Passion (Shifters Forever More Book 5)

by Elle Thorne

  Griz stopped. Held up his hand. “That’s her place. As we get closer, she’ll pick up our arrival. If she hasn’t already.” His tone was ominous, making Jolie shiver.

  “What the hell kind of tree is that?” Matteo muttered.

  Jolie stared at the creepiness of it. Large, leathery, glossy leaves in a tree—that looked like a set of trees, really—with a single trunk that had a hollow.

  “Banyan,” Griz explained. “They’re predators of the tree world. Start on another plant. Then become this.” He waved at the structure. “They envelope their host tree. Kill it. The dead tree becomes a hollow. In that hollow”—he pointed—“is where you find the entrance to her dwelling.”

  “Have you ever been inside?” Salvatore asked.

  Griz shook his head. “Wasn’t invited. Never wanted to, either. Ever.”

  His tone was animated, though his voice was so low Jolie wondered what the history was. She couldn’t contain her questions. “This Samara—”

  A snapping sound interrupted her. They all whirled around, facing the direction they’d come from.

  Before them stood a woman, though her petite stature might have made some thought she was a girl from a far, her features were far from childlike.

  White hair—not blonde, but completely white. Black eyes. Completely black, so that iris and pupils seemed as one. And there were no whites to her eyes. Jolie couldn’t help but stare at the being.

  Dark-red cloak—hood back—with gold threading skirted the forest floor. Her clothing was black. Boots, knee-high. Shirt, silk and sleeveless. Pants, tight and tucked into boots.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, revealing stark black runes tattooed in her flesh. Pixie features with a fierce expression.

  Two massive black wolves with glowing yellow eyes stepped out of the woods silently, one on each side of her. She dropped her hands to her sides, her palms resting on the shoulders of each wolf. The forest reverberated with a low growling sound that emanated from the lupines.

  Jolie realized she’d been holding her breath. No one was speaking. She glanced at Griz. He bore an expression of distaste.

  Matteo and Salvatore’s faces spoke of a curiosity which matched her own. She’d never seen a being like this before.

  The woman looked at Matteo. “You are the one.” Her voice held an ethereal quality. She raised a hand and before them a hologram of fog appeared.

  “Which one is he, Samara?” Griz said through a tight jaw.

  Ah, so this was the one they were here to see.

  Samara’s smile was thin. “I don’t go by Samara anymore. I’m Sam now. Samara was the name of the one before she was exiled.” How interesting, she was speaking of herself in the third person. Sam stroked the wolves then snapped her fingers softly.

  Immediately, the wolves shifted, becoming owls, flying to branches above head.

  Familiars of some sort?

  Griz’s hands had clenched at his side.

  Matteo stepped forward, letting Griz, Salvatore, and Jolie flank him. “You said I’m the one. What do you mean?”

  Samara indicated the hologram. “I was in the woods, working on a spell.”

  “A blood spell, clearly,” Griz spat.

  She tipped her head slightly and locked gazes with him. “That’s right.” She turned back to Matteo, pointed at the hologram. “Look.”

  The vision was the size of a large door and changed from an image of shimmering fog to one of forest, and in the middle stood Matteo. He was shifting, and in the near distance behind him were Orkney and his bears. This was clearly a vision of what happened.

  Samara flipped her wrist, and the vision adjusted, showing Samara and her two owls, out of sight of Matteo and the others. Samara didn’t seem to be aware of anyone’s presence, her lips were moving and though Jolie couldn’t hear the words, she knew the blood elf was chanting. Her eyes had rolled then they’d changed from black to a dark red. Her head tipped back, her body stiffened. Then next to her a green dragon appeared.

  Jolie gasped. It was a replication of Matteo’s dragon, and it was rising from the forest floor, then it remained suspended, not far from the Samara in the past. The one in the vision.

  The Samara of the present snapped her fingers. The hologram vanished.

  “What was that?” Salvatore asked.

  Samara turned her black gaze on him. “Dragon man. You hide your eyes.” She pointed at Matteo. “You both hide your eyes.”

