Forbidden Magic (10 page)

“I guess she’d know,” Ginny answered. “Isn’t she some kind of leader?”

“Moon witch advisor,” he answered. “She’s sort of a liaison between the witches and their revered Ancestors. No one but the witches really understands what that means, but I gather that she has more information than the other witches.”

She lifted her head to look up at him. “What about that dragon on Key? Isn’t he the creator of fertility witches? Shayla—”

He flinched, hating hearing her name. Hating that she evoked a reaction in him at all.

Ginny ignored that. “She’s a fertility witch, right?”

“Infertility witch,” Ram told her flatly. “There is one born every generation. Dyfry, the dragon you’re talking about, says a curse of some kind caused the change and hides the infertility witch from him.”

“I’m a little confused, what is an infertility witch?” Ginny asked, her thumb stroking his hand.

He explained what Key’s mate had told him. “Like Roxy before she mated with Key, her powers are dormant until she finds her Awakening and has sex.” Ginny stiffened. “That’s you. You’re her Awakening. And once you…well, you’ll Awaken her magic.”

“I might be her Awakening, but we’ll never know. Roxy says that Shayla will spread infertility once her magic Awakens. She doesn’t want that, so when she saw me in Roxy’s apartment and felt the connection, she panicked.” And ran. That pissed Ram off right down to his bones. Running was for cowards.

Yet Ginny had told him a truth that was more than emotionally painful, it was physical torture for her. Despite knowing she’d be punished, she had trusted him with it. Her bravery amazed him.

Feeling her shift in his arms, her skin sliding against his, he pulled her closer and said, “I don’t want to talk about her.” He didn’t want any part of Shayla here in this bed with them.

“Tough,” Ginny squeezed his hand. “This is your life we’re talking about. I know I won’t be a part of it much longer, but—”

“Don’t.” He couldn’t stand it. Ram swallowed the thickness in his throat. She’d be taken from this life, thrust into another realm, and all her feelings stripped from her.

And he couldn’t stop it. What good were all his hunter strength and his skills from a decade of his deep-cover military service if he couldn’t help her? Couldn’t save her?

Ginny leaned up on her elbow, still keeping his right hand in her left. “You don’t get it, do you? I care about you. I have from that first day when you stayed with us after Eli was shot.

Then our kiss…I care, Ram. And one day…” She drifted off, sucking in a breath and closing her eyes beneath a weight only she could feel. Then she opened them.

Ram saw the sheen of tears. Seeing that felt like a horse kicked him in the chest.

Ginny blinked, clearing her eyes. “One day I won’t feel that anymore. So now, while I can, I’m going to
feel
, and I’m going to fight for you. I want you to live and be happy. Maybe I’ll be able to see you from the other realm, maybe I’ll look at you and remember what I felt in some small way.” She drew her thumb over his hand. Her chin firmed up. “Even the jealousy of Shayla.”

Damn it, he didn’t want her to hurt like this. “I won’t ever feel this, what we have, for her.

Ever.”

“Ram,” she chided softly, “you haven’t given her a chance.”

“She ran from me,” he snarled. “Do you know what happens when a witch runs from a hunter?” Cold fury ruptured inside him. Unable to stay still, he untangled himself from her, threw the covers back, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stared out the window. Just talking about Shayla caused this manic restlessness in him and Ram hated it. To Ginny, he said,

“It brings out the predator in me, the one that will stop at nothing to get her blood. If I go after her, I’ll kill her.”

Chapter Eight

“No!” Ginny stared at Ram’s massive back as he sat on the side of the bed. Denial surged hot and furious through her. “You’re the most controlled, disciplined man I know. You’d never hurt a witch, or any innocent—”

He laughed.

It was a sound so bitter and rough, it sent chills down her spine.

Turning his head, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Wrong. I almost killed a young witch when I was fifteen years old. If my grandfather hadn’t pulled me off her, I’d be rogue.” Ginny could see the memory haunted him. She pushed up to her knees and shoved her hair back. “How did that happen? Why were you around a witch at all?” She realized how little she really knew about his past—just that he was raised mostly by his ex-military grandfather, and his mom was there when she wasn’t gone on deployment with the Marines.

