Page 3 of Which Witch Is Wicked?
Tierra rolled her eyes. “What happened towitches powerful enough to end the world?”
“It,” Aerin answered with a disgusted sigh as she pointed toward Tierra’s belly. “Kids ruin mojo every damn time.”
“In fact, Moira should stay here with you.” Claire glanced between the two, knowing they were both suffering from weakness at that moment which left them more vulnerable. “You can take care of each other while we get the salmon back to the Sound.”
“Great idea,” Aerin announced in a voice that said there would be no further discussion. “Let me change out of this mess, and we can go.”
“Okay.” Moira nodded in agreement as a soft rain began to fall. “I’ll keep ‘em wet until you get them all safely back home. Then we can bury the causalities.”
“Or eat them,” Tierra suggested, earning questioning looks from her sisters. “What? I’m pregnant, and I’m hungry.”
Claire didn’t bother to change. What would be the point? By the time they hauled that much fish back to the sea, she’d be a mess all over again.
So much for spending the afternoon practicing a spell. Perhaps that was the Horsemens’ intent after all. Keep them all too busy fighting to protect themselves so they wouldn’t have a chance to counter-attack. After all, Dru was a master of warfare. She’d come up against him once and won. She doubted she’d be that lucky again.
Didn’t mean she wouldn’t try though.
Yes. Come up against me again. Dru’s voice whispered from somewhere in her head, sounding more like a sexy invitation than a challenge. Claire gritted her teeth and tried to shut out the sound. Again.
She didn’t know what to make of it. Hadn’t told her sisters. But ever since he’d owned her fire and she his sword, he seemed to hear and live inside her thoughts.
Couldn’t really be so. She was certain it was her imagination. After all, a woman didn’t have sex, even imaginary sex with a man like Drustan Geddes and remain the same afterward.
The voices were her libido talking. Nothing more.
Definitely nothing she’d ever act on. The man wanted her dead. He’d made it very clear. If she had her Fire, he was bound by some insane force to kill her. They’d never be friends like he’d promised. Certainly never lovers.
She shut down the ache inside her and concentrated on helping Moira. Then she’d focus on protecting her sisters. That’s where her power lay. She’d remember and perfect that damn spell if it killed her.
2
Dru Geddes’s boots crunched the twigs and dried leaves as he traversed the misty forest surrounding the obscure cabin deep in the woods outside Port Townsend, Washington. Fog shrouded the pines, wrapping him in silence and solitude. Something he sought regularly since he and the other three Horsemen had failed their missions.
Many things weighed heavy on his mind. First and foremost, Claire de Moray. Second, the fucking prophecy which proclaimed the end of the world.
Unfortunately, the two were intertwined, and, even using his most refined warfare tactics, he couldn’t decipher a way to solve his dilemma. Kill the woman, or one of her sisters, which would be unforgivable in Claire’s eyes, and save the world. Or save Claire and end the world.
Either way, he’d be damned. He’d never hold her in his arms again. Never know what it would be like to have her scream his name in the throes of passion as he buried himself deep inside her.
His existence might be tolerable if he could get the image of her out of his mind and the taste of her off his tongue. Worse, the sound of her out of his head and the feel of her fire out of his heart. Traces of her still burned deep inside, scars left from when he’d housed her essence.
His sword was no longer of the purest steel, honed by years of bloody battles. A woman’s touch had altered the notorious blade and made it stronger.
Gods, he ached to have her do the same to him.
At times, when the world was quiet, he could hear her, experience her thoughts. Love and happiness for her newly-found sisters. Anger when she cursed him and his brothers. The soft sighs she made in her sleep he pretended he’d inspired.
Those he treasured.
When the darkness of night surrounded him, leaving him alone with his thoughts, her voice would come, and he could picture her lying next to him, fragile in sleep, stirring his desires, her fire warming his bed.
Unfortunately, when he reached out, all he found was cold sheets.
Fuck.
He sucked in a breath and increased his pace until he was full out running. His strong heart drove life-affirming blood through his body, and he filled his lungs with oxygen once again. He was alive, and so was she. Not once had he conceded a battle. Nor had he ever failed ultimately to complete a mission.
Gods be damned if he’d fail or concede this one. There had to be a way for them to be together.
