Authors: Angela Knight
Master of Smoke (18 page)
David swallowed, glad she couldn’t see his face.
She’s probably never told anybody about this before. She needs to talk it out
. “You must have been terrified.”
She’s probably never told anybody about this before. She needs to talk it out
. “You must have been terrified.”
“I completely froze. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I kept thinking he couldn’t be real. I figured I must have fallen and hit my head, or maybe somebody had slipped LSD into my Diet Coke. And then he grinned at me with all those god-awful teeth, and he said, ‘Run.’ So I did.”
“He wanted to chase you.” David realized his fingers were digging into her shoulders. He carefully relaxed his grip.
Eva was too lost in her nightmare to notice. “I ran. I ran until I had a stitch in my side, until every muscle I had screamed, until I couldn’t breathe. And then I kept running, because he was right behind me. He could have grabbed me anytime he wanted. That finally pissed me off. I knew he was going to catch me and I was going to die, and the bastard was
playing
with me. So I whirled around and aimed my fist for his balls.”
playing
with me. So I whirled around and aimed my fist for his balls.”
David’s chest ached. “Good for you.”
“Yeah, except it pissed him off. He caught my fist, and backhanded me so hard I saw stars. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and he was on top of me. It was like being crushed by a boulder. He snarled, ‘Bitch, you’re gonna pay for that.’ Then he just dove for my belly and started ... ripping. I screamed with everything I had because it was the only thing I could do. That seemed to annoy him, but I refused to quit. So he got up and dragged me into the woods.” Eva broke off. She was pale, and her expression was lost. He could smell her terror.
I will find that thing and kill him
.
.
“I don’t know how long it took, but somebody must have heard me screaming, because some eternity later I heard sirens. He jerked up and looked off toward the sound, cursed, and then he was just ... gone.”
“They found you?”
“No. By then I wasn’t capable of screaming anymore. I kept floating in and out of consciousness as I lay there under the trees. I heard people, I guess cops, calling and walking around, but the only sound I could make was this kind of gasping whimper. I kept hoping they’d find me, but they never did. So then I started hoping I’d die, but that didn’t happen either.”
David’s eyes stung, and he blinked savagely. He wanted to hit something.
“I really should have died from what he did. I guess I didn’t because he infected me. After a long time lying there in a bloody heap, I shifted, no waiting for the full moon. God, it hurt. When you change, it feels like you’re being ripped apart and burned alive. But after it was finally over, all my injuries had completely healed. All those god-awful wounds, gone. Like it never even happened.” She shook her head. “Magic.”
David rested his chin on the top of hers and hugged her close, relieved the horrific story was over. “Thank the gods.”
“Except for my head.” Her voice sounded bleak. “What’s in my head never healed.”
After a long, aching pause, David asked, “Once you realized you’d survived, what did you do?”
“Hid out in the woods until I changed back. I guess I wanted to be human again so bad, I just called the magic without knowing what I was doing.” Eva paused. “You know what I’ve never figured out?”
He stroked one hand through her hair. “What?”
“Where do my clothes go when I change? You’d think they’d rip like they do in the movies, but no—they just vanish. Then they come back when I become human again. Along with my car keys, cell phone, and anything I have in my pockets. Makes no sense.”
David laughed. The sound cracked in the middle, and he cleared his throat. “Never expect logic from magic.” Her body was slowly relaxing against his now that the worst of the story was over.
He still wanted to throw up.
To distract his heaving stomach, he asked, “What did you do after you became a werewolf?”
“Freaked the fuck out. I thought I was a monster, and I was terrified I was going to start killing people. I told my dad I had a stomach bug and couldn’t go to work.”
David frowned down at her. “You didn’t tell him what happened?”
“What was I going to say? ‘Hey, Daddy—some werewolf ate me, and now I turn fuzzy’? My folks would have lost their minds. I finally realized I couldn’t hide out forever, so I went back to work. I’d run home after closing every night, until I finally figured out I wasn’t going to start eating people. Guess the creep who attacked me was just a serial killer.”
“And you never told anyone?”
