He was a very bright man, her mate. His mind was always working. She admired him for a moment more and then turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her. It was night, but the moon shone bright and her werewolf vision was able to make everything out with crystal clarity.
The Oregon coast stretched out in either direction, cold, wet, misty and beautiful. Charlie normally would have been transfixed by it. However, right now she was horribly preoccupied. Carefully, she peeled back the edge of one of her leather bracers and peered underneath. The mark was growing redder.
Any minute now, she would be zapped out of the Council’s guest room and sent to the scene of some horrible, bloody crime that hadn’t yet happened. Normally, Dannai and Lily would meet her there and the three of them would handle the trauma together.
However…. Danny was in danger. There was a warlock out there who was obsessed with her. Charlie knew all too well how terrifying that could be. There was no way she was going to call on the Healer to leave the safe haven of the Council headquarters with Alberich on the loose.
Lily, on the other hand, Charlie wouldn’t be able to stop from coming if she decided she wanted to. She was a seer. If she happened to have a vision about this particular crime scene, then she would want to help. At the moment, Lucas Caige possessed the necklace Danny had made for Lily that would allow her to travel to and from sites like this. But Lily was stubborn and she would certainly demand it back.
Not that Caige would necessarily comply. Or that her husband Daniel would let him.
Charlie took a slow, shaky breath and let go of the leather band, returning her attention to the shoreline that beckoned beyond the glass. I could be on my own this time, she thought. Not that she couldn’t handle it alone. It was just….
She turned and glanced again at her mate, and as always, she marveled in the absolute power of him. He was so tall, so strong, so gorgeous. And he’d killed Gabriel Phelan. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe that her worst enemy, her worst nightmare, was no longer a threat. It hadn’t quite hit her yet.
Phelan’s death took the heat off of her. But Malcolm wouldn’t see it that way. He would never stop worrying about her, taking precautions, being domineering. It was his nature and he did it because he loved her endlessly.
If she was going to help whoever it was that was in danger – and the increased burning on her wrists said she was – then she was going to have to do this alone, without anyone at headquarters being the wiser. Especially Malcolm. I have to go somewhere to be alone, she thought.
She turned away from the windows and Malcolm looked up, breaking his conversation. She was always the first thing on his radar. A rush of pride went through her at that thought. Sometimes it was still difficult to accept that he was hers.
“Gotta pee,” she said, shrugging shyly.
Malcolm smiled and turned to the man in front of him. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked. Though his accent was ever British, he had at least grown used to calling it a restroom and not a water closet years ago.
The enforcer pointed through the doorway by which he stood. “Third door down on the right,” he said.
“Thank you,” Charlie said and brushed past them. As she passed Malcolm, his magnetism caused her to slow. His power wrapped around her as if clinging to her. It always happened, and though it still made her mouth water slightly and her eyes glass over, she was getting used to it.
She did her best to ignore the pull of him and hurried out of the room – but not too fast. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicions.
Once she made it to the restroom, she turned and locked the door behind her. It was out of habit more than anything. She wondered at the existence of the locks, in fact. Any werewolf could easily snap them, but she supposed they were there as a courtesy more than anything else. If someone turned the knob without remembering to knock, the lock would simply remind them that someone was inside.
Pain shot up her arms and Charlie gritted her teeth, trying her best not to make a sound that would draw the attention of any of the werewolves nearby. They could hear anything. Especially Malcolm. If she so much as hissed in pain, he would be breaking down the door.
Charlie moved past the first few stalls and then stumbled as the world tilted. She quickly righted herself, straightening as the pain engulfed her and the bathroom washed itself in red. The flash temporarily blinded her, as it always did, and she closed her eyes against it.
When the light behind her shut lids began to fade, she could make out the sounds of nature around her. The air felt damp with mist. The Earth was soft under her boots. Scents wafted toward her: salt, wet ground, mushrooms. Magic.
Gabriel Phelan.
Charlie’s eyes flew open, but her shock came too late. The man was already standing before her, towering over her, gazing down at her through alien eyes. One blue. The other green.
She tried to reel back, at once so filled with repulsion and terror and disbelief that her heart felt trapped in her throat. But Gabriel’s hands came up like lightning, like always, blurringly fast. She gasped and cried out as his fingers clamped around her wrists, drawing her up against him.
“Welcome to the party, Charlie,” he said. His demon eyes promised things that turned her stomach; his cruel mouth turned up every so slightly in anticipation. His jaw was set, his gaze hard, and when he spoke, she could see the fangs between his lips. “We couldn’t have started without you.”
“Impossible,” Charlie whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. She couldn’t help it. Her entire body was quaking. She was going into shock or something. This wasn’t real. Maybe she was dreaming….
“Sorry sweetheart,” he said. “No time for chit chat. I’ll catch you up later.” Gabriel stepped back, taking her with him. It seemed to be no effort to him; it never had. He turned and pulled her along beside him despite her struggles, and panic bubbled up inside of her, familiar and acidic. She couldn’t think straight under its assault. She couldn’t concentrate enough to fight effectively.
