Spellbound (17 page)
Authors: Sylvia Day
I didn't leave you with Westin for this, Vicky.
She came to an abrupt halt and the door smacked into her from behind, shoving her forward. She stumbled into Steve.
Darius?
she breathed, astonished to hear the beloved voice again.
You told me you loved him . . . that you wanted to be with him. If you've changed your mind, darling, I'll bring you to me. Damned if I'll leave you to someone else.
“Easy,” Steve said, taking the opportunity to run his hands down her back. “You all right?”
She shook her head. No, she was far from all right. A sick feeling of dread permeated her senses. She opened her mouth to tell him she'd changed her mindâ
Pain sliced through her, causing her to arch her back and to press herself tight against Steve.
Be safe, kitten. I love you.
Terror filled her.
Max!
For an instant she could see clearly, as if thick fog had momentarily blown aside, affording her a clear view.
Max was dying. And her heart was breaking.
Barnes screamed, a sound of fury and pain. Glass shattered nearby. Max felt magic coil tightly around them, then explode with resonating force. A woman cried out, a man cursed. Footsteps pounded by Max's head.
Power surged into Max with the force of a tornado, shoving out the pain and kick-starting his organs. He pushed upright, catching sight of Masters crouched beside him and firing volleys so quickly Max couldn't register them all. But Barnes was shielded by black magic, shrouded by undulating shadows that protected him from the relentless attack. Impressed and deeply grateful that the other Hunter had responded to the message Max left him, Max gathered the magic flowing through him and prepared to join the fray.
Victoria's aura pulsed through him. Power cycled from her, a raging circle that gathered strength with every pass. It was dark and smoky, more black than white, and its potency was so fierce it felt as if his skin was burning in an effort to contain it. Wind swirled around him, only him, his hair whipping with its fury. Power swelled inside him.
He saw her. She stood behind Barnes, her eyes glowing in the night, her arms lifted and extended, waiting for Max to strike so she could augment his power. Her legs were widespread and anchored to the cement, her beautiful features as cold and determined as he'd ever seen them. Ready to kill.
Barnes fired at Max with such force the hit rattled his bones, but he stayed upright and unharmed, fortified by his fury. Victoria had come for him, but she wasn't the same. He didn't know if she ever would be now that she'd been so thoroughly tainted. He didn't know if she had come back to him forever or just for now.
All he knew was that Barnes had to die.
Masters shouted as a hit knocked him back, rolling him end over end. Max fired. The ball of magic penetrated the shroud around Barnes and sent him back a shaky step . . . straight into an arc of lightning from Victoria that had him howling in angered pain. Pivoting, the warlock lurched toward her. Max moved, running forward and attacking. Masters appeared to his left, firing at the warlock's flank. The triple blow was irrecoverable.
Barnes exploded in a burst of black light, rattling the buildings around them and exploding the streetlights. Inky darkness descended, blocking out all light.
Victoria screamed his name and Max shouted in reply. He lunged toward the sound of her voice, moving by instinct, grunting when her slender body collided with his.
He whisked them away, leaving everything behind.
V
ictoria stared out the massive windows at the endless miles of snow that stretched out before her. The house sat high atop a mountain in one of the remotest parts of the world, hidden from the view of human eyes and satellite monitoring.
A week had passed since the night she'd helped Max and Gabriel vanquish Xander Barnes. She'd had no contact with anyone, not even the warlock who shared the home with her. He was there, so close. So gorgeous. So silent. He waited like the crafty Hunter he was. Waited and watched, his silver eyes following nearly every move she made. At night, he slept in a different room. A different bed.
As the hours crawled by, she felt more and more like herself. Her craving for Max grew by the day until it became a gnawing hunger she had trouble resisting.
His tendency to walk around wearing nothing but low-slung pajama bottoms didn't help.
But things were different now.
She
was different now. While the compulsion Barnes had programmed her with was gone, the taint of black magic remained and it freed a desire of a different sort. When she and Max made love, she lost herself in his touch . . . his hunger. At least once, she wanted to take him on her terms. To show him the depth of her love in some way other than through her submission.
But he wasn't a switch and the ease they'd once felt together was gone, leaving behind a wariness that made it difficult for her to reach out to him.
At least in her human form.
Shifting, she dropped to the floor and extricated herself from the folds of her maxi dress. She searched for him, allowing her animal instincts to guide her. There had to be a way for them to find a comfortable middle ground. If they could just work it out together . . .
