The bird looked right at her, easing the hard knot of terror in her stomach.
Was she hallucinating?
Dillinger turned and stripped off his pants, revealing abs and narrow hips that cradled an impressive bulge. His long, muscled thighs had a dusting of golden-brown hair. After dropping his pants on the stage, he undid the knife holster at his back and set that on top of the pile.
Clad only in black boxer briefs, he embodied male perfection, and everything in her hated him. Hated what he represented. She’d bet her last dollar he made women love him and believe he was a good guy. They fell for his looks and charm, never seeing beneath to the festering ugliness.
Like her father.
Betrayal and fear ripped up her center. “You’re worse than the others. At least they don’t pretend to be anything else but killers. You’re disgusting.” The last two words came out thick and harsh. She didn’t even know him, yet this felt personal.
His gaze locked on to hers, and he took a step, anger flashing in his eyes. Linc pivoted in blurring speed and slammed the side of his foot into Cyrus’s throat.
The man collapsed, gurgling and wheezing.
Linc snatched up the knife from Cyrus’s hand and shoved it in his chest.
More men burst into the club, and chaos exploded.
Stunned, Risa stared. Was it possible? Had Linc been bluffing and intending to rescue her all along?
Or take her for a blood donor without paying?
~ 3 ~
The smell of the witch’s blood had fueled Linc’s bloodlust the second he’d walked into the strip club. But what had ripped out his guts was the flicker of hope in her eyes fading into burning hatred and betrayal. She believed he would hurt her.
She’d seen the truth in him. Seen what he really was—an animal.
He shut it down. The witch didn’t have to like him. They would come to an understanding. Ram and Sutton West burst into the club and jumped into the fight. Seriously, had the rogues really thought he’d come in here without a plan? Or that he’d let them live to keep killing more witches?
Spotting a man coming up on his side to attack, Linc dove beneath the rogue’s arm and slid across the stage to snatch up his knife. After freeing it from the holster, he bounded to his feet and killed the rogue he’d just evaded.
Below the stage, Sutton’s blade flashed as he fought three rogues.
At the end of the stage, Ram fought two others.
A high-pitched, pain-filled scream pierced Linc’s brain. He wheeled around to see that a rogue had gotten into the cage and thrown the witch against the bars. He sliced her bra off, shifting the blade to slash across the top of her breast.
The sight of her blood welling ignited Linc’s rage. Shoving another rogue out of his way, he raced across the stage, ripped the cage door off and threw it. He grabbed a handful of the blond man’s shirt, jerked him out of the cage, then picked him up and heaved him off the platform.
The man slammed into a round table and chairs. If he wasn’t dead yet, Sutton would end him. Linc focused on the witch, and her cinnamon-scented blood swam into his lungs. Hot, vicious need ripped a hole in his guts.
He stalked toward her then drew to a halt in shock. The woman had tied the ripped sides of the shirt together over her bared breasts and held a knife. Linc guessed the rogue he’d just thrown dropped the blade and she had snatched it up. Dark, shaggy hair hung wild around her too-pale face, and fear-tinged hatred blazed in her eyes. Despite the blood welling from the cuts on her breast and stomach, she assumed a fighting stance with the knife clenched in her hand.
The bird tattoo heated, and something deep in his guts kicked at the sight of her. Linc had expected her to cry and beg, but this witch was primed to fight.
Like some kind of warrior witch.
“Stay back.” She edged out of the cage, her gaze darting around.
A buzzing sounded. The witch stumbled, her head thrown back and jaw locked. Her white teeth dug into her lower lip, making it bleed.
His gaze shot to the collar around her neck. Shit. Spinning around, he stalked to Cyrus, searching as that buzzing kept going. Shit, shit, shit! He kicked the body over, but found nothing. Lifting his head, he scanned the bar. “Where the fuck is the remote? It’s shocking the witch.”
Sutton slammed a rogue onto the bar top and spun around. A second later, he stalked to a round table, yanked a body off and held up a black device. “Got it.” Pressing buttons, he added, “Body must have landed on it and set it off.” The buzzing stopped. Finally.
