by Anne, Meg
Even though the Druid’s words closely echoed her earlier thoughts, Skye didn’t hesitate as she spat, “You’re wrong. He’s stronger than you are.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Seer, if it makes you feel better. Besides, he won’t be finding you until I want him to.” Leaning forward in his chair, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And right now, I don’t want him to.”
Her heart raced, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
When Skye only continued to stare at him from her place on the floor, he got to his feet. She scooted back, pressing herself into the wall as much as she could, but he kept coming, kneeling directly in front of her.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” she warned, slapping at his hand when he gripped the bottom of her shirt.
He smiled at her, a cold, terrifying grin. The hand not touching her began to glow, and Skye’s arms flew away from his and to the side of her body. She was completely frozen, his power turning her into a statue, leaving her absolutely unable to do anything to stop him. He ripped her shirt up to just below her breasts and gestured to her right side.
Skye looked down and fought a wave of nausea. The bastard had carved a rune into her side, a brand that would permanently mar her skin. And she hadn’t even felt it. She wasn’t sure which was worse, that he’d marked her, or that she had been completely unaware of the liberties he’d taken with her body.
What else did the bastard do while I was out cold?
“This is my own personal blend of magic.” He stroked the lines of the symbol lovingly, as a normal person might do with a drawing their child made for them.
She winced, inwardly recoiling from his caress even as she was helpless to actually pull away from him physically. Each brush of his fingers against her skin sent sharp bolts of pain through the rest of her body.
“It blocks you from any and all tracking, except mine.” He winked and stepped back, releasing her from his magical hold.
Skye spat at him. The resulting crack across her face sent her head slamming back into the brick, causing stars to explode in her vision.
“I own you, Seer. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we’ll start getting along.”
“You. Do. Not. Fucking. Own. Me!” Skye screamed, furious tears streaming down her cheeks.
The Druid reached back down and grabbed her by the throat. She clawed at his hands as he lifted her off the ground and held her right at eye level.
“I could crush you right now, extinguish your pathetic life force along with your smartass attitude.” He tightened his grasp. “Should I? Should I just end you now? Or should I wait until my grandson is here to watch you die?”
Skye forced herself to return his stare, not wanting to show any weakness by looking away, despite the fact her vision was fading.
The Druid pressed his nose against hers. “Tell me, Seer. What do you See? My victory?”
“I. See. Your. Death. You. Miserable. Bastard,” she choked out.
He pulled her away from the wall just long enough to slam her back against it, the clank of her chain a jarring punctuation. He pressed his lips to the side of her face, trailing them up to her ear, where he paused to whisper, “Soon, you’ll learn not to taunt me, Seer.”
Revulsion crawled across her body like an army of spiders. Hide the fear, Giovanni. Don’t let him know he’s getting to you.
“You obviously don’t know me at all,” she retorted with as much disdain as she could muster.
He laughed and dropped her to the ground. Skye gasped for air, pushing back to her feet. If he came close like that again, she was going to kick him right in his fucking balls.
The Druid took his seat again and stared at her like she was a bug under a magnifying glass. Was taunting him until he killed her really such a great idea? Probably not. But if it meant dying now instead of in that field in front of Lucas, she’d gladly sacrifice her life to save him from becoming the monster she’d Seen.
Lucas was more important.
“I’m curious about something, Seer. My grandson seems to have quite an attachment to you. So, why would you leave?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“Did you see him lose? Did you run to save yourself?”
Skye pinned him with her angriest stare.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” The Druid laughed. “Didn’t think you’d give up so easily; you seemed to have a bit more fight in you than that. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Just intrigued.”
“I didn’t give up,” she growled.
“You ran to save your skin, leaving those you’d pledged loyalty to behind. Does that sound like fighting to you? What else would you call that, if not giving up?”
Skye ignored him and turned to look at the window.
“Why do you fight it?”
Her eyes darted back to him. His black gaze was still narrowed on her face as if he studied her beneath a microscope. “Fight what, exactly?” she asked sweetly.
“Me.”
The absurdity of the question made her want to laugh. “Let’s see, should I start with reason number one? Or two-thousand? Because I have lots of fucking reasons.”
“You know you will lose.”
“I might, but Lucas won’t.”
The Druid shook his head. “Seer, you have truly placed your faith in the wrong member of my line. I will kill him, his sister, that pathetic detective that thinks he can protect her, and then finally you.”
“Why wait? You have me now. Just kill me and get it over with.”
He smiled at her, and the sight of it sent shivers of fear down her spine.
“And let my grandson miss it? I want him front and center when his Gypsy whore dies by my hand.” The Druid stood. “This has been an even more entertaining conversation than I had hoped. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some preparations to make. I want to be sure to have everything ready when it’s time to let my grandson come find you.”
