Are you ready to go home, Catherine?” he asked. “It’s warm inside the house. I kept a fire going for you.”I continued looking at him, unsure how to respond. “Thanks,” I managed to say and then glanced in the direction of his house—our house. “Well, you are my wife. And I know you don’t like the cold.”I’m his wife, I thought to myself. He had said the words as if that simple fact made it necessary to be both thoughtful and kind. As if having gained a wife or husband meant having also gained her or his concerns, and hence the need to consider the person’s needs, wants, and preferences as strongly as one’s own. It struck me as a perfect description of what marriage ought to be. An agreeable notion that had not entered into my petty way of viewing matrimony. I would have assumed it to be above Thaddeus’ egotistical mindset as well.“Catherine?” he said again, watching me regard him with a quizzical expression. “Are you ready to go home?”I nodded, which made him smile.
The tree witches kept to themselves, a self-sufficient coven specializing in certain skills. The witches sang, played music, and danced at the gatherings around the fire, but nothing like what she'd experienced when the gargoyles transformed. After the first night, she was hooked.It was a risk to return but one she was willing to take. She'd ventured to that different world to hear the unique groups, especially to watch the guitarist with hair as black as midnight.
The five statutes loomed above the crowd, still and timeless. The last light of the setting sun cast an eerie glow around them. When she fixed her gaze on Mason's stone form, her heart thumped. She scanned every inch of his silhouette, wondering about the spark of life within the stone that would animate him into flesh. A warm-blooded male with a heated touch and sensuous lips that made her melt.
Heat radiated from him, penetrating her like the sun warming her on hot midsummer days. It coiled inside her, low in her belly, and sank lower. She recognized it, the magic between lovers. Intoxicating and intense. An all-consuming attraction. The air between them shimmered with energy, an irresistible force connecting them.
In decades past, the three clans of the island - tree witches, gargoyles, and wolves, had cloaked their land with many layers of protection. Their combined magic had created such a powerful force it had remained undetected by human technology. When a feud erupted between the witches and gargoyles twenty-five years ago it led to a division of land. Without reinforcements from the clans' combined magic, the protection seeped away.
Knox emerged into the human world aware of two things - that the woman beneath him must be protected, and that the man clutched in his large, claw-tipped hands needed to die. It was just a matter of how and how soon. He would personally prefer bloody and right now, but something urged him to caution.
Her ankle was screaming like a blonde in a horror flick... Huffing a little, she once more wished that being a witch was lot more like Harry Potter made it out to be and a lot less like being a good cook. This whole situation would be vastly improved if all she had to do was dig her magic wand out of her bag, point it at the security guards chasing her, and shout, "Stupefy!
The blade was sharp enough that she didn't feel the initial prick, but it didn't matter. The earth beside her opened up and the knife slid from her attacker's suddenly nerveless hand, thudding to the ground about the same time she did. His grip on her hand disappeared the instant that something else emerged in a blast of stone and magic. Wynn's cavalry had arrived, in the form of one very large and very angry Guardian, a Guardian that was supposed to be nothing but the teeny-tiny pieces still scattered around her. Huh. How about that?
Calling on his inherent magic, he pictured a shape less conspicuous in the mortal realm. An instant later he stood before his companion in his new body and found himself surprisingly comfortable in the denim and cotton garments that came with it. Perhaps this confining human shape had its advantages. He nodded in satisfaction and looked to the woman, "Will this do?" *** Will this do me? Now that is the question. Wynn took in the Guardian's human form and hoped her eyes were not literally bulging out of her head, because they sure as heck felt like they were. It felt as if the usually obedient organs couldn't take in enough of the new view in their natural state and wanted to reach out and touch the gorgeous specimen of man that now stood before her. Because... wow.
You know, in human society, it's considered impolite to molest a sleeping person. In fact, it's seen as pretty creepy." His gaze shot to her face and found her regarding him through dark eyes heavy with sleep but lit with amusement rather than indignation. He felt himself relax slightly and continued to explore the fascinating contours of her calf and thigh. "Then as you are now awake, I may continue without fear.
