The Witching Craft (The Witches of Redwood Falls 2) (2 page)

He stood tall, stretching his long limbs as bindings fell away. "I was born ready, sweetheart."

Z
ander rolled his shoulders
, a grin forming on his lips. Whoever was out there would pray for death before he finished with them.

Blending power with Persephone had hyper-charged his abilities. Mated magicks were a high, like any drug taken by junkies. And he already craved another hit.

Testing his energy, blue arced above his head. "Oh yeah."

"Down boy." Persephone rolled her eyes, but orange power snapped around her.

Three men rounded the house toward the back of the property where the forge stood, magicks at the ready. A trap tripped, taking down the goon in the middle.

Seph’s lips curved sharply.

Primed for a fight, Zander resembled an athlete fueled on potent steroids.
Only two. And puny ones at that.
Disappointment filled him.

Persephone unleashed a bolt of fire as hot as any mystical flame found in her forge. She didn’t waste time, didn’t fritter away power as she took out one of the men. Zander whooped, lashing out with his own energy.

Seph was serious, using her technique to efficiently cut down enemies, but Zander toyed with his prey, allowing opponents the illusion of superior skill.

He laughed. These guys were foot soldiers. They offered no competition. No sport.

His power sliced though the man's defenses, nicking tiny cuts across his body. Zander utilized both dark and light magick while fighting and never apologized for it. Others might have moral convictions against using one or the other, but even if they didn’t, harnessing both sides in combat was rare. Unpredictable.

Zander embraced chaos.

The man howled at the injury, enraged enough to attack blindly, but Zander ignored the opening his opponent’s anger presented.
No need to rush.
Why would he when power sang in his blood? When Seph’s essence brought him to heights he hadn’t experienced in a decade? She’s given him the high of his life.

Hands on hips, Seph blew an impatient breath. "End it already."

"Yes, ma'am.” He did as she asked. He owed her that and so much more.

With a jolt, Zander knocked him out. He turned, grinning like a boy and met narrowed eyes.

"This isn't a game, Zander."

"It isn't?" He swallowed his smile, wise enough to know not to bait her further. When riled, she was sexy as hell. He'd never been able to resist kissing her pinched lips when she got into a snit. She’d strike him if he attempted such a thing now, and he quite enjoyed his limbs where they were.

He wanted her.

He wasn't going to deny it, hide it, or shove it away. It just was. Desire raged between them. It always had, but he’d forgotten how powerful the pull was. In truth, he'd lied to himself about their connection. There'd never be another mate for his magick. He'd accepted that. He just hadn’t realized there'd never be another woman for him either.

He wasn't a monk and hadn’t denied himself for a decade. But none of them mattered. None but Seph. Now he was here, now he'd had a taste of her, he refused to let her go again.

Rigid, she waited for a better answer.

He held up his hands. Winning her back required delicacy. Not his strong suit. He figured he’d walk through hell if he saw her again, but never guessed how much he'd need to overcome to earn her trust. "All right. I'm sorry. It’s hard to deny the urge to use more magick, and if I'd knocked him out right away, the power would need another outlet." His eyes swept over her curves before he cursed.

She shifted uncomfortably, understanding the feeling, no doubt. What churned in him mirrored perfectly within her. Mated magicks never extinguished.

She nodded once, hard. "Well you might want to conserve a bit. We don't know how many will attack before the shields are back up."

"We could always replenish the supply." He arching a brow with the suggestion.

"No."

He barked a laugh. That was Seph for you. Never coy or deceptive. Uneasy with their connection, she rejected the pull and withheld her trust. That didn’t deter him. Their destinies intertwined. That much was on his side, and he praised fate for it. "Your loss."

Muttering, she stormed away, casting a spell of patience.

Clever girl.
Once she was finished, he waved her over. "Come on, let's get the barrier back up. Then maybe we can move on to more pleasant activities."

"Oh, they'll be pleasant for me all right. I've always wanted to squash you like a bug under my boot."

He tsked as they moved to the first barrier, checking the alarm, the fail-safes. He added a touch of his own magick, weaving in an extra layer. Only the most skilled could disarm it. "That'll hold."

She nodded grudgingly. "It's good work."

"Thank you." Her compliment pleased him more than he cared to admit. She possessed a rare talent for crafting. Years ago, his skills for locating and blending magicks fell far short of her strengths. But he'd come into his powers in the last decade. He was her equal now. He was good enough for her. "Let's move on to the death trap." He coughed. "Its, ah, inclusion surprised me. You’re against using dark."

Her chin notched up. "I've learned it's needed at times. I can’t avoid it if I want true balance."

He nodded, hoping to mask his surprise. He'd thought the same, but such thoughts were unheard of, forbidden even. He frowned. What had she gone through to learn that lesson? "Do others know?"

"That I use dark?"

