Risguard kept the smile he wore firmly in place over the litany of curses he wanted to scream at this woman and her brother. He offered his hand to Deklan. Nora turned to him wanting to argue. She kept her mouth shut but both Deklan and Risguard could tell she wasn’t happy about it.
“Deklan West.”
“Nice to meet, you, Deklan. Any friend of Nora’s is welcome here.”
Something about the appearance of this stranger clicked. He’d seen him somewhere before.
“What do you want?” Nora’s tone didn’t pussyfoot.
“I was simply curious is all. Never once have you brought… anyone home to meet the family as it were,” his mocking had a snarky bite buried beneath his passive-aggressive overtures.
The good manipulators can keep their emotions in check. Treat every affront real and imagined and weave them into his plans so the perpetrators receive everything coming to them for such offenses.
Risguard had a mighty need to hurt this woman. It was her fault he was sullied. The agony infecting his skin could all be laid at her feet. And if that wasn’t insult enough he was to be bound shackle and weight to the shadow of her existence.
“Well, she has now,” Deklan said draping one arm over her ample shoulders. He dragged her just a little bit closer. Nora blinked twice in surprise and then melted into his lover’s embrace. Her smile dripped venom and was for the sole benefit of Risguard.
His stance fell into aggressive and Michael shook himself of the urge to tear her throat out with his teeth. He swallowed hard past a mouth dry as an Arizona afternoon. He had to get out of here.
This Metri curse would do him in quicker than any claw even counting his clandestine dealings. Why didn’t Isaak just put a bullet in the back of his head and call it a day? This woman was a fate worse than death!
58
Chapter
Conner bussed the plates quickly and with his head low so as not to catch anyone’s eye. Whoever put him on this work detail must have been playing a cruel joke. The Merricks used to sit at the head of that table. Now they weren’t even invited to the showing. How the mighty fall.
Nora went up the table to help soothe her Grandfather. He was looking a little distracted. She worried he was skirting an episode. Vic stole into her empty seat while most of the guests crowded at the end. A burly man with perfectly quaffed white hair and a full, yet meticulously maintained beard told raucous stories to growing shouts and cheers.
“I had my doubts until I was standing right in front of the man that killed over fifty venomancers in his lifetime,” she said excitedly. “He smiled, kissed my hand and made a pass at me.”
Her steely blue eyes were wide with adventure and whimsy. Platinum blond curls cascaded over one of her bare shoulders. Her dress sparkled with beads and sequins. Vic fixed Deklan with a smile.
“Please oh, please tell me we can make this permanent,” she begged, her smile flirtatious and predatory at the same time.
Deklan shivered. “Enchantments take time and materials, and you’d be surprised what materials will run you.”
Vic’s eyes danced around the room with an appraising glance. “I think I’ve got the materials covered,” she said hungrily.
The murmuring of the old man grew loud enough to rival the storytelling and several faces turned toward the sounds. Conner made the kind of mistake that happens when you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. He reached for a cup. An innocent enough gesture and yet it was enough to condemn him to the outburst of a memory possessing Stephen Worthington like a ghost.
He rose to his feet brushing off Nora like she weighed nothing. Aged or no Worthington was still a Kin. He possessed every ounce of preternatural strength he had when he was twenty. It did not fade like human blood and bone. It was just as potent now as it ever was.
“What are you doing in my house?” The old man bellowed. “Jack. Jack!”
The double doors at the north side of the room burst open. A rumpled suit and greasy brown hair rushed to his side. Gun drawn, Jack swept the room. A sea of astonished faces gaped back at him.
“You were supposed to take care of the boy! Not let him parade his sin to my guests.” Worthington accused.
Conner fell to his hands and knees just as confused as everyone else. He could have ripped out the old man’s throat. A single slice across the carotid would stun him long enough for Conner to shatter the ribs in his chest and snatch his beating heart. Instead, he prostrated himself begging the indulgence of his king. Just one more indignity lobbed at the defense of his pride.
“Take this filthy sodomite away from my son. And this time finish the damned job like I told you to do the first time!” Worthington demanded kicking Conner in the ribs.
“You, Merricks, unclean and corrupted from the font.” Worthington spat at Conner.
He flinched.
Worthington dragged him up by his hair and collar of his shirt. “If I ever catch you sneaking out of my son’s room again Greyson Merrick. I will burn your house to the ground myself,” he growled.
Conner shook but not from fear. Rage slithered behind his eyes. “I’m Conner.”
The old man’s eyes dulled and the fragile husk swam to the surface. He raised his brows questioning. He looked around at the awestruck families confused. Deklan helped Nora to her feet laying a rag over the cut Worthington caused.
“You okay?”
59
Chapter
Izobel pressed her hands against the leaded glass of her bedroom windows. The woods beyond creaked and swayed, they called to her invitingly. The moon looked especially fat tonight. She grew with every passing moment. Izobel just couldn’t keep up. Racing this particular clock was a constant source of anxiety and dread.
