Page 44 of Fae Devoted
Chapter 13
“Witchfire?” Johnnie toedat the soot-covered dirt where a massive bur oak stood across from a children’s swing set, the trunk charred on one side yet left whole otherwise. “Are you sure?”
“No, but I’ve dealt with witchfire in the past.” Jacob motioned to the trees on either side of the central oak. They were blackened in a continuous, horizontal line. “The damage here is slight in comparison, but I don’t know what else would leave this type and pattern of burns behind.”
“A weaker, uncontrolled casting would make sense since Charlotte is only a child.” Like most people, Touched or Untouched, Johnnie had never seen the magical blue fire or witnessed its aftermath. But if the stories were true, it must be far and away more destructive than a row of scorched trees and a trail of singed grass on the edge of the local park’s playground.
“None of this makes sense.” He broke a strip of charred bark from the tall bur. The large oak appeared to be the target of a small flamethrower held about four feet off the ground. He crumbled the burned wood until it turned to black dust between his fingers. “Normal witchfire wielded by a trained warrior would have incinerated this single tree to ash, leaving the rest of the area pristine. And a conventional fire spell reacts like a manmade one. It would travel where the fuel is and the wind blows.”
“That’s why the Fae wants her,” she said, fingertips pressed to her lips. “Charlotte didn’t conjure ordinary fire, she somehow createdwitchfirewithout the correlating tattoo.”
“Or the classified incantation to cast it.”
“She couldn’t control the flame without them.”
“That’s my best guess.”
“You don’t think Lord Daimhín is forcing your brother to find Charlotte, do you?” she asked at an almost sub-vocal level, hyperaware of the trio of Anwyll Guard members patrolling the park’s perimeter. Mater Russo of the local DuPont House had assigned the witches to keep the curious public—and nose-sensitive Ferwyns—from getting too close while they investigated the strange fire; Jacob adamantly refused to be drenched in the vanilla-scented perfume again.
During the two-hundred-and-fifty-mile drive from Detroit, Jacob contacted Patriarch DuPont and filled him in on the rogues’ attack. And then he confessed that he was still worried the Sídhe’s magic was warping Jeremiah’s actions.
Johnnie knew it would crush her male if his twin intended to harm a child.
Her male.Although the situation with Jeremiah and Charlotte was anything but joyous, Johnnie couldn’t curb the optimism suffusing her entire being. The niggling doubt she couldn’t shake remained, but the start of the Dance and the overwhelming rightness his bite elicited screamed her heart hadn’t lied this time. Jacob was her future truemate. He had to be.
Raising her face to the afternoon sun, Johnnie slid her fingers beneath the open collar of her blouse, resting them on the newly made Mark. She closed her eyes and searched for the fragile but wondrous connection to Jacob, homing in on the triad of sensations: the pleasant warmth prickling her lower spine, the soft hum at the base of her skull, and the gloriousawarenessin her heart. A smile formed, and despite the circumstances, Johnnie didn’t fight it. Jacob had finally Marked her.
“You two finished?” the witch assigned to drive them to the park shouted from the car on the street. The stunning female rocking a pink ponytail and a bona fide catsuit was impatient to leave.
The interruption broke Johnnie’s concentration, and her tenuous grasp on the bond. “Anything else you need to see before our meeting with Mater Russo, Jacob?”
“No,” he replied, bending at the waist to scoop a palmful of scorched earth from near the roots of the torched oak, the effort placing his spectacular butt on display. He straightened and brought the dirt to his nose. The deep inhale that followed inflated his chest, straining the fabric of his t-shirt across chiseled pecs, and caused Johnnie’s breath to quicken. He allowed the tainted debris to slide through his long fingers, then wiped them absently on a muscular jean-clad thigh. Scrubbing his clean hand over his buzzed head drew her attention to his high, sculpted cheekbones standing out in stark relief against the dark scruff on his square jawline.
Lust and longing compounded with feminine pride and a craving so powerful it sucked the oxygen from her lungs. The flurry of emotions bombarded her senses and brought moisture to her eyes.
Jacob turned, picking up on her internal upheaval, the connection broadcasting both ways. His dark gaze met hers, and she sniffed to keep the tears from falling, even managing a shaky smile. His eyes softened, and a sweet ripple of affection coursed through the fragile bond.
It seemed like she’d loved Jacob madly for ages and had wanted him fiercely for even longer. And now he was hers—well, not quite yet, but soon. Her unreliable instincts wouldn’t be dispelled until after the second Mark obliterated Johnnie’s fears. She refused to accept the Dance might fail once it began. Fate wasn’t that cruel.
A positive second bite almost always resulted in the third and final one.Thenit would be a done deal.
“Guys,” Amanda yelled again, “are you coming or not?”
Johnnie nodded, her throat clogged and nose stuffy. Crossing her arms, she walked toward the idling Mercedes on the far side of the playground.
“You good?” Jacob asked, catching her elbow to guide her around the swings and through the picnic tables to their bored driver.
“Fine, I’m just anxious to hear if Mater Russo has any new information on Charlotte.” DuPont’s Traverse City representative was asleep when they arrived that morning at the local Dádhe House, and the evening appointment her secretary scheduled for them was hours away.
“Hungry?” he asked, ushering Johnnie inside the luxury sedan.
“Seriously?” It’d been less than an hour since lunch. Even her Ferwyn metabolism wasn’t that fast. Jacob flashed her one of his panty-melting grins and pulled a granola bar from his shirt pocket, passing it to her. Peanut butter and chocolate chip—her favorite. “Um…thank you.”
“Welcome.” Jacob closed the door with a flick of his wrist, and she settled into the plush leather seating. Amanda tracked the gorgeous male with avid interest as he jogged around the front of the car.
Johnnie cleared her throat. Loudly.
The witch shrugged. “Just looking.”
