Logan: Her Warlock Protector Book 3

by Hazel Hunter

  “So you’re not completely denying what I told you anymore, are you?”

  Caitlin set her glass down and placed her hands in her lap.

  “I know something’s off about you. I thought at first it was just some way you’d rigged the casino, which no one can actually do no matter what Hollywood wants you to think. Then that kiss and the connection… I’m willing to hear you out because this is far from the first time things I can’t explain have happened to me. I think these types of incidences are just increasing all the time.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her and offered his hand, palm out, to her on the table. There was a sense of both relief and pure heat rushing through him when she accepted. For a moment after the contact, Caitlin’s eyes glazed over and her pupils dilated. Her breasts bounced up and down a few times with her sharp, labored breaths and, finally, she snapped out of her vision. Once again her cheeks were flushed and Logan wished he knew what she saw. He could guess, but, his mission aside, he had no reason to hope that she’d care about him beyond what was necessary for her survival.

  “Goddess, how do you do that?” she breathed.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had that effect, not exactly, on any woman before. Some things even I’m new to.”

  She frowned back at him but didn’t loosen her grip on his hand. “So what’s actually going on here?”

  “You’re gifted, but you know that. If my suspicions are correct, and I wager they are, you can see the future. However, you seem to also see something whenever we touch.”

  “That’s never happened to me before,” she admitted, smiling at the waiter as he set down her soup. “If I try and work very hard at it, I can read the future in other methods. I used to have a spell book for just incantations for calmness or rituals for the goddess, more for centering myself. It’s not like I can turn someone into a frog.”

  “Well no Wiccan can do that.”

  “I went to Salem a couple years ago on vacation, just to check that out. Those, um, witches were nice but most of them were just into rituals. None actually had powers or visions haunting them. I felt so out of place that when I got back to Baltimore, I just assumed I was the only one actually like this. Sure there’s a religion and even descendants of witch trial sufferers, but there aren’t actually witches and wizards. That’s stuff out of kids’ books.”

  “You see the future. Could you really explain that to someone else? They’d call you a fraud the same way you’re sitting here with me dismissing your own birthright.”

  She blinked up at him and almost dropped the spoon. “My mom and dad were normal. Hell, my sister Sheila doesn’t have any abilities either. There’s no way they were… What do you people call yourselves?”

  “Wiccans, but a very different sort, that’s true. I’m not averse to just witches as well. And it’s not just us, it’s clearly you too.”

  She nodded and blew a ringlet out from her face. It was adorable and he wondered if she knew how easily she held sway over the opposite sex. This was a woman who could have any man on his knees, and Logan was more than eager to take his turn there for her.

  “I dabble and I have this strange quirk, sure, but there aren’t people like me.”

  “Why so adamant?” he asked, pausing to accept his Fettuccini Alfredo, while she dug into her newly arrived plate of eggplant parmesan. “You know the weird is out there, so why do you have to be alone in it?”

  “Because I’m always alone, since mom and dad were killed. I take care of Sheila, but I deal with everything else. Besides, I’ve been able to see visions since I was a sophomore in college. I checked chat rooms, sought out online support groups, did research. Like I said, I freaking went to Massachusetts and it’s never turned up anything.”

  “Well, I’m here now,” he said, leaning forward, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheeks. It would be so easy to kiss her, but it wasn’t quite the right time. “I’m General Logan MacCulloch of the Magus Corps. We’re a group of warlocks—for lack of a better term—who work to find uninitiated witches and bring them into proper training.”

  “‘Uninitiated?’” she prodded, her nose wrinkling up in her confusion. “Untrained, right?”

  “Someone who hasn’t grown up inside a proper coven, yes. All witches of our kind are born. Someone in your line, whether your mother or father, had to come from other Wiccans. It’s not guaranteed that your sister has the gifts, but she definitely has the heritage like you.”

  “But mom and dad were not special. I mean they were great but not bippity-boppity-boo special!”

  “They were murdered. Did you ever think that what happened when you were still a kid might be related to everything else?”

  She withdrew her hand and a part of Logan wanted to curse at the lack of contact. That wouldn’t do. He’d cut down two or three Knights attacking him at once. He was not going to get emotional or let his attraction ruin a mission, not when telling her about her real history would keep her safer.

  At least he hoped.

  “It was related to being shuffled between relatives before I took care of Sheila and myself.”

  “Not everyone else gets attacked in their sleep with a sword,” he countered, pointing toward her scar. “It’s okay if you forced yourself not to remember and, frankly, even our records aren’t good enough to be certain if it was your mother or father who was one of us. At either rate, whichever it was had gone rogue, left our people and was living under the radar. I know who you are though and that you have to be protected.”

  She sighed and gulped at her drink. “I don’t think I can do all this. I have what? A whole Corps that’s been tailing me, other witches to meet and how do I even get initiated? Is this like spending months with a coven for some crazy hippie ceremony where I’m naked under the full moon?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Wait? I hit on some points?”

  “Our gifts our tied to nature, both the world and wild around us as well as to our own innate talents. You can’t cast a spell like astral projection or telekinesis because you’re not predisposed to that gift. I can’t read the future.”

