by C. L. Bright
Nicolas let out a bark of laughter. “You’re joking, right?”
“Of course, she’s joking,” Laranissa answered for me. “Juliet knows you brought five back and killed the weaker ones. Why would anyone kill powerful familiars? The hunters on the peninsula aren’t that different from us.”
“Right,” I agreed. “I know how it works.”
“Are you all right, Juliet?” Laranissa asked.
“You look pale,” Nicolas remarked with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not comfortable leaving Dante alone,” I replied honestly. The thought of Dante being alone didn’t sit right with me, especially considering how vulnerable he’d seemed when he’d asked me to join him in bed. “Can I get something to bring up for both of us?”
“But we’ve hardly gotten a chance to talk,” Nicolas said as he sidled even closer.
His hand snaked out to catch my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath as what felt like electricity shot through my nerves and down to my hands. I couldn’t stop the twitching of my fingers.
“Let her go!” Serena shouted, her voice shaking slightly.
Releasing my arm, Nicolas stalked toward Serena, his magic vibrating with every step.
Serena took a step back.
“This is none of your business,” Nicolas hissed.
“Leave her alone, Nicolas!” There was magical power behind Laranissa’s command.
He froze, his jaw clenched as he looked from Serena to Laranissa. I wasn’t sure he’d back down.
“Please, Nicolas,” Serena whispered. “Let Juliet go back up to Dante’s room without any games.”
He cocked his head to the side as he regarded her with a calculating expression.
“I’ll let her go if you help me with a project,” Nicolas told Serena.
“I already told you to leave Serena alone,” Laranissa snapped. Her magic washed over the room in a hot wave, practically searing my skin.
In response, Nicolas started to lash out with his magic before struggling to rein it in. He looked angry and frustrated, but he backed down.
“You’re right, Juliet,” Laranissa began without taking her eyes off of Nicolas. “It would be best if you take some food up to Dante’s room. Serena can help you.”
Serena didn’t wait for further instructions, hurrying to grab a tray and fill it with food. I only spared her a glance.
Nicolas didn’t say more, but I could tell when his smirk returned, he knew he made me nervous. That brought up my hackles.
Laranissa started putting together her tray with more food than one witch needed, so I assumed she was planning to bring food to someone else.
“Why are you staring at me?” I demanded of Nicolas.
“Why are you so nervous?” he shot back.
“Nicolas,” Laranissa began in a warning tone.
“I don’t like being stared at,” I replied. “It’s rude.”
“I’m curious about you,” he explained.
“You’ve said that before,” I reminded him. “Let’s be honest with each other. You don’t like me, and you want to intimidate me.”
“Poor little witch,” Nicolas crooned. “I’ve frightened you.”
Serena caught my hand as she balanced a tray on the other. Her knife was on the tray, and she looked more skittish without it in her hand. “Let’s go.”
“I should carry the tray,” Nicolas insisted.
“I said enough,” Laranissa hissed at Nicolas. “You’ll dine with me.”
His eyes flashed with defiance as his attention shifted to Laranissa.
Serena practically dragged me from the room, and neither of us spoke until we started up the stairs. I was worried she’d drop the tray in her haste to make her escape.
“Why are you so afraid of Nicolas?” I asked. “Has he hurt you?”
“Nicolas likes to hurt people,” she whispered. “I went on a hunt with him once when I was training. It was awful. That’s when he’s the worst. He loves finding familiars marked for death—the weaker ones that won’t give a spellcaster much power. He never makes death easy for them.”
“Do you think it’s right to kill the weaker familiars?” I asked.
Everything I’d picked up from Serena suggested she didn’t quite agree with how familiars were treated.
She stopped walking and looked at me. “You already know I got in trouble for releasing a familiar.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“He was going to be executed,” she whispered. “I know that’s the way it works with weak familiars or those that are too hard to control. They can’t benefit us, and they’re a danger to us if we release them. That’s what we’re told from childhood.”
I didn’t understand how they could be so dangerous if they were too weak to be useful.
“You didn’t think the familiar you tried to release was dangerous?” I asked.
“He was a child,” she whispered. “I’m not a good hunter. Ever since the attack, I’m too afraid. My family thinks I’m a crazy witch with a knife.”
“You were attacked?” I asked.
Her expression became guarded.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I assured her. “Is your knife ever out of reach?”
“I feel safer with it,” she replied. “At night, I put it on my bedside table. I like to know I can grab it if I need to defend myself.”
“What happened to the shapeshifter you released?” I asked, cursing myself for not using the term familiar.
She looked haunted by the memory. “Nicolas killed him, and it was so much worse than it would have been. I made that poor child suffer. Nicolas made him shift from his animal form while I watched him die. I’ll never forget the look on that child’s face.”
I said nothing, not sure I trusted myself to speak. The situation disgusted me. First, I hated that Nicolas had forced Serena to watch him kill a shapeshifter. He’d done it to hurt and punish her for her compassion. It also bothered me that the hunters considered it so much easier to kill a shapeshifter if they kept them in animal form. It was all done to keep from viewing shapeshifters as anything more than animals. They wanted to avoid any compassion.