Gabriel hauled her past the remains of a smoking bonfire and at least a half dozen hooded figures in black. Nausea roiled in her belly, hot and horrid. At their feet lay a helpless human woman, trussed up and gagged. And Charlie understood. They’d been planning to kill the woman – to torture her – in order to get Charlie into the clearing.
If she hadn’t been petrified, it would have brought to mind all sorts of questions about time and continuity and quantum physics. But as it was, she could barely keep conscious beneath the fear riding her.
Gabriel tossed her toward a stone altar, where three other men waited. One of them caught her in his strong arms and held her at arm’s length, staring down at her through green eyes entirely too much like Malcolm’s.
“Jason Alberich,” she whispered, knowing him at once. The smell of black magic was all around him, and traces of Danny’s lighter scent still clung to him from when he’d cornered her in his chamber. Did he know that Lucas had turned Danny? Charlie swallowed hard, her mind spinning.
She should have been able to take a few heads off by now. She should be fighting, whirling around, striking out with everything Gabriel had ever taught her. But for some reason, she was immobile staring up at this man with his beautifully, horribly green eyes. What’s wrong with me? She couldn’t even look away.
“An interesting fact about warlocks that few people know,” Gabriel said from behind her, “is that certain warlocks can control a victim’s body through touch.” He moved closer; she could hear him closing the distance. She could feel his power lick at her as he came to stand directly at her back. “Even yours, Charlie.”
In front of her, Jason Alberich broke eye contact with her and peered at the man over her head. “I want Caige dead by sunset tomorrow,” he hissed. The venom of hatred slipped through his words loud and clear. His anger lashed at her, almost physically – almost hurting. He knows, she thought. He knows Lucas turned Danny. Little else could cause a wrath like this.
/>
There was a beat of silence and she could imagine an unspoken promise passing between the two men.
“Put her on the altar,” came another voice. She recognized it at once, though she’d only ever heard the man speak a few words. Seth. The warlock who was something more. Alberich spun her around and lifted her – and she was helpless to do anything to stop him. He had absolute control over her; she felt lucky that he was allowing her lungs to draw breath.
He laid her down on the large stone altar and kept his hand gently, ominously pressed to her chest. She went limp, her arms at her sides, her legs half-bent, her heart hammering. She gazed steadily up at the moon-lit sky and hated Jason Alberich. She hated Gabriel Phelan. She felt her own power inside of her, swimming beneath the surface, rallying at its inability to let loose and do damage. She could take every one of these bastards down. Or die trying.
Instead, she was unmoving and defenseless, a sacrifice on an altar before four very evil men. She couldn’t even speak.
“I have to say I hate seeing you this way, Charlie,” Gabriel said as he and the others came to stand around the altar and stare down at her. “But I promise, sweet heart,” he continued, “as soon as the spell is completed, you’ll be free to fight me to your heart’s content.”
She got a good look at all of them now. She could move her eyes at least. Jason, she’d already seen – dressed in black, his blonde hair and green eyes in stark contrast to the dark clothing. Gabriel wore a white shirt, the top three buttons undone, un-tucked over blue jeans that hugged the trained, powerful muscles of his legs. Opposite them stood two other men.
One was Seth, the warlock with the red glowing eyes that she had decked two months ago when he’d been helping Gabriel in Las Vegas. She’d hated him then. His long black hair was the color of night with highlights that matched the indigo of his dark blue eyes. They stood out in an angelic face the color of alabaster. Tall, pale – he looked like an angel, and when his blue eyes began to glow red, he looked like a fallen angel.
His magic was insidious. She remembered it well. She wanted to deck him again.
Beside him stood a man she’d never seen before. There was nothing particularly notable about his appearance other than the fact that he, too, was dressed in black. He said not a word and watched her with quiet, shielded eyes.
For a moment, Charlie thought she might throw up right there in her mouth and drown on it. She was that scared. But Alberich seemed to sense her terror – and in the next moment, her nausea was lifted. Control, indeed.
Seth raised his head and peered at his companions one at a time. Then, in a voice as cold as death, he said “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Eighteen: “The Bullet Trick”
He couldn’t stop staring at her. It was like being a boy again and catching his first glimpse of a Playboy magazine from under the sink in his father’s bathroom. What he’d seen had caught him so unawares and had been so beautiful, he’d stayed there on the bathroom rug, slowly moving through the pages, his eyes glued to airbrushed curves so perfect, they were unreal.
He remembered wanting to touch them. Hell, what man, what boy, hadn’t? His fingers had twitched with the desire. It was worse now. Lucas felt a muscle in his jaw tick. He ran a fierce hand through his hair. Christ, it was worse.
She was so beautiful. She’d been stunning before. But now? She was a made wolf, and the transformation had intensified the already magical qualities of her being. Her long black hair shimmered with an otherworldly silkiness. Her skin glowed as if misted with gold. Her lips were a slightly deeper red, plump and perfect for kissing. And her eyes…. Someone had turned on a light behind the rainbows, illuminating a set of peepers so breathtaking, every time she looked up at him, his lungs froze mid-inhale.
He hadn’t left her side. He couldn’t. He wanted to kneel before her, worship every delectable inch of her, take her in his mouth again and again. He was lost in her. His mate. He felt as if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. How had he come to be the lucky one?
