Page 36 of A Touch of Flame
When she was navigating the stairs without incident, Braden called out, “I can’t believe you can do that? I would have hit the wall, lost my flight completely then tumbled to the bottom.”
She rushed over to Braden and grabbed him up in a big hug. She even used levitation to hold herself in place.
He returned the favor and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re doing great.”
Sheba meowed her approval.
“Thank you for this.” She couldn’t seem to let go. If nothing else, he’d brought her this gift. She’d have more options now, if things went south whether during her rescues in the desert or at Veyda’s prison. She’d be able to shoot straight up into the night sky and make her escape.
She realized how much she’d lived in fear of getting caught again, by Veyda or anyone else. Rightfully so, given all that had happened to her within two weeks of her arrival in Five Bridges.
When she drew back, she dropped slowly to the stone floor and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. She lifted the pouch of mint to her nose.
She repeated the earlier process of smelling the herb and letting it work its magic through her system. This time, she focused on her left hand. Her recent recollection of her rage-filled attack on all the witches, made it clear she’d used her left hand to release the destructive energy, her witch’s killing power.
She lifted her hand again and held it out.
Sheba meowed once more.
When Maeve turned around to look at her, Sheba stared at her for a moment, leaped from the table then disappeared up the stairwell.
She glanced at Braden. “Maybe you should stand away from me for whatever is about to happen. Although, I might need you to anchor me for this.”
Braden moved to position himself just behind her left shoulder, then settled his hand on her waist. Stupid tears sprang to her eyes. She’d been alone for a long time. It was strange and wonderful to have the kind of support he was providing.
Frank had been that way.
She strove to remind herself that Braden was a wolf hunting down the witches who had killed his wife. She knew him by now, the level of his stubbornness. The man had nothing to offer anyone. He’d even left his pack to pursue justice. He wouldn’t rest until he settled the score once and for all.
But for half a second, she wished it was otherwise.
