Protecting His Witch (Entangled Covet) (Keeper Of The Veil series Book 1) (5 page)

It’s not a curse.
She’d researched witchcraft over the years in a desperate attempt to understand her bizarre mind-reading ability and world-shifting problem, coming to no conclusion on what she was. But she’d learned enough to know this brand wasn’t a curse. Curses didn’t involve physical marks. She didn’t recall anything about magically appearing marks other than in fictional novels.

Exhausted, she leaned her head against the door. Regret lodged itself deep in her gut. Resentment had prompted her to push away her one chance to speak with someone who might be able to help her understand her magical abilities. Aside from that, she’d just cast aside the only guy who truly knew how to make her body sing. The cold, rational side of her brain commended her for applying the brakes.

But she wanted to see his wild blue eyes smolder again as if he was three seconds shy of detonating.

No you don’t! You did the right thin
g. He’d devastate her again, if she gave him the chance. She might not survive a second time.

She pulled the chain free of her neckline. Her fingers traced the familiar lettering: Matthew Zacharias Ryan. The only reason she’d worn these for nine years was to give them back to him, if they crossed paths again. For years she’d dreaded seeing him again, but another part of her needed that confrontation. She just hadn’t counted on turning into a flustered mess when it happened, and completely forgetting the tags.

She’d had them since she’d shifted to him, a year after their disastrous one-nighter. Matt had been imprisoned—blinded, tortured, and his body damaged. She’d released him from his shackles, and then as he stood, she’d lost her balance and clutched at him, accidentally grabbing the tags. The chain broke and she’d instantly shifted back to her real world.

For years she’d wondered if she’d freed him from a failed military op. And worried that he hadn’t gotten out. Nightmares about him hurt and imprisoned still frequented her dreams, more so when she was stressed from work. She’d never let the memory of him slip away.

Apparently he had gotten free and done just fine for himself.

The whirling resumed in her brain, and gut instinct told her she’d be jumping back to her world any minute. She dropped the tags. She’d do better next time she bumped into Matt. There would be a next time. She had questions about the mark on her wrist. And then there was their undeniable attraction. He was right. They were far from done.

…

Matt raced outside seconds behind Kat. He scanned up and down the street, and ran to the nearest alley. Residual magic tickled his senses. She’d disappeared again.

He swore, slapping the stone wall of the museum. The wild side of his brain roared in anguish that he’d lost her again
.
Why hadn’t he ripped her panties off and taken her to sate the teeth-clenching desire he’d lived with for ten long years?

He was an idiot. That’s why. And too focused on the damned curse. Now she was gone. Again. And for who knew how long. Before the cloakroom attendant interrupted them he’d planned to invite her home. To go slow. Maybe take a day…hell a couple of days, maybe even a month to explore what they had.

That realization surprised him. He never took women home. He usually went to their place or took women to the hotel he owned downtown. With Kat, though, he had a bizarre desire to invite her into his private sanctuary. To see her in his bed, on his sheets, and in his bath.

This should freak him out. Should. Yet, he was calmer than he’d been all night since she’d shazamed into his life again. Absently he rubbed the Sentry tattoo on his forearm. If she was Pleiades as he suspected, then as a druid, especially a Sentry, casual sex with her was forbidden for him. Good thing he wasn’t bound by the rules of that group anymore.

But her safety did concern him. The Order Lutomalifacum, who relentlessly hunted the Pleiades, would find her in no time. He’d planned to never get entangled with druids or Bryce again, but for her… Damn it. He was cornered.

He yanked the smart phone from his pocket and dialed. Maybe she had a residence in this dimension, somewhere Bryce couldn’t find. He knew someone who could ferret out the location of almost anyone.

His call went directly to his brother’s voicemail. “Eli, I need a background check and a current location on a person.” Although they’d been separated at birth, they’d both become covert operatives. He a Ranger. Eli in British intelligence. As ex-MI6, Eli was spooky in his ability to get intel on anything. He was one of the few people Matt trusted. And he was a druid. Eli hadn’t recanted his vows, and he respected Matt’s decision to remain inactive. “Her name is Katherine Ramsey. That’s Katherine with a
K
. I met her ten years ago when I was at Yale, but not since then. This is personal and confidential. Let me be crystal clear on this. That means not one fucking word to Bryce about this.”