  “We prefer to keep our presence private,” Salvatore said. Then he told her his name.

  She uttered his name softly. “Salvatore. I have not heard of you before.”

  “I’m not from near here.” He indicated Matteo. “Neither of us is.” He turned his attention back on her. “What happened in that vision?”

  “I was working a blood spell,” she explained. “And it would seem your friend here—”

  Matteo interjected his name then nodded as a way of greeting.

  “Yes, Matteo had bled. The spell attached itself to his blood.”

  Next to her, she felt Matteo loosen up. At least now they had an answer. This Samara creature was behind the whole matter. The question was, “Can you reverse it?” he asked her.

  She smirked. “Of course, I can reverse it. I was the one who cast it. I had no idea there was any blood around which would corrupt and twist my spell. But the second I saw the dragon appear next to me, I knew there were dragons in the area.” She raised an eyebrow at Griz. “I’m surprised you have allowed dragons to exist in Bear Canyon Valley.”

  “They don’t merely exist here. They are now citizens. They fall under the protection of Bear Canyon Valley.” Griz’s tone was terse.

  “Mae has granted me asylum status.”

  “I’m well aware,” Griz told her. “Will you reverse this? We’re wasting time.”

  Samara blinked slowly, lazily. “You have something pressing to attend to?”

  “We are seeking interlopers,” Salvatore spoke, earning a dirty look from Griz, yet he continued talking. “Someone who attacked Matteo. Will you please undo the damage? Allow him to shift freely from one form to another?”

  “I will. But first”—she put a hand out for Jolie—“a moment with this one.” She turned her black gaze onto Jolie. “Alone.”

  Jolie almost flinched at the intensity in the woman’s—blood elf’s—stare. Why alone?

  Griz took a step forward. “No. No one will be alone with you.”

  “You want the spell reversed?” Sam quirked a brow.

  “That’s fine,” Jolie agreed. She felt responsible for Matteo’s situation, so if the least she could do would be to join Sam in a friendly—she hoped—tête-à-tête, so be it.

  Matteo was shaking his head slowly, absently, as though unsure about her decision.

  “I’ll be okay,” Jolie assured him, unsure if she should even give the guarantee.

  “Follow me.” Sam started for the large hollow. Above her, in the branches, the two owls shifted into ferrets and scampered along the branches then leapt onto her shoulders, tucking under the folds of her cloak.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jolie’s stomach clenched despite her attempt to put on a brave front for Matteo, Griz, and Salvatore. She had no experience with blood elves, and the idea of following this creature into the dark hollow of a tree, into a hole that, as far as she could see, led to total darkness… Yes, this was enough to leave her stomach in knots. The two biscuits she’d snagged from Mae’s kitchen earlier now became like stones in the pit of her stomach.

  Apprehension prevailed as she trailed behind the dark-red cloak with gold threading. Into the hollow she stepped, surprised she could actually see once she’d crossed over the threshold. Jolie realized an enchantment kept the hollow in darkness, but when she stepped foot inside, the place was alit with sconces, highlighting a narrow passageway.

  “You’re a brave one,” Sam said. “Entering into the domain of a blood elf.” Her voice filled the small cavern,
bounced off the walls.

  “I have no experience with blood elves. I’ve never met one. I—” She didn’t want to admit it, but she had no idea they were even a thing.

  Samara whirled around. “You cannot reveal what is inside the confines of my den. I have never allowed anyone down here. Not even Mae, who, to some it might appear, is my benefactor.” Her eyes had changed. The pure blackness was intershot with red patterns, like tiny starbursts.

  Jolie flinched. “I will not tell anyone anything. Why have you brought me here? Why me?”

  “Follow.” And without answering her questions, Samara began to once more make her way down the corridor.

  Jolie noticed a downward grade, though slight, as though they were moving deeper underground. Ten minutes of winding dirt floor and dirt wall passageways finally opened to a large cavern. The walls were of stone. Not hewn, not cut by hand, but smooth, nature-formed walls from top to bottom, with a floor of the same. The stone glimmered in the dimness, reflecting the light from the sconces that lit up the room. The same type of sconces as had been in the passageways, but many more were in this room.