She padded down the hallway, passing her room and finding his empty. She hurried on, exploring, her curiosity piqued for the first time in several days. The house remained a mystery to her after she'd spent so long just trying to get her head on straight. She'd slept, ate when Max cooked, and lay on the sofa watching television without really paying attention. It was like waking up after a long nap, fighting the grogginess that came with rejoining reality.
Reaching the end of the hall, Victoria spotted a half-opened door. She slowed and sniffed, purring when she smelled the darkly seductive scent of her warlock's skin. She pushed the door open with an uplifted paw, sitting as it swung silently open.
Max stood near the far wall, his back flexing as he reached up and placed a crop in its holder above the fireplace, his inky hair brushing his shoulder blades.
“Hello, kitten,” he said in that deep, rough voice she loved and had missed hearing.
He turned to face her and she drank him in, her gaze sliding over his powerful shoulders, firm pecs, and deeply ridged abdomen. Below the tie of his drawstring, his cock hung thick and heavy between his muscled thighs. Her purrs increased in volume. Her tail swished with anticipation.
A massive bed waited to the right, while the opposite wall displayed a vast collection of floggers, crops, and implements of bondage above the mantel. Two chests waited at the foot of the wide bedâone white, the other black. The white one had her name inscribed across the lid, while the other bore his. A Saint Andrew's cross was affixed to the wall, near a bondage chair and swing suspended from one of the wide beams in the ceiling. Light poured in from skylights above, as well as the wall of curtainless windows behind the bed.
She shifted. His breath caught at her nakedness and relief shimmered through her. He still wanted her.
“Max,” she said, her voice husky with want.
He crossed his arms, teasing her with the sight of chiseled biceps. He was so strong, and yet even in the extremes of his lust, he never hurt her.
Still, he waited.
She swallowed hard. “Are we rogue?”
“We're as good as dead. If we lay low, I doubt they'll hunt us. But you'd have to give up everything. Everything you own. Everything you've worked for.”
“Do I have to give
you
up?”
His throat worked, the only sign that he wasn't as calm as he appeared. “I hope you don't. I hope you'll give me a chance to . . . adjust.”
Victoria stepped closer. “You'd do that for me?”
His gaze heated, grew tender. “I would do anything for you.”
“My needs are different from yours, Max,” she explained gently. “I want you bound sometimes. I want to pleasure you without losing my head over what you're doing to me. I want your surrender, but I don't want you submissive.”
His chest expanded on a deep, slow breath. “It's hard for me, Victoria, needing you this much. Loving you is both the easiest and hardest thing I've ever done.”
“You think I'm not scared? Especially now.” She looked out the windows at the ceaseless stretch of white. “Being a Hunter isn't just what you do, it's who you are. I'm not sure I can be what you need when I'm the only thing you've got. If that makes any sense at all.”
“Kitten, life with you will never be boring.” Max came to her and wrapped his big hands around her throat, like the collar she wore. “Aside from the games we'll play in this room, we've got a lot to figure out magically. Masters was right. You and me, we're a unique pairing, and we've never really explored that, let alone exploited it. Who knows what we're capable of?”
“We're more gray than white now,” she said, gripping his wrists. “And when I'm topping you and you're coming for me, the magic mightâ”
“I always come for you, regardless of who's on top.”
He pressed his mouth to hers and she relaxed, pushing her worries out of her mind. They had this. They had each other. The rest would work itself out.
She kissed him back, her lips curving with love into a catlike smile.
SYLVIA DAY
is the #1
New York Times
and #1 internationally bestselling author of more than a dozen award-winning novels sold in forty countries. She is a #1 bestselling author in twenty countries, and a reader favorite across several genres with millions of copies of her books in print. Her Crossfire series has sold more than twelve million copies since its debut last year. Day has been nominated for the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Author and her work has been honored as Amazon's Best of the Year in Romance. She has won the
RT Book Reviews
Reviewers' Choice Award and been nominated twice for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award. She is currently president of the Romance Writers of America, an association of more than ten thousand writers.
Visit her at www.sylviaday.com and Facebook.com/AuthorSylviaDay. Follow Sylvia on Twitter @SylDay.
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Cover photograph © by Retroartist/Depositphotos
The stories “A Familiar Kind of Magic,” copyright © 2007 by Sylvia Day, from
Alluring Tales: Awaken the Fantasy,
and “That Old Black Magic,” copyright © 2008 by Sylvia Day, from
Alluring Tales: Hot Holiday Nights,
were previously published by Avon Red, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SPELLBOUND
. Copyright © 2013 by Sylvia Day. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.