said quickly. “Right here, close by. Where I can learn things.” Lots of things, she thought eagerly. Boxers or briefs? Right side of the bed or left? She smiled, taking a deep, excited breath.

  Oh, she had a job (if not an assistant), an apartment she shared (with only two roommates) and a big brother who could pose problems, but all of that would wait for a while. To be fair, she couldn’t say all of her excitement was centered around her handsome host, although there was a huge incentive there. There was also the idea of being a witch. Who wouldn’t want to learn how to do magic? Granted, nasty warlocks on the rampage made for a major black mark, she thought with a little inner quiver, but she felt safe with Hunter and his coven.

  With Dimitre’s coven.

  “Holy shit,” she gasped.

  My brother is a witch!

  Chapter Ten

  And just like that everything fell into place. This was why Dimitre had suddenly moved up here, quit his job, and refused her access to him. He was learning how to be a witch!

  Witch.

  “Witch. Witch. Witch, witch, witch.” She said the word quickly, puzzling over the sound of it, watching as Hunter’s eyebrow swept up with curiosity, a smile twitching over his lips. “Sorry. I’m used to that being a bad thing, that word.”

  “A bad thing?” he asked. He was used to those who looked on witches as evil. Knowing where he stood within the Craft, he didn’t let blanket assumptions bother him.

  “Shades of junior high school. When I was younger, I didn’t realize that other kids couldn’t see the future, or sense good or bad things before they happened. My family, being very Old World, simply said I had ‘the sight.’ It was a frequent enough trait in our family history that they accepted it just like one would accept a child with an extra toe. Their acceptance was normal to me. It was the fear and prejudice of the children and teachers that was a shock.” Tatyana lowered her head and tried to hide a frown of consternation as the memories swam forward. “They called me a freak and a witch. I learned to dislike the terms.” She laughed with the irony. “I guess they were right then, hmm?”

  “No, actually. No one who uses the word ‘witch’ as a malevolent epithet is right. That, angel, is the most important lesson you will ever learn about being a witch. Only you can truly know what being a ‘witch’ will mean to you. Good, bad, or indifferent, it’s your choice. I will tell you that coming into the Craft as a familiar will tend to send you in the same direction as the principal witch who brought you over. You are far more likely to become a white witch. Of course, in the event of my death, all influences will be severed completely ...”

  “Okay, this is a conversation we can have, like, never,” she injected hastily, reaching up to cover his mouth as the words my death sent her heart sinking to her toes where it flopped like a fish out of water.

  “All right, shh ...” He soothed her by reaching out to rub strong hands up and down her arms. “You’re very sensitive. Not,” he said firmly at her sharp look, “that it’s a bad thing. It’s an observation. I’ve also seen that you have an instinct for witchcraft. You cast a spell last night purely on intuition. Would you care to share where it came from?”

  “Oh.” Tatyana bit her lip to keep from laughing as she flushed and waved the matter off. “It isn’t important. Just beginner’s luck.”

  “Actually, it’s important to me, Tatyana,” Hunter insisted, reaching to hook her chin with his finger, tilting her head up so he could look in her eyes. “Spells come from curious places and each one is unique. What you did wasn’t just remarkable because of your inexperience. It’s also something Spellcasters like Ryce and myself would very much want to learn.”

  “Well ... it’s silly really.” She sighed and started again, rushing quickly through her explanation. “I used to get into trouble a lot for forgetting appointments, chores, homework. I never watched where I was going. People would talk to me and I wouldn’t hear a word they said. My mother used to scold me with a Russian phrase.” She repeated it for him, and then translated. “It means: ‘If your head is in the clouds too long, your feet will float off the ground.’ It was the first thing I thought of when I wanted to get your feet off the ground, out of the conductive water. It’s not much of a spell.”

  “It was a spell that saved my life and Annali’s. For which, by the way, I hope I’ve thanked you profusely,” Hunter pressed a kiss to her forehead as he drew her into a tight hug. A hug that felt like heaven.

  “Actually, I think that’s the first time. Nothing really profuse about that. But, luckily,”—she sighed with happy contentment—“ I don’t need profuse when I can get hugs.” Tatyana hugged him back and laughed in a stream of uncontainable giggles.

  “What?”

  “Hmm? Oh, just marveling.”

  “Over?”

  “How you’ve already managed to make hugging you feel like something I’ve been doing for a lifetime rather than half a day.”

  “I noticed that, too, actually,” he murmured softly into her hair. “But I refuse to put it down to the blood exchange. I like to think I’m just a world-class hugger.”

  “Prepare for competition. With thirteen siblings, hugging is an Olympic event in my family and we’re all gold medal contenders.”

  She heard him inhale the fragrance of her hair, his face rubbing slowly against it. “That isn’t a family,” he noted absently. “That’s a small country.”

  She snickered and nodded in agreement. “Want the roll call?”

  “Am I expected to remember it on demand? Will there be a quiz?”

  “I might let you off if you’re very nice to me. Ready?”

  “Wait, I need pen and paper...” He pushed away from her and flopped down into a chair.

  “Stop stalling,” she laughed, turning to seat herself regally across from him.

