Chapter 9
T
he force of Kate’s telekinetic overload was tremendous.
It was like a mini-tornado, part wind, part tsunami as the pipes in the bathroom burst and flooded the room. Stray couldn’t move either of them out of the way because he was mesmerized by what he saw.
He was experiencing everything along with Kate, as though it were happening in real time. It was fucking horrifying, more so because it was as if his body were encased in cement, unmovable, even as Brother Wolf tried to force a shift.
No, Brother,
he managed as his mind cleared for a second before being bombarded again with Kate’s thoughts.
He wanted to pull her out of the dream—the nightmare—but he couldn’t. Instead, he held her tight as he watched the woman reach in to grab Kate from the burning wreckage of the car when it should’ve taken the jaws of life to do so.
And then . . . she was dying. He was dying—something he’d never do otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to look away, to tear his hands from her body, because he needed to see what happened, to experience this.
The screams and the pain receded until he felt so light he could float out of the wrecked car. He no longer smelled the smoke or burning flesh, and Kate stilled in his arms. He saw her smile a little as she stared upward, and he did the same.
It had been bright, but he hadn’t needed to squint. Quiet, peaceful . . . he’d floated with her and for several moments there was absolutely no pain. He wanted to stay there, and apparently Kate did too. Together, they remained so still, so fucking happy.
And then Kate looked down and screamed. He followed her gaze, watched her out-of-body experience as a woman with long dark hair threaded with white reached into the car to grab her body out with harsh tugs.
At first Kate was lifeless in the woman’s arms. But when the witch dragged her out and placed her on the concrete, the pain exploded in a flash of brilliant, blinding white-hot light.
He was seeing it from Kate’s vantage point, lying on the ground, the concrete hot and uncomfortable, the burns screaming for relief.
He no longer heard her parents yelling for help and Kate sobbed as he thought that, and then there was a shadow looming over Kate. The view was fuzzy now, thanks to smoke and pain. It was the woman, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were piercing. There was no sense of kindness about her despite the action she’d just taken.
Instead, she was merciless, flipping Kate onto her stomach on the pavement. When her hands touched Kate’s back, Kate whimpered and tried to fight and Stray’s own skin seared.
“What’s done is done; now our powers are one,” the woman chanted three times before removing her hands. She looked into Kate’s face, smiled sadly and then disappeared.
Kate was still deep into the nightmare, so much so he heard the sirens in the distance as the car exploded in front of him, the flames and debris miraculously missing her as if she’d been placed under a protective shield.
She’s immortal.
He’d suspected as much, but to have it confirmed at this stage was more than he’d thought he’d discover. She must have the brand somewhere for sure. No doubt it was what his hand had made contact with earlier when he’d touched her back.
His skin still felt burned from the fire and he smelled the smoke. He looked over his arms, sure he’d find them red and blistered, but they were fine. Kate was too—physically, at least. He couldn’t say the same for the room. But hell, that was repairable.
“I knew it—knew I died. I died and she pulled me from the car . . . No one believed me that I should’ve died,” she repeated over and over. “The woman saved me. The woman saved me . . . said what’s done is done. I wasn’t wrong.”
He’d never had a mind-reading experience like that, and he never wanted to again. From the second he’d touched her, they were connected.
The witch . . .
He held off the shift as long as he could, tried to tell Brother Wolf it was all good. But the wolf was there to protect him—and it did so by forcing a shift to wolf form, leaving him able to be close to Kate without feeling the pain of her memories.
But the fact was, the pain was still so visible, visceral, that even Brother Wolf howled as she shook, unable to escape her own mind, and wolf and witch remained tangled together on the floor.
Chapter 10
S
tray wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor among the ruins of the guest bedroom, Kate holding Brother Wolf’s fur in her grasp. He nudged her face, her neck, licked her hand, did anything he could to try to bring her around. Finally, she opened her eyes and blinked. Blinked again, and her mouth opened and closed with no words coming out.
She was in shock. He went to rub her face with a hand, to tell her to breathe.
And then he remembered that he was in goddamned wolf form and he shifted back as quickly as possible, leaving him gasping—and naked.
Thankfully, Kate had her eyes closed and was shaking her head as if that would shake the image of the wolf—of everything she’d seen tonight—from her mind. He took that opportunity to move away from her, find a pair of sweats in the laundry room and get back to her before she got herself together.
He believed now that Kate hadn’t known what she was, unless she was lying inside her own head, but it took a lot of practice to do so. He was pretty sure she hadn’t met up with many people who could read her mind before this.
She was unpracticed. He’d have to be careful. She needed to know what he was, but was now really the best time?
She opened her eyes before he got to her, and she stood, faster, much more quickly than he’d have expected. “Is this the part where you try to convince me I didn’t see you turn into a wolf?”
Ah,
fuck
. “Kate, listen to me.”
