BLOOD MAGIC

by Jennifer Lyon

“They aren't any more trusting of us.” He sat next to her, so close their thighs touched. “That first night, if you hadn't been under attack, I would have tried to ask you first. I had planned to offer you a deal.”

  He was full of surprises tonight. “And if I'd said no?”

  “Then I would have taken you. I knew the rogues were coming after you. I wouldn't have left you there to be slaughtered.”

  She turned to look at him. He was so close, she could see the faint lines bracketing his eyes, feel his breath stir her hair. His scent, though, the smell of Axel, was what made her want to lean into him and inhale. She craved him inside of her. “Why are you telling me this?” Something was changing in him, as if he was making a decision.

  He met her gaze. “You trusted me last night, trusted me with not just your body, but your life. You believed I wouldn't lose control of the bloodlust and kill you.” He reached out and touched her face. “You believed in me when you had no reason to. I want you to know I'm never cruel without a reason.”

  Her heart squeezed. She didn't want to lie to him, to hide her fears from him. But if she told him, he'd throw her out and go after the demon witch. Axel, this Axel she knew, would be gone once he killed the demon witch and went rogue. She couldn't let that happen, not if she had the power to stop it. She would heal Hannah first, and then she'd tell him what she feared she had done to him. “Okay. Is that what you wanted to talk about?” She looked around with the desperate hope that a dog, cat, or whatever form a familiar might take would come running. Nothing appeared.

  Axel said, “No, I wanted you to hear it from me—we know that Crone is Carla Fisk.”

  Her stomach clenched and the wineglass slid from her hand.

  Axel shot out his hand and caught the glass before it hit the ground. He handed it back to her.

  She stared at the glass in his hand. Carla had risked so much to help her. Clumsily, she surged to her feet. “I have to tell her!”

  Axel set her glass down and took her hand. “We're not going to hurt her. I swear it, Darcy. We're committed to not giving into this curse by hurting earth witches. We just wanted to make sure she wasn't a demon witch.”

  This again! “She's not. I told you she's not. She's my friend!”

  “I know,” he said gently.

  She tried to add it all up. “Did you see her? Scare her? Hurt her?”

  “No. Sutton hacked into Joe's GPS system in his truck, got the address where he stopped, and found out Carla rented the house. Then he pulled up her DMV file. We saw the silver necklace she wore—demon witches don't wear silver. Ever.”

  “She always wears silver. She has a silver armband around her bicep that she's never without.” Why the hell was she telling him this? He'd betrayed her. Why didn't she jerk her fingers from his warm, oversize hand? “She'll have to leave. Find a safe place.” Carla won't contact her anymore. She'll be alone.

  He squeezed her hand softly. “Darcy, I won't let anyone hurt her. The only ones who know are Sutton, Phoenix, Ram, Key, and myself. I didn't have to tell you, but I chose to tell you. Just like I didn't have to let Joe and Morgan come to the house yesterday, then leave today, knowing the location of the house.”

  “Joe wouldn't tell! He wouldn't risk my life!”

  “I'm trusting in that, I'm trusting my mom and sister's life in that. Just like you're trusting that we won't hurt Carla.” He tugged on her hand. “Sit down; talk to me.”

  She could walk away, insist on contacting Carla right now. Hell, she had enough magic now to lock Axel out of his own house, at least for a while. But he had told her. He had his reasons for finding out who Carla was. Just as she'd had her reasons for keeping Carla's identity secret. Finally, she sank down next to him and said, “I still have to tell her. She helped me when no other witch would.”

  He handed her the glass of wine. “Your decision.” Not sure what to do now, she took a sip of the wine. As she calmed down, she remembered another secret she was keeping from Axel. Afraid of what he might feel from her, she took her hand from his and scooted a little to put an inch of space between them. “Carla's not going to help me anymore. Not after this.”

  He turned and looked at her. “I hope to hell that's not true. If it is, she's not a friend.”

  She stared at the lake. “Carla and I became friends so fast. I met her when a young woman committed suicide after her induction into a cult. Carla had been trying to help the girl and had come to her funeral. She was so sincere in her grief and anger, and so caring toward the family.”

