“Are you going to put down that lamp and play nice, or do you want to get knocked on your ass a few more times by those wards?”
She glared at him. “If you’re going to hold me prisoner, at least be honest about how you’re doing it. Cut the bullshit and tell me how you managed to generate and maintain an invisible force field outside you front door.”
His brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “Force field? Lady, you’ve been watching too much Star Trek. Like I said, I had a buddy of mine put wards on the house.”
This was insane. Then again, if what she remembered from last night had really happened, wards shouldn’t be all that surprising.
No, that was crazy. That was exactly the kind of delusion that had made her mother the laughingstock of the town and strained her parents’ relationship. The same delusion that branded her aunts and sisters New Age eccentrics at best and certifiably insane at worst. Memories of taunts, threats, and bricks thrown through windows raced through her addled brain.
She couldn’t afford to fall into the same trap. She was a woman of science and reason. Even as she struggled to explain the inexplicable, she couldn’t fall prey to superstition.
“Wards aren’t real,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to convince herself as much as the man in front of her. “Magical portals aren’t real. Dragons aren’t real. Magic is not real!”
His gaze shifted from confusion to apparent shock. “What do you mean magic is not real? You trapped me with a magic spell last night. You’re using magic right now.”
“No, I’m not—”
Her throat constricted as she glanced at the lamp, shock choking off the rest of her protest. The bulb glowed. More than that, the entire lamp pulsed and vibrated with energy as if poised to strike. How was that possible? She’d unplugged it! And a radiant bulb was one thing, but the faint glow from the metal base?
Battery backup. Had to be. She checked it all over, and no battery compartments revealed themselves. No other rational explanation came to mind.
The hum of power from the lamp intensified, as did her captor’s wariness. He held his hands up, palms out, and stepped back. “Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to ask you a few questions and make sure you don’t plan on telling anyone about me or the folks in town.”
“What is going on?” she squeaked, holding the lamp at arm’s length. Sparks began to fly from the bulb as panic surged within her. A sensation akin to static electricity, only amplified, danced over her skin. Granted, that happened almost every time she encountered a device that ran on electricity or battery power, but those devices had always been plugged in or charged at the time.
“Call off your spell,” he said, taking another step back. This one positioned him in the kitchen where he crouched as if ready to tuck and roll.
Or pounce. Fear and adrenaline spiked as her fight or flight response kicked into high gear.
“What spell?” she shrieked.
“The one that’s about to make that lamp you’re holding blow a hole in my fucking wall!”
The alarm in his voice shoved her over the edge. A flash of light shot from the bulb at hit the wall above her captor who did, in fact, tuck and roll behind the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. She screamed and dropped the lamp. Its light flickered out as the bulb shattered. But the strange, electrifying sensations still pulsed through her body.
Grasping at her last straws of reason, she picked up a television remote from a nearby table. The sensations coursing through her coalesced in her hand, and the remote started to vibrate. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the television blared to life at an ear-splitting volume and the lights in the room went haywire. Tossing the remote with a shriek, she picked up a wooden carving.
Nothing.
After gulping in several gasps of air, she sank to the ground and reached out to the remote control with a trembling hand. With one tentative finger, she touched the very tip of it and channeled a single thought through her addled brain.
Off.
Silence filled the space as the television went dead and the lights went out. Fighting a wave of panic, she picked up the remote and pointed it at the overhead light.
On.
A soft glow came to life and illuminated the room. She dropped the remote again and ran her hands over the wooden floors, the base of the couch, a table leg. None of those objects responded to her silent commands. But when her fingers brushed a table lamp, it turned on at the speed of thought.
She looked around the room helplessly as she struggled to wrap her mind around the undeniable truth. She’d done the experiment. No matter how many convoluted scientific explanations she could conjure, the simplest explanation was clear.
Her captor reappeared, cautiously peeking around the doorframe to stare down at her. She met his gaze as hers blurred with unshed tears. Oh, God, her mother, her sister, her aunts—they’d been right all along.
“Magic is real,” she said. “And I really am a witch.”
The dam broke, flooding her with too many pent up emotions, and she collapsed in a fit of sobs.
Chapter Four
“Oh, my God, I’m a witch!” the woman moaned, her bravado lost in a fit of uncontrollable sobs as Aiden looked on in horror and helplessness.
Aw, hell, he’d only meant to scare her a little—just enough to ensure her silence about him and the town, to teach her a lesson after she’d put him in a cage. And, if he was being honest with himself, he’d enjoyed taking her down a notch or two. But he hadn’t meant to hurt her like this. Even though she’d hurt him a little—okay, maybe more than a little since his fingertips still stung from that damned electrified cage—it was only physical. That pain would fade. It had mostly faded already.
Judging from the tear-streaked mess of woman on his living room floor, her pain ran much deeper.
