The black electricity hit the ground with an earthquake of impact and immediately picked a thousand sheeting paths over the ice-covered soil, the water conducting the deadly energy flawlessly in an enormous circle. The corrupted power blasted up over the Blessing Tree, into her every last branch and root through the easy circuit of the water and ice. To the great tree it was no different from being struck by lightning, a violence she had survived many times in her centuries-long existence. This too passed over her, not through her, and only minimal power was required to protect herself.
Her children, the two witches of her coven who were spilled awkwardly into the air, had been broken away from the ground, the tree, and all the sheets of icy puddles they’d been standing in. Braen’s plan to electrocute them with his shocking poison, an attack that would have slipped easily beneath and around Hunter’s fallible shield, was foiled by this detachment from all conductors.
All Tatyana could do, however, was watch as the black energy skipped and glided toward her, flying faster than she could draw breath. When it struck her, she was completely unprepared for the pain of impact and possession. It rippled up from her feet, gripping her every muscle from heels to scalp and forcing them to contort and flex with all their natural strength and beyond. Her teeth slammed shut, her jaw clenched so tight that tendons popped in protest. Her arms and head were flung back, her chest thrusting up into the wet darkness as the vital organs within were assaulted, delicate electrical balances among nerves thrown severely out of syncopation, and synapses frying with excruciating finality. She had never known such agony could exist. It went on forever, like a cresting labor pain that contracted and contracted and refused to give birth.
And then merciful darkness claimed her at last.
As soon as Tatyana lost consciousness, her spell dissolved into nothingness. But by then Hunter was prepared and aware, and he cast a quick levitation spell to keep himself and Annali from touching the ground. They were both righted and facing their enemy. Anna drew up the skirt of her dress, revealing a flat canvas holder about six inches long against her thigh, fastened by Velcro, and holding just about a dozen of the smallest of her potion bottles, each bottle held securely by an individual pouch of elastic. Only she knew what was in each bottle. The witch switched potions with a flick of her wrist and flung the new bottle at the High Cleric. It broke against the side of his face, making him cry out with an enraged shout. His electrical attack broke off with his shattered concentration as his emotion got the best of him. By then, Annali’s potion was exploding its spell all over her enemy.
Ivy, fresh and green and growing thicker by the second, burst from the ground around Braen’s feet. The potion splattered over Braen’s face and head was what Annali liked to call ‘ivy aphrodisiac.’ The vines, a magical enhancement that came with the potion, would want to do everything in their power to cling to the liquid, wrapping around and around it and covering every inch of it like a lover’s embrace. Of course if you happened to be in the center of all this affection, you found yourself tied fast with the breath being viciously squeezed out of you. It gave the term ‘plant lover’ a whole new meaning. To Annali, it was the ultimate justice to use nature against the evil of Braen.
Braen snapped free of the first vines easily, laughing derisively at Anna.
“I remember this piddling spell, sweetheart. I’m insulted you would even use it on me—”
Braen was distracted from his insult when new and far larger vines surged up to whip around him. Before he could tear free of even one, he was nearly covered with a dozen others twice as strong.
Annali’s smile was bitter and triumphant. “I guess my piddling spell has merit after all, sweetheart,” she scoffed at him in disgust. Then Annali, whose nature was so genteel and sweet, spit in Braen’s face with all the enthusiasm she could muster.
Hunter had already begun to fortify her attack with others of his own. The ground beneath Braen turned to quicksand and the vines growing out of it began to draw him inexorably down into another suffocating fate. Insects appeared en masse, driving themselves between the small spaces of the ivy tethers to sting repetitively.
It was enough. More than enough. Hunter turned away from his besieged enemy, leaving him to Annali’s dubious mercy. He flew over the frozen ground to Tatyana, scooping her limp body up into his arms, bearing her frightening deadweight with ease. He cradled her head gently on his shoulder, tucking her forehead beneath his chin as he searched for a pulse in her slender throat. The telltale throb of life was completely absent, driven from her body along with every other natural electrical impulse.