He ended the call and entered the museum. He glanced through the open doors at the benefit still going strong as the cords of a familiar swing number filled the air. He had no reason to return. There wasn’t a single woman among the crowd of beautiful possibilities that could ease this need. He also didn’t want to be cornered every few steps to discuss political or business bullshit.

He may be good at being CEO and enjoy the power that came with success, but he never wanted this life. When his stepfather unexpectedly died two years ago without leaving an heir, obligation made him leave the life he craved as a Ranger. Covert ops gave him a sense of rightness. His twin was lucky that he could continue that life.

Thinking about Quinn brought on a resurgent sense of responsibility toward Kat. Quinn had constantly made him recite the five druid axioms. Number five echoed in his mind.
Protect the Pleiades unto death.

For Quinn, he would confirm Kat was Pleiades. If so, he’d get her suitable protection. She would need it soon or the OLM might find her and kill her.

But he needed her to confide in him that she was a Pleiad. He may no longer consider himself druid, but he wasn’t about to be the first to reveal the not so normal side of himself to anyone. That was self-preservation one-o-one.

He drummed his fingers on the valet desk while waiting for his Porsche. He rubbed the inside of his left wrist, which only intensified its subtle burn. Confused, he inspected the area. A pink triangular brand of three intersecting ellipses marked his wrist. He recognized the symbol as Celtic
triquetra
but couldn’t remember what it signified. Vaguely he recalled feeling a raised area on Kat’s wrist.

Shit. He’d marked her.

Quinn had warned him long ago that he’d mark a woman when subconscious desire collided with destiny. If this was such a mark, why hadn’t it happened years ago?

Destiny’s a bitch with no mercy,
Quinn’s voice answered in his mind.
She’ll choose her own time.

With this permanent mark he could track Kat and remind her of him at will. It also meant her coming apart in the cloakroom probably had nothing to do with his use of the Voice.

If destiny planned a renewal of his druid status, then it would be disappointed.

Chapter Five

Kat pushed away from her dance partner after her third stumble in five minutes. “This isn’t going to work, Riley.” She bumped against the wall-length mirror of the studio after another stumble on Riley’s foot.

Riley cocked his hip and rested a fist on his waist. “I can’t believe you forgot your dance clothes. You can’t move right in clogs and scrubs.”

“The surgery on that Rottweiler ran late, and I didn’t have time to go home. I see you had time to change out of your scrubs.” She scanned his red Lycra shirt v’ed open to his navel, exposing his tan, shaved chest, and skintight black pants. No straight man would be caught dead in that much rayon and spandex. His spiky blond hair and magnetic personality rounded out an extraordinary package. They had become friends at one of his wine-tasting soirees when she found herself a minority of one. Riley had whirled her into a rumba in his dining room and discovered her latent gift for dancing.

“Am I going to have to find a new partner? Regionals are in a few weeks.” Riley pursed his lips.

She raised her eyebrows. As if a new partner could catch on to his complex choreography moves as fast as she could.

Riley rushed out, “All right, sorry. I just…come on, Kat. What’s up with you? You’re never this forgetful.”

She faced her reflection in the wall mirror, unsure how to answer. Tracing her neck where Matt’s mouth had touched twenty-four hours ago, her mind once again replayed last night’s cloakroom encounter. She may never see Matt again. Or, perhaps not for another ten years. How many opportunities would she really have with a man like that?

You are in trouble
, she thought.
He’s trouble. For you.
He turned her brain to mush and her body into someone she didn’t recognize. But this morning she concluded she needed to see him again. He had unusual abilities and might be able to help her understand hers, especially the world-shifting problem. She just had to be careful not to end up naked and used.

She jumped when Riley whispered in her ear, “Earth to Kat. Where are you?”

Her gaze met his in the mirror. “This isn’t going to work tonight. I’m sorry. I know we need to practice.”

He sighed, and then ordered, “Stay there.” He walked to the sound system and scrolled through his iPod. The chords of her favorite salsa surrounded them.

