To Seduce a Witch's Heart

by Nadine Mutas

  “Yes.”

  He cupped her cheek with one hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “You threw a knife at me.”

  Her gaze dropped to the dark blotch on his T-shirt with the small slit in the fabric where the knife had sliced the cotton and sank into his skin. Her guts twisted, but she looked up at him again and calmly said, “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  “No need.” His eyes danced with amusement. “I’m rather impressed by your aim. You hit me straight in the heart.”

  “Yeah, well, I aimed for a spot a few feet to your right.”

  At her play on the throwing advice he’d once given her—it seemed like ages ago—he stared at her for the span of a heartbeat. Then he burst out laughing, his face lighting up, his eyes warm with affection.

  In the aftermath of heartbreak and despair, of panic and anger and fear, such a simple thing as seeing Rhun laugh brought a smile to her face—as well as her heart.

  And Merle knew she truly loved him, down to the depths of her soul.

  Chapter 21

  Rhun pressed his lips together, steeled himself, and then ushered in the inevitable end. “I found him.”

  Merle froze in the process of pulling on a new sweater. They’d come back to Bahram’s apartment once more, where he’d peeled her out of her soaked clothes, and, ignoring her protests of I-can-do-that-myself-you-domineering-male, had towel-dried every inch of her until her skin glowed rosy with warmth. Of course, he’d also insisted on kissing any spot looking like it might still be cold—just to be sure—with the result of leaving bright red hickeys in strategic places—and a nice blush of arousal on Merle’s face.

  Now she swallowed several times before speaking, sky-blue eyes wide. “You know where he is?” She’d immediately understood whom he was talking about, and all lingering sense of playful exasperation had left her face as if wiped away.

  He nodded. “While I was taking a walk earlier, I cut the thread to break the spell and see if I could trace him. I could.”

  Her hands trembled oh-so-lightly when she pulled on the sweater. She straightened her spine, her eyes glinting with hard resolve. “I’m ready. We can go.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You’re staying here.”

  Even without her powers, her human aura spiked with enough outrage to make the air sizzle. “Forget it, I’m coming with you. You don’t honestly think I’ll sit here with my hands in my lap while you take down that fucker and rescue Maeve?”

  “That fucker,” he replied with more calm than he felt, “is a demon like me who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye—especially now that you can’t magically defend yourself. I’m not going to risk you getting in harm’s way, Merle, so you’ll stay here and let me do this on my own.”

  “The fuck I will.” She narrowed her eyes and stepped up to him, and he had to quell a wave of pride at her will to fight. “I have not come this far and gotten into this much trouble just to bury my head in the sand and wait for you to return with my sister. I’ll stay out of it when you kill that demon, but I want to be there when you free Maeve.”

  “No.” His blood heated with the mere thought of Merle coming anywhere close to danger. “What part of you can’t magically defend yourself did you not understand? You’re vulnerable like this, and your presence will undermine my concentration because I’ll try to protect you. I can’t go in there with half my mind being on your safety, Merle. Without your powers, you’re a fucking demon snack waiting to happen.”

  Fisting his T-shirt, she pulled him down—or rather, pulled herself up, since he refused to move—and hissed, “And whose fault is that?”

  The verbal blow struck him like a sucker-punch to the guts, and he flinched.

  Merle glared at him, her eyes without a trace of mercy. “Do not deny me this, Rhun. I need to get Maeve out of there myself. I swear I will stay back as much as I can and not get in your way, but I have to be there for her when she’s freed. I have to.” Something sparked in the clear blue depths of her eyes, a visceral need—and he understood. If it were Siani… yes, he would fight snapping and biting to be the one to release her, to make sure she saw his face first thing and knew she was safe again.

  But—“Know this,” he said, leaning in until her face was only a breath away, his voice gone dangerously low, “when push comes to shove, I will let him have Maeve to save your life. If I need to decide whom to help, I will abandon her in order to protect you.”

  She opened her mouth to say something when he cut her off.

  “This is my condition, Merle. Take it or leave it.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded, flattening her hand over his heart. “I understand.”

