by Rae Rivers
“One Keeper to another?” He gave a brief laugh that rang of more mockery than amusement. “I think we’re past that, Jenna.”
“We protect two of the most powerful witches in the world. We will never be past that.”
“Sienna and Kate will always come first, but there’s more happening here and you know it.”
“Because we kissed?” She gave a defiant lift of her chin. “That’s all it was, all it’ll ever be.”
He was in front of her in a flash of movement. Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. When she stepped backward, he moved forward, until she was trapped between him and the wall. He placed his hands against the wall, cocooning her head. His gaze found hers, intense and demanding. He was all heat and man and the sheer force of him took her breath away.
“Say that again,” he murmured, his voice deep and throaty, wrought with tension. “I dare you to say that again.”
“Stop it, Ethan.” She turned her head.
He captured her face between his fingers, forcing her to look at him. Tension sizzled between them, fuelled with the desire that always flared whenever he touched her. “Say it.”
“Screw you.”
“Say it, Jenna.”
“No.”
He dipped his head closer, so close that his lips were almost on hers. “Because you can’t.”
Her breath caught and she froze, staring at him. He slid his hands down her neck, her shoulders, and gripped her waist, tugging her against his arousal. Her sharp intake of breath pleased him, as did the heat that sizzled between them. She could see it in his eyes, the smirk on the corner of his lips.
“You feel the attraction as much as I do,” he murmured.
The challenge sparked a thrill of excitement through her. She didn’t reply or bother denying it, knowing he’d see through her anyway.
Suddenly there wasn’t enough air. Breathless, heart pounding, she placed both hands on his chest, easing him off her.
The ground vibrated beneath their feet and the soft rumble of a train could be heard in the distance.
Grateful for the distraction, Jenna slid out from beneath him and walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The train smelt like urine, an aroma that aggravated the hollow, sick feeling in Jenna’s stomach.
But at least they were alone.
Susan’s neighbourhood was on the outskirts of town and consisted mostly of apartment buildings and a few industrial warehouses. The streets were covered in concrete rubble and litter, empty but far from quiet. Voices drifted from the windows above. Music blared.
“Where is everyone?” Ethan asked, glancing up at the endless rows of clothing pegged to the fire escapes.
“They won’t be out on the streets this late. Too dangerous.”
“That doesn’t bode well for us, then.” He scanned the buildings and tilted the piece of paper in his hand toward the single streetlight.
“How do we know this isn’t a trap?”
“We don’t.” He pocketed Susan’s directions and climbed over a pile of building rubble. “But Susan’s the closest thing we have to a bed tonight. We’ll keep our guards up.”
They walked in silence, wading through the mess on the streets. Several buildings had collapsed, leaving a trail of debris. The state of the neighbourhood only worsened the further they walked. There were signs of neglect and poverty everywhere. Derelict buildings, windows covered with makeshift curtains, paint peeling from the walls.
And yet the music and voices continued. Despite everything, people had made their homes here.
Jenna wondered what had happened to hers. Was it still standing? Occupied by others? Her chest tightened at the memories and she tried to push them away, but they kept coming, stronger and more powerful than ever.
The image of her mother’s face, her father’s voice, their home. Megan.
If she allowed herself to, she could remember everything. In detail. But it always hurt like hell afterward when reality bit and she was reminded how alone in the world she was. The loneliness she could deal with, but it was the not knowing that was slowly killing her. Eating away at her determination to move on.
“Jenna?” Ethan’s voice cut through the anguish and she looked up, surprised to see they’d stopped walking. They stood outside an industrial building. Large windows overlooked the street. A wooden sliding door covered the front entrance. Most of the blue paint had peeled, the remaining streaks covered by dirt. “We’re here.”
“This is where Susan lives?”
“As of now, this is where we live.” He unlocked the door and they went inside.
The reflection of streetlights offered some relief from the darkness. The room was spacious, empty. High ceilings and glass windows. A steel staircase to the right led to another level.
The sound of locks clicking into place echoed through the darkness.
“Why do I get the feeling we’re lambs heading into a slaughter?” she whispered, her heart upping its beat.
Ethan’s grunt mingled with the jingle of keys as he walked to the stairs. “I dare them to try.”
She didn’t comment and followed him up the stairs to the single door on the platform.
Susan had converted the industrial room into a loft apartment. It was spacious with wide windows overlooking the city. The lights flickered in the distance, almost pretty. The height of the building gave the loft a privacy that most other apartments lacked.
The white plaster from the walls had faded, exposing glimpses of red brick beneath it. The small kitchen consisted of a counter made of the same railway sleepers as the ones from the bar. Two leather couches, one torn on the side, surrounded a makeshift coffee table made from a glass slat that rested on recycled wood.
And the bed.
Low, covered in a black sheet, at the far end of the room. Simple and sparse, but promising a hint of comfort after a shitty day.
Jenna’s insides did a little jiggle.
Ethan closed the curtains and walked to the kitchen, stopping to turn on the lamp beside the couch. It offered little light, the dim glow suiting their mood.
