“They say the Hunters know prey simply by a name, a voice, a whisper of his evil deeds,” Linus said quietly. “Are you sure you are no Hunter?”
She smiled, a tiny, evil curve of her lips that chilled Linus to the bone. “If I were a Hunter, then you’d be dead. You have much blood staining you—I can feel it. So aren’t you glad I’m no Hunter?”
“You aren’t planning on killing me?” Linus asked warily.
“I’m the last one on earth who should be casting judgement,” she said quietly. “If you can keep your hands clean, they just might let you live when you do meet up with a real Hunter.”
She rose, and like a puppet on strings, Jude followed, his motions short and jerky.
Linus sat there, staring at their backs, not even hearing the waitress as she finally approached the table.
He was still staring in the direction the woman had gone, though. Whether she called herself a Hunter or not, he knew what had just walked away. He hadn’t ever seen a truer Hunter.
Malachi pushed away from the table where he had been cuddling a plump, sweet-faced witch. Casey was fun enough…and nowhere near as sweet as she looked. She was fiery and wild and wicked. All in all, not a bad way to spend a night. But he doubted he was going to be spending the night with her as he eyed the woman who came striding through the door.
It was still swinging on its hinges as Leandra stood a few feet inside and surveyed the crowd gathered inside, a determined look in her eyes.
Hmmm…not so broken now, are ye, sweet? Mal mused as Casey drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on them, studying Leandra curiously.
Behind her, a man walked—forced, stuttering steps, eyes half-dead, a dumb look on his features. A spell. Mal could feel it, and under the purity of the spell, the man’s foul, evil soul lived, cursing the bitch who had locked him in his own body.
“Taking up Hunting, have ye?” Mal drawled, moving across the rich Persian carpet to meet her. His large bare feet were soundless, his hair spilling around his shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.
Leandra met his eyes squarely. “Ha, ha. No, don’t worry. I’m not about the sully the legacy,” she said, smirking at him.
Reaching out, Mal took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “It wasn’t a joke. Just a heartfelt wish,” he murmured.
A minute shudder ran through her at his touch and for a moment, her eyes gleamed hot with lust. But just for a moment, because Mal felt the distinct lock of shields between them.
Cutting herself off from him, and weakening the effects of the vampire’s call. With a wry grin, he said, “Have you been talking to Kelsey, pretty witch?”
“Save your charms for somebody who wants them, Malachi. I prefer to actually have a say in who I take to my bed. That call of you doesn’t give me much say,” she drawled, gently tugging her hand away. “Now, would you be so kind as to take this nasty thing away from me? His thoughts, they are like dirt in my brain. I need a vat of bleach.”
“Drop the spell from him, let him speak,” Malachi said with a sigh, moving his eyes from the witch to the weakling at her side.
“As soon as I take the spell away, he is gonna to try to get his hands on me,” she said, turning to study the drooling, slack-jawed wreck that followed her. “And I just might break them.”
“Are you afraid you can’t handle yourself against him?” Casey called out from the table.
Casting Casey a bored glance, she said, “The day I can’t fight a pathetic whelp like him is the day your Council starts taking in strays like him off the streets. Don’t be tiresome.”
The spell holding Jude dissolved and he lunged for Leandra, the rage fueling the change inside him and he was wolven by the time he reached her, swiping with one clawed hand to rip her throat out.
Leandra sprung away, drawing the dagger at her hip as she wagged her finger at him. “Now… What did I tell you? Try to touch me again and I’ll see you dead.”
“Little cunt, you had me drooling like a damn freak!” he snarled.
“You are a damn freak,” Leandra pointed out.
Settling beside Casey, Malachi folded his arms across his chest and watched Leandra at work.
She was behind Jude now, having him spinning like a top as he tried to catch her. With the light of battle in her eyes, she struck out, the silver knife sliding through his hide like butter. Hot blood spilled, striking the floor, running in rivulets down his side. “Silver, wolfboy. That hurt?”