She smiled as he returned.

“Lose the clogs. You’ll be less likely to trip barefoot.”

She kicked off the shoes. He twirled her into the familiar steps of a salsa. She focused on the moves. As always, she was careful to avoid Riley’s thoughts. His chaotic brain usually played images of men in leather outfits with holes and straps in areas that left things hanging out.

“Relax,” he suggested. “What’s going on? You okay?” He stumbled for an instant, his face shifting to super inquisitive.

Oh, no.

He slowed their pace. “It happened to you again, didn’t it? The time-travel thing?”

No use denying it. “The astrologist I saw a couple years ago thought they’re detailed, albeit extremely realistic, dream scenarios or past-life experiences. That means I don’t actually travel anywhere. I certainly don’t change times.”
You’re such a liar,
she thought. It was real. She’d been wearing Matt’s dog tags for years.

Riley twirled her into a series of spins and then back to facing him. “Where’d you go this time?”

She spun away from him into a solo hip gyration exhibition.

He caught her back to him. “Come on. What happened?”

She threw him a stubborn look and danced in silence for a while.

Riley shrugged. “Fine. Don’t tell me what happened. But, I want you to come to my meeting this week. We’ve got a special speaker coming. She talked to us last year, and I think she might be able to help with your disappearing problem.” The song ended.

“Is this one of your Wiccan things?”

“Shhh.” His gaze darted to the few people trickling in for the group class starting soon. He whispered, “I keep telling you that you’ll fit in better with them than me, what with your little…problem.” He stopped and jiggled her arms. “God, you’re so tense.” He leered at her. “You need to get laid.”

Kat rolled her eyes. Leave it to Riley to think sex fixed everything. “Is this you offering to be my booty call?”

He briefly granted her a body scan and shook his head. “Nope. But if I was going to swing your way, you’d be my first choice.” He laid his hand on her cheek. “I know you got hurt in undergrad. We’ve got to get you past that. Not every guy’s a shit. I’ve got this friend, if you’re interested, that I could hook you up with. I can’t say he’d be in it for the long haul, but he’d be fun.” He dropped his hand and stepped away with a grin.

“Is this another one of your friends that’s interested in an experimental walk on the other side? That last guy you set me up with spent our entire date checking out the other guys in the restaurant and not me.”

“Okay, I won’t fix you up. For now. Hey, how were those fuck-me pumps that came in yesterday? Do you think they’ll work to hook a hot date?”

She’d already proved they
worked.
Her mind replayed the coatroom highlight reel. “They’re strappy…and way out of my budget.”

“So they’re smokin’ hot. Excellent. Keep ’em. You need to embrace showing off your stellar body in some arena other than dancing if you want to hook Mr. Right.” He moved away to undock his iPod. He grinned over his shoulder at her. “Actually, who wants to be tied down to Mr. Right at our age? We’re young and all we need is a hottie with skills.”

She put on her clogs and grabbed her handbag.

“Maybe you’ll find someone at Friday’s meeting. I’ll pick you up at eight.” His phone dinged. “I gotta go. Got plans tonight. I met someone last weekend who’s got a body to die for.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I love you and you’re worrying me right now. Let’s try again tomorrow after work. We’ve got that exhibition on Saturday that we need to prepare for.”

She squeezed his hand as he pulled away. “I love you, too.”

She headed for the bathroom at the back of the studio, needing a break before she went home. Inside she wiped away the mascara under her eyes, then leaned in closer to the mirror.
Shit, more lines. I’m definitely getting old
. With her twenty-ninth birthday looming she was tired of the failed internet dates. Why, then, continue the online-dating torture?

She liked the thought of longevity. Of a life partner. But she had yet to meet anyone she trusted enough to foray into bed with since Matt. Ten years.
Had it really been that long?

Damn him for ruining her for other guys. She absently traced the swirly edges of the raised brand on her wrist while staring at her reflection.

A disorienting lightness entered her head and she stumbled into the wall.

Oh God. Not again.