  “Electricity?” Jolie murmured, and didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Samara—she couldn’t think of her as Sam. This creature was far too exotic to be a mere Sam—corrected her.

  “Sorcery,” Samara explained.

  Naturally. She should have figured. She took a moment to take stock of the room. The furniture was made of wood, rustic, and old. She had to wonder if Samara had crafted it but didn’t feel she should pry. A bed, two dressers, a crevice in the wall which seemed to act as a stove , with a spit to the side. Did she hunt for her meals? Did she sustain herself in the forest, completely alone? Questions abounded, yet, she couldn’t yield to her curiosity.

  There were coals in the hearth, with a steaming pot suspended on the spit.

  Jolie realized that there was a sound. A loud, rushing sound which filled the room. She glanced at Samara. “Water?”

  Samara nodded. “That way.” She pointed toward one of the passages which led out of the room. “A waterfall.”

  “Why?” Jolie asked again. It was time to know.

  Samara shrugged off her cloak and draped it over a set of antlers perched on the wall. The black ferrets scurried from the cloak, taking opposite spots on the antlers, their dark eyes gleaming as they studied Jolie.

  Samara’s arms were muscular, revealed by the sleeveless black silk top. Her boots hugged calves that were shapely with muscle. Her black pants did the same to muscular thighs. The woman was a specimen of fitness. She shoved her long white hair back and pulled it into a tail at the nape of her neck with a leather tie.

  “I am fascinated by time mages.”

  Jolie pursed her lips. ‘And?’ she wanted to say, but didn’t.

  Samara’s eyes flicked wide for a brief second, then a low, throaty laugh escaped her. “You don’t know what you are, do you?”

  “I’m a sorceress.”

  The laughter grew louder but wasn’t mocking.

  “Why in the world do you think that you’re a sorceress? Who told you this?”

  “I am—was—part of a coven of sorceresses. They were training me.”

  Samara plucked a ladle from near the spit and two cups, fashioned of wood. She scooped the steaming liquid into the cups and handed one to Jolie.

  Jolie eyed the contents.

  “Chamomile. Not poison. Don’t worry.”

  She inhaled the steam as she thought of Nameless’s words. She thought of her life with the coven. How she’d never been as adept as the other sorceresses and had always thought there was something wrong with her. She took a sip of the warm beverage. Soothing.

  “Time mage?”

  “Yes,” Samara said with a nod. “Why were you being trained in the ways of sorcery when you should have been with your own kind, honing the skill that is specific to time mages?”

  “What does a time mage do?” She took another sip. The comforting aroma lulled her into a sense of peace.

  “They control time. Surely, you’ve done that?”

  Thoughts sprung to Jolie’s mind, but she wasn’t sure if she was thinking things through, if she was reading something into this that was— “What does that look like? Controlling time? Have you seen it done?”

  “I witnessed a time mage in action once. Long ago. There was a battle between supernatural beings. I was not a part of the battle. I’d been observing the skirmish from a spot in a tree.” She stoked the coals, added a small log, then pushed it farther into the hearth with a poker. “The time mage buckled time. Everyone froze. No one could move save the mage. And she was in a bubble of energy. She touched an ally, and the ally was enclosed in the bubble and moving with her.”

  Jolie gasped, dropping her cup. “I’m sorry.” She knelt to collect the intact wooden cup. “I can clean—”

  But Samara was already there, swooping in with a cloth, cleaning the gleaming floor. “So, you’ve seen time buckled? You’ve done it, perhaps?”

  Their heads were practically touching as Samara cleaned the mess and Jolie had not risen yet from snatching the mug. “I did. Accidentally. I don’t know how to do it. It just happened.”

  “Perhaps, instinct? Were you in danger?” Samara rose, and Jolie did the same.

  By the gods, she’d been in grave danger. And so had Matteo. “How would I control it? What if it arises at the wrong time?”

