Witch Hunter

by Shannon Curtis

  She had to drag her gaze up from his chest, and he saw the moment his words sank in. Her eyes narrowed, and his chin jutted forward as he waited for her response, a response he could just see was going to be fiery.

  “I am not about to let another man dictate what I can and can’t do,” she said, her voice sounding like it was pulled tight over sandpaper, all husky and coarse. “If you ever again tell me to sit and stay like a good dog, I will show you just how much of a bitch I can be.”

  He blinked. There was so much to unpack from those remarks, he was trying to figure out what to address first. Okay, the dog comment definitely had to be straightened out. He was horrified that’s how she’d perceived his remarks, that he’d made a woman feel like that. “I’m sorry, Sully, I never meant to treat you, or make you feel like a—”

  She smiled tightly. “I know you didn’t, but when you command a strong, capable witch to stay at home and out of trouble, how do you expect it to sound?” She folded her arms, and he saw her breasts swell against the material of her top. He adjusted the sheet in front of him. They were having a serious conversation, for Pete’s sake. He wasn’t supposed to be distracted by her body.

  Her gaze dropped to track his movement with the sheet, and a blush crept over her cheeks. So, he wasn’t the only one battling distraction. Good to know.

  She cleared her throat. “Would you have said it to me, if I was male?”

  “Yes,” he answered immediately. “Gender has nothing to do with this. If you were male or female, and I thought you were in danger from this witch, I would say the same thing—which is, let me handle this,” he emphasized, leaning forward to meet her gaze. “If you’re a witch, or a vamp or a shifter, this witch is capable of performing magic of some sort around a null. I’ve never seen that before—I didn’t even know it was possible. We have no idea what this witch is capable of. We do know that he’s killed two women as well as a strong, physically fit and capable man, so yes, guy or chick, I’m saying steer clear for your own safety.”

  He raised his hand to tuck a tendril behind her ear—and pift, there was that zing, that little clap of power that always happened between them, that awakened his senses on a cellular level, that heightened his awareness and made him feel like he was surrounded by a field of electricity with her. “Your safety is very, very important to me,” he told her in a low voice.

  Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth, and her own mouth opened. She pressed her lips together. Swallowed. “It’s just as well you’re being sincere. A bit of a douche, but a sincere douche.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been called worse.”

  Sully nodded, then her gaze drifted down. He was tempted to lose the sheet, to sweep her up in his arms, step back to that damn sofa and make these sparks between them fly.

  Sully gaped at him, then snapped her mouth shut. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Shower. Me.” She was looking at him. All of him. And there was a desire, a hunger in her eyes that was so naked, so blatant, he so damn wanted to reach for her then and there and finish what they’d started the night before.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

  Her cheeks got rosier, and she shook her head. Just a little nervous shake. “I mean, I’m going to take a shower.” She hurried down the hall, and Dave smiled.

  “Pity.”

  * * *

  Sully pulled up in front of Jenny’s drive, and glanced over at Dave. He’d opted to travel with her this time, instead of riding his motorbike. She wasn’t sure if it was for the sake of convenience—they were both going to the same place, so it made sense—or whether it was to keep an eye on her.

  Protect her.

  She swallowed. She’d spent way too much time in the shower this morning, thinking about Dave and that sheet. Or rather, Dave without the sheet. Even now her cheeks heated with the images that had flashed through her mind as she’d washed away the sweat and grime from her night in the factory. His golden skin, those markings that followed the line of his sculpted muscles, those amazing silver-gray eyes.

  The man was gorgeous. He oozed a dangerous sensuality that seemed to bypass any of her personal controls and call to something deep inside her, something she thought she’d gained control over.

  She’d wanted him to join her in the shower. Heck, she’d wanted to join him on that sofa, just like she sensed he wanted. She couldn’t remember ever having such an intense physical reaction to a man. Sure, things with Marty had been physical—way too physical, especially toward the end. She thought she was past all that, or at least wary of it, with a logical desire to steer clear of that kind of allure. Dave, though, was...more. More man. More muscle. More presence. More power. She should be running in the opposite direction, especially when he got his alpha witch on and demanded she stand down.

  When he’d touched her, she’d sensed him—again. She couldn’t mistake his need to protect her, and it was so genuine, so sincere, it touched her. He was frustrated, and he was worried—for her. She couldn’t sense any darkness to his need to protect her. It was pure, it was light and it was so damn seductive, she’d wanted to jump into his arms and give him what they both wanted. Whatever that may be.

  Which, in turn, annoyed her. She’d spent the past four years proving to herself she didn’t need to be with a man... She didn’t need permission, she didn’t need approval, or assistance, or support, or any little tie that would anchor her to a guy. No. She’d learned she was more than capable of standing on her own two feet, of paying her own bills, of developing her own business, honing her craft—establishing her own damn identity.

  She didn’t need to be told where she could and couldn’t go, who she could and couldn’t see, what she could and couldn’t wear, and what she could and couldn’t think, feel, say, do.

  There was something about Dave, though, something that snagged at her, drew her in. She had to shut that crap down right now. Before she got sucked into another nightmare.