Chapter Six

Matt’s finger froze on its way to deactivate his penthouse security. The blinking red light put Matt on instant alert. He glanced down the dark hallway, then back to the digital clock on the alarm panel, which read 10:05 p.m. His day of nonstop meetings had been hell, especially since his mind was trapped in a nonstop personal fantasy fest with Kat Ramsey as the star. Then a three-hour, seven-course dinner at his mother’s house had put him in a sour mood.

Low grumbles from his TV emanated from the rec room. He lived alone. No one other than his housekeeper was allowed inside. She never watched TV, and he barely did.

He unlocked the hidden gun vault beneath the hall table to retrieve his 9 mm. As he stalked silently down the hall, he opened his senses to detect the auras in the air around him. The intruder was a druid. A familiar one. And likely reclined on his sofa in his rec room sucking down his last Guinness. Damn it.

He tucked his gun and cell into his overcoat pocket. As he rounded the corner into the rec room, he said to his brother, “Yep, thought you’d be finishing off the last one. A little consideration for once might’ve been in order. Did you even consider that I might’ve been saving that?”

Eli granted him his classic like-I-give-a-shit smile before taking a hefty swig from the bottle. He closed his eyes in appreciative bliss. In his perfect British accent he said, “You can afford to buy more.”

“You want to change lives and do this thankless shit? Just give me the green light and I’ll fix that scar so it doesn’t cross your entire face, just a little something like mine. Imagine, all this can all be yours.”

Eli ran a finger over the scar that ran diagonally from his forehead, across his nose to chin. It was the reason he’d been pulled from MI6 missions. Too memorable. “I’ve become attached to this. It’s nice not to be identical. There’s also no way I’m spending Fridays with your mental sister and your mother. Not to mention those boring-ass PR parties and business bureaucracy. You can keep it.”

“Allison is your half sis, too. She’s not that bad. And Mandy is your mother. You should actually meet them at some point.”

“How is Allison doing? Any recent hospital trips?”

Matt shook his head. “She’s still struggling.” He wished he had the miracle cure for her anorexia and depression.

“I still wonder why Quinn only negotiated to free one of us from that life. Why he’d leave you in the hands of Mandy and that psychotic asshole Grant Ryan…” Softly he added, “If you’d have let me I would’ve killed the old bastard for you. For what he did…”

Matt shrugged. His stepfather. Any time he dwelled on the abusive prick, years of repressed rage screamed for freedom. The asshole left a tornado of devastation in his wake when living, and continued to fuck with him from the afterlife. Thank God Matt wasn’t blood-related to the guy.

His mind moved to his bio-dad, Quinn, who had appeared when he was about ten, and spent years secretly tutoring him to use his druid talents, right up until Quinn’s murder eight years ago. He’d begged Quinn to take him away from the Ryans, but Quinn always denied him out of deference to some deal arranged with his mother. Matt never understood. He vowed if he ever had a child trapped in that type of situation, he would do anything to get him out of it. Even so, he was grateful for every moment he got with Quinn.

“Why are you here? Did you find any information on Kat?”

“Sort of. This will seem mental, but I’m on assignment from the Big B.”

Matt swiped the longneck out of Eli’s hand and took a deep swig. He closed his eyes in bliss. “Damn, that’s good.” He handed back the bottle. “Does Bryce still think we hate each other?”

“Yeah. But I think he suspects we’re not really on the outs.”

“He just can’t leave me alone this week. I’m not going to have a sit-down with him.”

Eli shook his head. “Not about that. He wants intel on a Pleiades. Katherine something or other. He thinks you’ve got her chained in your bedroom. Is she the same Katherine you asked me to research?”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. Did you get any information on her yet?”

Eli shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what? You’re retired and from what I can tell you’ve become a professional couch potato.”

Eli flipped him off. “This Katherine thing is way too coincidental. She’s probably the same girl. But I didn’t even need to check your place. No way would you get
involved
with one of them. That is even too stupid for you.”

Matt’s neck heated. “Yeah.”

“If I gave a shit, I’d be jealous. I think Bryce likes you better than me. He’s obsessed, really. Every meeting he corners me to ask about you. He wants you back. Bad.”

“Probably because his current shaman sucks.” Matt sank into a plush chair.