But she was too busy holding on to the wall behind her, edging her way around him slowly. Brother Wolf growled inside his head at the thought of her running. “Stay still.”
She didn’t listen, kept moving, and the logical half of him told him to let her go, that she was safe in the house.
Brother Wolf had other plans. “Kate, let’s talk about this.”
She sidled toward the door, said, “You’re an animal. Literally. An animal.”
“I’m a wolf.”
“No. This can’t be happening. I must’ve been drugged or something. I’m going to wake up and find myself alone in my bed and none of this will have really happened.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but everything that’s happened tonight is all too real.”
* * *
Kate was almost at the door. Stray stood stock-still in the middle of the destruction, bare chested, sweats hanging low enough to be very distracting despite the very real fear piercing her.
He wasn’t denying what he was. A wolf. And he said it so calmly.
He’s a wolf; you’re a witch.
“Yes, that’s right,” he agreed calmly.
“I’m . . . I can read people’s thoughts, but I’m not a witch.”
“You are.”
“I don’t understand any of this. Please, if you let me leave, I won’t tell anyone.”
“You’re a shitty liar.”
“And you’re a shitty captor,” she challenged. “I want to leave.”
“You can’t. It’s for your own safety.”
“And you’re some kind of witch bodyguard?”
Stray licked his bottom lip. “Something like that.”
The brand was responding to his voice. Making her . . . squirm. After what she’d just been through, what she’d learned about her rescue from the accident, that would be the last reaction she thought she’d have.
“I won’t hurt you. Let me protect you, Kate.”
It was what she’d wanted to hear from him—and yet she couldn’t let herself believe his intentions.
Instead, she inched closer to the door, surprised he was letting her. When he spoke, his voice sent chills down her spine.
“If you run, I’ll chase you. That’s my instinct. I’ll chase you, and I will catch you.”
“And then what?” She managed to keep the tremble from her voice when she asked.
“You really want to find out, then run.”
God, she didn’t know if that would be stupid—or the best thing she could possibly do. But she ran anyway, down the closest stairway and then down another, into a series of mazelike hallways.
She felt, rather than heard, Stray behind her. His heat, the soft growl of a predator on the chase reverberating through her. But still, she ran in the dark until her side cramped and her legs ached, lungs burned. She slowed, waiting for his hand on her, but it never came. She stopped, turned again, and there he was in front of her, his eyes those of the wolf but the rest of him still pure human male.
She backed up and he didn’t follow, not until she turned to run again.
Finally, she pushed through an unlocked door into some sort of gym/training room. And there was no way out but the way she’d come in.
She’d really backed herself into a corner this time; Stray was already pissed at her, although the danger wasn’t at her throat the way it had been with Shimmin and his men.
This time Stray didn’t stop coming for her. He strode forward until only a few feet separated them. She swallowed hard, tried to ignore the way her body called out for him to touch her, and took a few steps to make her way back toward the door.
Stray gave a soft laugh. “Really, little witch? You want to bring out my prey instincts? Because you know what they say about wild animals: They can fool you because they might seem domesticated, but they can never be tamed.”
God, she believed it. Right now, she didn’t want him tamed at all. Walked toward him instead of away, reached her hands up to twine in his thick hair and pull her face to his. And she kissed him, reversing the roles. Because for once, she wanted to be the goddamned predator. The one who shook Stray to the core, because she was sure he’d managed to do that to every woman in his life.
But she would be different. Wanted to be, needed to be, although she wasn’t sure why that desire burned so brightly hot inside of her.
She just knew it was there, and there was no stopping it.
His lips were soft, but his kiss was hard—demanding. She gave as good as she got even as she braced herself for the pain—hers and Stray’s.
None came for either.
She’d tried to have sex just once and had nearly ended up killing the guy. It had been horrifying . . . as though something in her body had at once rejected and repelled the man.
That didn’t happen, and instead her body flared for Stray. He kissed her deeper and she was helpless against him. His hands went under her shirt, touched her lower back, and the brand tingled with pleasure instead of burning.
She should be pushing him away. Pushing and slapping, not feeling her entire body ache for him. Her nipples hardened; her body came alive. He tasted like a blend of the richest, most delicious spices. And she never wanted him to stop.
He knew it, too, the bastard, took full advantage of her sudden, inexplicable wantonness to press his body into hers, to grind his hardness to her belly. When he finally pulled back, he took in her quick breaths with a too-obvious satisfaction.
She pressed the back of his hand to her lips. They tingled—everything tingled—and if he didn’t back away, she might not be able to resist reaching out and grabbing him and kissing him.
Ridiculous. Had she hit her head and not realized it?
“Is this . . . only because of your prey instincts?” she whispered, not wanting him to say yes. Because then anyone could trigger this inside of him . . . None of it would be special.
