Forbidden Witches (Tarot Witches Book 2) Page 8
“I want you to choose to stay with my coven, Leah. The sooner you dismiss this idea that we’re making up fantasies, the sooner you can come to grips with reality.”
He was strolling toward me again. I started backing up without thinking about it.
His legs were much longer than mine. Rage drew close, and once my back bumped against one of those cold stone pillars, there was nowhere else to go.
Rage braced a hand on the stone beside my head. His eyes flicked over my face. “What do I have to do to get you to believe me?”
I swallowed hard. It was hard to shake the memory of Rage and Donne fighting out on the lawn. Donne had barely been shaken by a few blows, but I was a lot smaller than he was.
“Show me magic,” I said. “But no more knives.”
“No knives. Donne wouldn’t allow me to harm a hair on your pretty head anyway. Not when he’s saving you for Graham.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Grief darkened Rage’s eyes. “You’re the only thing between Graham and death, Kitten. Whatever it takes to prove it to you, we’ll do it, because his life depends on it.”
Rage took me to the garden when night fell. Like everything else at the house, the gazebo waiting for us looked like something out of a Halloween catalog. It was all black stone and wrought-iron spirals. Roses grew up the sides of it, and fairy lights sparkled from between the leaves.
“Wow,” I said. “Your gardener’s great.”
“I’ll tell that to Storm. He does earth magic. Grew every single one of those roses.”
Mr. Ruffled Shirt and Assless Chaps, growing roses? I’d believe it once I saw it.
Rage ushered me inside of the gazebo and pointed out a few symbols carved into the interiors of the archways. They looked like they had been etched into the stone by hand, maybe using chisels and hammers. No technology as good as old technology.
The marks seemed to glow faintly, almost as though they had black light shining on them. It definitely wasn’t coming from the fairy lights. It was the wrong color.
“These marks indicate wards. Do you know what wards are?” he asked. He didn’t wait before going on. “Of course you don’t. Wards are a type of protective magic. Most warding spells are easy, and meant to contain magic.”
I touched the symbols with my hands and found that the pale glow wasn’t really there. The light didn’t discolor my skin. “What do these do?”
“They keep out werewolves,” Rage said.
His voice dropped on that last word. Werewolves. Like there should have been a crash of lightning and chime of church bells.
Forty-eight hours ago, I would have laughed, but I’d heard so many ridiculous things out of this guy’s mouth at this point that “werewolves” didn’t seem strange.
I waved my hands over the marks. Weirdly, the glow kept on shining whether or not my fingers were blocking the symbols. It was as though I could see it through my skin.
In fact, I could also see the markings with my eyes shut.
Rage leaned a shoulder against one of the gazebo’s pillars. “This is really the first time you’ve seen magic, isn’t it?”
“I’m not seeing magic,” I protested. “I’m just seeing spots.”
“Seems downright irresponsible that nobody ever pointed this out to you before.” And it seemed downright ironic that someone like Rage should talk about responsibility, but okay. “Now that you’ve seen magic once, you’ll see it more often. Let me know where else you find magic in my house. I’m curious to know what you find.”
I stuffed my hands under my arms, forcing myself to stop messing with the glow. “Why do you have marks to keep werewolves out? Are werewolves a major problem in northern California?”
“Not really a problem, no. There’s a pack down in Half Moon Bay sometimes, but they’re under the control of witches, too. Wild werewolves are only a problem in the Midwest and down in Mexico.”
“You’re telling me that you have werewolves under your control.” I tried not to look as incredulous as I felt. “You mean, like pets? You run werewolves around your property on leashes?”
Naughtiness danced through Rage’s eyes. “He only lets me leash him on special occasions.”
He was looking over my shoulder. I turned to see company emerging from the back door of the house.
Naked company.
Donne and Graham were impressive specimens. Despite being thirty years apart, they were equally muscled, chests and thighs covered in a layer of tawny hair. The only real difference was that some of Graham’s hair was graying.
Embarrassing as it was to notice, the familial resemblance was much stronger when they were naked than when they were clothed. They were both remarkable in one very specific way that hung heavily between their muscular thighs.
I couldn’t look at that particular family trait without spontaneously combusting, but when I turned away to face the garden, I had to see Rage laughing at me instead.
I managed to squeak out, “They’re werewolves?”
“Told you we’d make you believe,” Rage said.
A couple of staggeringly handsome men running around naked didn’t make me believe in werewolves, no matter how furry they were.
Rage stepped out of the gazebo and out of the supposed safety of the wards. He clasped forearms with Donne in greeting. There was no hint of animosity between them now, nor was there a single visible injury on Donne. Considering that Rage still had a bit of a black eye, it was pretty obvious who had won the fight.
“Twenty minutes until Graham shifts,” Donne said. “Anything we can do tonight?”
“Not yet.” Rage cast a glance at me. It almost looked accusatory. “She’s not ready yet. Next moon. We’ll make it happen.”
If the singer looked “almost” accusatory, then Donne looked like he was about to punch me halfway across the lawn. His fists clenched. The muscles bunched all the way up his shoulders to his pectorals, making the veins stand out.