Serena gave me some hope that not all Azureans were content believing we were nothing more than animals.
“It was courageous of you to try saving him,” I assured her.
“It was stupid,” she muttered. “I doubt he appreciated my efforts when he died a horrible, painful death. We’d better get to Dante’s room.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence. During the walk, I thought about Nicolas.
Though I’d only met a few spellcasters so far, something told me Nicolas was the most dangerous. It went beyond merely lacking compassion; he thrived on cruelty and tormenting those weaker than him.
Nicolas was the spellcaster I needed to avoid above all others.
Chapter 22
Serena stayed with me for over an hour, only heading to her room once Ambrose stopped by to let her know Nicolas was no longer at the house.
What kind of life was that?
Serena was trapped in a house with a warlock who loved tormenting her. Laranissa’s intervention only seemed to help so much, and I wondered how long it would be before Nicolas stopped listening to even her.
I was still staring at the door she’d exited through when I heard Dante’s rough voice from the bed.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
“You’re awake.” I moved to sit on the edge of his bed.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked as he looked around the room that was only illuminated by one small lamp.
“At least four hours,” I replied. “I didn’t check the time when we got back to the room. There was too much going on. We tried to wake you to eat, but you just mumbled something about being tired and went back to sleep. How are you feeling?”
“I ache everywhere,” he admitted. “That nāga came close to killing me.”
“Yes, she did,” I agre
ed as I laid beside him and put a hand over his heart. “I was worried about you.”
“Did you ever think you’d worry about a warlock?” he asked with a wry smile.
“I never expected I’d get to know a warlock this well,” I admitted.
“Do you wish you could go back to the way things were? Don’t answer. That was a stupid question. Of course, you’d like to feel safe again.”
“There is that,” I agreed. “I also haven’t made your life any easier.”
Dante’s eyes closed as he let out a sigh. “My life was a lot simpler when I didn’t think of shapeshifters as more than animals.”
“Does that mean you regret bringing me here?” I asked.
He opened his eyes and propped himself up slightly. “How could I regret my time with you? You saved my life, Juliet.”
“You wouldn’t have been in danger had you never met me.”
“Not true,” he argued. “I could have run into the nāgas another day, or someone else would have eventually.”
“I suppose,” I agreed.
“I’m glad I met you for other reasons,” he whispered.
“Me too.”
“What did you do while I was sleeping?” he asked. “Other than eating with Laranissa.”
“I didn’t end up eating with Laranissa,” I replied. “Nicolas came back earlier than expected, so I ate up here with Serena. She just left.”
“Yeah, I heard her leave. Did she come here to keep you company?” he asked.
“No, she came up here to get away from Nicolas. He terrifies her, yet she stood up for me.”
“She likes you a lot,” he remarked.
“Do you think it would change anything if she knew the truth about me?” I asked.
Both Ambrose and Laranissa also seemed to like me, but I felt my deception would change all of that. With Serena, I wasn’t quite as sure.
“I don’t think it would change how she feels about you,” he replied without hesitation. “She’s terrified of shapeshifters, yet she lost her freedom trying to save one.”
“She’s very brave,” I agreed.
“She doesn’t believe that,” he stated.
“I know. She didn’t want to talk about her attack,” I added.
“I don’t think she’s ever talked to anyone about it,” he replied. “Nicolas may have been responsible for the attack.”
“Why would he do that?” I demanded. “Forget I asked. Nicolas enjoys tormenting others.”
“He wasn’t quite as bad back then,” Dante insisted. “He was the one who killed the shapeshifter that attacked her. He saved her life, so I could be wrong. If he did arrange her attack, I think he may have been trying to help her in his own twisted way.”
“How could that kind of trauma have possibly helped her?”
“Serena never had what it takes to be a hunter. It’s not what she wanted, but she was born into a hunter family. She never accepted that shapeshifters are nothing but animals. As a young child, she’d argue against hunting them.”
“And Nicolas may have wanted to change her perception by proving they’re dangerous,” I deduced.
He absentmindedly stroked my hair. “He’d suggested doing something drastic before, but my father always argued that she’d grow out of her aversion to hunting. Serena’s mother isn’t a hunter, so Laranissa suggested letting Serena live with her mother’s family.”
“What do they do?” I asked.
“Healing spells,” he replied. “Serena’s never shown much talent in that area, but Laranissa thought she might learn.”
“Obviously, that idea was rejected.”
“Yes, my father is head of the family and refused to accept that Serena wouldn’t become a good hunter,” he replied. “Now, most of the family pretends she’s not here.”
“That’s sad,” I whispered. “How old was she when the attack happened?”
“Thirteen. She hasn’t gone anywhere without the knife since then. I’m sure it’s even within arm’s reach when she sleeps.”
