by Rae Rivers
Ethan and Declan were waiting for them, Sienna and Archer behind them. They all sported scratches and bruises, worried frowns and pissed-off expressions. But the tension in the air eased the moment they were reunited.
After exchanging relieved hugs and quick updates, Archer and Sienna led Kate out of the tunnel and into the basement. But Jenna didn’t follow. Instead, she turned to Declan, hovering beside her like a riled-up bear. She swiped at the moisture on her forehead and sighed. “You really want to do this now, Declan?”
“Damn right.” His words were quiet and fury clouded his expression. He pointed after Sienna and Kate. “Archer wrapped his car around a damn tree thanks to air bags exploding for no reason and Kate –”
“Is unhurt and home safely,” she interrupted, reaching for patience. “I said I’d take care of her and I did, Declan. That tunnel was torture and I’m not in the mood –”
“Were you hurt?” When her brows lifted, he moved around her. His hair was messier than usual, his shirt torn, a hint he’d had a struggle of his own. “Dammit, Jenna, were you hurt?”
“Like you care?”
“Kate cares so I care and if you’re watching over her, then I need to know you’re in top form.”
A small smile broke free. “Careful, or I might think you’re worried about me.”
“Keep dreaming, Blondie.” Frowning, he took her arm. “I told you to stay at the restaurant.”
“Things settled quickly after you left. It was safer to leave.” She yanked her arm free. “I brought her home, Declan. That was the best of a lot of crappy options.”
“What happened?” Ethan asked, dropping a hand on his brother’s shoulder, easing Declan away from her. His knuckles were red, swollen and scratched.
“We were ambushed in the driveway,” Jenna replied, her lowered tone losing the defensive edge, “by hellhounds.”
“Hellhounds?” Ethan gaped at her. “They’re legends. We’ve never –”
“They came through the open portal to Ameera,” Jenna interrupted. She explained what had happened and the more she spoke, the more their agitation grew. “We had no choice but to head for the forest.”
Ethan ran a hand across his face. “Shifters, hellhounds, what the hell’s next?”
“I saw Megan tonight. She had a message. Hazel wants to exchange closing the portal for her Grimoire.”
Declan snorted. “Right. Like we’d agree to that.”
“Of course not but …” Jenna inhaled quietly, her gaze moving between theirs. “If the portal stays open, what we saw tonight won’t scratch the surface of what’s to come.”
They nodded, a heavy silence wedging between them.
Ethan moved to the side of the tunnel and held out a hand, motioning her forward.
She glanced back at Declan. “Oh, and I should mention you’ll need a new bike.” Her heart thudded at the intensity of his glare. Slowly, silently, he raised a brow. “It was either saving Kate or your bike. I went with Kate.”
“That was the explosion we heard?” His nostrils flared. “How’s it possible that in one night, one fucking night, creatures from hell set fire to our town and targeted Kate?”
“Oh, and that’s the other thing,” Jenna said quietly. “I don’t think they were after Kate. They were after me.”
****
They were after me.
Jenna’s words echoed in Ethan’s mind as he climbed the stairs to his room.
Hot damn, but hearing her say that had given him a good dose of the shivers. She’d said it so casually, as though being marked by vicious wolves on a magical high was the most normal thing in the world.
But he saw right through her. Beneath the bad-ass front she maintained around his brothers existed layers of worry that seldom showed.
Everyone had gone to bed, even though the morning sunlight would soon filter through the windows. They’d kept most of the blinds shut to keep the rest of the world out for a few hours.
He revelled in the silence of his room. Quiet and in the furthest part of the mansion. His space. Designed as a spacious apartment attached to the house, complete with an open-plan living area, kitchenette, and bedroom. Decorated the way he liked it. Simple and sparse.
The exact opposite of his lifestyle.
He never brought women up here. Excluding Jenna, but that was different on so many levels. Other than Sienna, she had the only woman pass he’d ever issued.
He’d soon figured out she shared his need for space – time out from the touchy-feely shit and all-knowing looks happening downstairs. Their single status amongst a house full of lovebirds had bound their friendship immediately.
His dates used to be fun. But now, with all the crap he and his brothers faced on a daily basis? Not so much. Although great women, making smalltalk over dinner with them had grown increasingly harder, soon frustrating the hell out of him – to the point that he’d begun to swap nights out for nights in.
With Jenna.
And they weren’t even having sex.
He blinked.
Where the hell had that come from?
He tossed his jacket over the leather couch, ignoring the way his body had reacted to that thought.
Right. Water.
Clearing his throat again, he walked to the kitchen. It was small but stocked with the basics.
In the months following Sarah’s death, other than venturing out to work, he’d holed up here. The main house had been too empty, sad. His sister’s death had sent Sienna and Declan hightailing it out of Rapid Falls. He’d missed Sienna, worried about her, but Declan’s departure had been a blessing. Had he stayed, his brothers would’ve killed each other, the rift more than a simple spat.
Guilt. Anger. Resentment.
And a shitload of grief that paled everything else.