For some reason, the fact that he looked so angry only made my body burn hotter.
Okay, I couldn’t help it anymore. I let my gaze drop.
He wasn’t circumcised. I wondered how that would feel to the touch.
But I didn’t have to wonder how that organ felt in general. It had been pressed against me the night before, thick and solid. As big as it looked, it felt almost bigger wedged against my body. I could only imagine how it would feel once it was inside of me.
I couldn’t believe I was already thinking about Donne like having sex with him was an inevitability.
“I’ve got another hour and a half before it’s my turn,” Donne said, jerking my attention back to the conversation at hand. “I’ll talk to her once she sees Graham.”
He turned away from me, giving his full attention to his father.
I hadn’t been able to rip my eyes from Donne, so I hadn’t noticed that Graham—aside from being in fantastic physical condition for a man his age—looked like he was about to drop dead.
He was shaking all over. He was so drenched in sweat that it looked like he’d just come out of the shower. It hurt me to see how sick he looked, and the sight of him standing around outside naked in the breeze when he was obviously feverish made my heart ache.
“Are you okay, Graham?” I asked.
His eyes flashed gold when he focused on me. There was no hint of the courteous man who had gone shopping for me earlier in the day now. His expression was inhuman. Savage.
Donne was suddenly between us, giving me nothing to see but the broad expanse of his tanned back.
“Get back,” he snarled at his father.
Rage leaped into the gazebo again. “The moon’s not up yet!”
“It’s getting worse,” Donne said, bracing both of his hands against his father’s shoulders.
Graham twisted away from him. He threw his head back, neck muscles bulging, and let out a cry that didn’t sound remotely human.
It sounded like a howl.
Now that Graham’s skin was rippling, I didn’t want to watch. It looked like there was someone inside his skin pushing fingers against his stomach from the inside out.
My mouth tasted sour with bile. “What’s happening to him? Is he okay? Does he need a doctor?”
Rage didn’t bother responding. He just held me, forcing me to watch as Graham changed.
The older man dropped to his knees on the ground, digging his fingers into the grass, head bowed and back arched. His ribs flexed under the skin. They bent, extended, popped.
A wet crack exploded through the air.
Graham screamed again, and I realized that the bones in his face were breaking.
His knees sounded like snapped celery when they broke and reversed. His hands and feet extended into paws. Claws erupted from the places where he’d had fingernails, so long and silvery-sharp that he could have shredded my organs before I reacted.
Graham’s hair fell out, sprinkling on the lawn. Fur soon swept over his shoulders and back. It was long and shaggy and almost the exact same color that the hair on his head had been: tawny brown laced with gray.
I wasn’t sure how long I stared at him breathlessly, watching his body expand and change into that of a massive wolf. It could have been seconds or minutes or all night.
But sooner or later, there was no denying what stood in front of me.
A man who had become a wolf.
“There it is,” Rage said. “Do you believe now, Kitten?”
His voice broke my reverie.
I screamed.
That was completely the wrong thing to do. The wolf twisted to glare at me, sides heaving as he panted for breath, tongue lolling. His eyes didn’t quite focus. This beast looked as sick and disoriented as Graham had.
When he finally managed to focus on me, hunger flashed through his golden eyes.
The wolf launched toward the gazebo.
Donne slammed into him, using his entire upper body to pin him to the grass. There was no way that any man should have been able to fight against a monster the size of a freaking horse.
But Donne was stronger than he looked, and he looked pretty damn strong. He shoved the wolf away.
When it tried to come back at me again, Donne punched it across the muzzle.
Blood splattered to the grass.
“Go,” Donne said, voice ragged. “Run, Dad. Don’t make me hurt you.”
Finally, the wolf seemed to hear him.
It was halfway across the lawn before I had time to blink. The wolf made lightning look slow.
Donne rounded on me. When he saw Rage holding my arms, anger smoldered in his eyes. I could barely even understand his words now that his voice had gone so low and gravelly.
“Well? Do you believe, Leah?” Donne asked.
Oh yeah. I believed.
IX
Rage had an indoor swimming pool not far from the gazebo. Half of it was just like the Olympic swimming pool where I had gotten lessons as a kid, all rectangular with clearly distinguished swimming lanes.
The other half was not Olympic regulation.
It looked like a lagoon, complete with plants all around the edges, shallow water, and even some lily pads. The water was so warm that it steamed. It was easy to imagine all the rock star sex parties they would have in a lagoon like that. I hoped they had a great filtration system.
Tall windows overlooked the back yard, but it was covered in so many vines that I could barely see the gazebo outside. It was empty now that I had fled. I didn’t want to watch Graham running around on all fours.
Neither Donne nor Rage had attempted to stop me when I left the gazebo, and I’d been grateful for the privacy at first. I’d wanted to be able to have a panicked meltdown all on my own, where I wouldn’t feel self-conscious about sobbing until eyeliner tracked my cheeks.
But I’d stopped crying a few minutes ago. Now I was just lonely and scared and confused.
How was it possible that werewolves existed?