“Lucas?” She spoke his name; a whisper on an angel’s tongue. She was looking up at him, a concerned expression on her lovely face.
“Caige.” A man’s voice cut through his thoughts, stalling his day dream. He pulled his gaze from Danny’s and glanced across the coffee table. Daniel Kane sat on the couch opposite him, Lily beside him. She was reclined, at last, having just gotten her son to sleep in a crib in the adjoining room. She wore a loose sweater that hung open over one bare, tempting shoulder. Her long golden hair spilled over it, brushing her skin like silk on silk and setting off the gold in her eyes. Her husband’s hand was on her thigh, gripping just tightly enough to declare ownership. It was an alpha thing. And Lucas didn’t blame him.
Kane was watching him with the wary, observant eyes of a cop who missed nothing. “We lost you again, cuz’,” Kane drawled, his Southern accent thickly draped over every word. “Would you like us to leave the room?” His blue eyes sparkled with quiet laughter.
“If I said yes, would you get the hell out?” Lucas asked, lowering his gaze, which he could feel smoldering at the very thought of being alone with Danny again. The alphas were all trapped once more in the Council headquarters and it couldn’t have come at a worse time for Lucas.
“Not likely,” said Kane.
“That’s okay,” said Imani, who had been standing by the windows, looking out over the darkened coast beyond. She turned from the windows and smiled at her best friend. “Danny doesn’t mind the extra company, do you girl?”
Danny’s lips parted, her eyes glassing slightly. A thrum of sexual energy moved between the girls; Lucas could almost see it. Magic, he thought. He couldn’t help but recall the scent of the other witch all over his mate after the two of them had been together the other night. He went very still beside Danny, watching her like a hawk. His heart rate sped up, and his cock stiffened in his jeans.
Imani left the windows and strolled closer, her hips swinging seductively, her eyes pinned to the Healer. “In fact,” she purred, “I bet I can make her forget you’re all here.” She smiled, exposing perfect white teeth in a predatory, sexy as hell smile. She glanced over at Lily, whose slim form was still reclined easily on the sofa, her long legs propped up on the coffee table. “Lily will help out, won’t you, honey?”
Lily’s lips slowly spread into an I’m game smile, her own perfect teeth glistening white beneath the overhead lights. Lucas couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What he was hearing. Daniel Kane had gone utterly still beside his wife – and his sapphire eyes were glowing.
But Imani wasn’t finished yet. She came to stand beside Danny, curling one long finger beneath the woman’s chin to tilt it slightly back. She gazed down at her best friend in stark hunger. “So what do you say?” she asked the room softly. “Any of you boys feel like taking me up on that bet?”
Lucas was finding it hard to breathe. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, growing thicker and charged. In the blink of an eye, the men in the room had become predators. They were ready for a fight, preferably in the bedroom.
And then Imani’s sexy smile widened into a shit-eating grin and she chuckled. Lily threw back her head and laughed, joined in the next instant by Dannai, who shook her head. “Boys,” she said. “So predictable.”
Lucas had to seriously fight the sudden urge he had to pick Danny up, throw her over his shoulder, and find a room where they could be alone for three hours. He would fucking show her predictable.
The door to the room slammed open behind him and he and Kane came to their feet at once, all thoughts of sex taking a back seat. Malcolm Cole stood in the doorway, his eyes glowing hot, his gaze scanning the inhabitants of the room.
“Where’s Charlie?” he demanded with a growl.
Just then, Lily stood beside her husband. Kane turned toward her as she swayed on her feet. He caught her easily. “Cher?”
“Oh no,” she whispered. She looked from her husband to Danny, where Danny wa
s now coming to her feet beside Lucas.
“What is it?” Danny asked, her eyes wide. “Is it Charlie?”
Lily’s expression looked both helpless and desperate. She looked over at Malcolm, the tall, the strong, the killer. And she let out a breath that was half harsh sob. “Yes,” she said, clutching her flat stomach with what must have been one of the worst visions she’d ever had. “And that’s not all.”
*****
Charlie knew that he would only have enjoyed it and that it would have been pointless, but at that moment she wished with all her might that she could at least speak again so she could beg Gabriel not to do this.
Please, she thought desperately. Hopelessly. Please don’t take this from me.
Above her, three men passed around a dagger, slicing open their palms and allowing the blood to pool in their hands. “Your eyes are so beautiful when you’re frightened,” Gabriel told her. He was the only one who hadn’t cut himself. The other three raised their wounded hands above her and Jason Alberich began to speak. His free hand, he still held to her chest, keeping her immobile through his evil touch.
The warlock’s words were foreign to her. His deep voice had changed, taking on a strange echoing quality. It sounded infernal; fundamentally wrong. She felt his words surround her and move through her and as they did, they left trails behind them. They were trails of weakness, dizziness, and most disturbing of all – pleasure.
No, she thought. God, no.
But God wasn’t listening because Alberich continued to speak and strange music began to echo through Charlie’s head. It was her own music, slowed down, mesmerizing, a drum beat that matched the beat of her heart. She felt her eyes closing beneath the persuasion of his malevolent lullaby.