Managing the restaurant renovations and the winery had fallen on Ethan’s shoulders. He’d had no choice. With Archer’s focus on finding Sienna, and Declan drowning his sorrows in whiskey and women, someone had to man the hell up.
Declan and Sienna had finally returned two years later to fend off Mason Brogan’s younger brother, Warrick. They’d killed Warrick and ensured Mason remained entombed in an underground storage room on their estate. A victory, but one that had come with a price. They’d almost lost Sienna. Instead, they’d lost Rose, her grandmother.
Kate and Jenna’s arrival a while later had tallied their head count to six people living under one roof. Despite the size of their house, Ethan had soon felt crowded. After having only Archer as company for so long and with two budding relationships between his brothers and the women, the communal areas were quick to resemble an international airport on a romance high.
So Ethan often retreated upstairs.
Not that he minded. Kate, Sienna, and Jenna were welcome. They belonged here. But still.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed to the bathroom, knowing the shower would do little to cleanse the frustration gnawing at his gut.
At least it would cleanse the grime of the night.
His mind reeled with everything that had happened. The crows, the shifters, the hellhounds.
Jenna.
The shower was brief and hot, the air permeated with soap and steam when he finished. He walked to the door, towel-drying his hair with a vigour that resembled his mood.
Jenna’s sudden appearance in the bedroom doorway drew him to an abrupt stop.
“Oh!” Her jaw fell and her hand came up to cover her eyes. Her cheeks coloured, not surprising considering he was as naked as the day he was born.
“Looking for something?” he drawled, lowering the towel just enough to cover his crotch. His ass was on its own.
She shuffled in the doorway. Hair in a ponytail, black robe and barefoot, no armour in sight. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
The hint of her feminine side always intrigued him. He’d connected to her as a Keeper, one to another. He’d fought beside her, witnessed her strength, but thanks to sheer
willpower and many cold showers, he’d never dared to dwell on what he’d find if he delved further.
A whole lot of woman beneath the warrior.
Her fingers covering her eyes opened just an inch. “Ethan!” she cried, her voice laced with exasperation.
And Jenna never did exasperated. Ever.
He bit back a grin. “You should’ve knocked.”
“Your door was open.”
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Clearly.” She peeped through her fingers again. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Tremendously.”
“Well then, in that case, let me join in too.” Surprising him, she lowered her hand and zeroed her gaze on him. Down there. Still blushing, but taking her fill.
This time, if he had the ability to blush easily, he would. Hot damn. Chuckling at her candour, he flashed a wide grin and slowly fastened the towel around his waist. “Happy?”
Her gaze did a lingering sweep across his body. “I’ve always wondered if your female fans were after your money or your body.”
“Now you know.”
“Definitely the money.”
He laughed and went to her, wondering why she was here, surprised at how much it pleased him – and how easily she made him forget everything else. It was always like that with her. “Attacking my manhood again? I thought you learnt your lesson in the forest.”
“I wasn’t attacking anything.”
“Yet we’re back to my manhood.”
“No we’re not.”
“I’d be more than happy to –”
“Not in your wildest dreams, stud muffin.”
“– make some coffee, if you’d like.”
A sheepish grin spread across her face. “That’s not what you were going to say!”
“You’ll never know, will you?” He took her wrist and drew her inside, frowning when she flinched. He froze. “You’re hurting.”
She didn’t reply. Didn’t deny it either.
A ripple of unease crashed his amusement and he quietly scanned her body for signs of injuries. She’d fobbed him off earlier in the tunnel when he’d asked if she’d been hurt. He’d suspected it then. He knew it now.
“What’s wrong? And tell me you’re fine and I’ll feed you to Declan,” he added.
She rolled her eyes. “Declan doesn’t scare me.”
“I know. That’s why you’re perfect for Kate. Now answer my question.”
Her shoulders fell and she blew out air. “I have some serious road rash on my back from the fall on the bike. Usually it would heal, but I caught a few shards of glass.” She held up a small first-aid box with her other hand. Damn, he hadn’t even seen the white box that always followed trouble. “I tried removing them but …”
With a single nod, Ethan put a hand on her waist, led her inside, and shut the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Asking for help hurt almost as much as the pain.
Jenna swallowed the pills Ethan had given her, watching him as he rummaged through the first-aid box on the kitchen counter. A mild frown drew his brows together and a muscle worked in his jaw.
He was worried. About her.
His wet hair had been finger-raked into place. Glorious tanned flesh contrasted the white towel. He had broad shoulders and a smooth, muscular back. He wore the mark of a Keeper, a large pentagram tattoo, on his upper right arm. A perfect resemblance of their connection to earth, his connection to his siblings and their witch. Five elements of nature. Earth. Fire. Air. Water. And Sienna, the spirit, that connected them all.
He turned around, the front of him even more muscular than the back, ripples of abs that continued into the towel around his waist. A towel that covered a very smooth, naked waist she had no business ogling.
But darn, she couldn’t help it. Fully dressed, she found it hard to tear her eyes away from him. Seeing him half-naked? Impossible.