  “She's a psychologist? Sutton said she has a PhD.”

  Darcy nodded and watched the play of the moonlight on the surface of the lake. “She works with brainwashing victims through a form of hypnosis. She also helps trauma victims.” Darcy lifted her head and turned to look at Axel. “She'll help Morgan. She'll know how to tell her …” She trailed off. She hadn't told anyone except Carla.

  “Tell her what? What happened this morning?” She didn't want to feel those flashes of memories again. “Morgan is pregnant. She doesn't know it. Well, Carla says some part of her brain knows it, and she's protecting the child.”

  Axel's voice roughened. “It's her husband's kid? The rogue?”

  “Yes, it's why she ran. I saw her standing in a bathroom, sick and terrified, and looking at the stick that confirmed her pregnancy. This morning, she'd locked herself in the bathroom, rambling about having to protect someone but she couldn't remember who. I went in there and tried to help calm her. But I got a mix of her memories.” She closed her eyes, but that was worse, she could see that knife, feel the pain.

  “Darcy.” Axel took hold of her free hand. “You saw him cut her?”

  She nodded, tears prickling her eyes behind her closed lids. She refused to cry. Opening her eyes, she said, “I didn't know what to do, how to help her. I was afraid telling her she was pregnant and that's who she was protecting would be too much for her.”

  “And that's why you were plotting behind my back to send Joe and Morgan to Carla.” He nodded to himself then added, “I'm glad you told me. This complicates things for Morgan, puts her in even more danger. First, it explains why Eric Reed didn't just kill her. He wants that kid if it's a boy. And he's not going to stop until he gets Morgan back—at least long enough to have the kid.”

  She took her hand from his hold. “Oh, I'll—”

  “I've already talked to Joe. They are coming back here later tonight. I told him to be on alert be cause Phoenix got some information that makes us think Eric Reed is in this area. They are safer here at the house. I don't want them staying at Morgan's or Joe's house. And I don't want you worrying about them.”

  Did he actually care? Or was it that he just didn't want her distracted from working on spelling the curse off Hannah? She lifted the glass to her mouth, taking a long swallow of wine.

  “Do you still regret making love with me?”

  Startled, she lifted her gaze to take in his green eyes. She didn't regret it. But she regretted with each cell in her body what she might have done to him. He would hate her. She didn't want to answer him, yet the word slid out of her. “No.”

  He took her wineglass and set it down. Then he turned back and touched her face. “You said this morning that I'm just like your father. What did he do to you, Darcy?”

  His fingers were gentle, but his voice was rough. What did it matter if he knew? She told him. “He was afraid of me and didn't want me to touch him.” What little girl didn't want to be held and cuddled by her dad? She'd see TV shows where the dad held the little girl and read a book to her. Darcy would run into her room, get a book, and ask her dad to read it to her. After a few harsh rejections, she stopped asking. But she'd never stopped wanting to be held and to feel safe. It made her mad at herself. She was a woman now, not a child. Time to grow up and stand on her own.

  Axel's voice broke into her memories. “Give me an example.”

  She searched for something a little less pathetic. “If he caught m
e doing anything he thought was evil, like sneaking out into the moonlight, talking with the voices in my head, or moving my dolls without touching them, he'd lock me in the hall closet.” Keeping her gaze fixed on the smooth surface of the lake while squeezing her hands together in her lap, she added, “Or when I was six, and Joe and I snuck into a viewing to see the body of a young man. He had the death mark on the center of his forehead. I guess the mark was covered by makeup but I could see it. The voices in my head told me it was a death mark and to get away.” She now realized that it had been the Ancestors warning her. “My dad came in then and I was so scared that I blurted out in front of everyone, including the poor man's family, that the dead man had the death mark on his head. My dad was embarrassed and furious. Later that night he went to a bar, got drunk, came home, and dragged me out of bed. He was yelling that he wouldn't raise a heathen devil-spawn, that my biological mom hadn't wanted me and he didn't want me either. My mom was crying that I was just a little girl.” She hadn't meant to tell him that much. It just started tumbling out.

