by Anne Malcom
“I did not,” he gritted out. “Your power was depleted. You were hurt. Vulnerable. I knew there was no way you’d accept my help.” He shrugged. “I gave it to you a different way.”
Sophie gaped at him. “You think giving me an orgasm would help the fact that my power was depleted and I was hurt?” she exclaimed. It might not have done that, but it had totally helped her mood.
He nodded once. Curtly. Still holding on to control. Clutching it, more likely.
She huffed. “You’re insane. And that means a lot coming from me. I’m friends with Isla, after all.”
He continued to stare for the longest of moments. Sophie hated that. His brooding silences. But she wouldn’t admit that she kind of loved them too. “Note your pain,” he said finally.
Sophie jutted her chin up in defiance, on principle. Orders didn’t go well with her. But she found herself obeying because she didn’t have a choice. Her ribs, which had been burning before, were only a dull ache. Annoying, but manageable.
Then something else jumped up at her.
Power.
She had been sure she’d need days to recharge after the fight at the bar, and the little incident with seeing into the future and past at the same time back at her office.
That had been somewhat of a tight moment, as Thorne was already pissed about Isla almost dying again and the fact that not only had Sophie not been able to heal her, but she’d spewed blood everywhere when she’d tried to feed her a human who wasn’t Thorne.
Note to self, being cursed by witches not only increases the chance of death, it also makes for some strict dietary requirements.
The air was tense when Sophie babbled about the end of the world and the chosen one and all that. Plus she’d let Rick, Isla, Thorne, Scott, Duncan and Conall in on what she’d found out from the book.
Obviously not the fact that she’d lost twelve hours having it imprinted in her mind. They were already freaked the fuck out.
Conall was near the point of madness, and it was all out of concern for her. She had a feeling the end of the world was nothing more than details—it was the end of her that bothered him.
She hadn’t even started on the impending sense of doom that was near choking her. There was enough on her chest and on her shoulders.
Just the fate of humanity and all that.
So it was more than a little fair that she was almost running on empty when Conall had all but dragged her into the alley behind her office.
But it had returned. Not full juice, but she was able to heal her ribs with enough left over to conjure herself a cheeseburger if she so wished.
Or a thousand.
Conall gave a self-satisfied raise of his eyebrow.
She glared at him, stomping past him in a rage, only just restraining the urge to give him lupus. Or rabies.
She didn’t have enough juice for that and a cheeseburger.
“You’re seriously arrogant enough to think that giving me an orgasm will somehow charge me up like a hybrid car?” she spat, covering the fact that she was more hurt that he didn’t want to actually do the nasty for, like, normal reasons.
Though she couldn’t exactly ignore his desire. She knew he wanted her. But she was a female in the midst of a rage, so logic didn’t factor in.
“Arrogant much?” she asked over her shoulder when she decided she was going to storm into the night and he followed behind her. “Maybe I’m a little double-a battery that doesn’t need fucking charging.”
He yanked her arm. “You know this was us. Me. Our connection. Do not deny it.”
Again she jutted her chin up, burning his hand with enough heat to flay the skin and make him let go. “If my lawyer taught me anything, it’s deny, deny, deny.”
His anger blanketed Sophie’s back, and then he was in front of her, blocking her path. “I did not do that just to heal you, though it was a mitigating factor. That, and watching you come is the single most magnificent thing on this planet,” he growled.
Sophie’s stomach dipped without permission.
“I did it so you could be unhurt while explaining to me what the fuck is going on,” he roared. He stepped forward, his anger no longer checked for her, his beast rising inside him, and outside him.
Sophie did not step back, even though she felt the tiniest pinch of fear with his anger.
“And so I may tan your fucking hide for keeping things from me,” he continued, voice full of promise.
Sophie’s stomach dipped again.
She swallowed.
“I wasn’t keeping anything from you,” she said, “because it’s none of your business.”
“You’re my business,” he snapped. “And you getting attacked by rebels and then possessed by a fucking prophecy is my fucking business. So start talking. Now.” He stepped forward again. “Do not make me force you.”
She smiled, calling upon the power that his fingers at her clit had replenished. “I’d like to see you try, wolf.”
He didn’t back down, even though her power filtered through the air in warning. The wolf was fearless. Or an idiot.
Their standoff lasted a handful of silent minutes. She knew he was comfortable in silence, preferred it even, especially when it was coupled with intense stares. Sophie was not comfortable in silence. In fact, she hated it.
Especially coupled with intense stares.
So of course, she proverbially blinked first.
“Fine,” she huffed, letting her arms fall to her sides and her power recede.
Conall blinked the beast from his eyes.
He waited.
She glared at him.
“Well, it all started with my bestie, Isla.”
His jaw hardened. “I knew she was trouble.”
Sophie bristled. “Of course she is. Why do you think I’m friends with her?” Her eyes narrowed. “And you’ll play nice with my vampire if you’re attached to your head.”
He didn’t answer, and she took that as her cue to get him up to speed on the whole witchy bitchy situation.
