“I'm trying! I have to learn low magic first; the magic in my first four chakras. And then I'll try to figure out how to do the high magic using the last three chakras, but …”
“Explain these chakras.” Axel knew many things about witches, like how to cut them to disconnect their powers. His dad had taught him that. But he didn't know exactly where their magic came from, other than from the earth.
She leaned down and picked up the candle and bowl off the floor. “Witches have seven chakras. The first one is at the base of our spine, it's red and called the earth charka, the one that connects us to the earth. That's why I was sitting on the floor to try to access my second chakra—to be more connected to the earth.” She blew out the candle and set it on the dark granite counter next to the clay bowl.
Axel noted the computer sitting opened on the coun-tertop. Right now, it had a starburst screen saver on it. Was Crone behind that? Listening? Watching? Looking back at Darcy, he said, “The second chakra is water.”
“Yes, it's here.” She put her hand over her pelvis.
He looked down at her palm resting over the zipper of her jeans and was gripped by the desire to move her hand, unzip her jeans, and lay his own hand over her second chakra. Forcing his gaze up to her face, he said, “Go on.”
“I was just feeling that chakra open when you came in.”
Oh, hell. The thought of her pelvis opening … tried to push it out of his mind.
“Opening the chakras gives me access to the power. The fire chakra is yellow and located here.” She put her hand roughly where her solar plexus was. “Then chakra four is air and it's green.” Her hand slid up to rest over her breasts. “If I can open those four chakras, then I can pull the power of the earth elements through those chakras. With practice, I'll learn to direct and control the magic. See?”
He was trying not to see, trying not to visualize where those chakras were on her. Trying not to think of tracing them with his fingers or tongue. Focus. “But those chakras won't heal Hannah?”
She shook her head, her auburn hair swinging around her shoulders. “No. That takes high magic. Spell magic comes down through the higher chakras. Chakra five, the blue chakra, is here.” She put her hand on her throat. “It's communication, where we bring elemental magic and spell magic together. I guess we need a familiar and that's another problem.”
“Because?”
She fiddled with the bowl on the counter. “We can't get familiars. The curse broke our bonds with our familiars.”
Bad news after bad news. “You can't do the spell without a familiar?” The hunters knew witches had weakened, but not the specifics. Since witches hid from them, they didn't exactly exchange information.
She stopped playing with the bowl and met his gaze. “I'm going to try. I have to get control of at least six of my chakras to do it. Chakra six, here,”—she touched her forehead—”is the third eye. It's indigo in color and that's where I will connect with the Ancestors and ask them to help. I guess since the curse, no one has connected with the Ancestors. The last chakra, seven, is violet and at the very top of our head. That one is knowledge and spiritual connection.”
He was impressed … assuming this was true. But she had summoned water, so there was something to what she was telling him. “So the problem is that you have to learn the chakras and how to control the power, and find a way to get a familiar so you can do a spell, is that correct?”
“From what I know so far. Crone tells me there's much more to learn. But I have to start with the first four chakras and learn how to control them.”
Which brought him to a point. “Who is Crone, Darcy?”
Her stare fell to his chest. “I don't know. She just popped up.”
“Then why do you trust her?”
Darcy tried to pivot on the stool where she sat.
Axel stepped in, forcing her legs apart and trapping her. “Look at me. Not my chest, my eyes.”
Her witch-shimmer darkened with a rosy blush.
Seeing that, Axel knew she was reacting to him physically. But was she lying too? Hiding Crone's identity? “Darcy.”
She looked up. “Back off, Axel. I'm doing everything I can.”
Was she? Or was she gaining her powers to escape him? The idea seeded in his belly. His witch. His. He knew it was the blood curse taking over and bringing out the animal in him. He fought it down, kept his hands at his sides. Breathed in and out to stay in control.
The moment stretched out. Darcy grew tense and agitated.
