Under Witch Aura (Moon Shadow Series) (21 page)

“And this is good for Tara,
how?”

Explaining Lynx and his
ethics was
impossible. He worked on projects for the money, but also for the
challenge. He only worked for people he respected, but ultimately, he
wanted to work for no one.

His independent streak and
business
ideas were usually what got him into trouble. He'd sell things to
people even if those things weren't good for them. Except drugs. “He
doesn't do drugs,” I said brightly. “He won't touch
them—not to sell them, not to use them.” I was almost
positive that he blamed his own abandoned condition on drugs. Then
again, it could be that he knew how dangerous drugs were for a kid
living on the streets.

“And that's about his best
asset.
I want something better for my sister. I'd like her to date someone
who doesn't disappear into thin air, leaving you holding the bag! Is
that asking too much?”

“No, not really. But the
good
news is that Lynx wants something better for her too. And for
himself. He always has.” I drummed my fingers on the door rest.
White Feather pulled close to the house, which was good, because I
was determined to walk on my own.

Someone, I assumed Lynx or
Tara, had
driven my car back here from the mountain. Small consolation.

As I climbed out, I said,
“Maybe
by the time they aren't teenagers they will have reached the point
where they are better.”

“If they live that long.”

That was the biggest
problem with being
a teenager. They had to live long enough to make it to the point
where they were more than just a bundle of energy and hope—and
hormones.

I managed to climb the
stairs and
stagger inside without whimpering. There was no point in looking in
the mirror. Once again, it was the shower for me, clothes and all.

White Feather interrupted
that plan. “I
had better check you over.”

I paused in my marathon
effort to make
the bathroom. “Check?”

“Patrick is a vampire.” His
eyes were worried.

I swallowed. “I suppose so.”

My t-shirt was matted on
one side,
bloody and stuck to me near my right arm. “I thought I'd shower
this thing off.” I pulled at the bottom part. Patrick must have
washed me down while checking for wounds, because other than the arm
and shirt, the rest of me was surprisingly clean for someone who had
been rolled and mashed in the dirt.

Still, getting the shirt
off with the
stitches in my arm was proving tricky. “What a mess. Maybe I
should cut the shirt off.”

“Here, let me help.” He
was suddenly right behind me, almost faster than Patrick could have
moved. He lifted my shirt very carefully. It stuck on my breasts, and
I had to wiggle and shift my arms to allow it to move higher. His
hands, with a feather-light touch, traced my back, searching for bite
marks. My back was the least injured area, because it had been
protected by my backpack.

Without asking, he released
my bra
hook.

It always felt good to take
my bra off.
To spring free while his hands were running across me was enough to
make me moan.

His hands stilled. I
tingled all over,
my wounds forgotten. I didn’t know if the air movement came
from him or because I was half naked. His hands slid across my
exposed skin again. Slowly. Like he knew he really shouldn’t.

He was only checking my
back, but…he
kissed my shoulder. His lips traced the areas where his hands had
been.

While his lips were busy,
his hands
inched forward, just touching the swell of my breasts. He cupped
them.

I gasped out another
half-groan and
leaned into him.

His hands teased across me,
exploring,
but not for vamp bites. I couldn’t feel his power because I was
drowning from his touch.

When his thumbs grazed my
nipples, I
nearly screamed. He turned me to him in one smooth motion.

I put my bad arm up across
his, giving
him all the access he could possibly want.

He didn’t refuse the offer.
Magic
rolled over me in waves with every brush of his lips.

We both breathed in, the
motion a tease
against his face.

One hand supported my back
while he
explored further with his mouth. Holding tight, I wished he would
never stop, but the magic raged out of control. He wrestled with it.
Against my better judgment, I helped, grounding myself to Mother
Earth.

He rested his face against
my chest and
said, “You are so beautiful.” He kissed me again, working
his way up my neck until he reached my jaw and then my lips.

I held onto his shoulders,
kneading my
fingers into his muscles. My ground to earth was strong; I offered it
to him. More than that, I pushed it over his wind, keeping him
grounded too.

