Electric Heat (7 page)

 She wasn’t willing to admit defeat. “Then why hasn’t he
attacked?”

“Females are precious, and even in his state, he recognizes it.”
Durant answered reluctantly. “Don’t do this.”

“They’ll kill him.”

He seemed resigned. “He’s dead either way.”

She couldn’t accept that. With reluctance, she tugged off
her gloves and shoved them in her back pocket, but couldn’t force herself to
move forward. The cat was in pain, she could help him, but what if her touch caused
him more misery? She swiped the back of her hand across her split lip, wincing
when it came away bloody.

She brushed her tongue across the small cut, surprised to
find it had almost sealed shut. The shifter hovered near her, she represented
safety—of sorts, anyway—but like a wild animal, he didn’t want to get too
close.

She might not be able to heal him, but she could find out
what was ailing him. She pulled on the energy around him, ignoring the faint
rumble of unease from the cat. His aura lit up, so fragile she was surprised he
was still alive. There appeared to be strings attached to his side, directly
over his injury, draining his life force away.

He’d tried to cut the connection, but it hadn’t worked. The
only thing keeping him alive was his beast. He’d have to be a powerful one,
too, in order to survive for so long. If he had been human, a drain that size would’ve
killed him instantly.

If the connection wasn’t severed immediately, he would be
dead in truth.

And there was nothing she could do. Thanks to her blasted
beast for stealing her power, she had no energy to give the shifter, and his
cat had nothing left she could manipulate. She couldn’t cut the connection
without touching it, and couldn’t risk that it would start to drain her, too. When
she was bled dry, she would end up siphoning energy from those around her to
stay alive, and kill everyone in the process.

She dropped the sight. Though there was nothing she could do
using her power, the guys kept reminding her that she was an alpha now.

Her touch alone should help ease his pain.

She held out her hand. He came to her on all fours, low to
the ground, every step hesitant. His body moved in a way no human could emulate,
as if he lacked bones. His fangs were pronounced in his human form, and looked wicked
sharp. As he sniffed the air around her hand, she resisted the urge to jerk away,
feeling kind of partial to her fingers. His tongue darted out, bathing the back
of her hand with a feather-light touch.

A sound of someone taking a claw to a piece of glass
screeched in her ears before it snapped with a loud crack.

The shifter dropped to his knees, his head hung so low it brushed
against the grass.

The few witches who’d lingered leapt back in horror. When a
light sprinkling of ash fell through the air, the women looked to each other
and began to mutter in outrage. “She severed the mark. It’s forbidden.”

“It’s impossible.”

Remembering that Durant had warned her that breaking an
active spell was dangerous, Raven crouched to focus on the cat shifter, worried
she might have damaged him even more.

Guilt dug its prickly nails into her spine, leaving behind
stinging welts. Only when she saw his chest moving, a gusty sigh escaped.

She’d been afraid she killed him.

Durant circled until he came into view. She expected him to
be watching her, examining her for injury. Instead, he surveyed the people
around them as if they were the bigger threat, those sleek muscles of his tense
and ready to strike at the least sign of danger. “What did you do?”

Raven shook her head. “Nothing intentional, I assure you. He
licked me. That’s all.”

She lifted her hand, then could have smacked herself when
she saw the smear of blood.

She touched her bruised lip, now almost completely healed,
and wanted to curse.

“My blood.” He’d tasted less than a drop, but apparently her
claim must have been stronger than the spell used to shackle a witch and
familiar together. He was now firmly bound to her pack. It wasn’t supposed to
work like that. She was supposed to receive the offering of blood and accept or
deny them as she saw fit. “How?”

“It’s an ancient ritual. By formally accepting the drop of
alpha’s blood you offered, he’s pledged himself to the pack.” Durant scowled at
the cowering shifter, his displeasure obvious. “It’s a first step to becoming
pack. He has to prove himself worthy before he’s eligible to become a full
member.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But I didn’t do
anything.”

Durant snorted. “You wanted to save him. It was enough to
initiate the bond.”

Stupid shifter secrets.

Raven expected to feel panicked, she couldn’t afford to be
responsible for even more people when she wasn’t sure she’d be around to
protect them, but as the fragile connection snapped into place, pleasure rang
through her.

Then the truth hit her…her creature had done this.

Raven hadn’t even been aware that it had awakened. Her
creature wanted to live, and it was using anything to bind Raven to this world,
even manipulating the sacred pack bonds. It knew her perhaps better than she
did herself. If enough people counted on her, she’d have no choice but stay and
protect them.

The sneaky, manipulative little bi—

Raven cut off that train of thought when needle-like claws
prickled between her shoulder blades. She flexed her shoulders to dislodge the
claws and decided to concentrate on the mission. She’d worry about herself
later.

“We need to find his witch. She’s under attack and fading
fast.”