  “Okay. I’m ready. Let me have it.”

  “Okay. Descending order, name and age. The eldest is Rurik, age forty. Then Anya, age thirty-eight. Sashenka, a.k.a. Sasha, is thirty-seven. Larissa and Calina, twins, at thirty-five.”

  “Ah! I didn’t consider twins. Bless your mother’s heart,” he chuckled.

  “Believe me, she deserves it. Lidija, whom you heard me talking to last night, is thirty-three. Dimitre, whom you know about already, is thirty-two. Grigori is thirty. Konstantine, a.k.a. Konnie, is twenty-nine. Andrey and Sergei, twins, are twenty-seven. Katarina, or Kat, is twenty-six. And I, the youngest Petrova, am twenty-four. Voilà. My beloved parents are Jelena and Pyotr. That can be a bonus question for you.”

  “Good, because I can remember the names of anybody who spends twenty years changing diapers. That’s a big family. How in hell did your father support you? And don’t tell me your mother worked with a baker’s dozen in kids running around.”

  “Actually, Mama did work. Pregnancy was very easy for her, I’m told. After they came to America, Poppa joined a prestigious architectural firm in Manhattan. Mama worked in medical offices or transcribed for doctors at home. It was enough to raise us well, keep us in clothes, and even left time for much love. I actually work with Konnie, Sasha, and Poppa. I’m an architect at Hayward, Smithfield and Rusakova.”

  “Wait a minute. HSR? One of the top three design firms in the city?” He looked staggered. “You work for HSR at only twenty-four years of age?”

  “Well ... yes.” She frowned at him darkly. “And there isn’t any nepotism involved,” she said sharply. “I earned my position on my own merit. I’m only a junior architect, of course,
but I’m kicking ass already, I promise you.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he said, his tone firm and quiet. “I never said you didn’t earn your position. I was just impressed. That’s all.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She made a long, sibilant sound through her teeth. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten used to defending myself on a few issues. Being the baby of the family, I have to fight twelve siblings for every ounce of my independence. They’re very overprotective sometimes. Sergei is a private detective, Grigori’s an N.Y.P.D. detective, and Lidija’s an advice columnist. With the three of them I can hardly make a move in peace. I think I’m beginning to get through to Lidija and Grigori. Sergei...” She shook her head with sisterly disgust. “He’s hopeless.”

  Hunter sat back with a deep, thoughtful expression on his face. She watched him, trying to decipher his expression. He chuckled when she gave him an inquisitive look. “I was just doing some mathematics. You’re the thirteenth child?”

  “Yes.”

  “Am I getting this right? Is Dimitre the seventh child?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “In a family where witchcraft runs strong, the seventh and thirteenth children will almost always be witches. You said ‘the sight’ has run in your family for generations. That means there have been witches in your family for a very long time, whether they realized their potential or not.”

  Tatyana felt a sickening sensation rushing in her belly as something finally occurred to her.

  Dimitre.

  Of all her beloved family, she was closest to Dimitre. Dimitre and she shared the closest confidences, talking about everything, constantly checking up on each other, and always sharing their visions and instincts with each other almost as if they had a secret club between them.

  But he had become a witch two months ago and, not only had he not breathed a single word about it to her, but he hadn’t even told her that she was a witch! He had to have known it ...

  “That was why he didn’t want me coming up here. Dimitre wasn’t afraid I would find out that he was a witch.”

  “He was afraid you’d find out that you were a witch,” Hunter realized as he followed her thought processes.

  Dimitre had always protected her, mentored her, and loved her. Maybe in some twisted way he had thought he was protecting her, but when she thought about all the times she had carelessly indulged in her abilities, never realizing that a warlock could be near at any moment ...

  “Oh God,” she choked out, horror rushing through her until she was shaking with it. “Oh God, Hunter!”

  “Easy, angel, it’s okay,” he said, sliding off his chair to kneel between her feet, holding her hands as he tried to convey reassurance.

  “It is not okay! My brother has known for two months the type of danger I’ve been in and he didn’t even breathe a word! I could have been ... I might have gotten ...” And here she was now, safe and sound. But was it because of her trusted and beloved brother? No! It was a total stranger who had been forced to make a sacrifice for her, to keep her safe. In the middle of all of that danger last night he had made the right choice in an instant, never once looking like he had doubted himself. Even now, he knelt before her in support and comfort, in the place where her most beloved brother ought to have been.

  Tatyana surged to her feet and Hunter quickly followed and caught her arm, turning her back to face him.

  “Tatyana, you can’t...” he began.

  “Let go!” she interrupted, trying to yank herself free. “You have no idea how betrayed I feel! How angry I am! The one person in this world who I would trust with my life ... isn’t even who I thought it would be. It isn’t who it should be!”

