Page 11 of The Warlock's Kiss

Whatever illness had taken root inside of Adalynn, his efforts were meaningless. It was her end. Her doom. And that knowledge instilled in him a consuming sense of helplessness and despair he’d not felt in more years than he could count—if he’d ever felt their like at all.

Danny’s voice was small and awed when he asked, “What did you do to her?”

Frustration flared within Merrick again; he didn’tknowwhat he’d done to her, only that he’d never attempted anything like it. She was relaxed now, was at rest, but he knew he hadn’t defeated the malevolent presence within her.

He reached up with his other hand—which was also shaking—and snatched a dish towel from the counter to gently wipe the foam from Adalynn’s mouth. He let it fall aside once he was done and shifted his position to slip his arms beneath her.

Danny tensed. His knuckles were white from his grip on the knife, but he didn’t raise the weapon again. “What are you doing?”

“Moving her.”

“To where?”

“To the dungeon,” Merrick replied dryly.

Danny’s brow furrowed, and his lips parted as though to speak, but it was a few seconds before he got any words out. “I don’t know if you’re serious or not. But…if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

The boy backed away warily as Merrick lifted Adalynn off the floor and stood. For an instant, the room spun around Merrick, but he locked his knees and settled his hip against the counter to keep himself steady. As soon as the dizziness had passed, he walked toward the door.

“Gather your belongings,” Merrick said.

There was a flurry of movement behind him—boots on the floor, rustling cloth, the sloshing of bottled water, and the click of a knife being folded closed.

Merrick stopped at the doorway and glanced over his shoulder as Danny zipped up one of the backpacks. “And put my damned peanut butter back before I change my mind about helping.”

Danny stilled, staring at Merrick with eyes as large and round as dinner plates. Slowly, he reached into the small opening of his bag and withdrew a red-lidded peanut butter jar. He set it on the counter without breaking eye contact.

“Good boy. You might survive the night after all.” Merrick stepped into the hallway and carried Adalynn toward the parlor. Danny’s boots thumped down the hall behind him.

The woman seemed so slight and frail, so delicate, so precious. Even her resonance was diminished now. Merrick struggled against the urge to hold her tighter; he feared anything more would break her. How had she survived so long in a hostile world?

It was a foolish question. He’d seen her spirit. He knew its light, its strength. That was all that had kept her going to this point, he was sure. Her spirit…and her protective little brother.

The deepening evening left the parlor gloomy. The shadows were nothing to Merrick, but he doubted Danny could see very well. Those doubts were confirmed when there was a loud bump, and the coffee table rattled. The boy muttered a curse.

“Mind your step,” Merrick said. He stopped at one of the couches—the one facing the fireplace—and carefully laid Adalynn atop it. Her resonance called to him through the discomfort in his head, and, despite everything, he was sorely tempted to make that connection with her again.

He thrust the urge aside and stepped to the fireplace. Danny set their bags down on the floor near the couch and knelt in front of his sister.

“She gonna be okay?” Danny asked, brushing a strand of hair away from Adalynn’s face.

Merrick’s fingers twitched; he wanted to brush her hair aside like that, wanted his fingertips to trail lightly over her pale, soft skin. Instead he turned his back to Danny and Adalynn and leaned down to light the fire. “How should I know?”

Once the fire was burning, Merrick stood up, bracing himself with a hand on the mantle as a rush of lightheadedness threatened to topple him. Using his magic had never affected him like this before, and it shouldn’t have now regardless of the amount of energy he’d expended—he was still far from his limit. What was this? What had he done?

He looked back over his shoulder. Danny was crouched near his sister’s feet, digging through one of their bags. The couch was cast in the soft orange firelight, which was reflected in the beads of perspiration on her skin and sparked coppery highlights in her brown hair.

Who was she?

Merrick drew in a deep breath and pushed away from the fireplace, allowing himself not even a moment’s hesitation before stepping to the couch, reaching forward, and plucking a hair from Adalynn’s head. Electric jolts coursed up his fingers and along his arm when his fingertips briefly brushed her skin, but she made no reaction.

Was the sensation the result of his magic, or something more? Perhaps Adalynn wasn’t as human as she seemed at a glance.

Danny rose with a thin, worn blanket in his hands, meeting Merrick’s gaze. The boy’s earlier bravado had vanished, leaving only concern and a lingering hint of fear.

I’m not going to sympathize with a boy who broke into my home to steal from me, who threatened me, regardless of their circumstances.

It doesn’t matter that they aren’t a real threat…

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