“The new healer isn’t that bad. He’s just a little green.” He clicked through a few channels.

“He’s that bad, huh? Does Bryce still think he can make you into a shaman?” Matt snagged a Dorito from the open bag on the coffee table.

Eli grumbled, “He just doesn’t get that I don’t have your level of healing ability.”

Even though he wasn’t hungry, Matt couldn’t resist another chip. As he crunched, he asked, “So, now that you’ve confirmed I don’t have her, what’re you going to report?”

“Do you know where the girl is?”

“No.”

Eli grunted and took a swig of beer. “So, how bad you got it for her?”

Matt scowled.

Eli was silent for a second, then laughed.

Matt’s face burned. His twin couldn’t read minds, but knew him too well. “Bad enough. I was looking forward to that beer tonight.”

Eli continued laughing to the point that he snorted. “This is too good. You get her in bed yet?”

“None of your goddamned business.”

“She was that good, was she? You’re screwed.” Through laughter Eli managed to choke out, “No pun intended.” Eli suddenly sobered up. “Shit. That’s why Bryce is always up my ass about you, isn’t it? Are you the one he thinks is her destined?”

“Look, I may have been with her once a long time ago, but I’m sure as hell not her destined. It’s not like that.” Matt sighed and threw his head against the sofa cushions. “I ran into her last night at that benefit event. I think she’s probably the ‘Katherine’ that Bryce is searching for.”

Eli clicked the TV onto mute and sat up. “You’re shitting me. I mean, I theorized but…fuck.”

Matt shook his head. “I’d still like you to do research and see if you can find her here. If you can’t, then she needs an identity to throw the OLM off her trail. She’s in serious danger. Can you set that up? I mean, why not use those MI6 skills for some important hacking?”

“I can try to put something in play for her tomorrow, if I come up with nothing. It won’t be airtight, given that she’s already on the OLM radar. Can you get a picture of her?”

“Maybe,” Matt said. He closed his eyes and relived the memory of Kat in the cloakroom.

Eli chuckled.

Matt’s fantasy paused. He scowled at a very amused Eli. “What?”

Eli’s smile didn’t waver. “Deny it all you want, but it looks like the gods have plans for you. Bloody big plans.”

“The gods can go to hell for all I care.” He was in trouble. Eli was right. He pushed off the sofa. “I’m going out to buy some more beer.”

…

Kat pushed her eyes to pass through the rebellious nonfunctional phase fast, not that it worked. Stinging cold wind and spitting ice rain tore into her scrubs. Her knees folded against the too-familiar vertigo, landing her hard on the damp sidewalk. Water soaked through the thin cotton scrubs where her legs hit the concrete. The bus stop sign a few feet away offered five ways to get cheap Broadway tickets. New York. Again. At night.

She stumbled upright and into a lean against a stone building. After the standard period of disorientation and eye burning, she swiped rain from her eyes and gazed around. Now what?

An icy gust speared through her soaked scrubs. Full-body shivers racked her to the point her teeth clacked together.

A large hand snaked around her arm and clamped tight. “Come with me, whore of the devil. Or I’ll kill you,” a man ordered.

Her heart pounded so hard that she feared she’d have a heart attack.

The man towered over her. Maniacal hatred shimmered in his dark gaze.

“What do you want?” she asked.
Rape? Mugging?
She tugged against his bruising grip. She couldn’t pick up any thoughts from him other than streamlined motivation to kidnap her.

He laughed low, menacing. “I am the gateway to your salvation.”

“What do I need saving from?”
Keep him talking
. At least then she wasn’t being dragged into an alleyway.

“Shut up, witch.” He wrenched her arms behind her. She heard a plastic zipping sound and then her wrists were secured. Tight. With a rough jerk he forced her to stumble up the slick sidewalk beside him by gripping her bound wrists.

“Let me go.” Had he seen her sudden appearance and assumed her to be a witch? Or was that some sort of slur? She slammed on the brakes and refused to walk. He raised her bound arms behind her back. The excruciating pain in her shoulders forced her to bend forward and move wherever he wanted. She tripped and lost a shoe.