 Chapter Six

I
t
didn’t take them long to find the witch in trouble. Heloise must have known who
it was all along and left the shifter to die while she worked to protect her
witch. As they neared the cabin, a seething mass of magic swirled around the
small structure. Raven picked up her pace, Durant and the jaguar close on her
heels.

The side window had been shattered, the glass twinkling in
the grass.

Someone had wanted out, not in.

The jaguar.

Shifters were a primitive and violent lot, with a hefty fight
or flight mechanism. Only something much bigger and badder would have caused
him to jump through glass to escape. What could scare a shifter so badly that
he’d run in terror and retreat into his animal form?

She was about to find out.

She pushed through the crowd. When she tried to enter the
cabin, a man moved to intercept her, blocking her entry. “Let me through.”

“This is not your place.” The man was puffed up with
outrage, his voice ringing with condemnation that she would dare sully the
place with her mere presence. He was a few inches shorter than Raven, sporting
a messy hairstyle that failed to cover his bald spot, and wearing clothes so
fine he looked out of place, although no amount of money could cover his pudgy
belly.

Raven would not be denied and stepped right up in his space.
“Your coven invited me here. I suggest you step aside, or I
will
go
through you.”

A malicious sneer twisted his lips, and his chest swelled
further with self-importance. “I’d like to see you try.”

Raven wanted to roll her eyes. Okay, so maybe she’d taken
the wrong tack with him. Shifters had a simpler system. They loved all that
dominance shit, duking it out to see who would win…if they lived through it. Since
she was on top in the shifter world, she had to prove herself.

Often.

And they always accepted the outcome.

Something told her this man would not take the humiliation
lying down. The shifter at her feet growled, and the man paled. When he fell
back a step, Raven took advantage of the opportunity and shoved forward.

The shifter whined and pressed closer. When she stepped
toward the door, he snapped at her pant leg and tried to tug her back, as if
trying to steer her away from danger.

“Durant, stay out here with him and keep him calm if you
can.” He narrowed his eyes on her, then gave a grunt she interpreted as
agreement. His beast rose to the surface in seconds, all ferocious and ready
for trouble. The smell of leather soothed her unease at leaving them
unprotected. The jaguar released her at the show of dominance and hunkered down
with another whine. Those blue eyes of his followed her, but he let her walk
away without another protest.

The cabin was a little larger than the one they occupied.
Everyone had gathered outside the bedroom, and the smell of magic and dust
suffused the room. It emanated from the body sprawled in the middle of the floor.
She resembled a shriveled old lady, so emaciated her form was barely discernable
under her clothes. She couldn’t weigh more than seventy pounds. Her skin was dry,
cracked like mud baked too long under the pounding sun.

A laughing picture of her lay smashed on the floor, possibly
shattered in a scuffle. The woman looked no more than thirty in the image and
in the prime of her life. Now she was nothing more than a desiccated corpse.

Or so Raven believed until she saw the withered fingers twitch.
Revulsion twisted through her to see the poor woman was still alive—trapped
inside a living corpse—struggling to fight the rampaging magic consuming her.

“She’s alive.” Raven expected them to rush into the room,
but no one moved.

Then she understood why. Whatever was killing the witch had
stolen the jaguar’s life force through their connection. It was entirely
possible it would be able to pull even more energy through a link between coven
members.

Wilted fingers moved again, clawing toward the door, and Raven
would swear she was trying to crawl toward the other witches. She didn’t seem
to care that her touch would kill.  

The witches couldn’t do anything because of the connection between
them, but Raven had no such bindings.

“Raven.” Durant caught her arm before she could step into
the room. “Don’t.”

“She’ll die.”

“She’s already dead.” Raven heard no pity, a mere statement
of fact.

“Not yet.” She shrugged off his hold and shoved her way into
the room.

And was stopped by an invisible wall.

“It’s a ward. Nothing can pass in or out.” Heloise answered Raven’s
unspoken question, and raised her hand to reveal a severe burn that bubbled up
the flesh and covered her whole palm. “We’re trying to take it down, but it
will take time.”

Time they didn’t have.

They were left to do nothing but watch while one of their
own was murdered.

Then another thing struck her. “You let me try to enter the
room without a warning.”

Heloise shrugged. “You are unharmed.”

“I told you no more tests.” She twisted her arm where she
smacked into the ward, only to see…nothing. No burn. “So, did I pass or fail?”

The witch tightened her lips and turned away.

Passed, then. But was that good or bad?

Raven ignored everyone else and studied the problem. The
ward was clever, created to bar anyone from entering or exiting. But if the magic’s
purpose was to consume power, why not allow others to cross over and devour
them as well?

She was missing something.

“I didn’t burn.” She stepped closer to the ward. “It was
created to keep out witches.”

Raven tugged at her power, urging it to rise.

Nothing.

Durant had warned her to never try altering an active spell,
it could have very nasty side effects, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t play
with it a bit.

Spells were just another form of electricity. This was her
milieu. She should be able to manipulate it easily enough.

