9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (18 page)

This
was the life he wanted, and he wanted it with her, except for the children. Not
a true bonding, but a relationship where they were totally involved with each
other, yet maintained their freedom. He had to remain free if he wanted
children someday. Diluting his bloodline by having wee ones with Saylym was not
even a consideration.

If
he didn’t bond with Saylym, then he’d be free to breed another witch someday.
The thought of kissing another witch, let alone bedding one and giving her his
child, sickened him right now, but he had to leave the option open, for the
crown's sake.

If he bonded with Saylym, she’d one day expect to bear his
child. If he bonded with her, he could take control of her powers and manage
them himself, but he still couldn’t breed her. If he refused to bond, then
there were no other options left him. She’d lose the essence of her spirit.
Damn his soul to Hades and back again for what they wanted him to do to this
witch.

He
wasn’t worthy of her.

Talon
drove a nail in place with one smooth stroke of the hammer.

How
could he be worthy of her if he spied on her? Betrayed her?

He drove a second nail with a furious slam of the hammer.

Simple.
He couldn’t.

A
third nail riveted in place.

There
was no relationship to be had. He had to steal her soul. Put an end to all
doubts.

A
fourth and fifth nail slammed in place.

The
sixth nail split the board.

Talon
jerked back, swearing beneath his breath as he ripped the board off with his
bare hands and flung it across the yard.

“You
have to make a decision, Prince,” Vox said in a grim voice. “I know you still
have a few days, but it’s too perilous to continue waiting. The witch is a
terrible hazard, to herself and to others. We’ve both witnessed her dreadful
magic. The fact I can find no history of her in any of the archives is cause
for grave concern.”

His
chest heaving with ragged breaths, Talon glared at the owl. “I know, damn it!”

“She’s an unknown entity, Prince. You must put aside the
temptation to bond with this
Impure
of unknown origin. If by chance she
got with child, your offspring could have serious afflictions. You cannot place
the crown at that kind of risk.”

“I
know,
” Talon snapped. “Don’t you think I’ve said
this to myself over and over again?” He flung the hammer across the littered
yard, then dropped to his knees. His shoulders slumped. “Damn it, Vox, I feel
low as a
sheeahta
beetle. I have no
honor left inside me. I know I’m rough around the edges. I’m not noble.” He
bowed his head, his thick hair falling around his face in wind-blown tangles.
“I can never match Stry with his royal dignity and courtly manners. I’ve never
even tried. I might have objected, but I’ve always done as the ancients
instructed.”

His tortured gaze settled on the owl. “But I’m not a
cold-blooded murderer, Vox. All I think about is her. She invades my sleep and
my dreams. She’s with me every waking moment. I kissed her. She makes me crazy,
and still I find I want to kiss her again. I want to drive my body into hers
until we’re both sated. I don’t know what to do.”

“You must do the right thing. You can’t put your needs
above the needs of the people, above the safety of the crown, or even what the guild
demands of you. It is your conscience you must answer to.” The owl cleared his
throat. “But you’re lucky, Prince. You’ve been given a choice. Only you can
choose what is right.”

“I know. She’s a threat to our world. I’ll take care of
it.”

“When?”

“Now.
Today. When I return to the shop.”

“I’m
sorry, Prince.”

Talon
nodded, turning away from the
Futhar
and rose to
his feet.

“Prince?”

“Yes?” Talon stiffened.

“You’re
wrong, Prince. You have honor. You’re noble. Perhaps the noblest man I know.”

Talon gave a curt nod, his heart aching. For a long
moment, he couldn’t speak, then voicing a soft chant, he cleansed his body and
changed into clean clothes, refreshed in the
waken
fashion.

Drawing a deep breath, he took the winding path through
the woods to Sanctuary. He rehashed all the times he’d seen Saylym’s magic fail
and cringed. There was no recourse but to steal her spirit.

And damn his soul to the Underworld because of it.