I was twenty years old, and it wasn’t like I was particularly sheltered. My family had taken three vacations to Europe in the last ten years. We’d also road tripped across the country in RVs every summer from elementary school through middle school. I’d seen a lot of things in my admittedly young life, including the worst cities in the United States and some of the most beautiful parks.
On all those trips, I hadn’t seen any witches. I definitely hadn’t seen any werewolves.
My butt was sore from sitting on the stone bench beside the pool’s lagoon, so I got up to pace alongside the window. My faint reflection looked exhausted and my makeup was a serious wreck. I carefully wiped it away with my fingers.
That reflection was outlined in a faint blue halo. Now that I’d seen the magical runes on the gazebo, I was seeing the glow of magic on the inside of the windows in the pool house, too. Rage had warned me that might happen.
It was a little weird to see, but it was also comforting to know that the wards were there.
As long as I was inside the house, I would be safe from werewolves.
Monsters like Graham.
The door leading outside opened. Donne was still naked—still human—and standing in the glowing doorway leading out to the lawn. “You should have just listened to Rage when he told you what we are. You didn’t have to see that.”
When Donne had predicted how long it would take Graham to change into a werewolf, he’d also given a timeline for his own transformation. If he was right, he was only forty minutes away from changing into a wolf, too.
And we were trapped in the pool house together.
“You mean I should have just trusted that a famous rock star is the high priest of a coven that protects two freaking werewolves?” I couldn’t keep the tremors out of my voice.
Donne still looked so angry. “Stop trying to escape me.”
I hadn’t even realized I was backing away from him. “Why? Don’t want to have to give chase before you eat?”
“That’s the problem. I want to chase you. Right now, you look like prey to my wolf, and the more you shiver and shake and try to get away from me, the harder it is for me not to jump on you.”
That was motivation enough to make me stop. I forced my feet flat to the ground beside the pool. “So you really do want to attack.”
“I promised I’ll keep you safe from everything.” His voice dropped a little lower, a little huskier. “Even me.”
My skin prickled. “Then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be outside getting ready to change with Graham?”
“I smelled you. I had to follow.” His jaw flexed. “I needed you.”
That sounded promising.
And scary.
Reflexively, I took another big step back, away from Donne.
His eyes widened with surprise rather than hunger. He threw a hand toward me. “Leah, wait—”
My heel slipped over the edge of the pool. I hadn’t realized I was so close—I quickly overbalanced and tipped backwards, pinwheeling my arms wildly.
It wasn’t enough to save me.
My back struck the water. Warmth engulfed me, soaking my clothes, quickly dragging me down.
It took about two seconds for me to hit the bottom of the pool. My mouth opened in a cry. Water flooded my mouth, and my lungs spasmed.
Panic swamped me. I kicked against the bottom of the pool, reacting with pure animal terror rather than the hundreds of dollars in swimming lessons my parents had spent on me.
The water erupted a few feet from me. A dark shape entered the pool smoothly, sleek and fast.
Hands caught me under my arms and propelled us both toward the shallow end of the water.
My head broke the surface and salt water spilled down my chin. It felt like I’d tried to breathe half of the swimming pool. I kept coughing as Donne pushed me against the side of the pool until I finally got my feet u
nderneath me. The bottom was pebbled. Traction was easy.
He caught my head in both hands, giving me a close, scrutinizing look. “Leah? Are you okay?”
God, I loved the way he said my name. It was like he’d known me for years. Like I belonged to him.
I gave a pathetic, wet giggle. “I was on the swim team in middle school.”
“What?”
“I was on the swim team, but I almost drowned myself just now.” Now that I’d started giggling, I couldn’t stop.
Donne wasn’t laughing with me.
He had me pressed against the wall of the lagoon. Plants draped over the side of the wall, sheltering us with leaves the size of my palm. The only light came from a strip low in the pool that made all of the water glow.
He pushed me against the side of the pool until the edge dug into my back and sweet pain rolled down my spine.
The man was like a wall of muscle. He redefined being caught between a rock and a hard place in the best way possible.
Donne was so overwhelmingly powerful. I could have fought against him with everything that I had learned in self-defense class and he wouldn’t have blinked.
That thought didn’t scare me like it should have.
His hands grasped the hem of my shirt, peeling it up my body.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You’re wet,” Donne growled.
He was right about that in more ways than one.
“I fell into a pool,” I said stupidly.
He removed my over-shirt and tossed it to the damp concrete between planters. It landed with a damp slap.
“Yeah,” he said. His eyes roved over the camisole exposed underneath. I was only wearing a thin t-shirt bra, which turned out to become just as see-through as the shirt on top of it. “You did.”
My nipples had hardened into peaks. He’d already seen me completely topless the night before, but there was something so much dirtier about being seen through the veil of flimsy cotton.
Donne palmed my left breast, rubbing his thumb over the nipple. I sucked in a breath. My eyelids half-closed.
I lifted my arms as he pulled the camisole off as well, then slid the bra strap down my shoulder to expose a stretch of vulnerable skin. His lips traced a line from my collarbone up to the curve of my jaw.