by D. F. Jones
As soon as she took a step across the threshold, the pain in her shoulder flared, buckling her knees. She would have been a puddle on the floor if she hadn’t kept her grip on the door. The pain quickly ebbed into a zing of molten desire that traveled down her body and pooled in her core. She took deep breaths through her nose to help keep her composure.
Before her, looking out the front windows, stood a man who made the enormous room shrink before her eyes. Wide shoulders filled out the suit jacket covering them, his figure narrowing to trim hips covered by slacks that hinted at muscular thighs. His dark hair curled at the collar of his sapphire-blue dress shirt.
A need to move closer pulsed within her soul, but she held off. This man was not a friend. He was from the council, and she reminded her overheated body of it. He turned just as she composed herself once again.
His emerald eyes met hers. His gaze glided down her body and back to her eyes again.
She swallowed hard.
He quirked his brow. With a half-smirk, he said, “You must be Miss. Harrington. It’s good to finally meet you.”
His voice was deep and touched a part of her soul so deep, she thought it would lodge there and take root. She shook with the need to touch him, and tantalizing visions filled her brain. Damn, girl, get a grip.
With a slight upturned chin, she walked to the desk on the opposite side of the room, needing to put something of substance between them. She gestured to the chair in front of it. “Yes, and you must be from the council. Please have a seat and tell me why they deem it necessary to send a sixth person to interview me.” She unbuttoned her suit jacket and sat, crossing her legs and clasping her shaking hands in her lap, doing her best to hide her unseemly reaction to this warlock.
He slowly walked across the floor to take the seat she offered. The closer he got, the harder it became to control the magic she felt in her veins. It was rushing to find a way to meet his power, a power she could feel traveling throughout the room and then focusing on her. The windows behind her rattled, and his eyes shot to the glass and then narrowed back on her. “Your powers are still a bit volatile, aren’t they?”
“They are in control. Now please, can we get on with this interview?” Her knuckles were white from the force she used to keep her hands calm. Her body hummed, and she feared she’d lose control over her magic for the first time in three months.
“Yes, of course. Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Keith Blackwood, and I’m the head warlock in charge of the council’s investigative division.”
Her heartbeat strummed, her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands. She tamped down the urge to flee from the room. “Head warlock? Why did they send you? I have followed the rules, complied with all requests, and had expected this to be a wrap-up meeting. Why would they send the warlock in charge to do that?”
“They didn’t. I volunteered to come. There are a few things my teams reported I would like cleared up face-to-face.” He leaned forward. “I will warn you, I can detect a lie a mile away.” His eyes bored into hers. “It’s one of my specialties, Miss Harrington.”
His words pissed her off. He alluded she was a liar, and he was there to prove it. Her magic flared again in her anger, causing static to charge the air, and the sheers behind her moved in an invisible breeze. The window panes rattled consistently.
“Miss Harrington, please calm yourself,” Keith stated, trying to placate her. “If you have truly told the truth, this won’t take long and I’ll be gone.”
Her heart sped at the thought of this man leaving her, the feeling confusing her even more. She had never responded to any man this way. She was curious what made him different? The mark on her shoulder throbbed with pain and ecstasy distracting her focus. Why did she want to hop over the desk and jump his bones?
Keith Blackwood was in a pickle to say the least. He had taken a hiatus from the search for his fated match to do the council a favor, only to discover the one soul he searched for was the same woman he was sent to investigate. He should recuse himself to the council, due to the conflict of interest.
Miss Sandra Harrington didn’t have a clue about fated matches, and he would find great joy in showing her exactly what the term “fated match” meant. But first, he had to prove her innocence.
He hoped his instincts were right, and it wasn’t just his soul’s need to merge with hers that clouded his judgment. He leaned back and let his magic flow, teasing hers while he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. His body’s reaction to hers made it very uncomfortable to sit there, but standing was out of the question.
He watched her reaction as she sat behind the desk with the aura of a queen. The elegant rich mahogany desk seemed fitting of the woman behind it. Her shelves appeared to be full of an eclectic array of books, from the history of Celtic deities to Greek mythology and Egyptian lore, to the latest and most scandalous romance novels—a testament to the layers of Miss Sandra Harrington.
For the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t at the council’s beck and call. He gathered his magic and gave Sandra a few moments to collect herself, but not too long. Having her on edge and confused with the new feeling raging through brought a new twist to his tactics. He only hoped she would forgive him afterward.
“Miss Harrington, you have been clear in the fact you knew nothing about your father’s dealings. Seems hard for the council to accept, considering the amount of magic you have within you,” Keith said. “Can you explain to me how your father hid his nefarious plans from you for so long?”
His question pissed Sandy off, again. Every single warlock the council had sent asked the same damned question. “As I have explained five times, I just discovered the magic residing within me. As you may have discovered in my files, I am a half breed. My father was a warlock, but my mother was human. I was told my entire life, after every test my father administered, that I had no magic. It’s why my father basically tossed me aside for the nannies to raise. He threw money at me to keep me out of his hair. I took it and ran.” She paused. “I am not proud of how I acted growing up, and if an apology would fix things, I would gladly give one, but it is a meager, hollow cop-out, my friend Natalie would say.” A smile played at her lips at the mention of her friend.