He stared at her, his eyes so mesmerizing she couldn’t look away. “Yes.”
He was lying, and even though she knew that, the fact that he’d deny her was worse than anything. The lights flickered, the floor began to rumble under their feet and she heard something crash.
She moved farther away from him and felt for the brand on her back, sure it was as red and angry as the first time she’d seen it. Of course, she was the only one who could, which had nearly earned her a stay in the psych ward after the accident.
She’d been traumatized, but she’d known she wasn’t crazy. So she’d stopped talking about it. Tried to be good.
She’d become emancipated at seventeen and had floated around doing odd jobs until she’d met Leo Shimmin after her attack.
Leo Shimmin, who must’ve been watching her since then.
She was surrounded by the truths she wasn’t ready to face. They made sense and fit with the dreams she’d been having, with what happened at the scene of the accident.
She’d always believed she wasn’t crazy, but the rest of the world sure gave her a problem with it.
“I need to see the brand.”
The door slammed loudly behind her at his request, but he appeared unfazed by any of it. She wished she could be so. “You can’t see it—you don’t know anything.”
“I know what I saw happen to you during the accident. Control yourself and let me see the brand.”
She didn’t want to follow any of his orders but needed to prove to herself that she could stop the destruction her mind caused. And it took at least five minutes, with her eyes closed, whispering to herself that she could control it until she stopped hearing doors banging and glass shattering.
She opened her eyes and found Stray staring at her, approval in his eyes.
Finally, reluctantly, she turned, confident that he would see nothing. No one ever had. She lifted her shirt until the air cooled the still-too-warm area of her flesh. When she heard the sharp intake of breath from Stray, she swung her head around. “You see it?”
“It’s hard to miss.” She turned back, stared at the wall in front of her. She wondered if he’d touch it again, and if the same thing would happen if he did.
When he didn’t, disappointment washed over her. “Show’s over.” She yanked her shirt down and turned to face him. “Everything got worse for me after she touched me at the scene. I should’ve died. You saw it, felt it. I was dying—and she branded me. I’ll never be the same.”
Chapter 11
T
he lights flickered one last time and then leveled out. The alarm system beeped in the background, but Kate wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was set for wolf frequencies, not human or witch, as the case may be.
“The accident,” she murmured as Stray watched. Her eyes held the faraway look they had earlier. “They said I was thrown from the car.”
“You weren’t.”
Her next words held an urgency that broke his heart. “You saw her—the woman who saved me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the first one. The only one,” she murmured. “What does that mean?”
It meant so goddamned much that he couldn’t even begin to understand it. Kate continued. “She did this to me. You saw when she touched me.”
“She was a high-level witch.”
“And she made me one too?”
“Yes. She transferred her powers to you.”
“Why would she do that to a thirteen-year-old girl?” she demanded.
“She had her reasons.”
“Are you going to share them?”
There was so damned much to unfold, centuries of history, and there was so little time left. “She wanted to die.”
Kate swallowed hard, and he had to keep her calm. As her anger rose, the entire house sounded like it was coming down around them. “I felt what you’ve been through, yes. I believe you. Please let me see the brand again.”
He needed to see it, an indescribable need that scratched at him until he wasn’t sure he could resist touching it. He fisted his hands by his sides.
Kate hesitated briefly, but she finally turned. With her head bent forward, she pulled up the shirt, exposing a bit of unblemished skin . . . until the fabric passed her lower back.
As he had moments earlier when he’d first seen it, Stray had to fight to keep his composure at the sight of the brand marring her skin. It was a distinctly raised handprint, the mark of the witch who’d passed her powers on, in the middle of perfect, unblemished skin.
He glanced between her face and the brand as she looked over her shoulder to try to see the handprint. “You were definitely touched by a witch.”
Kate was for sure a made witch, not a born one, but she’d been touched by someone very powerful. And she had to be powerful in her own right in order to handle such a transfer of power. He had a feeling she didn’t look on it as a gift, and he could fully relate.
“You’re sure I’m the only one who’s seen this? Not even doctors?” he pressed.
“No one’s ever been able to see it before, until you.”
He blinked. Shook his head. “I touched your back yesterday and felt something.”
“That’s our link,” she murmured. “That’s why . . . when I need you—”
“I come to you,” he finished, glad she hadn’t turned to face him. His hand stretched out, his fingers nearly brushing the raised marks, but he pulled it back. If he touched that, he wouldn’t be able to stop touching her, would take her, here and now on the ground, against the wall, any way he pleased. And she would let him, because she wanted him just as badly.
He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and realized he couldn’t stop himself, not until Kate spoke again.
“It must . . . like you,” she said. “It let me kiss you.”
“What do you mean, it let you?” he demanded.
“God, this is embarrassing,” she said quietly. “When I’ve tried to . . . you know, be with other guys—”
He growled. Couldn’t help that it slipped out of his throat like an uncontrolled tic. He cursed Brother Wolf, who, in turn, bit off a sharp, howled
fuck you
in his ear.