The spicy scent of power slammed into him. It ignited the burn under his skin, cramped his gut, and fogged his brain. He could take what he wanted from her, his knife in the holster in the small of his back …
The sound of rushing water exploded in the room. It shocked his bloodlust back to simmer.
Darcy jerked, almost falling backward off the stool.
Axel grabbed her and pulled her into his chest with the instinct to protect and shield her. He looked over Darcy's head and saw the water in the bathroom sink running.
Then turned his head to the left and saw the spigot there had turned on, too.
No threat to Darcy. Had she sensed his bloodlust rising? He eased her back onto the stool and looked down into her flushed face. “Your powers turned on the water?”
“I felt that chakra open, so I guess I turned on the water. It wasn't a conscious decision.” Frowning, she added, “You made me nervous.”
He'd scared her. He told himself he would have gotten control, he wouldn't have hurt her. Now that he was touching her, the bloodlust faded beneath the rush of sexual lust, and an almost choking need to protect her. He held her with one hand behind her head and the other on her shoulder. The water still ran. “Can you turn them off with witchcraft?”
She turned her head, looked at the stream of running water from the sink next to them.
It shut off.
He felt a single jolt. The curse reacting to her powers?
Whipping her head back, she looked up at him. “I did it!”
Something fleeting traveled through his guts, but he focused on her face, on her excitement. Her joy in learning what she could do. Her success. Her vibrant beauty that he wanted to taste. It was so opposite of what he was, what he had the potential to become, that he longed to have more of it, more of Darcy.
He lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.
She exhaled into his mouth and it fired him up. That was what he wanted, needed; her very breath. Holding her tight, he pressed into her until she opened her mouth. Her entire body leaned into him, her skin getting hotter and need flowing off her like the water she could control with her powers.
Axel wanted to drown in it. He plunged his tongue deeply inside of her, wanting to taste her right down to all seven chakras. The feel of her small hands touching him, caressing his arms and chest inflamed and hardened him until he wasn't sure if he could pull back.
He didn't want to pull back.
When Darcy's hand slid over his shoulder and touched his tat, he growled, slid his hand beneath her bottom, and pulled her into his erection.
“Get away from her!” A demanding digitalized voice blasted through the room.
Axel ripped his mouth from Darcy's, his entire body on alert to find and destroy anything that interrupted them or threatened her.
The starburst screen saver on the laptop was gone. In its place was an older woman with a white bun and two holes with lights shining through for eyes. “Crone.” Damn the computer and damn the witch behind the avatar. His head swam with lust, with a longing for Darcy that almost seared him. Every inch of his skin craved her, and even his hawk tat felt tight and hot in a way it hadn't since the first day he'd gone under the needle.
“Let me go,” Darcy said.
He released her, stepped back, and looked down.
She wrapped her arms around herself, and inched farther away from him on the stool.
The avatar said, “Yes, I'm Crone. Get control
of yourself hunter. If you kill her, your sister will die.”
He'd wanted to strip her naked and possess her, not kill her. But for a moment there … before the water snapped on and before he'd actually touched her … he'd been caught up in bloodlust. He changed the subject. “Why are you hiding? How do we know you're not tricking Darcy?”
“I'm forced to hide because of rogue hunters. I'm helping Darcy. I'm not the one who kidnapped her.”
He shifted his gaze back to Darcy. She uncrossed her arms and raised her chin. “Crone is teaching me what I need. The witch loops won't help me.”
Crone added, “We haven't been able to remove a death mark in decades. You're demanding that she do the impossible.”
If that was true, then he had no other options. He'd have to find the demon witch and kill her. “I won't let Hannah die.”
“Then let Darcy work. Let her learn. Maybe we can figure out a way to do the impossible.”
Axel backtracked in his mind, going over all that Darcy had told him about chakras, elemental magic, and spell magic. He hadn't realized to what extent the witches were damaged as a result of the curse. “None of you can reach your Ancestors?” Like they couldn't reach their Wing Slayer? Although for hunters, it had only been the hawks that talked directly to the Wing Slayer.