  “What can you do?”

  “Oh we’ll get there,” he added, winking at her, trying to keep up the act so that she stayed at ease. “Then being near nature replenishes us. If you’ve ever read too many people in a row, maybe you’ve noticed fatigue? A headache or the like?”

  “Definitely. I had the biggest migraine just last week after a gala.”

  “Exactly. When you learn how to commune with nature, you can refuel, so to speak, and keep your energy up safely.”

  “That’d be nice at least, but I’m not communing naked under a moon.”

  He grinned, “Well maybe you would if you understood. Part of that is being connected to ourselves and to divine connections. There’s no more energizing union than when two of us, however the combination, make love.”

  She blinked and slid her chair back. Its loud squeak startling the bulk of the restaurant to silence around them. “Excuse me?”

  “Look,” Logan said, fumbling and realizing he might have needed more build up. “Don’t freak out. Just let me explain and we can–”

  Caitlin just glared as she swept up her purse. “No, I think I’m done.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CAITLIN WALKED AIMLESSLY. It was still only seven p.m., and it wasn’t too far from Little Italy to the Inner Harbor. She was so stupid. It didn’t matter if he was telling even part of the truth, or if he was some Wiccan with telekinesis or magical card playing abilities. None of that mattered. The only thing she could focus on was the last words he’d said.

  Union? Make love? Goddess, I’m so dumb. He’s trying to get in my pants.

  The winter chill ate a bit into her bones even through her coat, and she pulled the thick wool more tightly over her shoulders. Sitting down on a bench by the Hard Rock Café, Caitlin set her head in her hands and fought back tears. None of it made sense. She’d felt a pull to h
im that truly couldn’t be anything less than magic. She’d never quite put her ability or her rituals in so many words, even with everything based around her spell books. To her it was a mix of prayer and ability but magic…yes, she knew now that’s what it was.

  What she was.

  It definitely was what allowed her to see, feel, and smell her future—their future—at that first touch. Even now, the sensation was extraordinary, feeling herself make love to him and his seed shooting deep inside her. It was a destiny where every nerve ending was on fire and every sense was heightened to levels no person could ever truly appreciate. She was destined to be his and awaken into a world beyond human perception. Most of her screamed to have that, to be accepted into the home and community she’d lacked since she was fifteen, when everything had been stolen from her. Still, just because he said so, or fate was telling her, well, she made her own decisions damn it.

  She was not a play thing.

  Besides, if the best way to replenish strong magic after everything else was to have sex then what did that say about Logan MacCulloch? Was he king of the orgies? Did being a general mean he had sex just to prepare for his day-to-day rituals? Was this some spell he cast over everyone he needed and she was too naïve to know the difference?

  No, she couldn’t give in.

  All she needed to do was find her spell book wherever it had gone, figure out why there was a freaking vial of possible Holy Water in its place, and definitely forget that she’d ever met Mr. Tall, Dark, and Horny.

  “What a racket,” she said, her gaze lingering on the dark, choppy water before her.

  “Is that really what you think?” a now familiar voice asked, his voice still lilting and she wondered if that was an effect to, everything perfected to lower her resistance. It was working.

  Logan offered her a kind smile and gestured to the space on the bench beside her. “May I?”

  “You’re going to invite yourself anyway, right?”

  “I don’t think it’s polite to take a seat without asking. Ladies deserve better.”

  “That’s so antiquated.”

  “I’m over three hundred years old. Fully initiated witches are immortal and can live forever as long as Knights don’t murder them.”

  She blinked, unsure of where all this was leading. A common criminal with a long Bowie knife or something similar had broken into her family’s home. There weren’t Knights or people out to get them. There just couldn’t be.

  “What?”

  “We’re not the only people who know about Wiccans. We have our mortal enemies in the Knights Templar who have sworn to hunt down our kind for a millennia and, frankly, over the last few centuries have started winning that war. They prey on rogue witches, those who have left the safety of covens and also find novice and uninitiated witches and torture them for information before murdering them. You might not want to join us, but it’s safer to be with a coven than it is to be open prey for the Templars.”

  “Like The Da Vinci Code?”

  “No, like the fierce protectors of the Holy Grail and royal bloodlines for eons and now the weapons of a host of denominations against witchcraft and other ‘pagans.’”

  “So not just Catholic anymore?” she said, trying to joke, trying to put a wry dismissal in her voice but failing miserably. Everything turned into a squeak of panic and suddenly her gift and the trouble it brought her with the cops seemed small potatoes. “You keep saying that. What’s uninitiated mean?”

  “Basically natural energy and sexual energy are the most potent on Earth. When any witch has her first sexual encounter, it awakens her gifts and draws her to the craft. However, having instruction and sexual encounters with other Wiccans grows her powers. To become fully immortal and to reach her maximum potential, a witch has unprotected sex with a Corps member. This alliance, really this melding of souls, bonds the two together and brings both ultimate ecstasy and power.”