His wind didn’t stop. It
swirled
around us.

“Too dangerous,” he
muttered. “Water blocks an ill wind,” he contradicted
himself. “And you need a shower.”

I kissed him hungrily, my
hands under
his shirt, reveling in his broad chest. “You’re safe
here.”

It was stupid. The fight
had left me
battered. My head pounded, my arm was slashed, and I still couldn’t
be happier. Well, maybe a little, but we were getting there. We had
to. It was becoming a matter of survival.

“I can’t repair your house
and mine at the same time,” he said, but his feet were taking
us step by step into the bathroom. I kept my arms wrapped tightly
around him, doing some exploring of my own.

He mumbled against my neck,
“Where
would we live if your house blew apart?”

The hospital shorts were
not a tight
fit. “It’s not the house you’re worried about, is
it?” I whispered, reveling in the taste of him. He smelled of
aftershave and fresh forest air.

He pulled me in tight. He
could leave
his hands on my bottom like that forever, and if he let go now, I’d
fall over.

“My promise is for life,
Adriel.
I’m not taking any chances with you, especially if it’s
the difference between one night and a lifetime of them.”

I leaned back and turned
the shower on.

He growled, “Adriel!”

My head was back, arched
toward the
water. The cold drops did nothing to cool the currents running across
my skin. I held tight to White Feather and leaned further away. The
new angle pulled him off balance.

He didn’t hesitate to
correct the
situation.

Water cascaded across my
head and
shoulders, slanting my grounding sideways. With his wind and the
growing vapor, it was hard to tell where the magic started. There was
no end to it.

He kissed my breasts,
gently. His
hands worked eagerly on the rest of me.

Maybe he meant to put
things on hold,
but when the water hit his head, the strangest thing happened. His
wind mixed with my earth. Instead of two forces, they were wrapped
together, circling. We were the eye in the center of a storm. There
were colors everywhere, sparking across the water. I didn’t
have to entice him closer; he was already there.

When we finally merged, the
magic was
earth, wind, water and a flame that didn’t go out.

There were numerous things
we could
have done to be safer. A swimming pool would have been good. Maybe
his grandfather’s retreat even better. My house was warded and
as safe as I could make it, but nothing was foolproof.

I hadn’t cared, and was
pretty
sure I wouldn't care the next time either.

Drying off, I managed to
ask, “So,
my back looks okay, then?”

White Feather, once again
in my house
with only a shirt and towel, froze for a second.

“No vamp bites?” I
prompted.

It took another second, but
then he
laughed.

The sound filled the tiny
room,
echoing. It was like his wind, only it was the magic of the man.

“This is crazy.” He reeled
me into a half hug, mindful of my arm. “Yesterday, while
working on the house, I had a visit from four mini-tornadoes. The ill
wind, whatever it is, came back, searching. It won’t find me
there. I know how to be invisible. Thank God it didn’t find us
here.”

Goosebumps covered my bare
skin. His
essence was his enemy. There wasn’t a worse place to be.
“You’re working on spells to counter it? Ones other than
disappearing behind no air at all?”

“A spell to fight and one
or two
others to hunt it down.” He glanced at the window in the
bathroom, but it was opaque. The important thing was that it was
intact. Whether it was luck, the water or my wards, nothing had found
us here. Not yet, anyway.

“Between the water and the
earth,
we were well hidden,” I said.

He stroked my shoulder
gently. “Wind
under the earth.”

“That was an unexpected
benefit.
I’ve never merged magics like that.”

“I didn’t know it could be
done.”

“We should probably take
more
showers,” I said. “Someone needs to study these things.”

He laughed again. It was a
very magical
sound, one I wanted to hear over and over.

* * *

White Feather woke me
several times
during the night and not once was it for romantic reasons. After
verifying I was lucid and not concussed, he tucked me to him and
kissed my head. I snuggled closer and fell back into exhausted sleep.