She was clearly smarter than the average Earth dweller, and she’d shown a fair amount of determination last night. Still, she didn’t strike him malevolent or particularly calculating. He doubted anyone could fake this level of confusion and anguish. It reminded him a little too much of his own state of mind when he’d escaped Tarakona as a confused, scared, and angry youth.
I’m such an asshole.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he said, crouching low and approaching with caution. Wounded animals were dangerous, and wounded people more so. She could still kill him. After all, she actually had blown a hole in his fucking wall.
Still, he got the feeling that she hadn’t meant to do that. It was clear that she had hadn’t controlled the spell she’d cast in a fit of panic.
Magic is not real!
She’d said to him a before she started crying, and she’d said it last night, too. It didn’t make sense. How could someone clearly using magic claim that magic wasn’t real? He’d risked a glance into the living room after the television had blared to life and watched in confusion as she ran her hands over random objects and scowled. Things happened whenever she touched plastic or metal…but there was more to it.
Things happened when she touched objects that used electricity. That was when it dawned on him. She’d been testing her capabilities, methodically, systematically, and scientifically experimenting on the materials available to see which ones channeled her magic.
She didn’t protest when he scooted closer. Perhaps she just didn’t notice since she was busy rocking back and forth with her head in her hands. He wanted to reach out, put his hand on her back, and tell her it would be okay, just like he’d done for Nadia when they’d attempted to escape the ceremony that would have implanted them both with thrall crystals after they had morphed into dragons. Then again, it hadn’t been okay for them on that horrible day. They’d caught Nadia, and he had barely escaped with his life and freedom.
How could he tell the woman in front of him everything would be okay?
He couldn’t. But maybe he could listen if she was willing to talk about it.
&nbs
p; At a loss for how to begin, he said quietly, “Are you upset because of me, or is something else going on?”
She yanked her hands away from her face and flinched, no doubt startled by his proximity. To her credit, and surprisingly to his relief, she didn’t move away. She shook her head and said, “I’m a witch.”
“Yeah,” he said in what he hoped was an encouraging voice. “And?”
“And I had no idea. I mean, my mom and aunts and sister all told me they were witches and that I was one, too, but that’s crazy. My dad believed it was crazy and I believed him. I’m a scientist,” she explained, offering a wry smile through her tears.
He looked at the rumpled, dirty lab coat she still wore and chuckled. “So I noticed. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“I became a scientist because I thought my mom was crazy. I thought all of them were crazy, and I wasn’t the only one.” It almost seemed as if she was trying to convince herself more than him.
She brushed a lock of hair from her face and met his gaze, her hazel eyes filled with confusion and heartbreaking regret. “Everyone in town made fun of us, but some people were afraid. Those were the worst. They were the ones who threatened us and tried to drive us out. One night, they succeeded.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Someone threw a brick through our window. It had happened a few times before, but this one came with a flaming, gasoline-soaked rag. We lost the house. No one was hurt, but we got the message loud and clear. Dad moved us before the insurance check cleared.”
“And your mom?”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Like I said, Dad thought she was crazy, especially since she kept practicing after we moved. That’s why my parents split up. But he was wrong. I was wrong. I never really knew her, my mother. She died when I was young, and I spent my whole life thinking she was delusional, that it was all a big lie. But it’s true. I’ll n-never get to t-tell her and, oh God, my sister!”
She succumbed to a fresh wave of sobs. Throwing caution to the wind, Aiden took her into his arms and let her cry it out on his shoulder while he carried her to the kitchen. Sitting down at his usual spot next to the table, he cradled the trembling witch on his lap as he rubbed her back in an effort to soothe. God, she felt good in his arms, but he clamped down on his male response to her nearness. That wasn’t what this was about. He tried to think of something to say, some words of comfort to offer, but what did you say to someone who’d just had her whole world turned upside down?
You could tell her what Rocky told you.
He took a deep breath and recalled the words of his adopted father in the Earth dimension. When John Rocco found him, he’d been a scared, scrawny, starving kid who’d had his world turned upside down after stumbling through the portal. The man had taken him in and, with the help of some of Magic, New Mexico’s finest citizens, had helped him build a life for himself on Earth.
Not that Aiden had gone with him willingly at first. Headstrong, stubborn, and terrified, it had taken some tough love from Rocky to get him through to him.
Aiden lifted the woman’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Then he said what Rocky had said to him all those years ago. “I know you’re in a bad place. I don’t know all the whys and hows, and I don’t need to know them right now. There’s only one thing I need to know. Are you ready to fight your way out of it?”
She looked up at him, stunned, as if that was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
Well, that made two of them.
He’d just met this woman and didn’t know anything about her except that she was a witch with some kind of engineering fetish and dubious sanity. Not that he was sure of his own sanity at this point, but still. He didn’t even know her name.
Well, that’s an easy fix.