“No matter what you do, he will kill you! I’ve Seen it!”
Pausing, the Druid turned back to face her. “Have you? Because based on that letter you left him, I’d guess you’ve Seen just the opposite.”
Angry tears pooled in her eyes.
“Rest well, Seer. Not that it matters… you’ll be dead soon.” With a final sinister smile, the Druid left.
The door slammed behind him, and Skye stared at it a moment before a rush of tears spilled down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with the force of her weeping. A dam had burst within her, letting a tidal wave of emotion break free.
Anger at herself.
Fear for those she loved.
Terror at Seeing a soulless Lucas destroy everyone and everything he’d ever cared about.
What have I done?
Chapter 3
Lizzie
Lucas was slumped down in one of the plaid armchairs, his legs sprawled out in front of him. He tilted the mostly empty bottle of scotch against his lips and stared mutinously off into the corner of the living room.
Lizzie scowled and shook her head. What the hell is wrong with him? This wasn’t her brother. He’d been sitting like that for the past four hours. Lizzie couldn’t believe he’d just given up, it was so unlike him. She knew his heart was hurting, but that was no excuse to admit defeat. Especially not when the woman he loved was out there, needing him to come to her rescue. He was a fucking detective, for God’s sake. This shit was what he lived for.
Lizzie didn’t believe for a minute that Skye left of her own free will. Maybe Skye had thought she was doing the right thing, but she loved Lucas too much to stay away forever. She would have changed her mind and come back before she’d gotten far.
Why am I the only one that can see it?
“Fucking men,” she muttered darkly, moving through the house and back toward the hall.
“Where are you going?” James asked, peeking his head out from their room.
Lizzie glared at him. She’d refused to talk to him ever since he took her brother’s side in his bullshit argument.
James frowned and moved to stand in the doorway. Lizzie forced herself to ignore the way his shirt pulled across his pecs. He didn’t deserve her lusting after him.
“Seriously, Liz? How old are we?”
She raised a brow and folded her arms over her chest.
He took a step toward her, and Lizzie shuffled back. She’d cave if he touched her, and she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. If they were going to be together, he needed to learn that she wasn’t just his partner’s pea-brained little sister. He needed to weigh her ideas just as seriously as he did her brother’s.
“Lizzie.” Her name came out half-groan, half-whine, and she would have laughed if she still wasn’t so angry.
How could both men forget what Skye had done for them? Did no one but her care that Skye was out there all alone? That she was the only reason they were still alive? Had Skye not gone out on a limb and warned Lucas, the Druid would have gotten her that first night in her diner. They owed her their lives.
“Come on, Liz. Don’t shut me out like this. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
James’ brows knit together. “That I hurt your feelings.”
Lizzie’s anger continued to simmer. Lucas wasn’t the only MacConnell who could nurse a grudge. She canted her head to the side. “What did you do to hurt my feelings, James?”
“I took your brother’s side…” he trailed off, looking confused.
Lizzie shoved her finger into his chest. “No, James. I’m not upset that you took my brother’s side. I’m pissed that you wouldn’t even consider what I was saying for a fucking minute before you completely dismissed me!”
James’ brows flew up, but she was just getting started.
“You call yourself a detective? Look at the fucking evidence in front of you.”
Now it was his turn to glower. “I did look at the evidence, Liz. She left him a damned note.”
“Covered in tear stains! She was fucking sobbing while she wrote that, James. There’s no way in hell she wanted to leave him. You saw the two of them together—she is head over heels in love with him. You don’t just walk away from that.”
James sucked on his cheek, his hazel eyes going thoughtful. After a moment, his shoulders dropped, and he took a deep breath. “She still packed a bag and left the note for Lucas to find. Maybe she was torn up about leaving, but it doesn’t change the fact that she took off.”
Lizzie opened her mouth to protest, but James held up a hand.
“Let me finish. There wasn’t a sign of struggle, Liz. No forced entry, nothing out of place.” James’ voice was soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry, babe. But given the facts, I just don’t see how you can arrive at any other conclusion.”
“Then you obviously know sweet fuck all when it comes to a woman in love,” she sneered, turning away from him.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he called after her.
“You want evidence, Detective? I’ll find your damned evidence,” she muttered, stalking back into the room where Lucas found Skye’s letter.
There must be something they’d overlooked, and Lizzie was going to find it and shove it down their damn throats.
Two hours later, Lizzie had nothing to show for her search except a monster of a mess. She’d left no stone unturned, literally. The beds had been shoved out of their spaces, the blankets tossed to the side. The drawers were already on the floor from Lucas’ search, and what had been left inside the closet was scattered along the top of the now naked mattresses.
Someone knocked softly on the door, and she looked up from the books in her lap, but the door opened before she could tell whichever annoying male was on the other side to fuck off.