“Susan’s mirror just got a size bigger,” he said, peering into the cupboards. A mild grin on his lips, he pulled out his wallet and stuck a wad of cash on the shelf. Turning, he held up two cans of food and a bottle of whiskey.
Her insides did another jiggle, far more potent than the one evoked by thoughts of sleep.
Jenna smiled, taking a seat at the counter in front of him. “After a really, really crappy night, this is like heaven, so she’s officially made my hero list.” And that was a very small list.
He scooped up two glasses from the shelf behind him and poured them each a shot. “Drink first. Then food. It’s not much, but …”
“As long as there’s alcohol,” she interrupted, taking the glass. She needed the numbing effect the whiskey offered more than the food anyway. Even though her stomach growled, a reminder that they’d missed dinner.
To chase a damn portal.
And now, here they were, in Ameera. The city of the damned.
Separated from their witches.
“This is exactly where we need to be, Jenna,” he said softly. “What we just witnessed proves that.”
She blinked, wondering if she’d said the last part aloud. But she figured he felt it too. Being apart from Sienna and Kate felt wrong. A necessary evil.
She pulled out her phone and glanced at the blank screen. “I wish this stupid thing would work here so we could call home.”
“What would we tell them?” he asked, his words clipped with irritation. “That we just witnessed the demise of two Keepers and did nothing?”
“Ethan, stop it. We couldn’t do anything. We had no idea –”
“They were stripped, injured, and not once did they bother fighting back. What’s with that? We start turning on each other, allowing these assholes to treat us like shit and we’re over.”
“Maybe they had no choice. Ma
ybe they were spelled. That’s the only way we’d turn on each other. There’s only one spell strong enough …” Oh, crap. Her eyes lifted upward, her glass hovering mid-air. “Could they have used a Behesting Spell?”
The weight of what that meant reflected in his narrowed eyes and harsh frown. The powerful spell, designed to make the victim adhere to the caster’s bidding, was vanquished decades ago. No witch had been bold enough to touch it and risk the wrath of The Circle.
Except Hazel.
Ethan cleared his throat, a thunderous expression on his face. “So they’re taking Keepers, sending them here, and spelling them to harm each other. When they’ve weakened, they’re left for the scavengers to cipher their magic.” Frowning, he poured another drink. “But what about the witches that were left unharmed back home? That’s a lot of magic they chose not to scavenge.”
“From what Axel said at the warehouse, Hazel’s using Keepers as some sort of payment for their agreement.” She took the drink he handed her and swallowed it in one go. Her throat had gone dry, her stomach queasy. Hoping the alcohol would help, she held out the glass for a refill.
“Still doesn’t explain why they left all the witches untouched. And what’s in it for Axel?”
“Our magic. Our abilities. Maybe he values that more.” Her eyes widened as another thought struck. “The Brogan family have always been after power. Mason and Warrick thought they could achieve that by targeting the witches, but every time the Keepers stopped them. Hazel’s smarter. Her goal is ultimately accessing the energy at the site of the massacre.”
“She’d have to get through an army of witches to find it.”
“But she’d have to get through an army of Keepers first,” she breathed. She set her glass on the counter, her body bristling with a rush of adrenaline as everything reeled into place. “That’s it, Ethan. The hellhounds were after me, not Kate. The missing Keepers, the fight we just witnessed, the spell … it’s all part of a pecking order. A master plan.” Her eyes found his, the magnitude of those words hanging between them, fuelling the tension as the puzzles of truth slid into place. “And right now, the witches aren’t the targets. The Keepers are.”
Ethan cursed. “She’s not only using them to fuel her agreement with Axel, but eliminating the Keepers would leave the witches exposed.”
“Which makes them vulnerable. Destroy the witches and she destroys the opposition.”
“So if she discovers where the magic is buried, she’d have a golden fucking pathway right up to all that energy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Ethan stood at the window, staring at the city in the distance. His gut churned, the alcohol doing little to ease the worry.
He’d turned off the lights, revelling in the darkness and silence, marred only by the soft sound of the shower running. Exhaustion had set in, along with more unease that had only intensified since they’d uncovered Hazel’s plan – or what they suspected it to be.
There were still a lot of holes to be filled in, but they were right. He knew it. And it sucked that he couldn’t call his brothers. Check on Sienna. God, how he missed her.
Guilt flared and he drained the last of the whiskey. He turned to the kitchen, debating another drink. Or a shower. Anything to wash away the grime of the day.
He was here, searching for Hazel and the portal spell, and even though leaving Sienna still stung, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.
Jenna too.
He froze, staring into his glass. Is that why she’d agreed so easily to find the portal? To return to Ameera?
The glass shattered beneath his grip. Cursing, he discarded it and went to the sink to rinse his hand. The cut was deep and bleeding and stung like crap. But the damn thing would heal soon.
He froze when he heard Jenna’s soft cry. His senses and instincts instantly sharpened, zoning in to his surroundings as though he’d flipped a switch.
Silence.
He shut off the water and was pushing open the bathroom door in a blink of the eye. The sound of Jenna’s pounding heart and snappy breathing sent a ripple of unease through him. A candle burned on the basin, the room clouded in steam. The air smelt of soap.