After his nod, she shrugged, but it bothered her more than she let on. "I haven't talked about it, but there’s enough dark around here, in my enchantments I'm sure others figured it out." Her lips twisted. "Without the dark, my items would fail. Others realize if they want powerful relics from me, they better not cast judgment that I use both dark and light."

"True. Although most people tend to be hypocritical."

Her eyes met his, searching for more than he wanted her to know.

"Not me. Not anymore," she whispered and turned away.

Her eyes shuttered closed, hands raising as ancient melodic words tumbled through her lips. Orange flames circled, linking together to dome the property.

Hair rose on his arms as her incantation turned deeper, guttural, moving from light to dark. Is this what others sensed when he used magick? Threatening. Unnatural.

He released his power, mixing it with hers without permission.

She gasped at the contact.

Gritting his teeth against the sound of her pleasure, the feel of her essence, he funneled energy into the spell. Her anger bled into the link, but he didn't care. She’d accept his strength, his power even if she didn't want it. Combined, mated powers held fast against any force. They warped until they weren't two separates, but a new essence all its own. Not even he could break it.

When their powers ebbed, lights fading in the night, their breaths heaved. Magick didn't run out. There wasn't a reserve. It flowed from the soul endlessly, but their bodies were only able to withstand so much. Physically, magicks drained a person as powers were used, and the only way to wield higher levels was to use more often, to practice, to continually push the corporeal limits.

He hadn't expended that much energy in years.

But as Seph leaned over, catching her breath, he didn't regret it. He only wished he could give more. He'd hand over everything to keep her safe. To keep her all to himself.

That truth surged through him like a promise.

He'd get the talisman. He must. It was too powerful to fall into another’s hands. But when it was over, he'd have Seph too. "Are you all right?"

Her hand shot out, slapping him across the face. "Don't ever join your magick with mine again unless I invite you to."

Breath heavily, she glared at him, seething like she wanted to hit him again.

He fingered the sting in his cheek. "You didn't used to mind so much."

"That was before," she spat.

Clarification wasn’t needed. He knew. She meant before he'd abandoned her. Before he'd left her. Before he'd betrayed what they had together. His gut clenched.

"You have no right to me now."

His teeth clenched. Fate had given him every right to her. But he’d messed that up. Just because their magicks were mated didn't mean she’d accept him, that she had to be with him.

The fault lay only with him.

Before, when things were right between them, she'd given him everything. He couldn't blame her for withholding it now. Joining magick was too powerful, too emotional, too consuming. It bared the soul.

"True. I don't have any rights. But I knew you wouldn't accept my magick, but I need to keep you and the talisman safe.”

He glanced at her jewelry again, unable to determine which piece held unspeakable power. Interesting. Locating items was a gift of his, but this piece remained shielded. "Which is it?"

Her eyes narrowed. "None of your business."

He shrugged, annoyed. He never liked puzzles, but he'd figure this one out eventually.

"Thank you for helping me," she choked out.

"You're welcome," he said easily, not wanting to gloat. Her words were hard enough on their own.

"It's time for you to leave.” Her arms crossed. “Don't come back, Zander."

Never returning might be easier, but he couldn't give her what she wanted. He'd never leave her. Not again. Not ever. She'd learn to accept that. "I'll leave tonight, Seph. But I'll be back."

"Don't make me erase it all."

The genuine regret in her voice surprised him. "I don't think you will." Her chin jerked up in warning when he edged toward her. "Would you rather I lie to you, Seph? Tell you I'll leave you alone now? We both know it'd be a lie."

"It's not anything different than what I've come to expect from you."

Her words slapped him.

"I'm sorry." She sighed. "I don't want to fight. I don't want to rehash old wounds. Look, I'm grateful for your help, but you'll never get the talisman. There's nothing here for you."

His eyes leisurely traced her body, caressing every inch, every curve from the top of her head to her toes with his gaze. "There's more here for me than you think."

E
nough was enough
.

Persephone glared through her front window as brilliant sunshine pooled on the lawn. Zander lurked outside. Somewhere beyond the borders of her acreage. She sensed him, like the droning of a housefly that just wouldn’t stop. He watched and waited for signs of danger, protecting from the shadows for a week.

It was bloody annoying. Did he think she couldn't protect herself? Her trap had immobilized him, for heaven’s sake. She could take care of herself and the talisman without him. If she needed back up, she’d call Celeste.

With him hanging around all the time, people talked. If she had to endure one more wink from Mrs. Peretto, the ancient florist who’d teased her and Zander after getting caught making out in the alley behind her shop twelve years ago, she'd explode. Or better yet, she’d blast Zander off the planet. He didn’t need to follow her around like a puppy.

Why hadn't she wiped his memory that night? Why hadn't she in the week since? Her weakness frustrated her, and she
hated
that he was right, resented his suspicions that she couldn’t do it.

Well, she was done. Done with him following her. Finished with his unwanted protection. Chanting, she cloaked herself. Her spell needed strength to fool him, and although it wouldn't hold him off for long, it’d get her point across.