“It is,” I whispered. “That’s what she told me. Why does she spend time in this part of the house? It seems like Nicolas taunts her constantly. This is a huge home. There has to be somewhere else she can stay.”
Dante let out a sigh. “Her parents think she’s broken—the whole family feels that way. She’s no longer welcome in the other wings. It’s a mess.”
“I wish I could help her.”
“Me too,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how.”
We were both silent for several heartbeats before Dante spoke again. “I wish I didn’t hurt so much because I want to kiss you again.”
“We probably shouldn’t do that,” I replied. “I want to, but we shouldn’t.”
“Because I’m recovering?” he asked.
“That and because there’s no future between us,” I reminded him.
“All the more reason to enjoy the present,” he insisted. “I’m curious about how my magic reacts to yours. It’s stronger when we touch and let our guards down. I also like you, and if you were a spellcaster, I’d be doing everything in my power to convince you to be my witch.”
“But I’m not a spellcaster. It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. This is a temporary situation. I’ll find a way to return to my home, or I’ll be killed.”
“I won’t let them kill you,” he said in a fierce tone.
“What if that’s what I want?” I asked, propping myself up to see his expression.
“I don’t understand. Why would you want to die?”
“My alternative seems much worse,” I explained. “I don’t want to be someone’s slave. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days having the power drained from me while I’m forced to stay in animal form. Alaric was right. Death would be preferable to that existence.”
Dante blew out a frustrated breath. “I understand, and I promise I won’t let that happen to you.”
“Even if it means killing me yourself.” I made it a statement to avoid further discussion.
“It won’t.” He sounded frustrated.
“Please, Dante, I need your promise.”
He hesitated but finally replied softly, “If there is no other way to save you, then I’ll kill you.”
“Thank you,” I replied with a sigh of relief.
Dante’s weak bark of laughter held more sadness than humor. “I never thought I’d have anyone thank me for promising to kill them. You bring so many firsts to my life.”
“And you really don’t regret meeting me?” I asked with a wry smile.
Dante reached out to stroke my cheek. “Never.”
I looked away, a little scared by the intensity of his gaze. “Are you hungry? I still have some dry meat and hard cheese. There’s also a little bread left.”
“I’m not hungry yet,” his arms wrapped around me. “Stay with me like this tonight.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Chapter 23
After Dante dozed off, I moved to the sofa, deciding I was close enough to go to him if he woke up. There was still too much nervous energy flowing through my veins to sleep.
This was my second night under the roof of my enemies, and already they didn’t seem as much like enemies—not all of them anyway. I’d always assumed spellcasters were too different from shapeshifters for us to have more than a trade agreement.
They couldn’t turn into animals, so they didn’t fully understand the duality of our existence and didn’t respect our abilities. There were simply too many differences, and if someone had ever suggested I’d enjoy spending time with a warlock, I’d have laughed.
Looking over at the bed, I could make out Dante’s form in the dim lighting. He’d rolled to his side, and his breathing was steady. He was such a handsome warlock, and he intrigued me more than any male I’d ever met. Granted, I didn’t have much romantic experience.
I only had a couple of true friends while most spent time around me to elevate their own position. All the males who
’d shown any interest in me had made it clear they wanted to be aligned with the future leader.
Dante wanted nothing from me—nothing that a normal boyfriend wouldn’t want, at least.
Boyfriend?
I needed to stop that thinking now. Dante wasn’t my boyfriend or anything of the sort. We were only going to be in each other’s lives for a short time. There would be no relationship, but Dante was right about us enjoying the present.
I needed to stop expecting him to regret meeting me. I needed to stop asking him if he regretted it. If a nāga attack hadn’t made him want to turn back time and send me on my way the day we’d met, I doubted anything would.
“Juliet.”
When I heard Dante’s strained voice, I hurried to his side.
“I’m here,” I assured him as I sat on the edge of the bed.
“I thought you’d left me.” His voice was weak. “I dreamt you were gone.”
“Don’t worry. I’m right here. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to get up.”
“You’re only mine for a short time, Juliet. It’s not fair.”
He sounded somewhat confused, so I placed a hand on his forehead and frowned. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m hot for you.” He tried to smile, but his lips shook. “It’s cold in here.”
“It’s not cold, Dante. You’re running a fever. I need to get help.”
His fingers snaked around my arm. I could have easily broken free of his weak grip, but instead, I leaned closer and kissed his cheek.
“Let me get help,” I whispered. “There’s something wrong. Maybe the antivenom spell didn’t work.”
“It worked,” he assured me. “This can happen, or so I’ve read. There’s a spell in the bathroom to help with my fever. Can you bring it to me?”
I nodded. “What does it look like, and where can I find it?”
“Top drawer by the sink,” he replied. “There are several bags in there with the spells labeled.”
“I can’t read your written language.”
“It’s a pale pink powder,” he told me. “Just grab one bag.”
I hurried into the bathroom to find the spell. The drawer was loaded with small bags, each labeled. Some contained powders, while others had orbs. Many of them were in shades of blue and purple, but there was only one pink powder.