  He gave her a curt nod, tamping down the raging urge to tie her up with Bahram’s set of chains so he could track down the other demon without her after all. If anything happened to Merle… He drew in a sharp breath. A thousand lifetimes of suffering in the Shadows wouldn’t be enough to outweigh that kind of pain.

  Laying his hand on hers, above his heartbeat, he closed the distance between them and kissed her, softly, savoring the feel of her lips.

  “Let’s go kick some demon ass,” he then said with a grim smile.

  The heavy torrents of rain had faded into a faint drizzle as they got out of the car—Rhun’s old vintage Porsche 911, which Bahram had kept and integrated into his own collection of nice rides—and looked upon the isolated warehouse looming ahead. It was supposed to be abandoned, pending demolition according to the sign on the perimeter fence—also warning away trespassers—but any sensitive otherworld creature would feel the vibration of active magic in the area.

  Rhun stopped in front of the gate, studying the heavy chain and lock, and undid both with a minuscule telekinetic blow. The clink of metal echoed in the night as the chain fell down.

  “That was easy,” Merle muttered behind him.

  Rhun shook his head. “That was just the start.” His gaze resting on the warehouse shrouded in darkness a few yards away, he clenched his jaw. “The building is warded.” He turned to her, his stomach knotting with frustration. “By witch magic.”

  “What?” Merle’s face blanched, and then she cursed. “Of course. The Elder witch wouldn’t leave her precious project unprotected against intruders, would she.” Kicking the fence a few times, she cursed some more, not looking at him. Her faint human aura vibrated with profound anger.

  Rhun was torn with some violent anger of his own—directed at himself—mixed with gut-wrenching guilt. If he hadn’t taken Merle’s powers, she’d have been able to dismantle the wards. She was definitely strong enough to tackle and neutralize even an Elder witch’s magic. Now, all they could do was stand there and stare at the warehouse, forced to remain a few feet away.

  So close, and yet so far.

  Her eyes trained on the place where her sister was being held hostage, Merle took several deep breaths. “I refuse to accept this.” Her aura spiked with that damn, beautiful stubbornness of hers, and she faced him. “Try to take them down.”

  The power of Merle’s magic—so different from his own—flowed through his veins, churning, pushing at him from the inside, almost too much to contain. Rhun shook his head. “You know I can’t wield your magic.” The words came out pressed, his voice strained. He wanted to tear something into tiny little pieces. Wanted to rip and punch until he didn’t feel so fucking helpless anymore. Here they were, having come this far, having gone through a shitstorm of emotions and turns of events, only to stare at a dead end—because he’d fucked it all up.

  She took his hand, squeezed until her nails dug into his skin. “Try.”

  “Merle,” he said through clenched teeth, “I can’t control your powers. Witch magic is different from demon magic. It’s intricate and needs to be directed carefully, or else it might do more damage than good. You know that.”

  “Then I’ll direct you. I might not have my magic, but I still know how to wield it. Go into my mind, and I’ll sho
w you. We’ll do it together.”

  “Merle…” He swallowed past a growing lump in his throat. It could still go so horribly wrong. All it would take was one slip of his concentration, and they would find themselves in a major magical cluster-fuck.

  Merle took his other hand as well, her eyes holding his captive. “We can do this.” She squeezed his hand. “I will not let us turn back now. Not when we’re this close. Do it, Rhun.” She shut her eyes and rested her head against his chest.

  “You might want to send a prayer to the Powers That Be,” he said quietly.

  She huffed. “Right.” Sarcasm put an edge in her voice. “They have been helping us so well.”

  He bent his head until his breath whispered through her hair. “They did answer my prayer when I asked them to take your place in upholding the balance.”

  “What?” Merle’s head snapped up so fast, he was sure she’d gotten whiplash. Eyes the color of endless skies searched his face. “You what?”

  “I asked them to spare you and take blood and magic from me instead. They did.” A wonder he still couldn’t grasp, something that had sent his world-view spinning into a new kind of uncertainty.

  Her aura wavered with astonishment. “You bled for me.”

