No Witch Way Out (Maeren Series Book 2)

by Mercedes Jade

  “Okay, confession time. The claiming tattoo is actually Daemon’s familiar. It’s already ‘come out’ when I was under some duress,” she admitted. “See, your dastardly plan to torture me into confessing my crimes has worked. Untie me now,” she mocked, holding out her unbound wrists.

  “When did Daemon’s claim trigger?” George asked, looking a bit thunderous.

  He’d focussed on the part she really didn’t want to discuss.

  “Don’t worry, I got Daemon’s familiar back on my skin and it’s all fine, now. I was only planning to use it to distract you, while I blasted free. My plan failed,” she said, avoiding what George really asked.

  Geer wouldn’t let her get away with the partial confession.

  “Our mate decided last week that trading her blood for a bit of chalk was a good way to express her newfound sense of power and freedom, and luckily, the bite was painful enough to arouse the attention of her claimed mate, Daemon,” Geer explained.

  “You know it was more complicated than that. I needed good chalk to stop you from finding me!” Elizabeth argued back.

  “Are you crazy? That was very dangerous,” George said, his scolding less gentle this time.

  Well, she hadn’t expected him to like the idea of her using him to poke Daemon’s familiar.

  “I’m fine. I hardly felt your bite. The dragon is sleeping,” Elizabeth pointed out.

  “I meant the blood trade with some strange vampire, not me,” George clarified.

  “Do take care with who you are calling a dragon, sparks. As I said, your so-called torturer here is one of your mates, so his bite is unlikely to trigger your claim.”

  “Stop calling George my mate,” she insisted.

  “You are in such sweet denial. How long will it last?” Geer taunted. “Try to get into trouble again and see what your first prince will do . . .”

  “She is in the middle of the Wastes. There is no trouble for her to find,” George said in a disgruntled tone.

  “You need not to tell me your location, although I don’t mind. If she’s in Maeren’s boundaries, I can feel her through the bond well enough to find her,” Geer revealed.

  “And yet, the dragon isn’t coming,” George challenged. “You should be more worried about me, kerashemeria. I mean to steal you, and this time, Daemon isn’t here to stop me,” George said, warning her again.

  She lifted her head and flicked her gaze up to him, letting a little rebellious challenge stare out from her eyes.

  “You can’t steal me. I don’t belong to Daemon or any other vampire. I’m my own witch.”

  George grabbed her from behind and hauled her up his body, nuzzling her neck where he had bitten.

  “Believe what you want, but as long as you carry a vampire mark on your skin, you belong to him in the eyes of other males. And right now, my mark is most visible,” George whispered into her mind with pleasure.

  “That is archaic,” she complained.

  Geer snorted. “He’s still not getting this shared mate idea. Neither are you, if you believe you can’t be a feisty, independent witch and still have your mates by your side.”

  Geer had a silver tongue. She couldn’t forget that when dealing with him.

  George was positively medieval when it came to how he treated witches. He definitely wouldn’t give her much freedom if he had her in his harem.

  “I’m just waiting Daemon’s claim out and then I’ll be a free witch,” she said.

  Geer sighed.

  “Marks and claims are for witch protection, kerashemeria. Even mates, when such a thing was believed and practiced, were meant to protect witches that magic had deemed the perfect match. They were treasured,” George patiently explained.

  “You said it, vampire. Treasured, not hoarded by only one of her mates. Keep that in mind when I ask for my turn,” Geer said.

  Elizabeth pushed back on George’s chest a little, so she could look him in the eyes again.

  His face was relaxed despite his talk of stealing her from the most dangerous demon alive, so she couldn’t take him too seriously.

  Males were all hot air when it came to feeding, promising many things in the heat of the moment, but quick to fall for an easier meal if it fell in their laps.

  “How come witches can’t mark their males? I would think there would be a good deal less broken claims if females decided things,” she said.

  Trailing a finger from George’s scarred shoulder to his chest, Elizabeth scraped her nail gently across the oldest, thickest-looking scar, which bisected his pectoral muscle right over his heart.

  She would ink George right there if females could claim males, a visible reminder that she saw further than skin deep and he had nothing to hide from her.

  George’s mother was burning him, holding an iron sword she fired white-hot with her magic as she placed it against his chest, while he squirmed helplessly under the pain eating into his heart.

  Three demons held him down, just barely, his earth magic fighting to free him despite his mother’s curses to lay still and stop being such a baby.

  They had to destroy the mark.

  She snapped her eyes up from George’s chest, still seeing his mother cauterizing the thick scar she had softly traced, ruthlessly marring his boyish flesh.

  It really had been his oldest scar. George’s little body, twisting under demon hands, had been no more than five years old.

  George’s eyes flashed surprise and then anger as he figured out what she’d seen. He grabbed her shoulders.

  “Stay out of my head, Lady Norwood,” he told her. No cute nicknames, all business, suddenly.

  They weren’t friends. Neither had a true claim on the other.

  Geer was off his rocker if he thought George was her fated mate. This feed had been the vampire equivalent of a one-night stand.