Returning his attention to the woman, he dragged in a breath. How the hell was she even standing after all that? She rocked unsteadily but stayed on her feet, knife up and eyes narrowed with determination even as her muscles twitched and spasmed from the repeated shocks.
He moved toward her. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She checked her grip on the blade. “Damn right. I’m not your blood donor. Move. I’m out of here.” She took a step and swayed. A second later, her legs buckled, eyes rolled up, and the knife clattered to the floor.
Linc lunged, catching her as unconsciousness took her. He yanked her against his body. The sensation of warm dampness stroked the bare skin of his stomach. One second later, a raging burst of hot power blasted through him. Witch blood. He froze, waiting for the blinding rush of need for more.
Instead, he registered the weight of her in his arms, the feel of his skin against hers. He lowered his gaze to her face. Blood welled up on her lip, and she looked so damned young. The need to protect her rose and drowned out any bloodlust.
“Give her to me.” Sutton strode up, his shirt soaked with blood and his blue eyes wary.
Hell no. He had her now; she was his to protect. That fear in her eyes, the pain she’d endured, haunted him. “Don’t touch her.” He heard the growl in his voice but didn’t give a shit.
Sutton dropped his hand. “Easy, Linc. You need to hand her over before you lose it.”
He shook his head, cradling her against him. “I’m okay. As long as I’m touching her.”
Understanding dawned over the bald man’s face. “Your soul mirror?”
“I’ve touched her blood, and now her. She’s the one.” Gratefulness welled in him. This witch would save him, and in return he’d give her anything in his power…as long as she didn’t betray him.
Slight doubt gathered in the man’s eyes. “Linc, it could be the bloodlust screwing with you.”
“Believe him.”
Linc looked over his shoulder to Ram standing behind him, the man’s eyes fixed on his back. “What?”
“Your tat. The eyes of your falcon are open.” Ram moved up to the three of them, his hands spraying sparks. “I saw your tat when you were in the fight club. The eyes were still closed.” Nodding at the witch in Linc’s arms, he added, “See if you can get that collar off her. Once she comes to, she can heal her cuts with magic. I’m going outside.”
One look at Ram’s arms showed veins swollen from bloodlust. “Go.”
Returning his attention to the witch, Linc forced himself to gently lay her down. She moaned softly.
Damn it, he should have gotten to her sooner. It’d taken him twenty minutes or longer to track her. Carefully, he brushed her hair back from her clammy skin. I’m not your blood donor echoed in his head. Of course she didn’t trust him. He’d burst in offering to buy her.
Her sharp intake of breath jerked him out of his thoughts. She moved fast, knocking his hands away. “Don’t.”
Her eyes were stunningly beautiful, so dark blue as to appear nearly violet, and brimming with distrust. To make it worse, her pupils were uneven—he’d been in enough fights to recognize the sign of a concussion. Talk to her, reassure her. “What’s your name?”
“Risa Faden.”
“Risa,” he echoed. It fit her. “We’re going to get you out of here and to safety. I’m sorry I scared you.” More sorry than she could know.
“Doesn’t matte
r. I have to find Kendall.” She tried to push herself up, but fell back.
Linc threw out his hand, catching her head before she cracked it on the floor. “Kendall?” He thought back quickly. “Saw you on the boulevard. You were holding a baby.” Where was the kid?
“Kendall. I have to find her!”
Linc glanced up at Sutton. “You searched the entire building?”
“Yes, but I’ll take another look to be sure.”
Linc turned back to Risa. Gently he eased his hand from beneath her head. “He’ll search, but you need to stay still. You probably have a concussion. I’m going to get that collar off you.” Frankly he didn’t know how she stayed conscious. Her eyes kept rolling up, sweat coated her and tremors wracked her arms and legs. Sheer will, he guessed.
Risa snatched the knife he’d set next to her. She held it ready.