  “Okay!” Hunter gave her a little shake. “What are you going to do, angel? Yell at him? Disown him? He’s your brother and without knowing all of the facts, I am going to guess that he did what he did with the intent to protect you. Even if it was clearly misguided and wrong, he probably meant well. Think about it,” he urged her. “Maybe he wanted time to get stronger or better acquainted with the members of this coven before asking one of them to make the kind of sacrifice—”

  “Sacrifice!” she exclaimed, reaching up and clutching at his shirt tensely. “Someone sacrificed for him, didn’t they? I already know any one of them would make that kind of sacrifice for me, and I haven’t known them for two months! You don’t even know my brother, but you did it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes I did, Tatyana,” he said, fiercely squeezing her arms. “And look at what happened this morning! Look at us now. It’s impossible for us to stop touching. We constantly focus on how we move around one another.” Hunter closed his eyes, swallowing with tension. “Maybe, just maybe, your brother wasn’t ready to watch something like this happen to you. You’re the baby, remember? And that doesn’t make him right,” he added hastily, “it just makes him human. I am guessing it was Annali who brought your brother over into witchcraft. I am also betting that things are really intense between them. No big brother wants to think about exposing a little sister to all that sex and lust.

  “Master witches and their nascent apprentices don’t usually become involved sexually, although there is no rule against it and, as you can see,” he reminded her on a whisper, his lips brushing her forehead, “it is very, very tempting. Your brother’s only experience with it ended up putting Annali in his bed.”

  “And in his heart,” she added softly.

  “True. Thank the Great Lady, because Annie truly deserves to be loved by a good man. She has known true hell in her life. She has known what it means to be forced into becoming the familiar of a psychopathic warlock.”

  Tatyana lifted her head, covering her mouth as it opened in shock, and dismay blasted through the jade of her eyes.

  “Oh no!”

  “I think your brother has had a lot to deal with recently. Let’s wait to give him a fair hearing before we judge him too harshly. The witch/familiar relationship can be an unnerving, exposing experience. Doubly so in Annali’s case.”

  And yet, Tatyana realized, Hunter had undertaken it without even hesitating. “Why?” she asked softly. “Why did you do it?”

  “I needed to,” he said simply.

  “As simple as that? It’s so unnerving and complicated, but for you it’s simple?” she huffed.

  “Simple?” Hunter laughed out a hoarse bark of humor. “You disturb my concentration, you torture the hell out of me just because you smell good, and you...” He gave her a frustrated shake that was more a matter of drawing her closer to his body. His mouth lowered to a scant inch away from hers. “Feel my body against you, Tatyana,” he ground out. “Do you feel how hard you make me without even trying?” He made sure that she did by placing a swift hand on her bottom, pulling her hips painfully tight against his. He groaned deeply, losing himself for a moment in the pleasurable press of her soft body. “My mind and my soul are burning,” he whispered to her fiercely. “I know it’s the same for you.”

  It was. She lit up like a flare with needs she could barely control. She felt wild and knew he felt it, too. His breaths came quicker and quicker, spilling hotly over her mouth like the endless tides of the ocean. The overpowering nature of the attraction between them would truly sink home later, when Tatyana realized that all of her irritation with Dimitre had been banished as if she’d flicked away some inconsequential piece of lint.

  But for the moment, there was only Hunter.

  Hunter was no longer trying to make a point. He was too busy looking at the hunger flaring in her eyes, feeling the sensual rise and fall of her chest, and the instant slink in her spine. Tatyana had a way of settling against him that made all clothing negligible. She eased in with a silky movement over his entire body until they were touching everywhere and he was burning up with the contact. Hunter watched as she licked her lips and lowered her eyes to his mouth, staring at him expectantly until he groaned.

  “Tatyana,” he said, obvious agony strangling his words, “if I kiss you, I may not
be able to stop this time. It’s that potent for me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Mmm,” she purred softly, her lips brushing up against his in a slow, sexy rub. “How could you possibly hurt me?” she asked with careless curiosity.

  “I wanted to wait a week ... so you would know ... so I would know...” Hunter was stumbling over his words, trying to hold on to his point and failing miserably as her lips teased featherlight against his and her hands stroked over his chest.

  “Know what?”

  Damned if he remembered.

  He caught her taunting mouth with a sharp downward assault, forcing her to absorb his fervor. Her mouth scorched against his lips as he devoured her. She tasted as sweet as ever, filling his senses with honeyed flavor. The confection of her scent rose from her in appetizing clouds. Her fingers curled around his flexed biceps, the fullness of her breasts against his chest as she snuggled up against him. Tatyana made a low, frustrated sound that communicated her displeasure with the clothing between them. The sound of petulance vibrated into his mouth.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted as he swept her tongue into a deeply erotic dance. Hunter proved his point by reaching past the hem of her robe. He was quickly beneath it and the flannel shirt, touching her incredibly hot skin in wide strokes of hungry fingers along the length of her thigh and over the tempting arch of her hip. “By the Lady, you feel so good,” he groaned.

  “Do you want me?” she asked breathlessly, her hands sliding up under his shirt and splaying over muscles that jerked and danced beneath her touch.

  “I—”

  His response was cut off by a knocking on the door. Like the hard dose of reality that it was, it hit them bracingly, causing them to freeze in place. After a moment they both became aware of where their hands had been traveling to, and they jumped apart just as another knock sounded. Hunter swore eloquently and turned toward the door, but Tatyana stopped him, using firm hands on his shoulders to push him into the chair he’d abandoned earlier.