  “Push me out,” she ordered.

  She deliberately thought of how weak and defenceless George was compared to Daemon in magic, so easy to pull his thoughts out, like flipping through an open book.

  “Push me out.”

  George squeezed her shoulders, not hurting yet, but she could feel the restrained power.

  He had no idea that his fragile mind felt just as vulnerable under her lightning as the delicate bones he was currently gripping with his earth restrained.

  “Push me out.”

  Her first time making a block on her mind had been to protect herself from her uncle’s dark thoughts about her and Jill.

  George only needed sufficient motivation.

  “Push me out.”

  George was picturing a brick wall, thick and heavy, completely impenetrable to look at but useless.

  She hammered his wall with her demand.

  “Push me out. Push me out. Push me out.”

  George’s skin was too thick. He needed more than the insults her uncle had provided her to push him into shielding.

  Heavy earth didn’t work like lightning. His wall needed fluidity that matched thoughts.

  Hoping George wouldn’t defend himself with more than his mind, Elizabeth upped the ante, levitating them both with her air, until they were vertical and hovering off the floor.

  “Sparks, what game are you playing? Waving a red flag in front of a bull really isn’t advisable,” Geer said in a worried tone.

  She ignored him. All of her focus was on George.

  “Push me out.”

  She needed to force George’s magic to react instinctively to protect itself from injury.

  It required a show of force.

  Blowing their bodies across the room to slam George against the far wall, she dove deep into his mind to take control over his body.

  This final threat was perilously close to mind control.

  “Push me—”

  George shielding lightning.

  Her weaker air was immediately cut off and he fell back to the ground, landing with a thud as his feet touched the cave floor. He dragged her down with him.


  The power when he reconnected with the earth made her tremble, feeling it reverberate through the cavern.

  “Elizabeth, that is not how you teach your mate to use his magic!”

  Geer’s voice was tight with anger.

  He was pushy and nosy, but the only time he got really angry with her was when she did something he considered stupid-brave.

  A full mug of ale sloshed on the table as Geer slammed it down.

  “I’m going to hunt down my prince and see what is taking him so long to fetch his gaisa, so I can take my leave to steal my own back and teach her some overdue lessons.”

  After Geer delivered the promise, he rose from his seat in the pub. Her view of his surroundings cut off as he ended their connection.

  Temperamental dragons.

  “Geer is leaving, in case the lightning blocks you from hearing him, although it never works for me, unfortunately. He’s going to cause trouble for Victor and the safety of my family is in question, so buckle up your defences and let’s get out of this cave,” she said.

  She was still hovering just an inch off of the ground. He had his hands wrapped around her arms, but he was taller, so he hadn’t forced her feet to the cave floor when he’d pulled her down with him.

  If he made an attacking move, she would be better able to defend herself from this position.

  “I can hear the dragon just fine,” George answered. “Your thoughts are gone, and I presume, your access to my mind?”

  “Your lightning blocks all other telepathy, except Geer,” Elizabeth said, confirming she was no longer able to communicate with his mind. “Remember, circle just your thoughts, your mind. Don’t picture a wall, but a shield, made of energy. Waves, not brick.”

  Once George got the concept, he was able to block with more ease, dropping his body shield, so she could only sense the one on his mind.

  It was possibly even better than her usual shield, but then, he had fed well.

  “Fine, now your thoughts are your own,” Elizabeth said. “Keep it that way.”

  He let go of one of her arms to grab her by the shoulder and tug her down the rest of the way. Once her feet were touching the ground, he cupped her face with both hands and sighed.

  She shook a little, all too aware of his power in this cave. She hoped she hadn’t pushed him too far.

  He frowned and tried touching her mind.

  She blocked him. Her lightning was strong and practiced.

  The shivering stopped.

  “Stay out of my head, Prince George.”

  He dropped his hands.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Just like that?

  It seemed too easy, his sudden compliance. She couldn’t help but look for the hidden knife. George had a tenuous truce with her currently. Trust wouldn’t come easily to either of them.

  “I need clothes that fit if we’re going any distance,” she said, testing him. She knew he had hidden better-fitting clothes for her.

  Moments later, he tossed her soft, cotton underclothes and plain but functional boy’s pants and a shirt.

  “Turn around,” she said, waiting to see if he would give her his back.

  She quickly dressed, not going to jinx the sudden cooperation she was getting from George by being slow.

  George had a good ear, turning back as soon as she finished.

  “So, are we ready to go rescue my innocent and falsely arrested family?” she asked, stressing the innocent part.

  “Everyone has something to protect,” he said.

  He had changed while she did, just as quick. The shirt covering his chest was buttoned to the neck.

  “I’m not lying to protect them,” Elizabeth lied.

  George stepped closer and tipped her chin up to meet his assessing gaze.

  “Oh, you are definitely a liar,” he said.

  She knew her mental blocks were flawless.

  “But a traitor wouldn’t show me how to defeat her greatest power,” he said. “You’re either crazy or foolish, but there’s one thing you’re definitely not.”

  “And what is that?” she asked warily.