Books lay open spread across her bed, copious notes and equations scratched on legal pads and notebooks. What they needed was a cure. This was a stop-gap at best. And for that, it exacted a high price. To represent and hold sway over something it had to be infused with the life essence of that creature. That’s enchantment 101. But this had to pull double duty. Not only did it put the wolf-will into a kind of slumber, the human-will had to be strengthened to hold dominance of the lycanthrope’s existence.
She’d been over the spell from top to bottom, and she was having one hell of a time getting around the requirements it set forth. She had no choice. These paradigms could not be shifted. Magic gives you plenty more options, but even that has rules.
She grabbed her coat and wandered downstairs. Zoe’s laughter lit up the living room. Johnny lounged in the corner of the couch and she curled up on his lap. She’d thrown herself hook line and sinker into their relationship and Izobel understood why. She certainly didn’t judge. In truth, she wished those two all the best in this world.
Zoe needed people. Friends, family. She needed some form of normal. She wasn’t the only one in this world either. We all have our anchor. Our line in the sand we can’t cross because we simply couldn’t survive the other side. Zoe got a little closer to that line every day. If she wanted to live that life happy and oblivious to the world, that was her priority.
“Another woman in the greater Montsimard county has been reported missing tonight.” The Dj reported between songs spilling from the radio sitting on the table. “The police have not yet commented on whether they think this woman’s disappearance has been linked to the Westside strangler case that has captured the attention of the nation. And has women remembering to lock their doors at night.”
Izobel stopped and listened to the full broadcast. It gave her an idea.
She flashed them a smile and passed into the Kitchen pulling her leather coat over one arm. Her luscious black waves were pulled back in a faux-hawk braid that ended in a deceptively messy bun at the nape of her neck. It was a good look for her.
Abel was coming to the conclusion that Izobel in a leather jacket was one of his kinks. The silk of her shirt clung to her willowy frame and swaged around her breasts a shimmery red. Black
pants painted onto her skin caught the light with her every lithe movement.
Abel gazed from the safe distance of the table. A cup of coffee sat in front of him steam dancing on the air above it. She hadn’t noticed him. A backpack sat against the jam waiting for her. He blinked inquisitive eyes.
He was just a little afraid to approach her. Despite the side effects, the ointment she’d given him helped, immensely. Just because werewolves could take more pain than the average Joe did not mean they bore it effortlessly. It eased the pain and gave him full range of movement. Yeah… he was a little emotional. That said, everything has a price. This one seemed fair. Still, he didn’t like giving her the upper hand.
He could admit he was afraid of her. Formidable and force of nature were descriptors that put checks in the positive column for Abel. After what happened with Lorelei, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the weight of what living a relationship like theirs would entail.
“You’re dressed to kill tonight.”
Her mouth pursed into a tiny O. She cocked a brow considering the sentence. Finally, her lips pulled down at the corners. “I suppose I am,” Izobel said hefting the compound bow.
“Where’d you get my bow?”
“Johnny let me borrow it.”
“What do you need my bow for?”
“I need things, for the spell,” Izobel answered. He thought she sounded a little defensive.
“What kind of things?” he pressed.
Izobel lifted the backpack and hung it over one shoulder. She opened the door impatient and frustrated that he would harass her with stupid questions like these. He followed her out onto the porch and down the front stairs.
“Damn it, Sparrow!”
She dropped her shoulders and spun around to face him.
“Tonight? Tonight I need the spleen, liver, and heart of a wolf.”
His expression buckled under the disgust he felt to hear it.
“I never said this would be easy,” she declared.
His mouth dropped open but snapped shut again. “You didn’t say people were going to die.”
“Zoe told you?”
Izobel’s head dropped back against her shoulders. It wasn’t like she was happy about this either. Sure, she’d dabbled in a few hexes here and there but this was true black magic. Only the desperate used it. And she was as desperate as they got.
“There is no other way!”
“There has to be. If Johnny knew I murdered somebody so he could play reindeer games with the Kin, he’d never forgive himself. I can’t imagine The Wee One would think any different.”
Low blow.
She glared at him, the impudence he had to point that out burning in its depths. “Johnny already has his life. It’s Zoe’s in question. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure she keeps hers.”
He didn’t have a scathing retort for that. Abel let her walk away, stomping into the trees in the distance. He should never have agreed to this in the first place. You can’t spend your life wishing. She couldn’t hide what this was doing to her. He saw through all her pretense plain as day. He was her.
Abel’s head dropped back against his shoulders. He touched both hands to his hips and cursed obstinate women everywhere. He took a step that turned into a deliberate pace. It didn’t help. He wanted to go after her. He wanted to scream at her to hold onto something from her life because this quest ended with her losing it all.
Her plight left him questioning his own decisions. Worse, she had him wondering if it had all been worth it. And he did not like the way he was leaning into his shameful answer. Would things have ended up the same? Would they have lost it all anyway? Was that the one decision that meant anything in his entire life? Would he really make it again? Could he?
Those questions had chased him into the night entreating bedlam many a times in the years since that fateful night. This time it guided his footsteps to her. He didn’t like going but he couldn’t halt the search any more than he could stop up an erupting volcano with nothing more than his hands.