  “You should have been trained by your own kind. Why were you with sorceresses? Were they family?” She poured Jolie another cup.

  “Not blood kin. No.” She took the offered drink and gave a nod of appreciation.

  “Then how did you come to be with them?”

  “I—”

  “Sorceresses usually stay with the coven they were born into. You weren’t born into that one, if they weren’t blood kin. So, how did you end up there?”

  “I have no memory of a life before the coven. I must have been with them since I was an infant.”

  “I would like to see you buckle time.”

  “I don’t know how to do that. Why do you want to see it?”

  Samara’s face gave nothing away. “I will help Matteo in exchange for learning more about your skill.”

  “How can I teach you what I don’t know?”

  “You will agree to, when I come to you. For that, I will get Matteo out of the curse.”

  “Seems unfair, since you’re the reason he’s in this mess to begin with.” Jolie was starting to understand why Griz wasn’t particularly fond of this being.

  Samara shrugged. “Those are my terms.”

  “Agreed.” What choice did she have?

  Samara’s head snapped toward one of the corridors. The one they’d come from. “Your friends are getting restless. We should return.”

  Jolie trailed, her head swimming with new revelations and questions.

  “But before we go back, we need a bond.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A blood bond between us. So I can find you.” Samara gave a slight smirk. “Did you think I was going to let you go, simply to trust that you’ll return to uphold your end of our agreement?” She shook her head. “That will not be how it works. We’ll be bound by blood so I can find you and collect.”

  She pulled a pouch from around her neck and removed a vial, then took a dagger and sheath from the antlers that held the cloak. Securing the sheath around her thigh, she removed the dagger and reached for Jolie’s hand.

  Jolie pulled away, gazing at Samara, unsure of this.

  “It won’t hurt you. It’s just a tie. Think of it as a cell phone connection. But without the phones.”

  “You can talk to me? Like it’s a cell phone?”

  Samara chuckled. “More like a GPS locator, then, I suppose. Do you like that explanation better?”

  There was no explanation that would give Jolie satisfaction as she stared at the gleaming blade. She did not like to think of delving into the dark arts a
nd that was precisely what this blood elf did. “Will it taint my magic?”

  The blood elf scowled. “No. But I’m not fond of being thought of in such terms. Taint.” She scoffed then made a tiny slice on Jolie’s thumb. She squeezed several drops into the vial then screwed a tiny cap onto it and tucked it in her pocket. She dipped the blade in the coals then used sand in a bowl to wipe it clean and tucked it in her sheath.

  “I don’t feel different.”

  “You shouldn’t feel different. Nothing has changed for you.”

  “Except that you can track me now.”

  “Except that.” Samara tucked the cloak over her arm and picked up a tiny stone mortar. “Shall we? Before your friends hurt themselves trying to get through my barriers.”

  “Yes.” Jolie followed Samara out of the cavern and into the passageway. “Why is it that when another sorceress touched Matteo’s half-shifted skin, she was burned but I was not?”

  “I do not know much about time mages. You should ask one of your own kind.”

  As though Jolie actually knew one of her own kind. She’d just learned what she was herself.

  “Let’s move a little faster before your dragon friend injures himself trying to get down here.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Matteo paced before the opening in the hollow of the tree that Samara had taken Jolie into. He couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t like her going off alone with the blood elf. He didn’t trust her.

  He whirled on Griz. “Why did you let her go off like that? With a blood elf, no less?”

  Griz scowled. “She’s grown. She can do as she pleases.”

  Matteo stormed toward the hollow and took a step forward, placing one foot inside the tree’s trunk.

  A surge of power seized him. A sensation of a thousand cuts set upon his body. He jerked in place, unable to move out of the surge.

  Salvatore and Griz grabbed his arms and tugged him free. He collapsed to the ground. “What the hell was that?”

  Griz growled. “Clearly, she has enchantments in place. You were a fool to try to breach the entrance.”

  Matteo bristled. “Better than trying nothing.”