Panther Curse: Shifters Bewitched #3

by Tasha Black

  I opened my eyes slowly, surrendering the dream.

  But the scent stayed with me, as if my senses had memorized that intoxicating fragrance.

  “No,” a woman’s voice yelled.

  So, it wasn’t one of my brothers they had captured.

  I felt a pang of relief, followed by a stronger surge of guilt. At least my fellow guardians knew the risks of our job.

  The idea that they had captured an ordinary woman was horrible. I shuddered at what they might do to her.

  “Easy, blondie,” Scarface growled as they shoved her bodily into the cell next to mine.

  The door clanged shut and they tromped away as she screamed with rage and beat her hands against the bars.

  I turned toward her, ready to tell the woman that she wasn’t alone here in this hell.

  But her exquisite scent hit me like a tidal wave.

  This wasn’t just a woman.

  This was my mate.

  My mate.

  I took in her silvery blonde hair, the bright eyes, wide with panic, her strong, statuesque form. I could see the pride in her carriage even as she clung desperately to the bars.

  Gods, how I had longed for her.

  I had begged the universe to bring us together. And here she was at last, just inches from my frantic body. In the only place in the world that I didn’t want to find her.

  The horror of knowing she was here and trapped by these monsters threatened to steal my soul.

  I turned away from her again, unable to bear it.

  A horrible sound filled the dungeon.

  It took me a moment to realize that it was my own howl of pain.

  13

  Kendall

  In a heartbeat, all the terror left my body as a trickle of cold sweat slid down my spine. I still clung white-knuckled to the bars, but my fear was forgotten at the sound from the cell next to mine.

  That anguished howl.

  I remembered it from my dreams. That sound came from him, from my mate. The guardian who came to me as a panther, but claimed me as a man.

  I turned to him. But he was facing away, leaving me staring hungrily at his broad, muscular back and the dark hair that hung long over his shoulders. He wore an iron collar around his neck, just like mine.

  He was inches away from me, nothing separating us but the bars.

  He went silent, shoulders slumping slightly as the echoes of his howl faded and the last sounds of the retreating guards disappeared.

  “It’s you,” I whispered. “I’ve been dreaming about you.”

  Instead of turning around, he buried his head in his hands.

  “I’m here,” I told him softly. “It’s okay.”

  From where I stood, everything was pretty far from okay. But for some inexplicable reason, I was sure we were better off together.

  I’d read the lore, and talked to my friends who’d already found their mates. I knew how it worked. Guardians and their mates were bonded at the soul. As soon as he claimed me, we would balance each other. Our lives would melt into the blissed-out existence I had seen between Bella and Luke, or Cori and Reed.

  But none of that was going to happen if we couldn’t escape these cells.

  “We will get out of here,” I told him firmly. “The most important thing is that we’re together.”

  The guardian dropped his hands and snarled, still facing away from me.

  I waited. Surely that snarl meant something. Maybe he didn’t want a mate bond. The least he could do was tell me so.

  The silence was heavy, thick as the midnight fog on the mountain, and just as cold.

  Or maybe that was just the prison. The air was so frigid that I could see my breath pluming with every exhale.

  Fear of my circumstances finally started to tighten its grip on my mind again. I was imprisoned by a cult of fanatics, and the one man who should be ready to help me was giving me the silent treatment.

  “Nothing?” I said to him.

  The word hung in the air between us.

  “Nothing?” I repeated. “You have nothing to say after two years of haunting my dreams? I ached for you. And you won’t even look at me.”

  His movements were so quick I almost couldn’t track them. One moment, he was kneeling on the stone floor with his back to me, the next he had slammed himself into the bars with such force that I was surprised he didn’t burst right through them and into my cell.

  I gasped, but managed not to jump.

  Our gazes locked and his eyes pierced my soul. They were green, but lighter than in my dreams. His jaw was clenched tight, and his muscular chest heaved, pressing against the bars.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” he growled. His voice was rusty, as if from disuse. “I dream of you every night. Every full moon sends me half-crazy with need. I am starving for your touch. But you shouldn’t be here.”

  His eyes communicated his pain even more eloquently than his words, and for a moment I was mesmerized.

  “I don’t want you to be trapped here with me,” he whispered.

  “This is why you didn’t come for me,” I realized out loud.

  And I felt a relief so complete it left me shaking. I didn’t want him to be here either. But at least now I understood. He didn’t choose to abandon me.

  “You thought I wasn’t coming for you by choice?” he said, as if reading my thoughts, his voice full of wonder.

  “I wasn’t even sure you were real,” I admitted.

  My hand went to his face of its own accord, and I stroked his jaw lightly.

  He closed his eyes, as if he were in pain, leaning into my touch.

  “All I want is you,” he murmured against my palm, sending shivers down my spine.

  I leaned my head against the bars, wishing I could press my forehead to his.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered.

  I could feel the heat pouring off him. A wave of desire threatened to set my blood on fire.

  “Please,” I whispered back.