Grabbing her purse, she slipped out the back door and vaulted on her bike. Shielding all noise zapped too much power, but if she rode slowly and circled around, she might escape undetected.

A mile down the road, she whooped. "Yes!" She yelled to the sky with closed eyes, enjoying the breeze of victory against her cheeks. She'd bested him. With a smug smile, she imagined his reaction when he realized she’d slipped his tail.

Priceless.

She parked in front of the grocery store and practically sang out her greeting to other patrons. Being alone, tasting freedom, not glancing over her shoulder every step she took for fear of who came after her, rejuvenated her.

In the week since the bracelet’s creation, the numerous attacks on her property unnerved her, but her protective spells held fast. No one cracked them. And even though Zander promised he'd return, he hadn’t broken through either.

Acknowledging the usefulness of his magick that first night grated, but she had to. Without his added power, her spells wouldn’t hold. But although she was grateful for his help, she wouldn’t allow him back into her life. One good deed didn’t cancel the rest. She still believed he wanted the bracelet. That’s why he appeared after years of absence, why he helped her bulk up her defenses. So others wouldn’t get their hands on it.

She whistled out a breath. If he only knew how pointless possessing the bracelet would be, he'd be pissed. She’d warned him he’d never get it, but he hadn't believed her. Perhaps she should tell him about the talisman’s curse. Then again, she didn't want anyone knowing such a weakness. Knowledge granted power and would invite unwelcome attention. Thugs attempting to crack her failsafe would only cause her additional headaches. No, best to keep all information to herself. This was her burden to bear, and she couldn’t let Zander manipulate that.

She twirled the bangle around her wrist. She'd grown accustomed to it.

Her responsibility. Her cage.

The talisman imprisoned her, never to be taken off until she found the True One, the talisman’s true master. It would become another appendage in time.

Imagining the years of carrying such a burden depressed her. She’d prepared for this responsibility her whole life, but preparing and experiencing were two different things. Even a lifetime of planning hadn’t equipped her well enough.

The joy from the outing paled after her realization. She paid for her groceries and left. Until she found the True One, she wouldn’t be safe. She wouldn’t be free.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she scrubbed it away, breathing deeply. She wouldn't cry over this. She
wouldn’t
. She'd experienced harder things, excruciating things. Endurance was possible. She’d survive.

Tying down her groceries in the bike’s basket, she hopped on and headed home with a heavy heart. Her self-pity distracted her.

A man stepped onto the deserted country road. She cursed, recognizing him for what he was.

A hunter.

Her bike came to a slow stop, her body stilling as she realized what she lacked.

Her cloak.

No power hummed down her arms. No orange tendrils of magick caressed her skin.

Her shield extinguished, she’d all but invited him to find her. Her carelessness would cost her precious energy. At least one man was easy to defeat. She’d finish him off, wipe his mind, and get home quickly. "You really don't want to do this," she warned, hoping he'd be smart and leave before things turned ugly. Outrunning him was impossible, and she really didn't like hurting people.

He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, I think we do."

At his words, four others stepped from the shelter of the trees, surrounding her.

She stamped down the first flutter of fear. Five against one. And from the looks of them, highly trained hunters.

"If you give us the talisman, we'll let you go," the leader offered graciously.

One of his men snickered.

The ringleader was large and muscled. Such physiques weren’t necessary to wield magicks, but it gave him strength, stamina. And his eyes were cruel. He wouldn’t let her go. Not even if she gave him the bracelet. Men like him never left their victims alive.

He radiated dark energy. They all did. "Will you really?" she stalled, shrinking under his gaze, praying he took it as a sign of acquiescence instead of coiling for an attack.

"Oh yeah, Darlin'. We promise," another man taunted.

Sweat broke out on Persephone's brow. There was no way to defeat these men alone. No way to win the fight.

Except one.

She closed her eyes. The talisman burned her wrist, urging her to use it. If she misjudged its power, she'd die. They'd kill her if she didn’t.

Her eyes opened slowly, the decision made.

"So, what's it going to be?"

She cleared her throat for one last bluff. "I don't have it on me. It's at my house." If she could get make it home, Zander would help. The group was strong, but they’d never defeat mated powers.

The leader snorted. "Nice try, honey. I sense it on you now. Hand it over."

Her heart quaked, but her voice held firm. "No."

His brows narrowed. "Your choice. Or, I should say, your mistake." He signaled the men to move in.

They stalked her, hunting as a pack.

Though it endangered her, she hesitated unleashing the talisman, unwilling to bring on the pain she'd suffer.

One of the lackeys launched forward.

She raised the bracelet to eye level, the opposite hand clasping the metal. Three words tumbled from her lips before lightning shot out, finding her assailants’ hearts like rods.

She screamed, collapsing under the pain ricocheting through her.

She welcomed blackness as it overtook her.