He didn’t bother telling her the knife wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to hurt her. Slowly, he slid his fingers along her skin to test the fit of the collar. His tat quivered, as if the bird were touching her. Once he had a solid hold of the collar, he snapped the metal lock. After removing it from around Risa’s neck, he tossed it aside.
Still clutching the knife, she sat up, winced and swayed. “I have to find her.”
Her anxiety made him uncomfortable with the need to reassure her. “Sit still for a second so you don’t pass out again.” Linc grabbed his pile of clothes and dropped his shirt by her. “Put this on.” Her torn shirt barely covered her. And the blood…
Nope not looking at that. He yanked on his pants, shoved his feet in his shoes and strapped on his knife holster.
Risa stood, his silk shirt falling to her thighs. She looked so damned lost and worried. Laying his hand on her back, he opened his mouth to reassure her when Sutton came striding out of a hallway.
The other hunter looked at Risa. “There’s no one here, no sign of a baby anywhere. No bottles or any of that stuff.”
Risa jerked, panic filling her face. “He took her. How do I find her?” She took a step, then nearly stumbled.
Linc caught her hand.
Risa whirled on him. “Let go.”
He sucked in a breath of patience. “If Sutton says the baby’s not here, then she’s not. Who took her, Risa? What happened?”
“Archer. He killed my friend Blythe.”
A memory filled his head. “I saw you out on the Strip tonight, not far from a burned body. That was your friend?”
Agony darkened her eyes. “Yes. He shot her with an arrow. I had Kendall and tried to run… Oh God, where is she? When I woke, I was in that cage, and she was gone.” She pulled her hand free. “I have to find her. I’ll use my magic.”
The faint scent of spicy cinnamon made his blood burn. Then the aroma faded. “Crap, it’s not working,” Risa said.
He closed his hand around hers. The skin-to-skin contact eased his bloodlust. They had to find that kid. “More information. Is Kendall your daughter?”
For a split second, she looked utterly stricken. “Archer’s a demon. He told me Asmodeus is his father. That means Kendall…”
Linc leaned into her. “What?” He couldn’t follow her thoughts. Maybe the concussion had confused her?
Determination stiffened her shoulders. “…is in danger. Yes, Kendall’s mine. A witch. You rescue witches, right? Please, help me find her!” She twisted frantically. “He murdered my best friend. And others…burned them alive. It was hideous. He’s evil.”
Her hysteria slammed into him. Linc grasped both her arms, forcing her to look at him. “We’ll find her. We don’t leave babies in the hands of a demon.” What the hell was a half-demon spawn doing with a baby witch? Nothing good.
“Risa.” Sutton handed her a bar towel. “Hold this on your stomach wound. You need to heal yourself before you can find Kendall. Try to access your magic again.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. But after a minute, she growled in frustration. “I can’t reach my power.”
“Easy.” Linc rubbed her arms. “Let’s get you someplace safe, and I’ll help you.”
Suspicion clouded her eyes. “How can you help me?”
He might as well tell her. “I touched your blood tonight. You’re my soul mirror.”
She opened her mouth, and her eyes rolled up. The witch passed out cold.
For the second time that night, Linc caught her in his arms. Her face relaxed, making her appear young and helpless. So damned vulnerable, it wrenched his chest and unleashed a powerful need to protect and care for her. Get her well and help her find her baby.
In return she’d save him by breaking his curse.
And after that? When they both had what they wanted? He eyed her covered in his shirt and instinctively tightened his hold.
He didn’t know. He’d never tried to keep a woman, hadn’t wanted to. The thought of it made him feel trapped, worried that he’d fail her and end up watching another woman get hurt and killed.
Right now, he had to get her someplace safe and figure out their next move.
* * *
Risa woke with a low-grade headache making her squint as bright sunlight flooded the unfamiliar room. Her eyelids weighed a ton, while the soft sheets and a thick mattress tugged her back toward sleep. Quiet, dark, safe…she wanted to close her eyes for a few more…
No. Her heart jerked, and she sat up, wincing as the room tilted and her stomach pitched uneasily. Bending her legs, she rested her forehead on her knees. The clean, lightly floral scent of fabric softener filled her lungs.