*
* * *

Saylym
glared at the crystal ball in her hands but she saw nothing inside the cloudy
orb. Humph, so much for seeing her future! There was probably no Prince
Charming on the horizon anyway. Certainly, no Prince Talon, the big lug. He’d
made an obvious point of avoiding her.

What
had she done to make him go out of his way not to see her?

The bell chimed over the door, and she glanced up.
Well,
well
.
The prince returns.

She bit her tongue to keep from saying the waspish words,
but she couldn’t prevent herself from casting a sullen glance in his direction.
The effort was wasted. He wasn’t even looking at her.

Instead, he was leaning back against the door, eyes shut,
panting. His chest rose and fell with each hard breath. Saylym frowned. What
was wrong with him? He looked like a man who’d been chased by a ghost.

His lips curved with displeasure and dark shadows lurked
beneath his eyes.

He
looked tired.

He
looked in desperate need of cuddling.

She’d missed him, she realized, missed his teasing, missed
hearing his thick accent, and seeing that devil-may-care smile. She’d barely
glimpsed his face these past few days. He’d acted strangely ever since he
returned from his sudden trip to visit his parents. He had no reason to steer
clear of her, but he’d done exactly that. He was rigidly polite and always in a
hurry.

His
coolness had left her with a hollow ache that wouldn’t go away. They’d shared an
evening together, a kiss, shared laughter. Granted, it wasn’t that much, but
she’d thought it was the beginning of something wonderful.

Obviously,
she’d thought wrong. A stab of disappointment spread through her. Seeing him
leaning against the door, she couldn’t help wondering what had happened to the
man who flashed his dimples at her and flirted with such ease.

Why was it every time he entered the shop, everything
inside her and the store quivered with fear and the hiss of a whispered,
“Waaa-ken,”
that echoed around the room? Once that word was spoken, everything grew quiet
and still. Cautious. Sensing danger.

She wanted to know what was going on, and Talon, just like
everything and everyone else, wasn’t going to tell her a darn thing. Sighing,
she set the crystal ball carefully on the counter and straightened her
shoulders. Forcing a smile, she wondered if he’d open his eyes if she spoke to
him. It was worth a try.

“So, Mr.
Waken,
you’re early today. How nice of you
to fly in. You look like crap. Is everything all right?”

*
* * *

Talon slowly opened his eyes and glanced toward Saylym.
Her artificial smile and falsely cheerful voice told him he wasn’t high on her
list of favorite people.

Maybe that’d make things easier.

“I was beginning to believe you were avoiding me,” she snapped,
her lips tight with disapproval.

Right. There was no mistaking the bristle in her tone. She
was as full of quills as a pissed-off porcupine. He wasn’t exactly in the best
of moods himself. He sure wasn’t up to soothing a witch who brimmed with
prickly spines and was dying to jab them in his ass.

“Cut the bullshit, Saylym. You’re my landlord, nothing
more. I’m not your friend, boyfriend, or your lover. I don’t owe you any
explanations as to where or how I spend my time. I’m not required to report to
you.”

He heard her sharp breath and knew he’d wounded her. Well,
wasn’t that his intent? Talon rubbed a hand down his face so he wouldn’t have
to see her eyes. He was doing the right thing, but it felt like he was squashing
a helpless butterfly.

More daring than he felt, he risked a quick glance at her.
The serene, blank look, the one he’d dubbed ‘the humming face’ settled on her
countenance.
Sheeahta!
She was
blanking him out. She was excellent at not facing things or dealing with the
truth in front of her.

“If that’s the way you want it, you can use the back
entrance to get to your room from now on,” she said, stepping around the
counter. She busied herself with something at the cash register.

“There isn’t a back entrance.”

“Well, make one,” she said in a wobbly voice. “You’re the
great
waken
here!”

“Yes, I am.” He clenched his fists and walked toward her.
There was no way in hell this was going to be easy. Saylym reached for the
crystal ball and gripped it. She moved from around the counter, closer to him.
He wondered if she intended to bash him over the head with it.

“I
do believe it’s time for me to lock up and leave,” she said. She started past
him.