***
The rolling hills and looming trees were a good deal darker than she’d remembered them. A shadow just a few shades darker than the world surrounding it flitted between two trees. It was gone by the time she spun around completely. Scotch pine and cedars creaked with the harsh wind.
“Four directions bless my yew. Hew blood and bone all the way through. By the winds may it fly fast and true. And may the death that flies along be merciful too,” Izobel whispered it again and again offering it up like a prayer.
Izobel lifted the bow taking aim at the shadows in front of her. Magic broke against her skin spreading a tingling warmth along the plains and lines of her body. Euphoric and delightful, its trace left her rocked by the waves of pleasure it stirred. Nothing quite compared to offering yourself up to the universe and letting it flow through your veins.
The darkness moved. So lost in the aftershocks of creation she didn’t see it until it was too late. The string snapped hurling the silver-tipped arrow toward Abel who stepped through the trees. The sound was just a half a second too late congealing time and space to a crystalline hardness in its wake.
Izobel’s eyes widened with her shocked gasp. There was nothing Abel could do. Inevitable. The silence ringing through his ears was a deafening cacophony. He memorized her face. Highlights kissed her inky black hair, and the reflection that outlined the curve of her top lip held him spellbound. She was blessed by moonlight.
The zenith of the arrow caught the light as it passed shining like a shooting star. With inches left to go, it tipped up and flew high into the sky in a fat summersault and shot through the trees in the opposite direction like a heat-seeking missile.
The hit exploded the air between the wolf and the shaft like glass. Force hammered the spike through the wolf’s eye pinning him against the roots of the massive oak. And the world sped right up to full speed.
A visible breath fell from Izobel. It plumed and danced in front of her. Her utter relief crumbled away like heavy rocks revealing a questioning frown.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I came to explain myself.”
“You’ve made your point. This isn’t worth it to you.”
“Oh no. I see the sparkling worth. I know better than anyone what the stakes are here,” he said pointing at his chest.
“Then why do you keep trying to talk me out of it?”
“Because it ripped everything I had away from me and left me broken. John may have his life but he isn’t surviving. I destroyed the legacy of everything we knew and it wasn’t enough.”
Abel sighed looking down at the palms of his outstretched hands. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I am fine. I don’t need you, Abel. I don’t need anyone.”
“That don’t change the way I feel about you, none.”
His admission stunned her. It left her gaping at him, while she climbed her way to the top of her mountain of reactions. Her oldest fear woke like a beast in her depths. Shackling yourself to another being grew fat with the opinion of it being a bad idea and morphed into a leviathan born of surety and experience. Relationships end bad.
Her first instinct was to hide from it. Pretend it didn’t see you and use its confusion to make a clean getaway.
“You know we wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for Nora and your damned furry politics.”
“This ain’t Nora’s fault,” he said jumping to her defense.
He fell right into her trap.
Izobel narrowed her eyes. “Does she own every part of you?” Her tone could have melted the earth at his feet.
Abel frowned. “That ain’t fair.” His voice was soft maybe even a little broken.
She supposed he was right. Maybe it was an unfair question to ask. But she stood by it. We all have something that turns us on. Pretty smiles, a gentle brush, loyalty was kind of her kink. She demanded a lot of her lovers and that was the first on
the list.
He would do anything for Nora. She had reason to be curious. She wanted all the information before she made her choice. The trait defined a good witch. Every creature from the lowliest Averians to the highest of Sidhe lords signed contracts. You learn to start asking questions. Death isn’t the worst thing this universe had to offer.
“She’s my best friend,” he answered honestly.
She dropped her head to one side a swath of her black velvet hair draped in front of one eye. A single step propelled her toward him. Izobel licked her lips. They glimmered with reflected light.
“What am I?” she asked.
The moment drawing out in front of them hammered a spike through him. He was stunned by indecision. He wanted her. His senses every one of them begged. It was years ago he lost Lorelei, and the honest truth was he didn’t know if he ever loved her in the first place. They were such a whirlwind. A couple drunk and hazy nights before fate locked them into place.
Was he betraying her by actually falling for his Sparrow? Didn’t matter he supposed. The die had been cast. It was too late.
He stepped forward so fast she barely registered the action. His lips were utterly still. Izobel froze. She wasn’t sure what to do next. Deklan proved he couldn’t keep it just friends after she let him coax her to his bed. This was a different kind of worry. Izobel was afraid she couldn’t walk away from Abel.
He pressed his body right up against hers. Abel left less than an inch of space between them, but it was impossible to deny that it was intentional.
A steady breath rolled out of him. Abel licked his lips. She swore the anticipation had every facet of reality burning across her skin. She could feel the promise of his kiss like a bruise against her mouth. Aching.
“Tell me you want me,” he breathed. “Say you want me every bit as much as I need you right now?”
“Are you asking my permission,” Izobel questioned, absolutely intrigued.
“I’d never lay a finger on you without it,” he answered.
Abel understood the importance of consent. After he witnessed the repugnancy of what that brute Mathew Ellis did to the couple Folk women they couldn’t protect from him. He would never even consider crossing that line. He needed her to know that.
Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1) Page 21