It was safe to say he wasn’t impressed once all was said and done.
Which was why Sophie had kept one important part of the prophecy to herself. One that, when she read it, caused a low chill to settle over her bones.
There will be one who takes Death’s embrace like a lover’s caress, and the animal within the two will roar at the moon, for its agony will blanket the earth.
Chapter Seven
Sophie had work to do.
A lot of work.
Like figure out a way to locate and kill some of the strongest witches known to the craft.
Research on how one un-mated with werewolves.
And she had to watch the second season of Stranger Things.
She’d told Isla that she’d contact her coven to get some more information, but she’d failed to mention that her coven wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with her right then since she’d blasted in and stolen the most sacred book they had.
She didn’t tell Isla because then Isla would get all distracted about the fact that they were trying to haul her back in with force, and then Isla would get distracted by trying to kill them all. As she’d been promising to do ever since Hazel insulted her hair fifty years back.
And even more so when she’d learned that they sequestered witches whose powers of premonition or something similar became powerful enough to wield as a weapon.
Isla was a protective friend, no matter how much she tried to portray the opposite. She wouldn’t hesitate to put herself in more danger to eliminate Sophie’s entire coven. But she already had one lot of big bad witches after her, plus a death spell hanging over her head.
Sophie could handle this on her own.
So she called them.
“You have some gall,” Nora said, her voice ice.
Sophie grinned. “I know, right?”
There was crackling silence on the other end of the phone. Sophie knew her old mentor was thirsty for revenge, to imprison S
ophie, to punish her. She was archaic like that. But she was also angry that she didn’t have enough power to do any of those things. Which was why Sophie hadn’t gotten any magical strike-backs.
Yet.
It was only a matter of time.
She’d already cast magical burglar alarms all around her residences and offices. Plus she was on high alert for any curses directed her way. That was the last thing she needed.
But the plus side was they’d need her blood or to be in her immediate vicinity to curse her.
Sophie had been very careful to destroy her blood whenever it was spilled—and tried not to get it spilled if she could help it—for that particular reason. The coven was too cowardly to face off with her until they’d found more power.
“You stole our most treasured possession,” Nora hissed. “That is unforgiveable. You will be punished for that.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s save empty threats and blood feuds for another day. We’ve got bigger witches to fry.” Sophie’s eyes caught a flash of movement at her front door.
Her wolf had broken in.
Again.
And he was bleeding. That was kind of her fault. She’d rigged a bunch of knives to blindly stab at anyone who strolled through her magical locks.
He’d dodged most of them.
She ignored his angry glare.
“You’ve heard of the Herodias sisters, I assume,” Sophie said, focusing on the conversation with the witch who wanted to sequester her instead of the wolf who wanted to sex her.
She pretended she didn’t want to sex him right back as he prowled toward her.
Nora’s swift intake of breath took up the static.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Sophie said, eyeing the wolf as he didn’t rip the phone from her hands as she expected. He just stood there, waiting for her to finish her phone call, bleeding all over her favorite rug. “Well, we’ve got somewhat of a pickle with them being involved in the revolution and the plot to enslave all of humanity,” Sophie addressed Nora, her eyes drinking in the wolf. He looked hot, even with stab wounds. “So I did have kind of a good reason to steal the book.” She paused. “And I also did want to get a teeny bit of revenge for you being such a raging bitch to me my entire childhood. But my motivations were almost entirely selfless.”
More static.
Sophie let out a long sigh. “You’re going to make me come out and say it, aren’t you?” she asked. “Bitch,” she muttered under her breath. “I need your help. I need to locate the last of the sisters. A binding spell wouldn’t go astray either.”
“Why in Goddess would you want to locate those evil creatures?” Nora exclaimed.
Sophie rolled her eyes again, then let them go over the wolf stalking around the room, staring at her.
Her thighs quivered from the stare alone.
“Uh, duh, so I can kill them and then cement my awesomeness for generations to come,” she replied. “And then also stick it to you for telling me I’d never amount to anything.” Another pause. “Oh, and I guess to save humanity too.”
There was a cold laugh at the other end of the phone. “They cannot be defeated. Especially by you.”
“You want the job?” Sophie asked. “I’d contract it out to you, you know, if you had enough power, which you don’t. Doesn’t that just twist your knickerbockers?”
Sophie could almost taste the angry curl in Nora’s lip. “Our coven does not support fallen witches. And you will receive no knowledge from us on this matter.”
Sophie’s amusement turned. “Seriously?” she hissed. “You’re really that concerned with your ego and your own personal feelings toward me that you’d hold back knowledge? From a fellow witch trying to do good?” Well, mostly good. “You really have abandoned everything that our kind holds sacred in your quest to get a spot on the council.” Disgust saturated Sophie’s tone.
Knowledge was something shared freely between all witches for centuries, no matter what. There was no room for personal grievances. Whoever made the rules had enough foresight to know a lot of women over centuries were gonna get catty. So it was made law that knowledge was the most precious thing in the craft, and as long as a sister witch was looking to serve The Four and humankind with that knowledge, it could not be denied.