Clearing his throat, he said. “My name’s Aiden, by the way. Aiden Silver. What’s yours?”
Instead of answering, she kept staring at him as if he’d sprouted another head. Or maybe it was his magic tracery going haywire again. He glanced down at his hand and swore under his breath. No, he hadn’t sprouted another head. He’d just let his emotions get the better of him and reminded her what a freak he was. She was probably repulsed.
He started to pull away, but she took his hand in hers and examined it, turning it over and watching as lines of silver danced beneath his skin to form elaborate patterns. The magic that ran through his body was like a living tattoo and served as a reminder of what he was. A signifier of dragonhood in his world, it made him a pariah in this one. He kept his body covered most of the time with long sleeves and work gloves. He hadn’t even shown his tracery to his acquaintances in town. Only Rocky knew.
And now, so did this woman.
She looked back up at him, her gaze alight with curiosity rather than revulsion, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked, studying him as if he were a particularly challenging puzzle. Then she shook her head and said, “Not that I’m not grateful, considering you could’ve eaten me, but you didn’t. Why?”
He leaned back and blew out a breath. Why, indeed… “For starters, I’m not a murderer, and I don’t eat humans. I used to be one. Second—”
“How is that even possible? And you may not be a murderer, but you kidnapped me.” She scrambled out of his lap and loomed over him, arms crossed under her generous breasts and gaze filled with fury. Seemed like she’d traded grief for outrage. It was almost funny, and decidedly sexy, which was ridiculous. The unexpected jolt of attraction stoked the flames of his anger with a vengeance.
“Turnabout’s fair play, sweetheart,” he snapped. “False imprisonment and assault aren’t exactly minor offenses, so if you’re thinking about running off to the cops after we’re done here, you might want to consider what they’d say about your actions.”
Her cheeks flushed, the lovely shade of rose painting her face and making her seem less like a mad scientist and more like a woman—an enticing, if infuriating and dangerous, woman who looked as if she’d love nothing more than to unleash another trap on him. This woman was miles away from the gentle, troubled soul who’d wept in his arms only a moment ago. She scanned his small kitchen as if looking for a way out or a weapon. Would she go for the knives or a frying pan?
Who was he kidding? She’d grab his electric meat slicer so she could saw his fucking head off.
“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” he said, taking a small amount of pity on his unwilling guest. “I’m not going to hurt you, and I plan on letting you go.”
She stood her ground, shoulders squared, chin jutting out in defiance. “Why not let me go now? And you didn’t answer my question before. Why play nice with me? And why didn’t you just leave me in the desert?”
He laughed. She had trust issues. He got that. It was something they had in common. She was also a fighter. He’d give her that, too. And since she was all about science and rational explanations, he figured he might as well tell her the truth and hope it appealed to her sense of reason.
“I couldn’t let you go after you’d seen me. I needed to make sure you’d keep quiet about my existence, and I figure playing nice is the best way to convince you to keep a secret. As for the leaving you in the desert, I couldn’t risk you going through the portal. Believe me, Pandora, you wouldn’t like what’s on the other side.”
She arched a brow. “My name is Gillian Hohenwald, and what’s on the other side? More assholes like you?”
Okay, now she was pissing him off. Clamping down on his anger, he took a deep breath and tried to remember that she’d found him and the portal to Tarakona on accident and that she’d just had her worldview shattered with the revelation that magic was real. No matter how much they bugged him, her attacks weren’t personal. He’d have to play it cool if he had any chance of convincing her to ma
intain Magic’s clandestine status—and his.
He got up and poured a cup of coffee, handing it to her as a peace offering. Then he filled his own cup and sat back down at his small kitchen table, inviting her to do the same. She huffed but eventually took a seat and eyed the cup of coffee like it might be poisoned. He sighed and grabbed her cup. Never breaking her gaze, he placed the mug of steaming goodness to his lips and let the warmth and aroma caress his senses before taking a sip and allowing it slide down his throat is a long swallow.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth as that lovely blush painted her face once more. His senses weren’t quite as keen in human form as they were when he became a dragon, but he caught a trace of feminine interest and fought a smirk. So the hard-ass intellectual was human, after all—a woman who appreciated him as a man.
Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but if he failed to persuade her to keep quiet about him, the portal, and the town by simply asking her, seduction might not be a bad alternative. Fates knew she’d already seduced him. No, it wasn’t seduction. This was something else, something new—when she wept in his arms, she’d done something far more profound and meaningful.
She’d done something far more dangerous. She’d touched his heart, something he’d guarded for very long time.
He sipped his coffee and tried to ignore the signals she was giving off, and especially his response to those signals. Shifting in his seat and clearing his throat, he said, “There are worse things than me on the other side of that portal, Gillian. Most humans aren’t treated very well in my dimension. They’re second-class citizens. You’d probably be treated as one of them. I myself am a dragon.”
Silver Unleashed Page 3