  Sully turned her head to eye him. He looked deep in thought, staring through the windshield. He’d showered after she had—which involved more fantasizing on her part about his naked body under the stream of hot water. Steam. Soap suds. Muscles.

  She cleared her throat, and he turned to look at her, his eyes shielded by the dark lenses of his sunglasses. He was wearing a navy T-shirt, and she could see one of his markings peeking out from beneath the edge of his sleeve. Name, not marking, she corrected herself. The name of a witch he’d killed.

  See, just that thought should give her chills. She’d been on the receiving end of his murderous intent, after all. Yet, it didn’t. She’d seen him in action, seen his ruthlessness, his power turned on another—her—along with a physical dominance that should have her ducking for cover. But...it didn’t. Why was that? What was it about this guy that made her ignore all her safeguards, all those red flags she’d warned herself to watch out for and steer away from?

  “You might want to let me do the talking,” she said to him. He’d told her the conversation he’d had with Jacob. She was mildly surprised the nice, friendly guy she knew had so abruptly shut Dave down, but she was beginning to find out a lot of mild surprises from the people she thought she’d gotten to know so well.

  Dave’s lips tightened, but he nodded. He didn’t like it, she could tell, but, well, what could he do about it? Nulls didn’t like outsiders. It was only because she’d been able to make teas and ointments that made them feel better that they had welcomed her in, initially. And Dave—well, Dave didn’t look like the tea-drinking type, let alone the tea-making type.

  They got out of the car, and Sully squinted against the bright sunlight as she closed her car door. She wore a loose cotton top with thin straps, and the sun beat down on her bare shoulders. Today was going to be a hot one.

  She slid the strap of her tote up her arm to her shoulder as she waited for Dave to walk around the ca
r, and they crossed the street together. They were walking up the garden path to Jenny’s cottage front door when they heard the scream.

  Chapter 12

  Dave bolted up the steps and across the porch, hand out to thrust open the door. Heart hammering, he could feel the skin over his pec muscle beginning to warm. More screams.

  No. God, no. Not again, not here. “Jenny!”

  He heard a clatter in the kitchen. His arms pumped as he ran down the hall, scanning the rooms through the open doorways until he raced around the bend in the hall.

  “Jenny!” He heard Sully’s cry, the sound of her flip-flops smacking the floorboards as she raced along behind him.

  The door to the kitchen was closed. Dave didn’t slow down, just bent his right arm in front of him and shoulder-charged the door.

  The door gave way, whipping open as he barreled through. Jenny was on the floor, screaming, legs kicking. A guy straddled her, but froze when he heard the door. Dave roared. Instinctively he summoned his powers, only to feel...nothing.

  Damn it. Nulls. The guy didn’t even turn to face him, but rose and raced through the back door. Dave’s skin stopped itching.

  His gaze met Jenny’s wide-eyed fearful stare. She was crap-scared, but physically all right. He didn’t stop, but darted through the back door. He hesitated briefly, scanning the yard. There. The back gate hung agape, as though it had been slammed closed but not latched, and was slowly swinging back open again.

  Arms and legs pumping, he ran through the gate, and caught sight of a dark leg and shoe as his quarry raced down the narrow lane between rows of houses, and then around the corner. Dave took off again, hands straight, his stride lengthening. So close. Finally. So. Damn. Close.

  He skidded around the corner. Damn it. Another lane. There. Farther up, the guy was hitting the gravel pretty damn hard. He wanted to send a blast toward him, level the bastard with a powerful shove of magic, yet being in the heart of the null neighborhood, it didn’t matter how much he tried to draw on his powers, nothing would come forth. Dave sprinted after him. The man turned and jumped over a low fence, and Dave followed, bracing his hands on the horizontal rail as he swung his legs over in a smooth movement, and then took off running across someone’s back lawn. Well, dirt patch.

  He ducked under the low-hanging branch of a magnolia, and ignored the cry of an older woman peering through her kitchen window.

  The witch pounded along the driveway, then took a gradual curve across the front lawn, jumping over the fence like an athlete in a hurdle race. Dave sprinted, then inhaled as he leaped over the fence. He didn’t break stride as he hit the ground running.

  The witch raced along the street. Look at me. Dave’s jaw clenched. The guy wasn’t looking in any direction except straight ahead. Wasn’t even checking if Dave was still in pursuit. All Dave could see was the back of the man’s head. The witch hit an intersection and turned right, his hand raised to shield his face.

  Dave pumped his legs harder, faster. Damn him. He was hiding his face. The witch ducked behind a tall fence, and it took Dave a couple of seconds to reach the spot. Dave skidded to a stop, glancing about wildly.

  What? Where the hell had he gone? An old woman, stooped over so much that she could barely make eye contact with him, gave him a friendly smile and wave as she started to cross the street.

  Dave went up to the fence, grabbed the top and pulled himself up to peer over it. He scanned the backyard. A dog lifted its head, then rose when he saw Dave. He barked.

  There was no sign of the witch he’d been pursuing, and the dog would have sounded the alarm had someone tried to scale the fence and run through the yard.