Hunter’s heart began to pound in double time, as if it wanted to take on the functions of Tatyana’s for her. He didn’t have the skill to heal her and bring her back to life. Their Healer was Kaia. But since that remarkable witch wasn’t here, he would turn to the next best medic among them.
“Annali, help me! We have no time!” he shouted in warning. He heard the panic in his voice; felt the sympathetic ache of pain racing up his arm and bleeding into his body along the path her blood had taken as it had invaded him.
Hunter knew Annali would follow him with all speed. She’d heard the rare emotion of fear in his voice and knew Tatyana’s situation was critical. They left Braen behind without a second thought. The only way he could possibly escape the spells would be to teleport away from the location powering them. He would have no choice but to leave in order to preserve himself, and the tree would remain safe as always. Braen would also have to wash off that potion of Annali’s, too, if he ever planned to be ivy-free. So long as it covered his skin, the ivy would thrive and follow, bursting anew from any viable ground. It was more than enough to chase the warlock off and keep him well away for the time being.
Chapter Eight
The Willow Coven converged on Willow House as a unit. They all strode into the conservatory and out of the storm of sleet, hurrying in order to preserve the life of their guest. Nox closed the exterior doors as Annali waved Hunter forward to a reasonably bare tabletop. He gently laid his burden along the length of it; his hands were tender and grateful as they lowered her head, his fingers brushing back her wet hair. Then he took up a position above her head and planted his feet, clearly there for the duration to watch over her.
Ryce, on the other hand, was pacing with obvious fury.
“I’m going to check on Gracelynne and repair that glass,” Ryce bit out. “When I come back and when you are through here, Annali, you are going to tell me that you had no idea this girl was a dormant witch or so help me ...” He drew in a hard, infuriated breath, turned on his heel, and left in a storm of anger.
Annali cleared her throat and focused on the task at hand. “Nox, I need blankets and clothes for her. Go to my room. My size will be far closer than Gracelynne or Kaia’s. Get something soft and comfortable. Warm, too.”
Nox nodded, the tension in the coven affecting even his casual ways. He left to do as she asked.
“Anna, she isn’t breathing,” Hunter pressed urgently.
“I’m aware of that, Hunter,” she retorted. She bent intently over her collection of potions on the far table, contemplating carefully before choosing one of her powder sachets at last. “Step away, Hunter.”
Hunter took a single step back from Tatyana’s inert form. He felt the constriction in his chest and the protest running rampant in his mind even as he did so. He took a breath, trying to remind himself that this was only a temporary condition, this sensation of neediness and desperate desire for connection. Oh, he was irrevocably linked with the beautiful redhead for the rest of their lives, the sharing of blood having assured that, but he didn’t think it would be practical to be so weighed down by it like this. He’d heard that eventually it would ease.
Annali stepped back, too, and then threw the powder at Tatyana. It landed against her body with a puff of dust. The innocuous little cloud of residue spread over Tatyana so gently that Hunter wasn’t expecting the whiplash of electri
city that burst out of the cloud and caused their patient’s body to seize in a tight, arcing fit. The shock dissipated and Tatyana slammed back down onto the table.
She gasped for breath.
Hunter was over her in a flash. He forced her to look into his eyes, his hands encompassing her head and his thumbs against both her cheeks acting as a firm frame until she latched on to the blue of his gaze.
“Easy,” he soothed, his voice deep and steady, its cadence purposely helping her find the natural rhythm of life. “Just breathe, angel. In and out,” he encouraged. He didn’t glance away once, not even when he heard Annali busying herself with the creation of her next helpful concoction. He was interested in nothing but saving the life of this woman who had saved his and Annali’s. If they’d been struck as Tatyana had, they would have either died or fallen helpless and incapacitated, left to Braen’s lack of mercy and diabolical intent.