He had the hawk tattoo now. But he didn't know what it meant since he still felt the craving for witch blood.
Crone cut off his thoughts. “No, we can't reach the Ancestors. And we need them for spell work.”
Darcy asked, “What exactly are the ‘Ancestors’?”
Crone turned to her on the computer screen. “Witches evolved from a very few, special mortals who began to reincarnate when they died, gaining more power and knowledge with each lifetime. In our death cycle, our souls go to Summerland to rest, review, and then move on to the next life cycle. But eventually, some souls became so evolved they chose not to reincarnate. They stayed in Summerland and acted as the witches’ spirit guides. They assisted us in spells and helped us learn. When the curse happened, the earth witches broke through the demon witches’ shield and entered the cave with the witch hunters. Our souls were torn from us, along with the hunters’ souls, and that severed the connection with our familiars and the Ancestors.”
Axel watched Darcy as she processed this. Her gaze lost focus and he almost felt her mind turning. “What?” he asked.
She turned to look at Crone. “Before the curse, what was communication like with the Ancestors? Did they talk to any witch, like a conversation?”
“Most witches could have some form of communication with the Ancestors if they could open their sixth charka, the third eye. Sometimes it's voices or sometimes it's signs the witch has to interpret. But some witches, a very few …” Crone's gaze narrowed into twin laser beams.
Axel had the feeling Darcy and Crone were communicating in a way he couldn't hear or understand. Either through magic, or Darcy knew Crone well enough to have those instances of understanding, which meant she was lying to him about Crone.
Darcy leaned closer. “A few witches what?”
“Hear the Ancestor voices occasionally without opening their third-eye chakra. They will get a message from them, usually in dreams, but sometimes in waking hours.”
“Like email?” She laced her fingers together, then unlaced them, then she fiddled with her hair.
His tension rose with her increasing agitation. “What do you mean?”
She looked over at him. “Remember I told you about the man at the cemetery who scared me and you said it was your father, a rogue hunter?”
He nodded.
“That night, I got an email warning me that the hunters had found me. That was weird enough, but even stranger was that it was from my own email account. Like I'd sent it to myself. But how could I? I didn't even know anything about rogues or hunters, or that I'm a witch. Then at the mortuary the night you kidnapped me, I got another email, and a phone call with a computer-like voice that said ‘Run!’ When I went outside, the rogues were there.”
His tat warmed enough to feel the outline of the hawk on his back. “You didn't send the emails to yourself, so you're thinking the Ancestors did?”
She jerked her gaze to Crone, then back to him. “I hear voices. I've always heard voices. I used to talk to them when I was really young, but I stopped. Since then, I just hear murmurs, and every once in a while, a single word or two.”
She refused to look at him, studying the granite counter instead.
Frowning, she went on. “But why would they talk to me? I didn't even know I was a witch. I was raised in a mortal family.”
Crone said, “Maybe the fact that you were raised in a mortal family meant you needed the Ancestors even more than the rest of us. Or maybe you are special somehow, something about you made it possible for them to reach you.”
Axel stayed focused on his purpose—Hannah. “So then Darcy could be the witch who can heal Hannah.”
Crone looked at him. “This is bigger than just one child's life, hunter. Darcy could be the breakthrough for us to reach the Ancestors.”
“Stop it,” Darcy said, her voice clear and strong. “Both of you. This is a child's life we're talking about. We will find a way.” She slid open a drawer and pulled out two yellow taper candles and one candleholder.
Axel watched her. “What are those for?”
“Fire; my third chakra. I meditate on the candle of the same color as the chakra to help me connect and open it.” She took the orange candle out of the holder and replaced it with the yellow candle, then she put the second candle in another holder. Darcy picked up a lighter and lit one candle, leaving the second one unlit. She slid off the stool and took both candles with her. After setting them side by side on the tiled floor, she sat, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap.