“Natalie, the one that mated to Wyatt? The dragon shifter that murdered your father?”
“Yes, but I don’t hold it against her. What they did set me free. I should miss the old bastard, but I don’t. With him gone, I am finally free, and with the knowledge of what he was and who he worked with, I am glad they killed him and his circle.”
“So one question still remains unanswered. You have learned what dragon fire can do to a warlock circle, correct?”
“Of course, Scarlett explained that to me during the first week,” Sandy released an exasperated breath.
Keeping her off balance must remain his goal.
“Then…” he paused, leaning forward, “why are you still here?”
All members in a warlock circle pledged themselves to the leader, tying their magic and lives together. Similar to a spider web. Dragon fire reaching the circle marks would annihilate them all.
Sandy hid her mark from everyone, including her best friend Natalie, scared of the implications to the paranormal world. Her mother’s mark, similar to Sandy’s, only meant the possibility of producing magical children. If only she’d paid more attention to the long and confusing explanation, she wouldn’t allow Keith’s accusatory tone to doubt what she’d relayed to the other investigators.
“I assumed it was because I hadn’t pledged myself to his circle.” Sandy hoped that would satisfy him.
“Yes, but, Miss Harrington, since you are of his blood, the dragon fire should have destroyed you too. Did anyone explain that to you? Blood magic is the only way that you could’ve saved yourself, and that, my dear, is against council laws punishable by death.”
His heart twisted as the words spilled from his mouth. It went against all the rules
of fated matches to threaten your soul mate. The pain was physical, and nausea rolled in his stomach as he awaited her response. It didn’t take long.
Fire flamed in her eyes seconds before it rocked the study and then the whole house. He watched awestruck by the glimpse of her power. Her butler rushed in to douse the flames engulfing the drapes behind her.
The blaze threatened the bookcases on either side of the window. Fueled by anger, Sandra’s hair flowed around her in a sea of magic, licking and whipping his own. He tasted it along with her hurt and fear.
“Are you saying I somehow planned all of what happened just so I could take over where he left off?” She stood as her voice rose in power with each sentence she spoke. “I manipulated my best friend, devised her destiny as a dragon’s mate so her mate would then come in and kill my father and then release his dragon to kill his council? You think I protected myself with a spell brought to life with blood magic? I did all this while still convincing everyone, including my father, that I had no magic whatsoever?” Her breaths came in big gasps and her magic swirled around the room, preventing Keith from doing anything but blink and mutter a response.
“Do I believe that? No, Sandra, I don’t, but I had to ask.”
She bristled and opened her mouth as if to reply and promptly closed it. A confused look crossed her face, and her eyes became pools of curiosity tinged with lust. Keith wanted to lose himself in her eyes, to tumble into them and swim in all that was Sandra. He had to place his need aside and continue with the matter at hand.
“Did you really think my reports were false?” Jeremy’s statement filtered through the magic haze around Sandra.
“Your reports?” Her menacing and magical gaze swiveled toward Jeremy, in effect releasing the hold she had on Keith.
Jeremy dropped his gaze. “Let me explain, Sandy, please.”
“Explain what? I find out in front of a warlock council member that the one employee I thought I could trust, the one person from my father’s household I felt supported me, sent reports to the very council I am trying to convince to lift my restrictions. The one person I trusted with my best friend is not someone I can trust again.” Sandra’s magic receded as she spoke. He watched her face that had been twisted with anger change. Her pursed lips unclenched, her pinched eyebrows relaxed, and the fire in her eyes faded.
“Miss Harrington, you may want to listen to what Jeremy has to say. I can verify his reports were not against you but more about protecting you.” Keith relaxed his face, his eyes filled with compassion. He knew then the warlock council had nothing to fear from the woman in front of him, except she was, in fact, his fated match.
To convince her in the short time he had with her was his next challenge. She finally sank back into her chair, exhaustion creeping into her face. Keith knew the look and feeling well. Having immense magic flow through her body, she would need a nap soon and a good meal to replenish herself. He would make sure of it, right after Jeremy explained himself and his position within her home.
“Fine, Jeremy, explain.” She waved her hand, like a queen giving her subject permission to speak but speak quickly.
Chapter 3
Keith watched as Sandra’s butler, Jeremy, made sure the drapes and walls were flame-free before pulling up one of the wing-back chairs from the window next to her desk. Jeremy took a deep breath and dove into his story. “Sandra, I was assigned by the warlock council to this household before you were born.” Her eyes darted toward him, taking in his appearance. Warlocks age much slower than humans. Sandy probably thought him too young to have worked in her father’s house before she was born. He could pass as a thirty-year-old, and she didn’t appear much older than her early twenties.