  He reached through the bars to trace the line of my face. The calloused pad of his finger leaving a featherlight trail of tingling in its wake.

  The cell faded away, and I stopped feeling the cold of the air and the stone floor.

  There was only my guardian mate and his gentle hands running through my hair, caressing my shoulders, my cheek, my lips.

  I hated those bars with everything I had. I wished I could make them disappear. But I wasn’t using my magic for anything.

  Water gurgled somewhere outside. If the stupid collar wasn’t around my neck, I might have been able to use it to break us out.

  I pulled back and he let go of me instantly.

  “I just want to see if I can get this thing off,” I told him.

  “Sure,” he said. But he didn’t look hopeful.

  I felt around the back of my collar. It was ridged and complicated. I couldn’t quite understand it by feel.

  “Show me the back of yours?” I asked him.

  He turned around slowly. It was hard not to take in his exquisite body. He was the perfect blend of strong and lean, just like the panther.

  I studied the back of his collar while touching mine.

  They were the same. There was a pin in the back that seemed to hold the thing in place. If I could somehow lift the pin, I might be able to release the collar.

  “See what you need?” he asked.

  I couldn’t help but steal one more glance at that muscular body.

  “Got it,” I told him. “Thanks.”

  He turned to face me again.

  My fingers were already working at the pin. I held the collar still with my left hand and picked at the pin with my right, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “There’s a pin at the center,” I told him.

  He nodded.

  “My fingers are too big to really do anything with it. But I have a feeling it’s not as easy as just pulling it out. It seems to be locked in place somehow. Maybe by magic?”

  “We’ll s
ee,” I told him. “I’m getting out of here.”

  He turned away from me, but not before I could see the tragic expression in those beautiful eyes.

  “You’ve been here for two years?” I asked.

  “Feels longer,” he said, nodding and facing me again.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, realizing that I didn’t actually know anything about this man, no matter how much it seemed like I should.

  “Jared,” he said, suddenly smiling. “What’s yours?”

  The smile brightened the darkened cell and changed his whole demeanor.

  “Kendall,” I said.

  “Kendall,” he repeated reverently.

  “It was my great-grandmother’s maiden name,” I explained. “Great-Grandmother Kendall was the first in the family to have magic. Or at least, the first to admit to it.”

  “Before her, it wasn’t a good thing to be a witch in the Americas,” he said, nodding.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “So before her, we don’t really know.”

  “So, you’ve been at Primrose Academy?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “You like it?”

  “Most of the time,” I said, switching hands. My right hand was already cramping from trying to pick at the pin in my collar.

  “And the rest of the time?” he asked.

  I shrugged. I didn’t exactly want to admit I had problems. This guy was supposed to adore and protect me no matter what. But what kind of a first impression was I trying to give?

  Well, Jared, I used to hang out with a gang of mean girls, who had witchy pedigrees. I guess you could say I was popular. Now I hang out with a bunch of nerds, who don’t trust me. Also, I almost killed one of them and found out she’s pregnant while I was at it. But I got myself kidnapped before I could let her know. Which is maybe fine, because I’m also too much of a coward to figure out how to tell her.

  Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

  “Turn around and I’ll try to get your collar off,” I told him. “It’ll be easier to reach than mine.”

  “It’s not coming off,” he said. “Trust me.”

  But he turned around anyway, and leaned back against the bars.

  I reached through, allowing my fingers to caress his neck before I began working on the pin.

  He made a deep sound of satisfaction I could have sworn was a purr.

  “Your fingers are so gentle,” he said.

  “Forcing it won’t help,” I said, scowling at the stupid thing. “But maybe if I take my time…”

  I went quiet as I worked the pin with my fingers. There was nothing but the sound of our breathing.

  It was odd - he was definitely not clean, but he smelled so good. And his hair was thick and soft, in spite of it being so long and shaggy.

  It’s the mate bond, fooling my senses…

  But it couldn’t be only that. Maybe it was something about him being a shifter that made him smell like a forest instead of a dirty prison cell.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “You smell good,” I told him without thinking.

  I froze in horror.

  He chuckled. It was a deep, happy sound that filled my chest with joy.

  “You smell good too, little mate,” he murmured, grabbing one of my hands in his.

  A shiver went through me, and it was hard to remember that we were in a dungeon.

  We were imprisoned. The Order was clearly planning something bad. The odds were stacked against us.

  But somehow, I felt happier than I had in two years.

  14

  Kendall

  I awoke to the sound of boots ringing out on a stone floor.

  For a second, I forgot where I was. I was shivering from the cold, but my right hand was wrapped in honeyed warmth.

  Jared.

  I opened my eyes, unable to believe it was true.

  But the cold, unforgiving floor was still beneath my dirty mattress. And the guardian’s hand was still holding mine, his delicious, woodsy scent tickling my senses.

  I couldn’t believe we had fallen asleep. We had been starving for each other, unable to touch except through the bars. I thought I’d never sleep with the electricity of his nearness exciting every cell of my body. But at some point, we must have drifted off.