“Sorry, keep going,” he told her.
“The brand stopped me. When I’d do so much as kiss a guy . . . Okay, you’re doing that growling thing again.” When he didn’t say anything, she kept going. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever been able to enjoy kissing. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too. Oh wait. I forgot—prey instincts, right?”
Right then and there, he knew, somehow, that fate had socked him in the chest. “You’re a virgin.”
She eyed him defiantly. “Yes. And that’s not going to change because you can invade my head.”
“You weren’t exactly trying to stay out of mine. You called for me. Drew me. Did you dream about me, too?”
“Did you dream about me?” she countered.
“I haven’t slept since I met you, but I jerked off several times in the shower picturing you naked.”
Whoa. Her entire body literally flooded with heat. He felt it as surely as if he were touching her. “You liked me saying that.”
“I’d like it better if you meant it.”
“I did. Do you want to watch me do it again?”
Without waiting for her answer, he took her shoulder and turned her. Her shirt was still raised, allowing him to cover the brand with his palm and pull her close at the same time. She gasped as their bodies jolted, and he covered her mouth with his, kissed her like he wouldn’t stop.
His free hand pushed up to cover a breast. He squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she moaned into his mouth. He knew she would be so wet for him if he pulled her pants off, and he wanted to taste her, lick her, claim her until she had only his name on her lips.
She pulled him more tightly to her, her hands wandering to grip his ass, wanting to come. And he would give that to her, would howl with pride when he did.
He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, tugged it between his teeth and suckled on it until the lights blew out overhead and the doors slammed open and shut, until the orgasm ripped from her with a scream, shattering her.
“Stray!”
He held on to her, forced himself not to dip his hand between her legs as the wolf howled inside his head. Not now. Later—and there would be a later.
He was never this damned possessive. He heard his own harsh breaths after he pulled away.
She ran; you chased. That’s all.
But it wasn’t.
* * *
Kate felt completely off balance and Stray looked so calm and collected, even as the aftereffects of the orgasm vibrated through her.
“Sorry. The prey instincts are hard to control,” he said easily, and she mentally called him a bastard. “I heard that.”
“I wanted you to.”
He was too warm and too close. She took a step to the side and sat on the mat so he wouldn’t touch her again.
In reality, her legs couldn’t hold her any longer.
“What else is out there?” she asked after several long moments of trying to regain her composure. But what was the point? He knew she’d come, and in reality it was the best orgasm she’d ever had, because it wasn’t by her own hand. “Is this the part where you tell me that every Hollywood monster—that all those horror stories passed down through the generations are real?”
He bent down, took her palm and placed it flat against his chest. “Do I feel real enough to you? Look, you have nowhere to go that’s safe. This place is.”
“Only if I do what you want.”
“Only if you do what’s right. The witch who died and left you her powers—most likely, she died running from our enemies. Leo’s one of them.” Stray paused. “In your heart, you know that has to be true.”
“I really want to go home and forget all of this. Pretend it never happened.”
She swore a hurt look crossed his face before he told her, “We all want something.”
If she didn’t cooperate, what would happen to her? And, once she did, what was to stop him from killing her—or worse?
She knew exactly what could be worse. Her job working with victims of violent crimes had taught her that in many brutal and equally terrifying ways.
He stood and began to pace. “You’re better off here, away from the humans.”
“What do you know about them?”
“I’ve had thousands of years to study humans,” Stray told her. “I know their ways.”
“My ways,” she interrupted. “I don’t count myself as witch. I’m human.”
“You’re fooling yourself.”
“I’m happy to do so and stay in la-la land,” she told him. “I’m not denying I’m a witch, but I’m human still. That’s how I’ve always lived.”
“That’s how you lived. Things change, Kate. Everything you know will change, too.”
It already had. For one thing, she was no longer alone. And while she couldn’t be sure if this was some form of Stockholm syndrome, she realized that going back wasn’t an option. It never had been. “You don’t like witches.”
“As a rule, no. They’ve never given my kind much reason to like them. And now my feelings toward them run strongly toward hate.”
“You hate me for what I am. That’s not fair.”
“Nothing in life is.”
She wanted to slap him, clenched her fist instead. He saw it and laughed.
“Go ahead and hit me,” he prompted.
“The first thing I’m going to do is find a spell that works on you,” she said. “If I’m that powerful, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
In seconds, he was on her, a palm splayed again on her brand, through the flannel shirt this time. Her entire body tingled as if on the verge of another climax. She was pleased to note by the lust visible in his eyes and the arousal against her belly that he was affected. But still angry at her last statement when he growled, “I don’t take threats lightly.”
She smiled, glad to have the upper hand for this moment. “Then take it as a promise.”