“I was a boy at the time, sent to train with your father by the council. He wasn’t always the evil man you remember. He took me in and taught me, then when I became old enough to drive, he made me his chauffeur.” Jeremy paused. “That’s the same time the council brought me in and assigned me to report back to them on his dealings. They had suspicions he was being wooed by the darker side of magic. At the same time, your mother became pregnant with you. Your father had hoped for a boy, a boy with full magic like himself, and when you were born, something changed in him.” Jeremy sat forward and reached out for her but quickly pulled his hand back. “Sandy, the council recalled me and decided to reassign me, but I convinced them I was still needed here. You and your mother needed me more than any assignment the council could give. I knew if I left, both of your lives would be in danger. That’s the day I became the spy and your protector.”
“So what reports have you sent?” Sandra asked, suspicion filling her voice. “If you say you were our protector, how so?”
“I gave the council just enough information on your father to warrant keeping me here.” He scooted to the edge of his seat. “Sandy, please, you have to believe me. I took care of your mother and you as well.”
She scoffed. “How?”
Keith cleared his throat and stood. “I think I can answer that for you, Sandra.”
“You have said your mother was human. You are a half breed, as they say.” Keith paused and captured her gaze with his, making sure she was listening to him and not the need of her soul to connect with his.
“Yes.” Her sharp reply brought a smirk to his lips.
“Your father lied to you.” He let the statement float in the air around them as the wheels in her head began to spin.
“No, he didn’t. My mother told me herself. She had no magic.” Sandra’s head tilted to the side, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion.
She pushed away from the desk and kicked off her heels. Her lithe body floated more than paced back and forth across the room.
He watched her strategically place steps, each one finding the softest part of the carpet she was on. Her toes scrunched with each step, disappearing into the plush carpet. He wondered if she even knew she did. It was a small tell, but it told him she likely grew up with the finer things in life but never really enjoyed them. He would change that.
“That’s what she told you and everyone else. In the council records though, we found documentation of when her parents bound her powers. Your mother was a pureblood too, and being one of very few females left, her parents decided to protect her the only way they knew how.” Keith moved to intercept Sandra. He needed her full attention for this. He placed his body to block her path back to their side of the room. Sandra seemed so distracted, she didn’t see him or even feel his magic until she ran straight into him.
Keith grasped her upper arms to keep her from falling. Skin-to-skin contact made them both sharply inhale, their magics touching intimately for the first time. He gave into his need and raised a palm to her cheek, though resisted leaning down and taking her lips as he so desperately wanted. “Sandra, you are pureblood. Your mother did the same thing to you when you were born. Your magic, your powers, were bound.”
“But why, why would she?” Tears filled her eyes.
“To save you from your father and any other warlock who felt they deserved to be matched to a pureblood female.” His voice had taken on a soft, soothing cadence. “There are things in our world—unspeakable things she didn’t want you exposed to. It’s why the council was created in the first place. One of those things is to protect the females within our ranks.”
Sandra’s eyes narrowed, the hurt and confusion gone, replaced with angry indignation. “So, we are something to protect, as if we couldn’t do it on our own.” She pulled out of his hands and crossed her arms, waiting for his answer.
“Tread lightly,” Jeremy cautioned as he sat back with a slight smile on his face.
“Witches are always seen as precious, and we strive to protect you at all cost,” Keith stated.
“Wrong answer,” Sandra and Jeremy said in unison. She cut her eyes to his and smiled. “Jeremy knows the right answer. Why don’t you enlighten our warlock friend here?” She waved her arm in Keith’s direction as she stompe
d back toward her desk. She stopped and put her heels back on, straightened her jacket, and faced Keith again. Gone was the soft, sensual woman he had held in his hand and facing him was a formidable, pissed witch.
“Miss Sandra has been taking care of herself since she was twelve years old, and I taught her tactical self-defense. I knew she couldn’t wield the magic within her, so I taught her how to defend herself with what she had.”
Keith quickly realized the mistake he made and calmly took the seat across the desk, giving her the upper hand as she towered over him in three-inch Louboutin’s. It wasn’t typical behavior of the warlock, but for his fated match, he would show her rather than tell her she will always be most important. “You don’t understand my meaning, Sandra.” He took in the glorious image she portrayed standing before him. Her suit, strong and professional yet sexy and inviting, hugged her curves, brightened the fire in her eyes, and enhanced the shine of her golden locks.
“Then pray tell, please explain your meaning.” She cocked an eyebrow and a hip, saying his explanation had better be a good one.
He adored the fire within her and knew, with the right guidance, she’d unlock her full power. When their souls finally fulfilled their need to join together, her power most likely would be greater than his own, making her the most powerful witch and painting a target on her back. Sure, she could protect herself, but melding their magic together would make them invincible. Oh, the amazing things they’ll do.
“I have every faith you can protect yourself, but once your powers completely unfurl, you will be seen as a dangerous witch to many, whether you do good with it or not. Unfortunately, the magical community hasn’t progressed like the human species. Many still see witches as the lesser gender, and with your powers, you would be a threat to many. But if you find your fated match, the one person who completes you—body and soul—and you accept him, the threat lessens.” Keith took a deep breath, debating on whether to share what he knew: her match sat right in front of her.