“God, no. I wanted to come out to Mom and Dad, but I was afraid. They’d think I was nuts unless I changed in front of them, and then they’d think I was a monster. I couldn’t face that. So I never told anybody. Until you.”
They fell silent together, Eva lost in her memories, David struggling to deal with his sick rage. Finally she said, “David?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to teach me how to fight.” The words spilled in a rush. “I froze out there. When those werewolves jumped us, I just froze. All I could think of was when Cujo ... hurt me.”
David took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ll teach you everything I can.”
“Thanks. I think if I knew how to defend myself, maybe I wouldn’t be such a fucking coward.”
“You’re not a coward!” He spat the words with more force than he’d intended, and she jerked against him. David winced and moderated his tone. “An experience like that would give anyone mental scars. But they can be overcome.”
“God, I hope so.”
They subsided into silence again as he cuddled her. At last, exhausted by her story, she fell asleep again.
Battling images of Eva being attacked by the werewolf, David held her as she slept. She felt so delicate, so fragile. The idea of some psychotic monster ripping into her made him feel as if he’d been gutted himself.
Somehow, some way, he was going to find that prick and kill him.
Another thought pierced his rage, sharp as Eva’s claws. So sharp he felt his rage drain into cold depression.
I am in deep, deep trouble, and sinking deeper.
In only a few short hours, Eva had become the center of his fractured universe. The pain he felt at what she’d suffered made that all too clear.
It was more than sex, more than his delight in her admittedly beautiful body. Hell, he even found her lovely in her werewolf form. Her Fluffy self.
He snorted amusement at the name. It was a prime example of her skewed sense of humor, especially considering he could sense how deeply uncomfortable she was with being a werewolf.
If Eva feared it, she made a joke about it.
Oh, he was definitely in deep, deep trouble. Here he was, one fragment of some other man, waiting for the rest of his mind to return. Would he even exist once
they
came back?
they
came back?
Would he still love Eva?
David winced. And there it was: the trouble. What kind of idiot let himself become obsessed with a woman in a situation like this? All he was doing was setting himself up for more pain.
If he had any wit at all, he’d keep away from her. Or at least, he’d stay just close enough to protect her from whatever hell Warlock rained down on them.
He definitely shouldn’t make love to her at every opportunity, ensuring that his obsession with her only deepened.
Because the deeper he got, the more likely it was to blow up in his face. True, the sheer lush pleasure of loving her might be worth whatever pain he suffered at the end.
But what if Eva ended up hurt?
No, that wasn’t acceptable.
Unfortunately, he strongly suspected he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her. His arms unconsciously tightened around her, and she sighed in her sleep. Her breath puffed against his mouth, and he looked down at her. God, he wanted to kiss her.
Idiot.
David ended up watching the sun rise through the bedroom window, red light spilling across the sky like blood. An omen that was just a little too damned apt.
Joelle Drake’s delicate
hand closed hard around the orange half, squeezing a stream of juice from it with easy Dire Wolf strength. The air smelled of the eggs, bacon, and pancakes she’d just prepared, but she wasn’t hungry. Still, it felt good to be busy, especially since she was making Miranda’s favorite breakfast. The smell of it would hopefully lure the girl off the couch, where she’d been sulking her way through a
Bones
marathon. Probably looking for grisly inspiration while she plotted matricide.
hand closed hard around the orange half, squeezing a stream of juice from it with easy Dire Wolf strength. The air smelled of the eggs, bacon, and pancakes she’d just prepared, but she wasn’t hungry. Still, it felt good to be busy, especially since she was making Miranda’s favorite breakfast. The smell of it would hopefully lure the girl off the couch, where she’d been sulking her way through a
Bones
marathon. Probably looking for grisly inspiration while she plotted matricide.
Sticking her head around the door frame, Joelle checked on her daughter. She still lay sprawled under an Afghan, looking like a glum ghost. Even the sight of a shirtless David Boreanaz failed to cheer her up.
Joelle’s lips tightened, and she retreated back into the kitchen to slice another orange in half with a single angry pass of her knife. She’d barely slept the night before, haunted by guilt and worry. She knew her daughter viewed her call to Gerald as the worst kind of betrayal.