He roared and lashed out, catching her in the face. She flew back, blood trickling from her lip. Flying into the wall, she hit and slid down, but had barely touched the floor before she rose to her feet, wiping the blood away and tossing her head back.
She dove forward, tucking her body into a somersault along the floor, coming up tangled under his feet as he tried to reach for her. With a nasty laugh, she plunged her knife upward, into his unprotected balls, twisting the knife and jerking it up before pulling out and rolling away from the flow of blood.
Malachi winced and muttered, “Ouch.”
Casey whispered, “I wonder if she can teach me that little maneuver.”
The wolf rose from his crouched position, whining low in his throat and in one final desperate lunge, he attacked.
Malachi stiffened as Leandra went down under the wolf, the sound of powerful teeth clacking together a final sounding echo in the room. Rising, he was at her side in an instant, grabbing the wolf by the scruff of his neck, digging his hand into muscle and bone as he threw him away.
Only to realize he was already dead, the fur receding and melting away into human form, the knife buried to the hilt in his chest. Piercing his heart.
Leandra lay there, a brow cocked up at him. “Honestly, now… you didn’t think he was going to get me that easily, did you?”
He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, shaking his head in amazement. “What in the hell is it going to take to get you to come home where you belong?”
* * *
Malachi frowned darkly into the night as Leandra spoke, telling them about the witch who had been locked away for protecting herself. If they had found her, none of this would have happened.
“He calls her Shadoe?” Mal asked, casting Leandra a questioning look.
“Yes, he does. I found her real name before I left the town. It’s Tiffany Morgan. She was released from prison just a few weeks ago.” A snarl curled her full, red lips and she said, “When that wolf tried to attack her, Cross took care of him. But she killed another one. On her own. Never been trained, hardly even knows what she is, but she took care of herself. That Marcus, he wants her.”
“I imagine he would,” Malachi murmured. “His kind prey on the weak, the untrained, the young.”
“She is not weak,” Leandra said, frowning. “Untrained…and her magic, it smells new, like she has never used it before. But she is not weak. Now she’s scared. I’ll give you that. But she’s not weak.”
“Ben Cross has been searching for years to locate a woman that was stolen away from his pack when he was but a boy,” Malachi said softly. “Right when the murders started to happen. Some zealots who thought the Inherents and the werewolves should run wild and feed on humans tried to overtake the pack. They lived in a blended pack, both were and Inherent. Many good shifters died. The girl simply disappeared when they went to find her. She was gone, like she had never been there. Her mother was a witch—it’s said she magicked the girl away, and none could find a trail to follow. Ben’s father was killed as well, but the Council had learned of the murders and sent the Hunters in. We got there that night, the night they killed Ben’s da. Ben was just a little thing, maybe five years old, and they had him locked up like an animal, using him to try and draw others out, so they could kill the non-believers, as they called the saner folks.”
Leandra was silent, listening to him, her arms wrapped protectively around her body.
“He was just a baby,” Malachi murmured, looking down at his hands, flexing
them. He had enjoyed the blood he spilled that night, far too much. As one of the witches whisked Ben away, soothing and shushing his panicked crying for his mama and daddy. “Just a baby. They had him locked in a cage, for pity’s sake.”
“You think he has found the girl that went missing?” Leandra asked, gently guiding the conversation away from memories of a boy caged like an animal.
“He’s been searching for her for years. He…I don’t know, I guess I can’t blame him. She’s one of the few that might have survived. If I was him, I’d want to find her, too.” Brooding, he stared off into nothing. “Her mother was a witch, her father a shifter. She’d be a powerful one, if she carried both abilities. And…she’d likely be a lot of fun for somebody who liked to hurt others.” He blew out a sigh and tried not to think of a broken, scared boy.
Chapter Seven
Her taste was divine.
It had been close to a week since Leandra had left them, since Shadoe had knocked Marcus on his ass and tied him with his own whip, all without even being in the room with him.