  He shrugged. “Ah, well, it’s becoming something of a habit around you, little witch. I mean, I also bled for you when you broke my nose—twice—and again when you put a knife through my heart, and I do believe I also scratched the delicate skin on my hands when you made me trip in the cemetery…”

  Merle shut him up by giving him a scorching kiss. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

  It took him a moment to realize he was smiling like an idiot. On idiot crack. And the worst part was, he didn’t even mind it one bit.

  “Let’s do this,” she said and closed her eyes again.

  She muttered a quiet prayer, and when she repeated it, he found himself finishing it in his mind. They did need all the help they could get.

  With her powers gone, she didn’t have any mental shields she needed to lower, and he slipped into her mind unhindered. As before, the beauty of her emotions and depth of her soul amazed him, put him into a state of blissful awe. He had to force himself not to linger and mentally roll around the magnificence of her mind like a happy wolf in a field of wildflowers.

  He found the thread of memory she’d brought up from the depths, and studied the intricate workings that would break a ward spell.

  “Fuck, Merle, this is too complex.”

  “Don’t be a wuss.”

  Rhun blinked, taken aback. “Did you just call me a wuss?”

  Her mind hummed with her soft laugh, glowed with her teasing. “Oh, did I think that out loud?” Layers upon layers of affection wrapped around him, infused him with warm, strong faith. “You can do this, Rhun.”

  Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath, and then tapped into the magic so unlike his own. He muttered the words she showed him, wove the threads of power according to the blueprint in her mind, concentrating hard on keeping a lid on the writhing force that throbbed in his blood. His own powers, dark against the blaze of Merle’s magic, collided with the foreign essence. He winced under the onslaught. His body and mind weren’t made to wield such magic, and they both let him feel it.

  “Keep going.” A mental nudge from Merle. “I’ll help you.”

  He realized he’d been squeezing her hands to the point of almost breaking her bones under the mental and physical strain. With a low curse he eased his grasp. Her mind filled with encouragement, with images of how to keep control while casting a spell, showing him how to channel, how to tame. He soaked it all up with a thankful mental sigh, and worked harder, weaving more threads of magic.

  Tendrils of power twirled in the air, latched onto the vibrating force of the wards like vines onto a wall. Tendril after tiny tendril, Merle’s magic dug into the protective spells, creating cracks within the wall.

  The cracks connected. The air shook.

  Rhun’s blood burned from the force of the magic he wielded, his muscles ached, his skin raw as if scraped with razor blades. He ground his teeth together and kept up the flow of power. More cracks appeared, sending tremors through the night. The last few seconds had Rhun reeling under the dizzying potency of the magic streaming out of him, and then, with a quake that made Merle stumble into him, the wards broke.

  He clutched her hard to keep himself from toppling over, and they held on to each other for a moment, one steadying the other.

  Rhun was the first to catch his breath. “So,” he said with a lightness belying the pain wrecking his body and mind, “how was I, babe?”

  Merle swatted his shoulder, her lips curving upward. Then, her eyes widened as her gaze dropped to his nose. Her smile died, and she sucked in air. “You’re bleeding.”

  He raised his hand, dabbed at the trickle of warm liquid running down toward his lips, then wiped it away. “See?” he said, smirking at her. “Habit.”

  “Rhun…”

  “Don’t worry about me, little witch. I’m fine.” He glanced at the warehouse. It still loomed in the darkness, waiting, taunting. “Let’s finish this.”

  She gave him a brief nod, and together they approached the building’s front.

  “Stay behind me,” he said. “Do what I tell you. When I say run, you run, understood?”

  She nodded again, not taking her eyes off the warehouse. “Do you smell that?” she whispered as they came to a halt in front of the door.

  “Yes.” He ground his molars together against the surge of his dark instincts. “Blood.” And lots of it, by the strength of the scent. It wafted out through the closed door, tantalizing, enticing, calling on everything demon inside him. His fangs tingled, pushed out of his gums. “Stay back,” he told Merle, his voice gone hoarse.

  The door gave way as he opened it, he stepped inside—and right into his own personal hell.