  The footsteps outside our cells drew closer.

  We have to get out of here.

  My hands went to my collar again, but the pin hadn’t moved a bit, even though the tips of my fingers were raw from trying.

  “Don’t fight them,” Jared murmured.

  I almost jumped. I hadn’t even realized he was awake.

  He let go of my hand and pulled back into his adjoining cell before they got close enough to see.

  “Rise and shine,” one of our captors rasped.

  I scrambled up, instinctively backing into the corner of my cell.

  “Blondie’s still got some energy,” the other one cackled.

  I seethed. Blondie was the wrong nickname for me. My hair might be blonde, but I was tough. Tougher than these idiots in a fair fight, I was willing to bet. But I knew a fair fight was the last thing I was about to get from them.

  I managed to keep my mouth shut. It was important to concentrate on paying attention to my surroundings, looking for anything I could use to my advantage. If they opened my cell maybe I could run.

  The taller of the two men had a wicked looking scar on his face. He opened my cell and grabbed me.

  I fought as hard as I could, but he simply lifted my kicking, struggling body off the ground and turned to Jared, who was still prone on the stone floor.

  “I’ve got her, kitty,” he taunted. “What are you going to do about it?”

  But before Jared could react, the other guy was on him, yanking him to his feet.

  Interesting.

  Last night Jared had hit the bars of the cell so hard they quivered. I had seen those miles of glistening muscles, felt them under my hands when I caressed him through the bars.

  But now he was limp and shuffling out of his cell obediently, a single guard guiding him down the hall.

  What the hell? Why wasn’t he fighting?

  “See how nice the kitty cat plays?” the monster holding me crooned. “If you can play nice too, I’ll put you down.”

  I didn’t want to play nice, but I did want to catch up to Jared.

  So I went limp in his arms.

  “Good little Blondie,” he laughed, placing me on the floor.

  Do not elbow him in the solar plexus, Kendall, my conscience begged me. Just get to Jared.

  Obeying my better instincts, I let the guard drag me down the corridor toward a set of stone stairs as I did my best to pay attention to my surroundings, searching for any means of escape, or any clue to where we were.

  There were a few more cells past Jared’s, but they were all empty. We seemed to be the only prisoners, in this part of the building, at least.

  After that, there was a spot where the corridor widened enough to create a nook with a desk. I wondered if there was always a guard on duty there. Right now, the chair was empty, but one of the men taking us out might have been posted there.

  I studied the desk. On the surface was something that looked like a handbook, and a stack of magazines. A ring of keys hung on the wall behind it. Maybe one of them unlocked these stupid collars.

  As we passed the desk, I glanced at the magazines. They were all about martial arts and cage fighting. One of these guys was a fighter, or maybe just the type that wished he was. I filed that information away. Anything we knew about our captors could come in handy later.

  What if they’re not going to bring us back to the cells? What if they’re taking us somewhere else?

  But I couldn’t hold the ocean of terrifying possibilities in my mind and keep walking, so I pushed that down and kept concentrating on my surroundings.

  We reached a stone staircase and I counted as we climbed. There had been a window up high in Jared
’s cell, so we could only be as low as the basement in the dungeon. When we reached the top of the stairs, I was pretty sure we were coming out on the first floor.

  Sure enough, we came out at ground level in a grisly looking kitchen. It looked like something out of one of my little brother’s zombie video games. Everything was filthy, and a fine layer of mold was growing over the pots and pans that hung from a rack on the ceiling.

  I sincerely hoped this wasn’t where they prepared whatever they had been feeding Jared for the last two years.

  “Come on, Blondie,” my captor growled, dragging me toward a door that had to lead to the outside.

  We stepped through into daylight. My eyes had to adjust to the muted sunshine through the trees. We were in a small clearing. And there was something familiar about it.

  Of course.

  I was in the clearing from my dream.

  The water I had heard last night was from the river feeding the wooden water wheel of the old stone mill.

  And the basement of the old stone mill was our prison.

  My mind went back to the dream and my blood ran cold. All I could think of was Jared’s bloodcurdling howl, and then me being separated from him.

  I had told myself to stay calm and wait for the right moment to act, but I was moving before I knew what was happening. I jerked myself out of my captor’s hands, taking him by surprise.

  I ran for the man who was holding Jared, jumped on his back and tried to get my forearm around his throat. Hopefully, this wasn’t the one who’d been reading the martial arts magazines.

  “What the fuck?” he roared.

  He spun, with me clinging to his neck, and slammed himself backward, crashing me into the stone wall of the old mill.

  All of the breath whooshed from my lungs. I let go and hunched over, hands on my knees, gaping and gasping stupidly, unable to do much else.

  As I straightened up, there was a click, and the collar on my neck suddenly loosened. The pin must have been jarred free by the impact.

  The guard grabbed me again, just as Jared slammed into us from the side, knocking the man to the ground with me on top of him.

  “Get up, Kendall,” Jared pleaded, grabbing my arm.