This woman, Hunter knew, was an unexpected fortune. He’d known it the moment he’d first touched her. Even though the attraction had been physical at first, it hadn’t taken long for him to see the treasure of her personality and intellect. The discovery that there was power and potential within her, too, was more than he could ever have expected. He was so stunned by her he had no idea what to feel. She was a stranger, both to them and to magic, who had risked everything to protect him, he who was Sentinel and protector of this mighty coven. Protecting his life, even at the potential cost of hers.
Now he returned the favor, guided her into regulating each breath she took, guarding carefully the spark of her life while Annali worked. Tatyana followed his calming instructions automatically, instinctively trusting him, although he could tell she was unaware of everything else. She couldn’t speak or even form complex thoughts. She couldn’t comprehend but the simplest of instructions.
To breathe.
“Be calm,” he urged when her eyes grew wide, the new power she’d used highlighting them with jade fire. She was afraid to be so helpless, and he could feel her fear like a dagger stabbing into his soul. Hunter forced himself to control the emotion. “You’re safe now, Tatyana,” he soothed her firmly. “Annali is here to make you well. I’m here to protect you. I won’t let anything harm you.”
She was shaking. So hard he thought she might vibrate off the table. He cursed Nox for taking so long with clean, dry clothes for her. This time Hunter had the option of openly using magic to help her. He fitted his hands even more snugly to the contours of her face and spoke a Ukrainian spell. Instantly, a wave of warmth radiated out of his hands and entered her deeply chilled body. Now, so long as he touched her skin, he could regulate her core temperature.
Her shivers and chattering teeth eased considerably, although not all of her tremors were from the cold. Her respirations calmed and steadied. Hunter began to feel that he, too, could breathe easier. It took power to maintain the temp regulation, but he didn’t waver even as it drained him little by little.
In a few moments, Annali rounded the other side of the table and Hunter helped Tatyana sit up in the circle of his arms so Anna could press one of her rejuvenating teas to her patient’s lips. Hunter stroked his fingers down the graceful length of her throat, coaxing her to swallow when she couldn’t seem to coordinate the reflex for herself. Soon the entire brew was in her belly, working its particular brand of magic. Hunter laid her back down just as Nox returned with a heavy robe, blanket, and flannel shirt.
“Those aren’t mine,” Annali observed with an arched brow of inquisition.
“Right, they’re Dimitre’s,” he explained. “I guess I thought it would make her feel better to wear her brother’s things. On a subconscious level at the very least. They are warm and dry and I figure that’s all that matters.”
“It’s an excellent idea,” Hunter agreed.
“Anyway, I’m going to check the property.”
Lennox left quickly and Annali went about preparing another cup of tea for her patient, carefully measuring out specific tea leaves and other herbal ingredients in a cup, her complete attention absorbed in the task. Hunter, meanwhile, set the dry clothing down on Annali’s stool.
Trying to maintain the connecting touch that he was using to warm her, he began to remove Tatyana’s wet clothing. He started with her soaked sneakers, easily slipping them off until they both thumped wetly to the floor. Her muddied and torn hose were next. He slid his hand up her thigh and over her hip until his fingers touched the elastic band at their top. Realizing how awkward it was to remove the wet, clingy fabric with one hand, Hunter cursed the fact that he didn’t have a spell for shedding clothes. It made him smile briefly as he wondered to himself why the usefulness of such a spell had never occurred to him before. Now that it had, he’d have to rectify the omission.
Hunter brought his other hand beneath her skirt to join in the effort of stripping off the stubborn nylon. As his palms slid over her backside he became suddenly aware of the incredible intimacy of the act he was performing. Unable to help himself, he looked into her shimmering green eyes as he slipped hands and sheer fabric slowly down her flawlessly smooth skin, the dampness of her legs warmed quite thoroughly by his spell. Hunter gave his head a single hard shake, trying to shed the inappropriate sensations writhing within his body as her skin glided along his palms. He discarded the destroyed nylons on top of her sneakers.