More than a week since he’d first made love to her, and Ben was didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her, but damn if he wasn’t trying. Pushing his tongue deep inside her cleft, he growled against her, the demon of lust on his back riding him harder and harder.
She moaned in climax, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched, moving her hips up, riding his mouth. Her pussy convulsed around his tongue and while the orgasm was still tearing through her, he moved up on her body and drove deep inside her.
She went tight around him, pulsing and hot, so damn sweet. He clenched his teeth against the urge to come.
This sweet, hot little witch… He’d never have enough of her.
* * *
Hours later, he rose from the bed, the moon high overhead and mocking him.
She still didn’t fully know what he was. Not completely. He had never shifted in her presence, and the need to shift, to hunt, was becoming strong. He could go a long time without it, but weeks?
It had been more than a month since he had run the night as a wolf, since he had last hunted. And the need to do so was driving him mad.
He feared her reaction, though.
She needed to know—had to. The beast that lurked within him dwelled inside her as well. She needed to know, and come to grips with what she was.
But her fear…
Sweat was forming thin and fine on his body. Moving out of the room, he left his clothes scattered on the floor, and Shadoe sleeping deeply on that bed.
He moved into the backyard, the full moon streaming brightly on his naked flesh. His skin rippled. Power flowed.
He sank to his knees, welcoming the rush as fur flowed and bones shifted and reformed. When he lifted his head, he was wolven, a giant timber wolf crouching low to the ground, then he took off running, bounding over the grassy lawn, and into the forest.
The scent of a deer, hot and rich with life, flooded his senses and he took off after the buck, hunger driving him on.
Malachi watched from the roof as Cross shifted. It was a smooth change, almost magical, silent, full of none of the hideous sounds of breaking bones that normally accompanied a shifter’s change.
He was hungry, that wolf was.
Nearly mad with the need to hunt.
But it didn’t stop him from protecting the witch within the house. Malachi felt the shimmer of a spell settle over him, inspect him and accept him as Ben ran away.
A smart one, Ben. He hadn’t tried anything as foolish as keeping everything out. Newer witches, untrained ones, panicky ones, they had tried such things, and failed. It was a waste of time and magic because the defensive spells attacked every bug and bird that flew in. No, Ben set a web around the house, something that would withhold anything evil, and cling to it.
Of course, it didn’t alert Ben to Mal’s presence. Because Mal wasn’t evil.
A bit of a deviant. But not evil.
Damned good witch, Malachi thought with approval. The Council had few of his ilk, both witch and other. Not many—one usually cancelled out the other, but it happened.
The woman sleeping inside the house carried the abilities of both, shifter and witch. An interesting mix.
He leapt from the roof, turning as he jumped and landing in a crouch facing the house.
Drawing in a deep breath, he felt his fangs start to swell and throb in their sockets. Enticing scent… What was it about the witches lately? Sweet, sweet Lori had drawn him terribly, and Kelsey—
He scowled when he thought of her. Damned contrary bitch, and then he had to deal with his own self disgust for calling her such. She was not a bitch, exactly.
She just…
Doesn’t want me…
And that made her so much more intriguing. And she had been intriguing enough, tempting enough, before. She didn’t need anything added to make her even more tantalizing.
Kelsey…
A soft, hungry growl rose in his throat as he thought of her and frustrated, he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind. Tempting…too tempting.
He’d think of nothing but her if parts of him had their way.
Striding to the back door, he laid a hand on it, absorbing the simple spell that had been placed there much earlier, the simple hearth binding that so many people unwittingly put on their lands over time as they made a home. Absorbing it, and letting his form shift slightly, just slightly, so that the spell didn’t see him as a vampire, or as any sort of threat. As the spell tingled over him, he stepped inside.