The last time he woke me it
was six
a.m. I threatened him with bodily harm. Despite my grumbling, he
nagged me until I got up and locked the door behind him. He was
determined to find Tara. I desperately required more sleep.

If White Feather had
thought about it,
he'd have realized that teenagers slept in. They didn't go anywhere
for any reason before ten, even if they were concerned about someone.
I knew this because ten-fifteen was when Lynx showed up to check on
me.

My nose was horribly
bruised and my arm
throbbed, but my headache was mostly gone.

Getting angry with Lynx was
a total
waste of time, but that didn't cool my slow boil. Even though he had
obviously returned to rescue me, there was still the blatant fact
that he had set me up in the first place.

“What in all the spells
gone
wrong were you thinking?” I demanded upon answering the door.

He gave me slit eyes. I
wasn’t
impressed. He could control his change. Acting angry and displaying
any sign of cat was a show.

“You’re okay, ain’t
you?”

“You turned me over to
Patrick?
Are you crazy?”

He relaxed. Obviously he
was fine with
that part of the caper. “’Trick is okay. He tol’ me
if I ever needed patchwork, he could help. He took care of you,
right?”

“Lynx. He is a vampire.”

His eyes roamed the floor.
“Yeah.
But you wasn’t lookin’ so good, and I had to take care of
Tara.”

I sucked in a worried
breath, but he
said, “She’s cool. But she ain’t like you. She
freaked, wondered why you didn’t just blow those guys away.
White Feather, she said coulda done that.”

“I am
not
White Feather.”
My voice was icy cold, unreasonably hurt by a stupid comparison.

“Why did you run right at
those
dumb asses?” he asked. “We’da gotten out of there!”

“I was trying to give
you
time
to get
your
ass out of
the fire!
”

He was quiet for several
seconds. “It
seemed like a simple case, just a guy with the evil eye.”

“Lynx—”

“I know, I know, it’s a
screw, but I checked!” His ears swiveled away from me. “You
saw his arm! It looked legit!”

“Lynx, I do not have a
problem
with you mistaking the guy for a legitimate client. I have a problem
with you showing up at the meet.
Any
meet of mine
and with
Tara, no less.”

Had he run or swore I would
have been
vindicated. Instead, he eyed the doors and windows as if he were
desperate to escape, but he held his ground. “She wanted to see you in action so she’d
know how to act.”

I folded my arms in front
of me,
insulted and betrayed.

Lynx babbled. “I forgot you
get
into trouble a lot. Shit, it was an easy one! Nothin’ shoulda
happened!”

He was not helping his
case. The red
line up my arm was ample evidence that something had, indeed,
happened.

“I shoulda known. I know, I
know.” His shoulders slumped. “You think he got this
infection from the evil eye like he said? And that turned him against
witches?”

I almost laughed. “You did
not
read this guy correctly, Lynx. He did get the spell from a witch, but
he was already out to cause trouble.” I told him about the
incident in the shop. “It’s one of Matilda’s
spells. It mixed with another spell and super-activated.”

Lynx blinked once in shock,
but then he
brightened. “You’re saying this spell ain’t gonna
disappear? He’s gonna have
petunias
growin’ out
his arm for the rest of his life?”

“I doubt that will deter
him. For
his purposes, this more than proves his point that witchcraft is
nothing but evil.”

Lynx lifted his lip into a
half smile,
half snarl. “If he minded his own business, he wouldn’t
have petunias!”

“True.”

Like a cat pouncing, he
abruptly
switched topics. “You still gonna train Tara?”

“No. Is she with you?”

He hunched as if I had hit
him with a
stick. At any moment, he might wail loud enough to make the stray
cat proud. “It wasn't her fault! She just wanted to watch. You
can't throw her out 'cause of that!”

“Is she okay? Where is she?”

“She's at my place.”

“I'm going to call White
Feather
and tell him.”

Lynx didn't protest. I left
White
Feather a message on his cell. “Lynx will drive her home,”
I said into the phone.

As soon as I hung up, Lynx
said,
“Listen--”