Before continuing on, Hunter turned his head to inhale a steady, purposeful breath through his nose and out of his mouth. He couldn’t understand this. Sexual deprivation and predilection for redheads aside, he did not spark this easily and quickly off of women. Especially not helpless ones doing nothing to merit it. Hunter was disgusted with himself, but the assertion of his rational mind had no influence over his corporeal cravings. The well-meaning self-lecture was completely ineffective.
The right thing to do would be to leave and let Annali finish this task.
The minute he thought of that option, his mind protested with a flood of excuses as to why he couldn’t leave. His spell to warm her, for starters. Then there was Tatyana’s connection with him, which made her feel safe and calm. And again, Annali needed her hands free to work her healing potions.
All very sound reasons to remain and do what he must to help Tatyana.
In the end, he had to acknowledge that it was none of those reasons that actually motivated him as he reached for the hem of her short silk dress. If he was going to be a lecher, he might as well be an honest one, he thought grimly. What does it matter anyway? he mused. She was already as good as naked with the wet silk clinging to her skin. And he was certainly adult enough to control himself no matter what he was feeling. Nothing could ever provoke him to take advantage of an innocent person.
With that logic to gird him, he peeled off the silk that clung to her every possible curve. The devilish red material stripped away to reveal an equally brilliant red lace and silk chemise, beneath which was still more suggestive underwear in a shimmering satin ruby. Against the paleness of her natural coloring, it was a wickedly sinful color, and unbelievably stimulating to the male eye. Actually, she was stimulating to the male eye. Tall, fit, and damned curvaceous, she was killing him.
His honor finally got the better of him. He quickly removed the chemise, but left her other lingerie firmly where it was before he lost all respect for himself. Clearing his throat of the tightness within, he reached for the towel Nox had included in his gifts of clothing. With an efficiency and forced detachment, he buffed her skin dry until she gleamed rosy and healthy. She was shivering again, his toweling hands having broken the warmth spell he’d been using. He sat her up and swung the flannel shirt around her quickly. Tatyana wound her arms around his neck once they were through the sleeves, clinging to his body instinctively. He tried to hold himself away from her because he was still wet ... and still far too easily stirred by her nearness. She pressed a cheek to his, warm now while he was chilled through, nuzzling into him for solace. He paused in buttoning up the oversized shirt, drawin
g in a deep, thoughtful breath as the scent of rainwater, earth, and warming female rose from her skin. The combination was unimaginably appealing and Hunter found himself squelching a groan in the bottom of his throat.
Damn, but she was far too tempting. Even when she clearly had no intention of being so. She was barely cognizant of her surroundings. And as for himself, this was not who he was. The more he told himself that, the more Hunter hoped it would somehow regulate his behavior. Even as he robed her and wrapped her in a blanket, she persisted in her clinging grasp, silently seeking the contact of his vitality and security. Finally, with a sigh, Hunter took a lesson from the most basic instruction in the magic of the earth.
It’s harder to work against the movement of nature than it is to travel with it.
In a nutshell, it was always easier, and sometimes wiser, to go with the flow.
Hunter stripped off his sodden shirt so he wouldn’t get his clingy patient wet once more. After a brief drying under the same towel he’d used for her, he tossed both on the heap of her clothing and then turned fully toward her. She instantly slipped her arms around his neck again and snuggled against his chest. Hunter’s eyes slid closed as he allowed himself to feel the rush of pleasure her contact and need triggered in him. It was nice to be needed again, a feeling he’d been relearning and indulging in a great deal since he’d first entered the conservatory tonight.
He tamped all of his inappropriate reactions down and focused instead on task management. He slid his hands into her bound hair and began to sort out clips and pins from the sodden twists of what had once been an elegant style. The dark mass of her hair was marred with mud and debris, but here he could help her with a few spoken words of magic. By the time it was freed from its tight bindings, it was falling in clean, wet waves down her back. Hunter exhaled a silent sigh of pleasure as the rich thick strands bled through his fingers like a waterfall of dampened claret silk. It dropped well below her shoulders, longer than he’d suspected, though it was cut shorter as it came forward until the front strands just barely touched her collarbone.