It was a rule even Sophie didn’t break.
Only bent it now and then.
“Oh, I’ll be on the council,” Nora sneered. “And I’ll make sure the vote for you getting sequestered is the first thing that goes to pass.”
On that, she hung up the phone.
“Well fuck you very much,” Sophie said, throwing her phone on the table.
The wolf was in front of her in an instant, though not touching her of course. He was staying true to his word, as he had since the night of the bar fight. She hated that. And then hated herself for hating it.
She grinned at his wound, only just closing. “In case you didn’t get the message, when a girl puts out a booby trap equipped with knives, that’s the sign she’s just not that into you.”
He searched her face, which was free of makeup, and it made her uncomfortable. She almost always had her battle mask on, even when she woke up, likely leftover from the night before. The only way you can achieve a truly kickass smoky eye was to sleep in it.
I woke up like dis.
But she’d given herself one of her rare pampering, no-people days. So her hair was flat, shiny, free of product. Her face was freshly washed of the face mask she’d put on. And she was wearing an oversized men’s shirt, high-waisted panties and knee-high socks.
By the look of her wolf’s gaze, he liked dressed-down Sophie.
And more than liked it, if the hard-on tenting his jeans was anything to go by.
He rubbed his hand across his mouth in an inherently human movement that jarred Sophie slightly. She’d always considered him a wolf, because he was always so wild around her; there was never a moment when his beast was fully caged. But such a gesture reminded her that he wasn’t just an animal.
And that was annoying.
Because now she was thinking of him as her wolf and her man.
Not good.
He looked as if he was going to growl at her to beg, and she feared in that state, she just might. Desire already pulsated through her blood.
“Sequestered?” he clipped instead.
That shocked her. Obviously wolves had superhuman hearing, so he’d listened to the conversation. She had no secrets—well, none a wolf could hear on a phone conversation, anyway—so she didn’t really care.
So much had happened the night before that he’d somehow missed them talking about it amongst prophecies and the end of the world. She thought she’d dodged a bullet on that one.
It seemed not.
She crossed her arms.
“To isolate, shut one away, or segregate,” she parroted a dictionary definition in an effort to hide her very real fear of such a thing. “Usually it’s self-imposed by people who hate people, and a sister can relate to that, because people are the worst. But this is forced by the council that governs our kind.” She swallowed. “More specifically on witches who have extraordinary magic that has the power for destruction, and the curse of foresight.”
Her skin crawled with the realization that the reason the rule existed was Malena. The witch who had those qualities. The same ones Sophie had.
She shook off the undeniable connection between her and the evil bitch.
I’m not evil. Yeah, sometimes I curse people for fun, but it’s mostly to have a bad hair day or to chip a tooth, and I almost always take it back. That doesn’t make me evil.
Doesn’t make you good either, logical Sophie chimed in.
Shut up, all the other Sophies hissed.
“You have these powers,” Conall said.
“Well spotted, wolf. You should get a gold star for your powers of observation.”
He stepped forward, or rather he stayed in place while his energy seemed to
separate from him, pressing into her with force.
Again, that was impossible.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t feel the inferno of his touch on her while his hands fisted at his sides.
“They will not take you,” he declared.
“Of course they won’t. I’m not gonna let that happen. I’m a free-range witch,” Sophie replied.
His eyes swirled. “I will not let anything happen to you.”
She glared at him. “You need to stop. Stop with all of this.” She waved her hand at him and stomped over to her bar to grab the whisky she’d poured in preparation for the phone call. Pamper days always included whisky. As well as every other day.
“I do not need protecting. I do not need a shadow in the form of a wolf.” She drained her drink. “I don’t need you,” she hissed. “You need to realize that, and then leave me the fuck alone.”
“You can lie to yourself,” he growled, stepping forward.
She stepped back and hated herself for doing so. Never in her life had she retreated. Until this man.
“You can lie to those you call friends.”
Another step.
That time she called on her power and stood her ground.
“But you can never lie to me,” he continued, moving through the wall of pure energy she’d conjured like it was nothing more than mist.
She knew it would’ve ground at his very bones, that it should’ve crumpled him to the floor, but it did not. No, he was in front of her, clutching at her cheeks, and she was frozen in place.
“I can taste your truth in the air. Scent it in your sweet arousal every time your little body craves me.” He let out a guttural growl and pushed his erection into her stomach. “See through everything you coat those eyes with to hide your heart from the world. I can do all of this because you are fated to be mine. You fight it, you battle for it, but it will not change the truth. And it will not make me stop. Nothing short of death will do that.”
“I am not an animal like you,” she hissed. “I am not a slave to the beast that tells me who I am bound to.”
He regarded her. “Oh yes you are, piccola soldata. You are a slave to your beast. Just because it doesn’t change you on the outside doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I can sense it. See it. And it belongs to me. And I to it.”