When he expressed his feelings for her - always here like this, while he touched her or made love to her - he used words of possession and passion. He told her they belonged to each other, that she was his, that he was her mate. And he made love to her like a starving man, as if he couldn't get enough of her.
She'd grown up hearing about epic battles between Guardians and demons, of legendary Wardens and their brave fight to keep the nocturnis at bay. To her, it all had the air of fairy tales, history through the lens of the Brothers Grimm. She listened to the tales the same way she listened to Beowulf, and had the same expectation of ever featuring in one of those famous battles as of facing Grendel's mother in a Scandinavian swamp. Yet here she was, not just fighting the forces of evil but somehow tied to her very own Guardian, acting for all intents and purposes like the Warden she had once dreamed of becoming.
Her eyes scanned the room and spotted her cell phone lying on the coffee table at least three whole feet away from her hands. She groaned. This was when she didn't want to be a witch, she wanted to be a Jedi, so she could use the Force to make her phone fly right into her hand. What the hell, right? Lifting one arm she reached out an open hand toward the small electronic device. Use the Force, Wynn, she thought and had to stifle a slightly punch-drunk giggle. From his seat in the oversized chair, Knox eyed her strangely. After a moment, she gave up and dropped her hand to her side, rolling her head along the sofa cusions to meet her mate's gaze. "What were just doing?" he asked warily. "Using the Force." He looked from her to the table and back again. "Did you do this successfully?" She shook her head and grinned. "The Force is weak with this one. I'll never be a Jedi Master.
Wherever his gaze touched her, she felt as if flames licked at her skin, and the thought of what it might do to her to feel his tongue follow suit had her eyes drifting shut on a moan.Spar chuckled softly and leaned closer until his breath teased the rim of her ear. "I would pay more than a penny for those thoughts, little human, were I not filled with such vivid imaginings of my own.
The Defiler will not have you, Felicity. I have claimed you for myself."The rumble of those words, soft and dark, sent shivers racing through her. Her imagination supplied all sorts of images of ways she could be claimed by him, and none of them had anything to do with evil.Heat flooded her cheek, then wormed its way lower. It built in the pit of her belly until she couldn't bear it anymore. Her hand shifted from his shoulder to his cheek, and she lifted herself up on her toes."Show me," she whispered, just before she pressed her lips to his.
My name is Spar. I am neither called Rocky nor made of rock. I am a Guardian, one of those warriors who were summoned to battle against the Seven demons of the Darkness and to prevent their possible return to this human plane of existence. I consider the others of my kind to be my brothers.
Do I seem one who will not defend myself? You are her father, so I will make myself clear. Any who seek her harm I will kill. I will rip into them with claw and teeth and separate skin from bone from heart. An enemy, a friends, from within either of our Clans - it does not matter.
Kresh kept silent beside me as Baron rehearsed his deadly plan. I listened with my eyes aimed at the horizon, witnessing the night consume a final red vein of daylight. It struck me that nightfall always drowned the sunset. Never did the sun resurface from where it sank, nor would it ever.
The freak show was about to begin.Spotlights flooded the musicians powered by solar panels near a massive amplifier. The guitarist continued playing and the others joined in, playing a raucous crossover between hard rock and heavy metal. The one with long blond hair grabbed hold of the microphone and belted out a shattering cry that sounded like a call to battle. The crowd went pin drop silent to listen and then cheered in unison as the band played on. The front man sang piercing growls and low croons about the Knights in Stone, the protectors of the ancient forests, battling against the evil tree witches... Kayla's coven.
During the show, she studied him on stage. The way he strummed the guitar, the movement of muscles in his arms and torso, the sway of the tartan fabric with his movements. Her cheeks heated when she thought about running her fingers over his torso and under his kilt. Oh, the things he could do to her with that body.
Stop him, stop this, she commanded herself. Reason floated away; she wanted him. If he walked away now, she might disintegrate into a pile of frustration as fragile as the leaves crumbling under foot. His lips touched hers, shooting electric shock waves rippling to her toes. Then he claimed her with a torrid kiss. Passion welled up from her core, overpowering all thought except her desires.