James glanced around the room, his face carefully neutral. “You, uh, redecorating?”
She glared at him. “Yup. Felt like a great time for it.”
He studied her carefully. “Find anything?”
Lizzie deflated. “Not yet.”
“Why don’t you leave this mess for a while and come make some dinner.”
Her head snapped back up. “Excuse me?”
James winced at her screech. “Uh, dinner?” He gestured toward the kitchen.
“Let me get this straight, James Amadeus Matthews—”
He grimaced.
“—because I must not have heard you correctly. You want me to stop searching for a clue about what might have happened to my best friend because you want me to cook you dinner?”
“You promised never to use my middle name.”
Lizzie stood slowly, books and a few loose pieces of paper falling to the floor. “As if I give a flying fuck about your unfortunate middle name right now.”
“I just thought…”
She put her hands on her hips. “What did you just think, James? I’m so interested in hearing this explanation.”
His cheeks were tinged a bright red. “Cooking always seems to calm you down.”
Lizzie grit her teeth, her voice going dangerously soft. “Do I look like I need to calm down to you?”
“Yes?” James replied, barely ducking in time when Lizzie launched a book at his head.
“Get out!” she screeched.
“Lizzie…”
“I swear to God, James Matthews, if you come back in here right now, I am going to throat punch you.”
There was a scuffle outside the door, as if he was resisting the urge to try again. “I was just trying to help,” he finally mumbled, before walking away.
Lizzie listened to his fading footsteps and sighed. What was it about men that had them saying the exact wrong thing when they only meant to be helpful? It was like some cosmic practical joke. They were just hardwired for it.
She sighed. Cooking would definitely help her clear her head, but she’d be damned if those two asshats got a free meal out of her. They could fend for themselves.
Glancing around the room, Lizzie groaned. If she didn’t start putting things away, she would have to be excavated out of here.
“Might as well start with the bookcase,” she muttered, climbing over piles of clothes and books to grab the one she’d hurled at James.
Straightening, a dark smear on the doorframe caught her eye. Has that always been here?
She checked the book in her hand, wondering if some of the paint had transferred when it hit the wood. The book was bright green. That was a definite no.
Squinting, she leaned closer to the wood, her finger hovering over the almost black smear. What if this was evidence? Should she touch it?
“What is that?” she asked, her heart pounding.
Leaning even closer, Lizzie made out a few strands of what appeared to be dark hair stuck to the smear. She sucked in a breath, suddenly light-headed.
“James,” she called, her voice sounding far away even to her own ears. When she didn’t immediately hear footsteps, she screamed, “James!”
“Lizzie, what’s wrong?” He quickly appeared in the doorway.
With a shaking finger, she pointed to the hair and what she was starting to believe must be blood on the doorframe.
“I think I found something.”
James followed the line of her finger and returned his eyes to hers. “What is it?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a chunk of Skye’s hair.”
Surprise flared in James’ eyes, and he leaned closer to the door.
“Still think she left on her own?” Lizzie asked.
He straightened and turned to face her. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Should we tell Lucas?”
James shook his head. “He’s in no state to process anything right now. Let him sleep it off. In the meantime, you and I need to see if there’s anything else to indicate that Skye might have been hurt.”
Lizzie nodded, her eyes meeting James’ worried ones.
He w
rapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You did good, Liz. I’m sorry for being such an ass.”
She should have felt vindicated, hearing James admit that he’d been wrong, but all she felt was hollow and scared. Who wanted to be right about their friend being kidnapped?
Even worse, Skye was out there somewhere, alone and probably terrified, and they didn’t have a fucking clue where to start looking for her.
Chapter 4
Lucas
“So, tell me, Detective…” Skye lifted her head off of his chest and looked up at him with amber eyes that seemed to see directly into his soul. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
“You mean besides this?” Lucas ran his hands up her bare back and cupped her face before pressing his lips to hers.
The feel of her against him, skin to skin, was more than he ever believed he’d find. Skye laughed, and he soaked up the melody as if it were the first and last time he’d ever hear it.
“Yes, besides this.”
Moonlight bathed her in an ethereal glow, making her bronze skin appear like it was illuminated from within.
“Hmmm. I can’t really focus on anything else at the moment.” He kissed her deeply, and she molded her body against his, a perfect fit.
Skye pulled away and sat up, straddling him while the blankets pooled at her waist. Lucas put his arm behind his head and stared up at her. Dark, nearly midnight hair fell in loose waves to the middle of her back, and he reached up with his other arm to twirl it in his fingers. The silky strands slipped through them as she leaned down to kiss him again.
Lucas pulled her hard against his body, savoring the taste and feel of her. To him, there would never be anyone as amazing as her, no one who completed him so perfectly. She was it, his always and forever.
She sat back and smiled softly at him. “You make me feel whole, Detective. Thank you for that.”