Where was she? Raising her head, she found herself in a four-poster bed covered in the fragrant sheets and a pale coral comforter. Beige walls led up to a tray ceiling featuring a huge mosaic using numerous shades of coral and spots of blue. Filmy curtains bracketed the huge glass doors, which probably led to a balcony. For sure she wasn’t in her two-bedroom, double-wide trailer back in Phoenix.
Slowly the horrible night came back to her, right up to losing consciousness after Linc and his friends rescued her. Then…she squinted, trying to think. Nothing.
After she passed out might be a total blank, but the image of that arrow hitting Blythe, her friend’s shock, then the flames, played over and over in her thoughts.
Memories of the laughing girl, her blonde hair, blue eyes and the dimples that Blythe had hated rolled through Risa’s head. She had been Risa’s only friend. Having been home-schooled, Risa hadn’t been around a lot of kids. But Blythe’s mom was a live-in housekeeper for one of the homes in the neighborhood, and the two girls met when Risa took out her miniature horse, Shelby, for a walk on the trails. Blythe had fallen in love with Shelby, and soon the two girls were inseparable.
“Mama, don’t cry.”
Don’t look. She’s not real, you know that. She’s an illusion of your cracking mind. Her daughter had died in her stomach at only four months’ gestation. Risa’s father had found out she was pregnant and killed the unborn child through a nasty trick. She’d tried to use her shield magic to save her baby, but it had been too late and her child died. Now Nola’s soul was trapped with the others in her magic.
“Mama? You don’t have to be sad. I’m here. I love you. I won’t ever leave you.”
Unable to resist the sweet voice, Risa blinked through her tears and looked into violet eyes. Nola had no lashes or eyebrows—her eyes were large and owlish in her face. But the light of her soul was bright and pure. As beautiful as Risa imagined her daughter would have been had she lived.
Don’t do this. You have to stop talking to a hallucination. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to be sane. She never saw the other souls and only heard them in soul screams when they wrenched control of her mind away to force her to relive their murders. No, Nola wasn’t real, but an illusion proving she was losing touch with reality. If her mind shattered, her magic would die. And then what would happen to the souls? Could they survive without her magic? Would they know where to go to find their afterlife? Or would they just flo
at into oblivion and die off? She had to hold on and find a way to free them in a way that allowed them to safely go on to their afterlife.
“I make you feel better, right?”
“Yes.” Stop it, don’t answer her. Even if it’s true. Risa had first seen Nola in those awful days when she’d brutally miscarried her. At only seventeen years old, she’d had no idea her father had put an abortion potion he’d gotten from a demon witch into Risa’s drink. The following seventy-two hours had been hideous. Nola, her baby, died in the first hours, and then while Risa was wracked with pain and shivers, she’d appeared. Telling Risa to hang on, to live and she’d stay with her.
After Risa had recovered, she hadn’t seen her again, except when she dreamed. Not until the soul screams started and Risa experienced the terror of slowly losing her mind as the souls took over for longer and longer periods of time. Nola calmed her, made her feel loved, while the other souls hated her so much.
“How about a song? Playing the piano always makes you feel better.”
For a second, she longed to be back in her trailer, home after a day of protecting one of her clients, and sitting down to her ancient piano she’d picked up at an estate sale. If she was alone, then Nola loved to listen, hovering above Risa’s hands, her huge eyes watching her fingers. But if Kendall or—
A door opened, and the image of her baby vanished. Risa jerked her head around to the right of the bed.
Him. She hadn’t imagined Linc Dillinger. He was very real as he filled up the doorway with six-and-a-half feet of pure, masculine beauty in a pair of tan slacks and a dark shirt. His brown hair with the perfect sun streaks fell in a careless wave that probably took time and product to achieve. He had a tray balanced on one arm. Her throat dried up.
“Where am I?” It came out a croak.
“My house here in Vegas. You’re safe.” He strode into the room and set the tray down. “I brought you some tea and toast. I put herbs in the tea that Carla suggested would help you heal.”
Caged Magic Page 4