The room filled with quiet, broken only by the thrumming of the laptop's hard drive.
Axel leaned back against the granite counter. Darcy's back was straight, her long hair flowing to end a few inches above her rounded ass.
He could see her back expand with each breath.
He realized he was breathing with her, pacing each breath to her rhythm. But he couldn't stop, couldn't look away from her. He didn't know how long he stood there, fixated on Darcy.
Then he felt it; a sizzle deep in his gut, followed by an odd sensation. Like feathers rippling beneath his skin—so quick he wasn't sure that was what he felt.
He recognized the rising hum of the curse, the cramping need, but that was overshadowed by a stronger desire to touch Darcy. To feel her power as he laid her on that tile, stripped her down, and sank into her body, deeply enough to touch each of her chakras.
The second candle lit in a bright flare that must have reached four inches in height. Then the flare settled into a strong one-inch flame.
Sweat broke out on his forehead and back. Blood rushed down, engorging his cock.
She had succeeded in opening her third chakra, but why did Axel feel it? Why was the bloodlust getting lost in a potent sexual lust? What was the witch doing to him?
Axel was restless, edgy, and ready to kill. The pulsing red lights of the club, the throbbing beat of the music, and the snapping flames in the fire pit all fit his deadly mood.
Sex. He needed sex to take the edge off.
But all he could think about was Darcy. Leaving the house tonight, knowing she was down on the bottom floor, had been strangely hard. His gut had wanted to turn back, and each mile that took him farther from her had felt like he'd run it instead of driven it.
The skin on his thumb where he had made contact with Darcy's blood yesterday burned. The tattoo on his back where she had touched his hawk felt oversensitive and empty, like it wanted her touch back. Craved it.
The darker part of him wanted to feel the warm spill of her blood cooling the burning, fire ant-ache eating through his skin.
It had to be the curse fucking with him. He just needed to get laid, help
Darcy uncurse Hannah, and send the witch away.
He also needed to get a line on the demon witch as a backup plan in case Darcy didn't succeed in spelling the curse. Or he could beat the information out of his dad. That thought cheered him a bit.
Ram moved up silently next to him and held out an icy beer bottle. “Couple sets of rogues are scouting. They're twitchy as hell.”
Axel moved his gaze to the rogues. Two of them were hovering at the other fire pit, their eyes darting around as they whispered to each other like nine-year-old boys. The second pair hovered at the edge of the booths, doing the same thing.
“Hearing about your hawk tat made them nervous enough. But now you've killed several rogues to protect a witch. They think you are the enemy.”
“It's not what they think.” Axel glanced at the rogues. “They are following orders. Left to their own devices, they'd slaughter witches anywhere they could find them and leave the mess. But that doesn't happen much anymore. The bodies of the dead witches disappear forever. The rogues are organized now.”
“And they are growing. Hunters are turning rogue at a quicker pace. Your tattoo of the leader of the Wing Slayer Hunters marks you, to them, as a real threat. I think we need to find out why exactly.”
He turned to look at Ram. “Meaning?”
“The direct threats to you started when the rogues learned of the tattoo. It means something. Maybe we need to ask the witches. Maybe it's time we found a way to work with them. We'd have to do it on the Internet or in some way that avoided direct contact. Although you're hanging with a witch now and have not been affected.”
Axel drained his beer. “I'm affected. Every damned second.” She was in him and he didn't know if he'd ever break free. That one touch of her blood, just a touch, and it felt like they'd formed a connection of some kind. Shifting subjects he said, “My father's behind this. He has guards at his house, like he's some kind of king.”
“He needs you to help him keep his throne. You're good at killing and you're good at strategy.”
Axel knew that was true. His father had started trying to turn him rogue when Axel had been fourteen years old. After failing that, his dad tried to have another son with Eve, but that child had been a girl. Hannah. Now Myles was back to cooking up ways to get Axel to turn and join him in killing witches and ruling the rogues.
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