He caught her against him before she face-planted onto the wet concrete. “Walk,” he ordered.

“My shoe…”

“Fuck the shoe.” With a curse, he thrust her body outward, slamming her into the side of the building. Her head bounced against the stone in a mind-numbing ricochet. Dizziness gave way to excruciating head pain.

He shook her, activating a vicious mental spin. As he leaned in close she smelled coffee and cigarettes on his breath. He gritted out, “Shut up and move, or I will kill you. They don’t care if I bring you in alive or dead.”

“Let her go,” ordered a male.

She blinked through her double vision toward the source of that voice. Matt. Her heart jumped, and her stomach did a small crazy flip. Complete and utter confidence surrounded Matt. Ice-cold anger reflected in his gaze.

Relief flooded her.

“Or you’ll what?” asked her attacker.

Matt’s grin promised pain. This was the predator she’d sensed yesterday. The volatile danger radiating from him sang to every one of her senses and reassured her.

“Have you come to save one of your pets?” Her captor moved her to stand in front of him as a shield.

“I am not what you think,” Matt replied.

“We know about you. And her.” Her captor wrapped her neck in a headlock and pressed a gun to her temple.

Renewed shivering shook her body. Her gaze didn’t leave Matt while her mind whirled with regret and shock.
I’m going to die.
Her captor choked her neck tight. She couldn’t get in air. Panic rose sharp and fast. She gasped and choked. Her mind whirled.

Matt raised his hands to shoulder level. In a low, mesmerizing voice he said, “Kat, take a breath. Breathe for me, baby. Nice and slow.” He addressed her captor, “You don’t want to shoot her.” He took two steps closer.

“Get out of my way.”

“Put the gun away,” Matt said in that soothing tone. He took another step forward.

“If you take one more step, I’ll blow her brains out. Now back the fuck up.” Her captor subtly eased his hold around her neck.

She sucked in air.

Matt jumped forward to grip her captor’s gun hand, folding the weapon away from her head and into her captor’s chest. Matt slammed his elbow into her captor’s nose. The force of the hit pushed her captor slightly backward. He released her. Momentum slammed her onto the sidewalk. Pain streaked through her at the jarring landing. Dazed, she watched Matt fight. The freezing water seeped into her clothes.

Matt didn’t release the guy’s gun hand, keeping the weapon pressed tight with its muzzle aimed into her captor’s chest. Then he gripped the back of her captor’s neck to pull him down while he kneed upward into his face several times, never releasing his grip on the gun, which was still pressed tight to his chest. There was so much blood that her captor’s face was barely visible.

Matt kneed him in the face once more and asked, “Are there more of you?”

“Fuck you,” her captor grunted. Then he pulled the trigger, which released the bullet through his own chest. His body slumped to the ground. Dead.

“Damn it,” Matt cursed. He peered up the street for a few seconds. Then he patted down the body, recovering a brutal serrated knife. He knelt next to her and popped apart her wrist binding with the knife. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t stop shaking, her teeth chattering. So cold. Her gaze locked on his face.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. If he hadn’t been nearby…oh God. She bit back a sob as the reality of her almost death crashed in. She burst into tears, and sobs racked her body.

Pressing her face against his solid chest, his fingers slid through her hair and over her back in soothing motions. “You’re okay now.” His hand slid upward over the nape of her neck, his fingers slowly massaging.

The sobs diminished. Kat wanted to stay right here. Safe. Warm. After a few residual sobs, she murmured against his chest, “I’ve never seen anyone die like that. I’ve never seen anyone killed.”

“I didn’t have a choice. One of us had to die. It wasn’t going to be me or you.”

With the back of her hand she swiped moisture from her eyes and then pulled her head away from his chest. Her uncontrollable shaking was lessening. She should say something meaningful or maybe even grateful, but her mind remained a mishmash of frozen fear.

Sirens echoed in the distance. He glanced up the street. “We’ve got to get out of here. Gunshots in this neighborhood means someone called the police. Do you think you can stand?”

She nodded and took his hand to help her up. After a few wobbly steps she rubbed her forehead against the headache. The world shifted from doubles to singles. “My head hurts…” Darkness engulfed her mind.