  “My enemy,” he answered, letting go of her chin.

  Red String of Fate

  Human Realm

  Victoria

  Victoria sat on top of her dragon.

  His lungs were like bellows, noisily pushing air in and out of his chest, lifting her bottom with every snoring breath he took.

  George had really done a number on his head. She had to bind the dragon with her water, slipping his body over an icy layer to get him to the forested path in the park.

  It was better to hide him in case curious onlookers came out to see what had made all the terrible noise during their fight.

  Humans were still going to think there was a hibernating bear out here. One that had gone on a rampage first.

  She didn’t know how long Victor was going to take to come to get them.

  Her twin had gone after Jill first, according to George, and given the way Jill had left Victor behind in Maeren, they may be a while settling scores.

  Victoria had drunk the same potion as her twin, healing teas with a little extra poured by Jill’s own hand, but her brother hadn’t had Kaila to heal him like Victoria had, once they were safely away from the castle.

  Victor had watched, with his body slumped over his emptied cup, while Jill tested their body reflexes, checking that her poison had fully taken hold.

  Jill had mercifully explained to her captive audience the effects of the poison and how long it would take to wear off, ending with the reassurance that it wasn’t fatal.

  If hearing how Jill had betrayed them in clinical detail wasn’t humiliating enough, she had compounded the insult by picking Victor up like a child and carrying him through the anteroom, where they had set up the tea, in order to lay his paralyzed body down on the bed.

  Nervous chatter about Jill’s nursing duties in her edge town as she stripped Victor’s clothes and placed a bedpan under him—in case it was a while until he was found—had drifted from the bedroom to Victoria’s mortified ears.

  Jill couldn’t have known how much it would disturb her brother to lose control over his own body. Knocking him out in a fight would have been preferable to stealing his ability to defend himself while conscious.

  He wouldn’t forgive the forced helplessness.

  The worst part of it all was that Jill had ensured Victor was unable to save his sister from disappearing again.

  It would have forced him to relive his memories of attempting to rescue Victoria from her last human mistake and failing, leaving her with George’s bonded slavery.

  That would double whatever price Victor demanded from Jill in reparation.

  Victoria had tried to warn Jill already. Her twin was usually protective of other witches, saving the few he could from their mistakes by offering a place in his harem.

  Maybe that mercy for females would spare Jill the worst of his anger.

  Victor was going to have his hands full, anyway, with Victoria’s twenty-stone companion.

  Jill might actually be grateful enough to the dragon for the distraction that she would forgive the hit the monster had given Elizabeth, although it had looked accidental.

  Victoria didn’t know how to explain to Victor what the dragon claimed he was to her.

  Gaisa.

  Fate couldn’t tie her to her father’s enemy like this. It had to be a terrible mistake. His taste of her blood hadn’t garnered any tender feelings in her.

  The bond he had forged was a trick, some ancient dragon magic that just made it seem like he was her mate.

  She had talked it over with Kim during their week of being holed up at the dojo. Kim had confirmed that witches had a way to double check a mate claim.

  It wasn’t something that was well known, especially since mates had gone out of vogue with the demons, and it required an ingredient she could only get in Maeren to perform the spell.

  She was
going to straighten out this dragon’s misunderstanding as soon as he woke. Enough of relying on her brother to save her. A witch of age didn’t need others to fight her battles.

  She’d lay her mate curse on the dragon and see if it turned him into a frog or confirmed he was the prince of her dreams.

  Her stomach growled.

  She wished she hadn’t thrown all those gummy bears on the ground to lure those vampires, earlier. It looked like she was going to be in for a long night.

  Elizabeth was probably hungry. She had waited to eat, saying that it wasn’t a good idea to eat half an hour before slaying.

  Jill had told them that was a swimming rule and Elizabeth had just shrugged and popped some bubble gum in her mouth.

  Elizabeth had the bag of flavoured marshmallows on her. Damn, now they were probably ash-covered goo. That was going to be a sticky mess to clean up.

  Victoria was getting a crick in her back. She might have pulled something when the vampire threw her at the slide post, although all she remembered was cracking her head and the goose egg she still sported.

  Her butt hurt. Dragons weren’t made for sitting on for long periods.

  The marshmallows weren’t the only thing left behind when Elizabeth and George staked each other out. George’s swords, and Maeren only knows what other weapons her brother had on him, were sitting out there.

  Children played at this park.

  Maybe not, without a roof on the slide.

  Maybe not, if the slide teetered and fell off the heavily damaged posts.

  Her head ached. She didn’t even know what she had hit it on, or it might be because she was hungry.

  She need to do something, so she wasn’t sitting here, hyper focused on every little discomfort.

  Would her pet dragon stay put if she left him to finish tidying up the park?

  She bounced a little on the dragon’s chest, first softly, and then a little harder, and then jumping up and slamming down.

  The only thing that happened was her butt hurt more. The dragon wasn’t waking up anytime soon.

  A circle would guarantee he’d stay put.

  She pulled out the virgin moon chalk that had been made hers ever since Elizabeth let her make the amplification circle with it.