  Axel reached into her lap and took her hand. “What happened?”

  The feel of his hand, his support, made her want to tell him. “My mom made him leave me alone. Then she put me back in bed and told me that she loved me just the way I was. But I knew something was wrong with me. So I tried to be normal. I didn't want him to send me away.” She shut up before she told him how scared she had been, and how hard she'd tried to fit in. To belong.

  “He scared you into repressing your powers.”

  “Evidently,” she agreed.

  “And your mom let him.”

  She wouldn't accept that. “No, when she knew about it, she never let him. But she was sick, Axel. A lot of days were a struggle for her. She needed my dad. As much as my dad hated me, he loved my mom more. He'd do almost anything for her, and he took care of her on her bad days when she couldn't get out bed. But my mom loved me and she protected me the best she could.” What would Eileen have thought if she'd lived long enough to find out that Darcy was a witch? Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, letting the moonlight caress her face. She was a witch. Had always been a witch. She let the feel of the earth, the water, the moon soak into her skin and deeper into her very essence.

  “You're beautiful when you do that.”

  The deep tenor of his voice mixed with the other elements and stirred her blood into a longing for him. What? Why did he feel so vital to her? She lifted her head and opened her eyes. He appeared comfortable out here, wearing a black T-shirt stretched across his muscles, his face like carved stone, fierce and yet protective. “Shouldn't you be feeling bloodlust?”

  He sank his hand in her hair, tilting her head back. His eyes gleamed in the soft moonlight. “I don't feel bloodlust, little witch.”

  “No?” Warm sparks lit her veins and heated her stomach, her thighs, and the core in between.

  “No.” He brushed his mouth over hers with excruciating patience. “I don't know what it is between us, but I want it. And you want it.”

  Her body melted toward him. “I do?”

  “Damn right,” he said, his lips, breath, and tongue teasing. “I can smell your desire.”

  She slid her tongue into his mouth. Tasted him, the rich fullness of the wine and the pure elixir of the man. It shuddered through her. She wanted more.

  Axel pulled his head back, then shifted to lift her in his arms and settle her on his lap. He put his arms around her and invaded her mouth, taking absolute control of the kiss.

  She had never felt like this, held and kissed in a way that made her feel important. As if for this very second, she was the center of his world and he couldn't get enough of her. His tongue demanded she give back and she did. His arms held her safe so she let him stay in control while her power bloomed hot and wild, making her want to get closer, needing him closer …

  Axel stopped, lifting his head and staring into her eyes as he struggled to control his breathing. His entire body shuddered. In a thick voice, he said, “Your powers are rushing through me. Sinking into me.”

  She felt the current of it, the way the hot bloom from her opened chakras had focused. Warm and sensual, it flowed from her to him, then came back in the form of feathers across her skin. It fed every need in her, and made her want more. Need more. Demand more. Without considering it, she said, “Your hawk is touching me.”

  His green eyes filled with the sweep of brown wings. “You feel him?”

  “I do.” She closed her eyes, feeling the strength of Axel's arms very distinctly around her. And then the lightest brush of wings everywhere. It swirled her skin to sensual heights that were excruciating and pleasurable. She moved in his arms, arching into the strokes against her skin.

  “Damn.” The word was low and gruff.

  She opened her eyes. The moonlight spilled over his gleaming black hair, but his eyes, they were fully on her. “What?”

  “I can make you come just like this. And then I'd come watching you.” He shifted her, stood up, and strode toward the house saying, “But when you come, I want you in my arms, skin to skin, while I'm so deeply inside of you that I can feel each tremor of your pleasure, each pulse of your trust in me.”

  Axel didn't understand the bond between him and the witch he was carrying into the house. But earlier to night, after coming home from working on the club, he'd seen Darcy on the floor with Hannah wrapped in her arms. His sister had been fully asleep, not restless, not fighting dreams, not even suffering night sweats and chills as she had been for several nights. Hannah had been burrowed against Darcy and sleeping peacefully.