  The faint light from the street lamp outside the perimeter fence fell onto a floor coated in fresh blood, spilled in gallons upon gallons until it covered every last inch of the room. Rhun’s vision narrowed, going predator sharp, taking in the carnage. Splashes of sickly sweet red painted the walls, the ceiling—the bodies littering the floor. The room breathed blood, pain, and death. Such a heady, intoxicating—disastrous—cocktail of scents and sensations, it catapulted him back, all the way into the last moments before he’d been bound in the Shadows twenty years ago.

  Rhun stood frozen in place, his heart thumping madly in his chest, his fangs aching. Hunger churned in his veins, gnawed at his sanity, even though he’d just fed a short while back. The lingering threads of pain, the metallic tang of so much blood it short-circuited his mind. His senses overwhelmed, he noticed the presence of the other demon too late. Merle’s scream cut through him, and he spun around.

  The blond demon had dragged her inside, held her with her back to his front, facing Rhun. With his hand grabbing her hair, he’d pulled her head to the side, exposing her neck, where her carotid throbbed with the frantic beat of her heart. The smile the demon gave Rhun flashed his fangs, only an inch away from piercing her skin. His teeth were stained red—he’d been feeding recently. Ice-blue eyes met Rhun’s, and the realization—the recognition—jolted him, made him stagger.

  “You,” Rhun rasped. He should have known right from the start, when he’d picked up the trace of his energy, should have recognized it, him. It had been so long, and the endless pain and darkness of the Shadows had dulled his memory, but it came crashing back now in the midst of this abattoir of a room, this eerie reenactment of the place that had broken him.

  Rhun was looking at one of the demons who had held him captive, had set him up to have him bound.

  The blond’s smile widened. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” His eyes grew dark with the dilation of his pupils as he breathed in Merle’s scent. “Your witch is damn pretty, so much like her sister. The two really do look alike. Or should I say looked?” His f
eatures twisted into a sneer. “Little Maeve’s face isn’t as pretty anymore as it used to be, I’m afraid.”

  A choked, anguished sound tore out of Merle. Jerking, she struggled against the demon’s hold. He tightened his grasp and yanked on her hair. The sight of it pierced the red haze clouding Rhun’s mind. It shattered the trance he was in, broke through the maddening grasp of hunger and hunting instincts. He growled. His muscles tensed, protectiveness swamped him, pushed back the urge to feed. Rhun’s sole intent was now to rip out the other demon’s heart after tearing off every patch of skin that had touched his mate. But first, he had to get him to release Merle.

  “Tell me,” the demon bastard said, his tone benign, “how do you like our venue? I tried to make it as original as possible for you. When the Elder told me you’d been unleashed and might show up here, I convinced her you’d appreciate a little overload of your senses.” His eyes flashed with glee, and his voice dropped to a maddened whisper. “Is it working?”

  Rhun’s nostrils flared as he tried to block out the beguiling scent of blood. The air was thick with the aroma of pain, a delicious taste tugging at his powers, making him itch to grab whatever human he could find and cause more pain so he could drink it in. It was a powerful trap indeed, and it might have worked—if Merle hadn’t wiggled her way into Rhun’s heart. As it was, she was his chosen mate, and he’d rather rend himself limb from limb than touch her with the intent to harm. Nothing equaled the urge to keep her safe.

  The other demon studied Rhun, tilted his head, and sneered in triumph. Rhun knew what he must look like—pupils dilated, fangs flashing in a feral snarl, aura vibrating with the intense craving to feed and kill. It must seem he was indeed overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations, and Rhun would be damned if he let the demon know otherwise.

  The son of a bitch pierced the skin on Merle’s throat with his canines, cut a line of bright red over her carotid and let her blood trickle down her collarbone. The air filled with the sweet aroma of her essence, with the sharp sting of Merle’s pain, the scent of her fear. Rhun’s muscles strained, his instincts screamed at him, but he held himself back from going bat-shit crazy on the asshole. He couldn’t risk hurting Merle in the process. Instead, he inhaled the fragrant cocktail that saturated the air, making sure to tremble with hunger.