She averted her gaze, suddenly all too aware of how underdressed they were. Something stirred inside, a swirl of desire that mingled with the curiosity, and she couldn’t deny the trickle of satisfaction that followed. She’d been alone for so long, trapped with people she despised. Survival – for herself and Kate – had been first and foremost on her mind. Not sex. It had been years since she’d felt any attraction to a man.
Until Ethan.
Oblivious to her scrutiny, Ethan tossed the box onto the couch beside her and headed to the bathroom. He stopped in front of a wooden drawer against the wall to pull out some clothes.
The glimpse of scarred flesh beneath his left arm surprised her. It ran along the entire length of his side from his hip to shoulder. A scar?
An old one. One his magic had never healed.
He shut the drawer and disappeared into the bathroom.
Puzzled, she sipped her water and looked around the room. A king-size bed nestled between two large windows overlooking the vineyards. The blinds were closed, the room lit by a single lamp. The wall opposite the bed had been tiled in natural stone tiles, a fireplace in the centre. Immaculate – which didn’t surprise her. Everything about him was neat. His kitchen, the restaurant, the way he dressed, even his hair. He was an overworked, cranky housewife’s dream.
With a charming smile, heaps of mystery and a body that could easily change the cranky status quo in a flash.
The thought sparked a grin and she leaned into the couch, wincing at the sting of pain in her back. She adjusted her robe.
Fluffy and soft. A little comfort in a lot of pain.
Ethan returned to the couch, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of black draw-string cotton pants.
Darn. She’d liked him naked.
The smell of soap and man permeated the air and she released a dreamy sigh.
If he noticed, he didn’t say anything and sat beside her. He held up a shiny gadget he’d taken from the first-aid box, snapping the points together. “Ready?”
She groaned. “Why do I get the feeling this’ll be painful?”
“Once the glass is out, it should heal soon.”
Quicker than he’d expect. All Keepers had the ability to heal rapidly, but she was different. She healed instantly.
“It’s still gonna hurt like hell. Why weren’t Keepers blessed with a higher pain threshold?”
“Because we’re mortals. Not gods.”
“So why couldn’t we be mortals with higher thresholds?”
“Don’t be a sissy. Pain keeps us real.”
“I can think of other things that keep me real.”
He smiled. “The painkillers will help.”
“Maybe.” She waved a hand at his clothes. “But I preferred the towel. It made for a great distraction.”
A smile curled his lips and she stared at them, wondering what he’d taste like.
His grin widened at her scrutiny. “Clearly you’re in more pain than I thought.”
Not for long. Once he removed the glass, her magic would heal the flesh immediately – if she allowed it to. But he couldn’t know that. Not yet. Exposing her magic would expose her lineage – and she hadn’t had enough painkillers for that conversation.
He made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around and lower your robe.”
“I hope you use better word choices for the women you bed.”
His smile was pure mischief. “Trust me, babe, when it comes to bedding a woman, I have a separate vocabulary.”
“That would explain your popularity.” She laughed and turned around, lowering the robe off one shoulder, just enough to reveal the wound whilst still keeping her tattoos hidden. Until she figured out what they meant, they were for her eyes only.
He didn’t answer and she glanced over her shoulder. A fierce frown had tightened his expression.
“Sexy, huh?” she said, opting for a cheerful tone. “A casualty of being caught between the road and the bike. Not my most graceful moment, but it all happened so damn fast.”
With a quiet grunt, h
e picked at the shards of glass embedded in her flesh. “You’re right. This will hurt.”
Like a bitch. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from wincing. “You should have stayed in the towel, though. Given me something to think about while you do that.”
“Something wrong with your imagination?”
“No need for my imagination. I’ve seen you naked.”
“You haven’t seen the best part.”
“Just as well. That might make things weird between us.”
He picked at the glass, dropping the splinters into the empty bowl beside him. “Weird can be fun.”
Amusement coloured his tone, words meant to tease, but stroked her imagination. “I haven’t had fun for a very long time.”
His hand stilled and he leaned forward, touching his lips to her ear. “Well, maybe you should do something about that.”
She stifled a shiver and elbowed him. “Stop messing with me.”
He laughed and touched her shoulder. “I’m distracting you. We’re done, they’re all out.”
“Already?” She’d expected worse.
“Nothing like a little friendly banter to dampen the pain.”
“Whiskey works just as well.”
“Maybe, but that was way more entertaining. It should heal soon.”
“I know.” She’d already felt the stir of energy, the magical touch that would wipe her slate clean. It was always exhilarating, but for now, she held back, reeling in the swirl of power. A pro at keeping her magic hidden. Adjusting the robe, she twisted to face him, relieved the pain had lessened. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Of course. You were hurting.” He discarded the bowl, wiped his hands on a towel, and leaned back against the couch. “We should get some sleep. We have a lot to discuss and my brothers won’t rest for long.”
For a while, they stayed silent, their mood shifting as reality crept in.
She tilted her head to look over her shoulder. His eyes were closed, his previous playfulness replaced by weariness. He’d lowered his guard, a warrior at rest. Beside her.
A beautiful man in the wake of a very ugly night.