Page 19 of The Aether

“Josephine.”

Correction, the evil that had found her.

Pasting on a welcoming smile and trying to mask the sick dread consuming her, Josie turned toward the approaching warlock.

Morgan Black.

The name he preferred over the Welsh one he’d been born with, Morcant Thywyll. There was meaning in a name, and she intended to find out why he shunned his. It could be he was simply trying to stay off everyone’s radar. But perhaps if she discovered his deepest secret, it would lead her to his weakness and she’d find a way out of her predicament.

The evil fucker had been around almost as long as Damian. At least a hundred and seventy years, if he was a day, Morgan had grown in magical strength, and Josie wasn’t sure how he’d achieved it. After a particularly tedious night between the sheets, he’d boasted about avoiding detection by the Witches’ Council by faking his death a time or ten. But he’d never told her exactly how.

Because he monitored her actions, he felt free to confess to a few heinous crimes in his past that would require him to stay hidden. Perhaps it was to instill fear in her, which he had, or perhaps he thought she was as lacking in morals as he was, which she wasn’t, but nevertheless, he loved to brag.

Thank the Goddess she’d been able to save Taryn from his clutches. Had he succeeded in turning her sister toward the darkness, Josie would never have been able to forgive herself.

Sidling up to him, she planted a boner-raising kiss on him. His thin, cruel mouth opened under hers, and she tried to hold back a gag as the rising smell of decay filled her nostrils.

Goddess! She needed a shower after every touch from his corpse-like hand. How he’d managed to glamour long enough to fool Taryn, or any other unsuspecting witch, Josie would never know.

She’d seen through him from day one, and all her attempts to alter Taryn’s opinion of him had fallen on deaf ears. It was as if her sister had been spellbound. Soleil, too, for that matter. Both of them had thought the sun rose and set with the man. They’d raved about his handsome face, his bodybuilder physique, and his charming manners. None of which Josie saw. The one time she’d tried to talk to Vivian, she failed. Viv had been just as enchanted with Damian, and it hadn’t sat well with Josie.

“Morgan, darling. I’ve missed you,” she purred, waiting for the lightning bolt to strike her lying ass dead.

If her ancestors in the Otherworld could see her now, they’d be weeping copious amounts of tears for the sinner in their descendants’ midst. The Stephens were pillars of the witch community and held to a higher standard. Or so her parents had loved to drill into her head whenever she didn’t walk the straight and narrow.

“Did you, pet? I wonder.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins, but she never lost her seductive mask.

Please, Goddess, tell me he didn’t acquire the ability to read minds!

“Of course I did, darling.” She cast him a coquettish smile, batting her lashes and praying it wasn’t over the top.

“Where is the child?” he asked, his tone silky and menacing. “You were meant to bring her to the festival.”

Josie inhaled sharply and almost choked on her own spit.

“The Aether came for her, Morgan.” Internally cringing at the hint of fear in her voice, she stepped away from him with a careless shrug. “We’ll have to find another way.”

She hadn’t anticipated his instantaneous rage or the whiplash she received when he gripped her hair and flung her to the floor.

“You had one job, Josephine.One.” Each step he took toward her echoed through the chamber with sinister intent. “To bring the girl to me.”

He held out a hand as if he intended to help Josie up, and though she knew it was a mistake not to teleport away immediately, she needed to find out his plans for Sabrina before she could. No way was this asswipe going to hurt her niece.

Placing her hand in his, she smiled up at him. “I still intend to, darling.”

For a man with bony limbs, he packed a punch, and the one he delivered to her left eye had her seeing stars as it broke the orbital bone.

“Not good enough, you bitch!”

He followed the punch with a kick to her ribs, and Josie curled into a ball to protect herself as best she could. Envisioning the coast of France, her cells warmed. The first opportunity she got, she’d warn Damian, but in the meantime, she needed to teleport to safety.

She hadn’t expected to land in deeper shit.

* * *

Damian stared down at Josie, his arms crossed and brows raised. When her swelling eye and the gingerly way she held her ribs became apparent, it registered she needed his help. It required all his willpower, but he managed to refrain from rushing to assist her. First, she needed to confess to whatever games she was playing, then he’d let his protective nature take over.

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