  What had really shocked him was that Darcy's witch-glow encompassed the child, wrapping itself around Hannah while they both slept.

  His witch had chased out the darkness tormenting Hannah and protected her with the light of an earth witch.

  It had loosened the knot of suspicion in his chest. A woman who protected a child even in her sleep did not try to bind a man to her against his will. Whatever it was that was happening between them, it was real.

  Not a lie of magic.

  He wanted to believe that, needed to. He wanted to believe there was a purpose to all that was happening to them.

  And God he wanted her. He quietly shut the front door, rearming the security and carried her through the living room and kitchen into his bedroom. He turned to shut the bedroom door, but it moved on its own, closing with a gentle snick. Darcy's power brushed over his skin.

  He looked down at her. “Showing off?”

  Her brown eyes sparkled with gold lights. She lifted her hands and with a sweep of her magic, they were both naked. “Now I'm showing off.”

  “Someone's been practicing.” He shifted her so that she slid down his body to her feet. The feel of her skin against his flamed him to red hot lust. He took her mouth, and debated lifting her up and onto his cock.

  Too rough, he decided.

  How she took all of him last night he didn't know. She wasn't all that big. Yet with every thrust into her, her body had sucked him in deeper. And deeper. Opened for him until he'd been buried up to his balls.

  Christ.

  She moved her mouth, trailing kisses to his ear. “I want …”

  She was going to kill him. He was desperate to know what she wanted, to give her what she wanted. “Want what?”

  A beat, then, “Sex.”

  He felt that lie. And he wouldn't have it. “Tell me.”

  She looked up into his face. “I want to feel your hawk. Around me. From, umm …”

  Axel saw exactly what she wanted. While she was stumbling over the words, the image bloomed in his head. She wanted him behind her, wrapping himself around her so she could imagine the wings of his hawk folding around her, holding her, while he pumped himself into her. He touched her face. “Behind. Because you know you're safe if you feel my wings.” That he didn't actually have wings didn't matter.

  Her eyes went wide. “You heard?”

  �
�Saw. Exactly what you need.” He would reach around her, separating her wet fragrant folds, and then the wings would touch her, feather soft across her clitoris. She'd buck against him and just as she started to come, he'd allow the wings to fold around her, his chest would be against her back and he'd thrust to her very core.

  She shuddered. Her voice was thick, “Axel … you're in my head.”

  He put his hand on the back of her head, pulling her to his chest, pressing her face to that center of him where he was often hollow. But not now, tonight he was full and complete. “And you're in mine.” He dropped a kiss on her soft hair. His cock throbbed and wept with the need to be inside of her. He closed his eyes and inhaled her.

  She responded by sliding her hand down his stomach to wrap her fingers around him, bringing his body and mind into bright, rich lust. He desperately wanted to give her what she desired, what she needed. He picked her up, quickly covering the distance to his bed. She worked with him as he arranged her on her hands and knees, her sweet ass facing him.

  Axel's breath left his lungs. Mine. The word thundered in time with his pounding heart.

  Darcy looked back at him. “I can hear you.”

  He shifted to look at her eyes, eyes that were drenched with need. His wings lifted, fluttering beneath his skin. And he thought, You touch me where no one else can.

  Hawk?

  Yes.

  Mine.

  Her thought was as fierce as his. She considered his hawk hers? Hadn't he looked at her backside, the curves, the folds that hid nothing from him and thought the same thing? Mine. It roared through his head again and he dragged his gaze from her eyes. He reached out to touch what was his, what belonged to him.

  Darcy arched her back.

  He leaned over her, skin to skin, kissing her neck, her shoulder, dragging his tongue along that curve and tasting, actually tasting, her power. His entire body thrummed with it. As he had promised her, he reached around her to part her folds. She was slick and ready, and his mouth watered to taste her. But he'd promised her his hawk. The wings quivered more violently, as if they too scented her. Then, God, he couldn't believe it, he actually felt her wet skin against the tips of his wings as they caressed her in this most intimate place. It had to be magic.