  Dave dropped to the ground, then glanced up and down the street. What the hell? He jogged from one driveway to the other, glancing down and around. Nothing. Nobody. He tried to summon his powers again, and frustration licked at him like a hot flame at the silence, the cool...the void.

  He hurried in the direction of the old woman.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  The woman slowed, and it took seconds for her to scan the street.

  “Ma’am,” Dave said again as he jogged up to her. It seemed to take a moment for her to realize he was behind her, and she shifted. Slowly. Little shuffling steps.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but did you see where that man went?”

  She was hunched over, her gaze on his shoes, and it took her a moment to try to lift her head enough to meet his gaze. Dave leaned forward to save her the effort.

  “What?” she asked, her white brows dipping. She raised her hand to cup her ear.

  “The man,” Dave repeated loudly. “Did you see where he went?”

  “Man? What man?” Her rheumy eyes showed her confusion. She blinked at him, as though trying to understand him. Or remember him. Or...maybe just focus on him.

  “Uh, the man—I was following a man round here,” he said, gesturing toward the corner.

  She shifted. Slowly. Little shuffling steps so that she could see where he was pointing. She blinked, squinting. “Where is he?” she asked him.

  He took a breath. “I don’t know. Did you see where he went?”

  “Where who went?” she asked curiously, angling her head this way and that to peer up and down the street. She reminded him of a bird, with her hooked nose, small eyes and the tilt of her head, first one way, then another.

  He sighed. She was nearly deaf and blind, and obviously hadn’t seen anything. “Never mind. Thank you,” he added. He looked around. The witch had disappeared. Somehow. “Here, let me help you,” he said, offering her his arm. She smiled up at him.

  “Why, thank you.”

  They shuffled across the street together, and he cupped her elbow as she stepped up onto the curb.

  She nodded at him, then shuffled on her way. Dave turned back to the street, his hands on his hips as he tried to figure out how he’d managed to lose the guy. Lips pressed tight, he started to walk back the way he’d come, then started to jog. He wanted to get back to Sully—and to Jenny.

  Sully’s friend was going to have to talk with him, now—whether she liked to or not. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  * * *

  Sully looked up from Jenny as Dave thumped up the back steps and through the back door. Jenny startled, her tea sloshing in her mug, and Sully covered her friend’s hands as they cupped the ceramic mug on the table.

  Dave’s large frame seemed to darken the kitchen, until he stepped farther into the room. His navy T-shirt sported a damp V-patch on the front, and perspiration dripped down the sides of his face and neck. He’d run hard.

  He walked over to her friend and put his hand on her shoulder, bending low to meet her gaze.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Jenny quietly. If it had been appropriate, Sully would have stood and hugged him. His tone was low, so gentle, with just the right amount of concern that was heartwarming, but still strong enough that Jenny wouldn’t break down into tears—which seemed likely. Sully could feel her friend trembling, and she so wanted to take some of that fear, that residual terror from her. For the first time, she wished she could still use her powers with the nulls.

  Jenny nodded, her eyes wide. “Yeah,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  Dave reached for a high-backed chair at the end of the table, swung it around on a leg and straddled it, his muscled forearms folded across the top as he looked directly at Jenny.

  “Mind telling me what happened?” he asked in a mild voice.

  Jenny nodded. She opened her mouth, then blinked. She frowned. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she said, then looked uncertainly at Dave, then at Sully.

  Sully reached for her shoulder. “It’s okay, Jen. Take your time.”

  Jenny shook her head, her expression becoming distraught. “I—I don’t know,” she said, her voice rising in pitch. “I remember...”
Her gaze drifted to Dave. “You,” she breathed. “You, breaking through my door...”

  Sully glanced over at the kitchen door. The section of the door where the doorknob was located was rough and splintered, and there was a long crack down the middle panel. From the moment they’d heard Jenny’s scream from the front door, Dave had become a force of energy, barreling through the house, and not slowing down for something as trivial as a door. She had entered the kitchen only to see him race through the back door.

  For a big guy, he could move like lightning.

  And Jenny had been on the floor, shaken and trembling. Sully had made a quick call to Tyler Clinton, and then to Jacob, and then had tended to her friend.

  Now, with a cup of tea in her hands, Jenny was beginning to calm, although her cheeks were tear-streaked, and her knuckles were white as she clasped the ceramic mug.

  Dave nodded. “Yes, we heard you screaming,” he told her. “What can you tell us about the man, Jenny?”

  Jenny’s hand went to her neck. “My throat is sore.”

  Sully nodded, smoothing her hand across her friend’s back. “You were screaming, Jen.”

  “The man?” Dave prompted.

  Jenny frowned, her gaze caught by a bruise on her wrist, and she turned her hand over to see how far it extended. “The man...” she repeated. She blinked, then looked at Sully. “I don’t remember him,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “Why don’t I remember him?” Her voice held a hint of panic.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Sully said, knowing it was anything but. “Take your time.” Her gaze flicked to Dave, but his face was composed. Neutral. She smiled gently at Jenny. “What were you doing earlier?”

  Jenny frowned, looking around the kitchen. “I—I’m not quite sure.”

  “Why aren’t you at school?” Sully tried a different tact.