  She snorted. It all sounded insane. So she’d been able to see the future before tonight. Big deal. It was miles more sane than secret wars between real knights of some table and warlocks, than drawing sexual energy and magic from fucking someone as hot and compelling as Logan. While some of it sounded enticing, and Goddess in just a plain business suit and tie Logan was even hotter than last night, she wanted no place in anyone’s war. She’d lost too much.

  All that mattered was protecting herself so she could keep protecting Sheila.

  “So I’m just going to have sex with you now? Unprotected or safe? Goddess, would it be better doggie style? Help me out here!” she shouted, glad no one else was walking near them on the veranda.

  He sighed and stroked the stray ringlet of hair back from her cheek. Caitlin melted into that caress and wished she could have more from him, from this strange immortal who welcomed her into the world she’d been seeking for seven years. At least now she knew why. Funny, Dave from sophomore year comp class hadn’t even given her an orgasm but he had awakened her as a witch.

  “We take it slow and in small steps. It’s always protected unless we want to fully initiate. Some witches wait a long time to become initiated and it’s a one-time bond. I’ve never initiated anyone. All I want is to protect you and help you understand who you truly are.”

  “With rituals and sex?”

  “With helping you connect to your birthright and the pleasure that comes with it,” he said, daring to kiss her throat.

  She felt his tongue caress her neck, flicking just a bit against her pulse point. Heat lapped at her belly and through her core, and she felt urgent need well within her.

  “I can’t. I just want the life I have now.”

  “That’s not an option,” Logan continued, leaning down to kiss her on the lips, his tongue poking out just enough to tease her own with sinful skill. Pulling back, he cupped her chin and traced the shape of her lips with his forefinger. She shuddered at the gesture. “I’ll protect you with all that I have, with my very soul. You just have to trust me.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Then let me help you. I…surely you want to see what my ability is, how it works. Let’s start taking down these walls, Caitlin, because it’s the only way you’re going to survive.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I THOUGHT YOU’D take me out to the water to show me mastery over wind or sea, or, I don’t know, maybe lift a heavy boulder. I guess you’re a telekinetic?” Caitlin asked, frowning back at him.

  Logan chuckled and picked up the ski ball and passed it back and forth between his hands.

  “I’m not any of those things. I will admit I’ve seen elemental Wiccans before and their powers are unbelievable. Mine’s not completely useless by any means, but you’ve never lived until you’ve seen someone harness lightening itself.”

  She blinked back at him, her nose doing that adorable wrinkle, and this time he leaned over to kiss her.

  “Like Zeus or Odin?” she asked. “There’s no way you know someone who can just poof up lightning.”

  “Well there’s an incantation and a few key herbs involved for Jonathan to truly channel its full power but, yes, I’ve seen it prove key in more than one battle.”

  “I can’t even imagine how badly that would drain someone. I read more than five or six futures in a row and my head aches for a day.”

  He nodded and rolled the ball, grinning when it hit the perfect center of the holes down the run way. Tickets poured forth in a great mass from the machine, and he steered her towards something more difficult, like the filling-a-clown’s-mouth-with-water game. It was somewhat lucky itself that a place like Fun City was at the Inner Harbor. He could show off his good fortune abilities with games of chance as easily as he could with casino fare. If he was actually a Mick, one would have to call his luck that of the Irish, but for Logan it was just what he brought into himself, like air in a fresh, deep breath.

  “So you can win tickets. Impressive,” she said. Then she blinked as if it finally dawned on her. “Yo
u control luck and chance!”

  “I do,” he said, filling everything and taking her to the milk bottle toss. Those types even here were rigged, but he’d be able to best that too. “It’s like my friend or you though. In the hardest battles he can do one or two strikes. Once I saw him attack with such force that he was in a coma for three days.”

  That blast had obliterated an entire field and vaporized five Knights with its force, but he didn’t want to scare Caitlin with those details. She had to accept him and the Corps and the good they did. The sheer strength of their force needed to be revealed with time and skill.

  “Damn. That’s unreal,” she said, putting the next set of tickets in her hands and eyeing the giant stuffed pony on the highest shelf. It was an absurd amount of points but that was no matter to Logan. “So you can’t just concentrate or say a spell or whatever and luck the Corps’ way into winning the entire war?”

  “No, I wish that were true,” he said, and then Logan had to slam his eyes shut at the onslaught of memory. Again it hit him—the nauseating smell of coppery blood and viscera, the loud crunch of a spine severing, and the hot blood splattering across his face. He was back in the battle and he was staring at his friend’s lifeless, glazed eyes fixed back at his own. Logan blinked and stumbled into the counter. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be buddy. Now throw the darn thing or get on to the next game,” the attendant said.

  Caitlin glared at the man and balled her hands at her sides. For a moment, Logan was glad she didn’t have a more dangerous or offensive power. She was keyed up enough to do some serious damage if she really felt like it. He wasn’t sure she wouldn’t scratch some eyes out if given a chance.

  “Back off!” she yelled. Then she turned back to him and stroked his pony tail back over his shoulder. “Okay what was that?”

  “Flashback. I’ve been in too many battles not to have some trauma of my own. I apologize.”