No one stopped her when she lifted her hands and stepped
forward. The invisible wall was strung across the doorjamb and encased the room,
making it impossible for anyone to punch through the wall to get inside. Static
rose under her touch as she pushed closer. If she concentrated hard enough, she
could see the individual threads of energy crisscross each other like they had
been knitted together. She just needed to pull a few strings and create a large
enough opening for her to sneak through.

She had to be fast. She had only one shot to get it right. She
might be able to alter the magic, but once she released her hold, the ward
would instinctively snap back to its natural form and become stronger than
ever, if not downright impenetrable.

Energy crackled while she pulled and shoved.

She was sweating by the time she stepped over the threshold.
What remained of the ward clung to her like a caress, purring in welcome. Its
reaction, as if it were a living thing, creeped her out.

The closer she got to the woman, the thicker the magic became.

Only there was something wrong with it.

It was wild and dangerous and nearly uncontrollable. Kind of
like the boogeyman in its relentless pursuit of prey. It wasn’t something she
could touch, there was nothing she could see, but the threat was all too real.
And like the boogeyman, she couldn’t catch it, not until it was too late, and
she was left facing a killer with no way to protect herself.

She had felt something similar once before…in her house when
someone tried and almost succeeded in killing a young man under her protection.

She knelt by the witch, but the woman ignored her,
continuing to scratch the floor. Her nails were broken to the quick, her
fingertips bloody, torn stubs as she tried to drag herself toward safety. The
blood had dried, the flesh beneath so shriveled it resembled jerky.

It made no sense. Help had arrived. Why ignore it?

Raven turned and studied the door.

Everything appeared normal.

Unless she wasn’t trying to reach the door.

Raven lunged forward and tore away the rug. Etched underneath
was a series of symbols and lines, organized in three rows like a language of
sorts.

The constant click and scrape of fingers against the floor
had finally stopped. The witch tried to speak, but the sound was more of a
gurgle than anything intelligible.

Raven studied the mummified corpse, a little unnerved by the
yellowed-jaundice eyes staring back at her. The bloodied fingered creaked as the
witch pointed, the act of straightening her clawed finger snapping the bones.

Raven followed the bony finger to the door and finally
understood.

The symbols were the wards.

Raven reached over to swipe away the words, then hesitated.
If she ripped down the wards, the magic would no longer be contained. It would
spill into the other room and kill everyone with even a hint of magic.

She slowly withdrew her hand.

No, she had to stop the magic first. A rattle came from the
witch’s chest, and Raven realized she was laughing.

“I’m going to have to touch you.” Ignoring the nausea
churning in her gut, Raven hesitantly placed her hand on the woman’s arm. The dying
witch’s skin was paper-thin and tore at even the lightest brush of her
fingertips. The witch shuddered. At first, nothing happened. Then like a shark
in water, the wild magic surged forward and launched itself at her.

It slithered up her hand, tiny sparks biting at her like an
army of ants.

Tasting her.

The creature she harbored roared in challenge, slashing at
the magic that threatened to infect her. Before she could withdraw, the witch
latched onto her arm, madness gleaming in her eyes. The hold was surprisingly
strong for a bag of bones, her fingers biting into Raven’s arms with the grip
of a boa constrictor, and she was its next meal.

“Raven, get out of there.” Durant stood at the door like a
sentinel, furious that he couldn’t cross the threshold and physically remove
her from danger.

“She won’t release me. She’s trying to siphon my energy.”

“I don’t give a shit. She’s brittle. Break her fingers. Rip
off her damned arm if you must.” His voice rose, his muscles bulging as he
tried to force his way through the wards.

Raven ignored the command, trusting her creature to protect
her. She needed answers, and she might not get another chance. She’d traced the
magic back to its owner once, and she could do it again. She allowed her mind
to flow along the stream of magic, her stomach twisting and turning in the
weightlessness for a few mind-numbing seconds. Then she caught her balance and
followed the magic back to the source. She couldn’t tell the distance she
travelled, but the magic grew stronger as she neared the origin. The darkness
began to recede, and shapes came into focus.

As if the caster had read her intent to ferret him out, the
spell cut off abruptly, and she found herself dropped back into her body with a
nasty thump. Her creature gave a vicious snarl, snapping and ripping into the
tentacles reaching for her. The lingering magic coated her like motor oil,
leaving behind a slimy residue that made each breath a chore. Though her
shields had held, Raven felt invaded.

The magic dissipated slowly, leaving her queasy and overly
warm, like she’d eaten something rancid.

“Raven.”

Her eyes snapped open. The first thing she saw was Durant, almost
able to feel his fur bristle with hostility. When her gaze met his pure gold eyes,
he froze. He didn’t say more, didn’t even drop his gaze, as if he was staring
down a wild animal, too afraid to move lest it attacked.

Afraid of her.

The truth was like a kick in the face.

Her creature gave a hum of comfort.

Alpha.

The word came from her creature and explained so much. Her
pack swore she was an alpha, strong enough to control such indomitable men, but
she never believed them until now.