And maybe she was right. Unfortunately, Miranda didn’t realize what Gerald was capable of. Joelle knew from hard, bloody experience. It wasn’t just what he did to Joelle; those injuries would heal.
It was what he might do to Miranda that had driven Joelle to pick up the phone.
Grabbing another orange half, Joelle gave it a vicious squeeze, watching it bleed juice into the pitcher. She wished she could get Miranda to accept there was no escape for either of them. Even if Joelle had run away with the girl—and she’d considered it more than once over the years—there was no evading Warlock for very long.
They’d have to work to support themselves, which meant there was no practical way they could remain together at all times.
True, as long as Joelle remained with her daughter, the sorcerer would be unable to track them because her resistance to magic would shield the girl. Unfortunately, Randy was a magic user, so she wasn’t immune to spells. The minute the two separated, Warlock would have her. And he’d be pissed, so he’d go after Miranda like a wolf on a lamb. Joelle shuddered, imagining what he’d do to her then.
Miranda thought she’d seen abuse in Gerald’s slaps and scratches. She had no bloody idea what a werewolf was really capable of. And Warlock—mad, vicious,
powerful
Warlock—was inclined to do much worse.
powerful
Warlock—was inclined to do much worse.
Joelle had tried to explain all that, but Miranda insisted she could find a way to shield herself from Warlock’s magic. Joelle knew better. No spell was that good.
Judging the pitcher full enough, she put it on the table with the rest of the food and walked to the doorway again. “Miranda, breakfast is ready.”
Randy didn’t even glance away from the TV. “I told you I’m not hungry.”
“And I told you you’re going to eat. Get in here.”
With a sigh, Miranda rose and trudged into the kitchen. She’d always been an obedient child, and the habit had fortunately persisted into adulthood.
Joelle watched her drop into a chair and mechanically fill her plate. She sat down and followed suit.
The silence that followed was a sullen thing, but Joelle knew how to break it. “The Chosen ladies are holding a Grieving for Joan Devon. Her husband and daughter were killed a few days ago, and she lost her son at Christmas.” She sighed and forked up a bite of pancake, chewed, swallowed. “That poor woman. So much tragedy.”
Miranda snorted. “Her son was a serial killer who was killed by the sister of one of his victims, who just happened to be a Maja. As for Joan’s husband and daughter, those two murdered a dozen innocent Latents in a quest for revenge against the Magekind. They would have assassinated Arthur’s son if Logan and his lover hadn’t killed them first. So I’m really not interested in expressing sympathy, when they fucking
deserved
to die.”
deserved
to die.”
“Language!” Joelle snapped. The girl had a point, but still.
Miranda dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter and stared at her with defiant eyes. “Mom, they strapped
suicide vests
on two human children. Those kids would have died if Logan hadn’t disabled the bombs. That is not exactly the kind of behavior Merlin expects of us.”
suicide vests
on two human children. Those kids would have died if Logan hadn’t disabled the bombs. That is not exactly the kind of behavior Merlin expects of us.”
“Regardless of what they did, Joan did nothing—”
“But she knew what was going on.” Her jaw flexing, Miranda picked up her butter knife and started sawing through her pancakes. “That makes her an accessory.”
Do you consider me an accessory, too?
Joelle didn’t dare ask the question. “But she’s one of
us
, Miranda. She’s a lady of the Chosen, and ladies of the Chosen stick together.”
We have to, because we’re the only defense we have against our men
. But that wasn’t something she could say to Miranda. Her daughter was rebellious enough as it was. “So we are going to visit her and express our sympathies, just like all the other women. And you, my girl, are not going to be rude enough to say one word about who deserved what.”
Joelle didn’t dare ask the question. “But she’s one of
us
, Miranda. She’s a lady of the Chosen, and ladies of the Chosen stick together.”
We have to, because we’re the only defense we have against our men
. But that wasn’t something she could say to Miranda. Her daughter was rebellious enough as it was. “So we are going to visit her and express our sympathies, just like all the other women. And you, my girl, are not going to be rude enough to say one word about who deserved what.”
Miranda sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”
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