He had gotten into many houses this way. The hearth binding spell was a simple but powerful one, the one that kept vampires out. Most vampires. As a human lived on one piece of land for a time, his essence started to mark it, stain it, permeate it, forming a barrier between the undead and the living. That’s what it was…the house was that of the living, and it rejected those who weren’t full of life. The owner of the land had to accept the undead before the land would. Very little hocus-pocus involved, and all of it unconscious.
Nothing so difficult had been done here and Malachi entered the house easily, wandering around, studying the house. There was little to study, outside of a small office.
She left no marks of herself in this house, nothing that shouted to the world…this is mine! Outside of the office that is. The office was most clearly marked, a few prints of faeries on the walls, tons of books, many of them ancient tomes she had no business owning.
He felt her wake and he paused, wondering if he should… Shit.
“Who in the hell is in my house?” a low, angry voice demanded.
Anger, fury, and indignation. This was definitely a woman who was tired of being trifled with.
She had felt him. And worse…a distinct snick settled over the house, a locking spell, binding him in.
How the bloody hell had a new witch learned that so damned fast?
At the sound of her feet on the stairs, soft, silent, and certain, Malachi shifted to mist and hovered. No bloody way he was taking a chance at scaring her. The Good Lord above only knew how she would react and it might not be pretty.
If she was already managing a locking spell that entrapped a vampire, certainly she could manage fire. And he doubted she’d merely torment him with it, like Kelsey and the diabolical Leandra so enjoyed doing.
Testing, he tried one of the few unvampire-like skills to slip out from under the spell, but it didn’t work. Bloody hell, Mal mused, settling in a corner, hovering in the darkness and waiting. She came around the corner, her bright blue eyes snapping with fire, full of rage and nerves and power. A dangerous combination.
A rather dangerous package, he mused, feeling something inside him stir as he shifted his insubstantial gaze from her eyes, down to a kissably soft mouth, the full lower lip making him pause—a very fuckable mouth, he thought.
Hmmm… His gaze rested there for a very long moment and his lust started to heat. Too fucking bad he could smell Cross all over her.
Her slender neck was left bare by the messy knot she had piled her hair into, loose tendrils corkscrewing all over strong, proud shoulders. Her breasts rose full and firm against the simple cotton of the button-down she wore, the darker shadow of her nipples catching his gaze next. Her softly rounded tummy and sleekly curved hips showcased a body that was distinctly female. Long, slim, tautly muscled thighs were bare under the hem of the man’s button-down.
Hmmm…delicious, he decided, slowly moving his gaze back up to her face. He heard the wolf bounding back, running on swift feet through the woods. The magic had called to him. Ben had felt Shadoe’s magic and given up on his hunt, determined to get back to her side.
It was only moments before Malachi sensed the energy burst that came with a shape-shifter’s return to his mortal skin. That was closely followed by the door blowing open, as targeted magic filled the room, seeking out Malachi, hovering below him.
“Shadoe? Go upstairs, I’ll take care of this.”
Malachi chuckled, letting the sound echo through the room. Ben started, looking around him, and then his eyes closed. “Your arrogance grows constantly, old man.” When Ben’s eyes opened, they were glowing, backlit with a gleaming golden hue.
His gaze flew to Malachi, locking onto his invisible form. Ben cocked his head and asked, “Are you going to show yourself, Mal? Or can I have the pleasure of making you?”
Malachi was still laughing when he reformed, holding a hand up in peace offering. “Honestly, Ben, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that was a challenge,” he said, grinning rakishly at Shadoe as she narrowed her eyes.
“You know this bastard that broke into my house?” she demanded, jabbing a thumb in Mal’s direction. “And what in the hell are you doing walking around outside naked? This nudist streak of yours is getting disturbing.”
“Nudist streak?” Mal questioned, but she barely even glanced at him before turning her angry eyes back to Ben.
“Yes, I know him,” Ben answered flatly, staring at Mal with a dark, unreadable gaze. He conveniently didn’t respond to the second half of her comment.
The Hunters Series Page 55