“Jenna?” She turned, unsurprised, and met his gaze, the worry in her eyes sending a punch to his gut. Her hair hung in wet strands around her shoulders. A towel covered her curves. All flesh. All woman. Beautiful. His body tightened at the sight of her, but he pushed the thought aside, his concern for her overruling everything else. “Jen, what’s wrong?”
It was the slight tremble to her hands that unleashed something inside of him. A surge of protectiveness. Worry. A beast that had him in front of her in a flash of movement.
“Jenna?”
“They keep coming,” she whispered. “Out of nowhere. They just keep coming.”
****
Ethan’s brows furrowed as he scanned the room. “You look as though you’re about to toss your cookies.”
She felt like she was about to toss her cookies.
Inhaling deeply, she tried to calm the rush of panic that choked her. Her shower had been brief, hot, blissful. Only to be crashed by the pain that always came with the appearance of a new tattoo. Out of the blue.
Symbols and marks, tattooed, on her.
Holding the towel across her breasts, she shifted the material to expose her lower back, revealing the inked marks. She turned around, watching him in the mirror. His frown deepened as he zeroed in on her flesh.
“They came out of nowhere a few days ago,” she said, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat. A shiver ran down her spine when his fingers grazed her skin, still clammy from the shower.
“Could it be Hazel messing with you?”
“Maybe.” It had crossed her mind too. She shrugged her shoulders. “If she’s trying to creep me out, it’s working.”
His thumb brushed the markings. “Do you recognise the pattern or any of these symbols?”
“No.” He tugged on the towel, searching for more, but she covered her hand with his and shook her head. “That’s all there is.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened as he adjusted the towel. Awareness arrowed through her. He was so close, towering over her, all masculine and strength and man.
She was naked. Vulnerable. Not a sensation she embraced. Ever.
The ends of his hair had curled against his collar and fresh stubble covered his jaw. He’d shed his jacket and shoes. The V-neck of his t-shirt revealed tanned flesh and a leather necklace, the silver pendant tucked beneath the material.
Something stirred inside, a familiar sensation he triggered whenever he came too close. She lifted her head, not surprised to find him watching her in the mirror. She’d felt his gaze on her. Felt him everywhere.
She waited for him to say something. His eyes had darkened, the worry that lined his features giving way to something more.
The room shrank around them, blocking out everything else, and all she saw was him. Only him.
“Why didn’t you tell me when the first mark appeared?” he murmured, trailing a finger across her skin.
The faint smell of blood filled her nostrils and she glanced at his other hand. “You’re hurt.”
“Just a mild cut. Answer my question.”
“I was hoping to figure out what they mean first.”
“So many secrets, Jen.”
“Secrets are all I know. They’ve kept me alive all these years.” The truth of that went far deeper than he understood.
“When are you going to realise you’re not alone anymore?” His hand moved up her back, toying with her hair. “Because you’re not, Jenna. Not anymore.”
He radiated heat and a masculine power she’d always tried to ignore. His gaze seared into her and he edged closer, his chest against her back. Gently, slowly, he brushed away her hair with one finger and stroked her shoulder, his touch light.
Electricity sparked between them, ignited by that simple movement.
She swallowed, he
r heartbeat racing, unable to breathe. Too scared to move, terrified he’d do more. Terrified he wouldn’t.
He tilted his head, pressing his nose into her hair. He inhaled, breathing her in, and slowly blinked. His heart beat a rapid rhythm against her back and she almost smiled, relieved to know she wasn’t the only one affected by the moment.
Heated. Real. Inappropriate.
His fingers trailed across her shoulder, down her arm, leaving a shiver of wanting. He caught her hand in his and laced their fingers. The movement was so quiet, so still, but charged with an energy and heat that kept her rooted to the spot.
When his mouth pressed against her ear, his breath a whisper against her skin, she shivered and leaned back.
“Remind me about that big red line again,” he murmured, his low words reverberating through her.
Hot tendrils of excitement trickled down her spine and she turned her face toward his. “It’s a very thin, blurred line right now.”
“Damn right it is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
He turned her around, capturing her mouth with his.
The kiss that followed was so gentle, a slow rhythm that fuelled the flame inside her. He stilled, his lips lingering on hers, allowing the moment to take its beat.
When he withdrew to look at her, his eyes questioning, she touched his cheek, keeping him close, not wanting it to end.
“What if this makes things awkward between us?” she asked. She’d hate that. She valued his friendship too much.
He smiled and slid his fingers along her neck, cradling her face. “Then we’ll do more of this until it’s less awkward.”
“Ethan,” she whispered, not sure if she’d issued an objection or an invitation. But when her gaze lowered to his lips, his mouth came down on hers in a heated, hungry kiss that took her breath away.
Instincts fired a warning, urging her to stop, but the essence of him weakened her resolve. Desire spread through her like wildfire, along with the overwhelming urge for more. Of him. Of everything he offered.
His evening fuzz brushed her chin and his tongue swept across hers, searching, teasing. He edged forward, until her back met the counter, and tangled both hands in her hair. When he tore his lips away from hers, tipping her head back to nuzzle her neck, she sighed.