He stayed where he was, refusing to give way. Slowly, he
removed the crystal ball from her hands and set it back on the counter. Locking
his fingers on her shoulders, he drew her closer. “Look, I—”

She peeped at him through a veil of tears. “You made your
point, Prince. You don’t want anything to do with me. Fine! Now let me by.”

“Don’t cry,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “You can’t
cry. Witches don’t shed tears. I’m sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s
me.”

Her
lips trembled. “No, I’m sorry.” She lowered her gaze. “It’s none of my business
what you do. I shouldn’t have taken things so seriously. You kissed me, but it
was just a kiss, a brush of the lips, nothing more.”

He
muttered, swearing quietly. “But it was more,” he insisted, refusing to let her
go even though she struggled to pull out of his hold. “I’m sorry for the things
I said to you. I didn’t mean them.”

“You don’t owe me an apology. Like I said, what you do is
your business, and the kiss…it was nothing. No harm done. No lasting
impression.”

“Then let me try again.” Torn, Talon wondered what he was
doing. Did he want to kiss her to make up for the first one, or to begin the
spell? Uttering a curse, he closed his heart against the truth, accepting what
he knew he had to do.

He cupped her face, tilted it up to meet his lips. Pausing,
he searched her face. She was clumsy with magic, a danger to everyone around
her. His chest ached with the thought of never seeing her again, never hearing
her laugh. There’d be no recovering from this. His heart would bleed for
eternity. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

Then
he lowered his head and spoke softly, an ancient chant from the beginning of
time.

“Silver
eyes and ruby lips,

From
the witch’s mouth, a waken sips.

Stealing
a kiss, the waken’s bold

And
he smiles when he steals the witch’s soul.”

Chapter Ten

Sarah Cloyce,
Rebecca Nurse’s sister, was the next woman accused of witchcraft.

~Salem Witch Trials

April 3, 1692

Page
Entry…

For the next hundred years,
Queen Shy-Ryn ruled over the witches and Sanctuary. Once again, times were
peaceful and happy. But time passed on, as time does. And hatreds grew in
strength.

Having seen what her father
did to Leyla, Shy-Ryn refused to search for a mate or to even consent to a
mating session at Beltane to beget an heir. She would not put the throne at
peril by risking her soul.

Though the half-brothers did
not share their plans with each other, nor even see each other, the first
rumblings of unease began to spread through Sanctuary, fanned by the flames of
jealousy from Kran.

Black Drayke dwelled in the
woods outside the boundaries of Sanctuary and waited for the day he could take
his revenge.

Unbeknownst to one another, the
half-brothers had a common goal–Bring down the House of Winslow at any cost.

~Pages of history from the
Winslow witches.

In the Year of Samhain, 1350

 
Ru-Noc

Droth

City of the wakens

MeLora
Haven fussed with her raven curls in front of the gilded mirror Black Drayke
had given her when he was in one of his generous moods. She paused to tug at
the front of her gown until the ripe curves of her breasts were temptingly
displayed.

Black Drayke stepped up behind her, naked, and pressed a
kiss to her shoulder. “You look beautiful, as usual.” He slid his hands across
her abdomen, massaging the subtle thickening of her waist with the tips of his
thumbs. “Soon you will bring my son into our realm. The fourth child conceived
between us in how many centuries?”

She shrugged. “Who counts the passing of centuries?”

“This
babe will take his rightful place on the throne.” Black Drayke smiled, his eyes
black as pitch. “One day he will rule Ru-Noc.”

MeLora cupped his hands, threading her fingers through his
and leaned her head against his bare chest. “He’ll rule Sanctuary. That is his
rightful throne.”

Black Drayke frowned. “The coven will never stand for a
male on their throne.”

Smiling, she lifted a brow. “What coven? It hasn’t existed
in centuries. There’s no one to stand in my way. Our son will rule Sanctuary. I
swear it.”

“As long as he is king, I care not which throne he sits
upon. Perhaps he’ll rule both kingdoms?”