The blue in his eyes darkened. “I didn’t know what I was, didn’t realize I wasn’t human like my grandfather and mom. They didn’t know either.” Turning away from her, he put his forearms on his thighs, bowing his shoulders. “I looked older, bigger. I was hanging with some older kids and snuck out of the house to go to a party. There was a girl there, Britney, that I was drawn to like I’d never been drawn to anyone else. She roused dark needs in me, a sense that I had to have…something. My skin itched, my veins throbbed.”

She saw him clamp his jaw shut so hard even his neck and shoulders bulged. He was shutting down, pulling even farther away from her and wrapping himself in a thick loneliness that tore at her heart. How long had he carried this guilt and fear of himself? Hating his turmoil, she wished for a second that she could control her Halfling magic and give him some ease, some peace. She tried to will her power to rise. But there was no answering whip of energy that signaled her magic.

In this moment, she was just a woman. So she did the only thing she could, she reached out and touched his shoulder. Felt his warm skin over impossibly hard muscles. “You’ve never talked about this, have you?” she asked softly.

His profile was unforgiving. “No.”

And she’d thought she was lonely? At least she had her brother, Eli. “Trust me, just as you asked me to do,” she said softly. “Tell me.”

He sat stone still.

As seconds ticked by on her bedside clock, Ginny feared he’d refuse. Then he began to talk.

“The girl, Britney, she smelled like sweet and spicy power. Her scent made my veins throb.

I’d had plenty of sexual lust, but this was bigger. More. Darker.” She saw him dig his fingers into his thighs.

“Her skin…it sort of glowed. Not like you, when your aura is out, that surrounds you in light, but this was her actual skin glowing.”

“Witch shimmer,” Ginny said. Eli had told her how witches have a shimmer to their skin that witch hunters could see.

He nodded. “Yeah. We went outside, and I was leading her down by a lake when a branch caught her arm and cut her. She bled.” He paused, flexing his fingers. “The smell hit me, and seconds later, I had cramps, sweats, pain and then…insanity. The madness of the curse screamed in my head,
cut her
. I whipped out my pocket knife.” Beneath her hand, she felt an internal shudder rip through him.

“I still remember her expression as she looked up from her cut arm to me holding the knife.

She went white with terror, turned, and ran.”

Ran
. It clicked in Ginny’s head then. “You chased her.”

“I tackled her to the ground, my knife ready to slice her open when something big and enraged smacked into me from the side, throwing me off her.” He turned, his gaze hitting hers.

Ginny saw the self-loathing in his blue eyes. “What happened?” she asked, but did she really want to know? Her mouth dried with nerves.

“It was my grandfather, he’d found me. I rolled over, came up on top of him, and shoved the knife against his throat. That was when some tiny thread of sanity clicked in my head and I stopped.” He paused, then said in a gravelly voice, “I almost killed him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. The old man kept in shape and he knew how to fight. He flipped me and slammed his fist into my jaw. The pain cleared the rest of the fog. I couldn’t believe what I’d nearly done.” She rubbed his shoulder, stroking his skin with her hand, trying to give him some comfort.

“How did you find out you’re a witch hunter?”

“We figured out I wasn’t human, but it wasn’t until later we learned what I was. But my grandfather…he saved me. He gave me a choice; either I give into my sick, fucked up animal side, and he would put me down like a rabid dog, or I learn to control it with discipline.”

“Put you down…” Horror nearly gagged her.

Ram stared at her. “He wasn’t kidding. He was holding a loaded gun when he said it.” She jerked her hand back. “He was a monster! You were only a kid, fifteen—”

“He was right, damn it!” Ram surged to his feet, pacing the space between the bed and window. “It was dumb luck that he’d realized I had snuck out of the house that night, and more luck that he was able to stop me. By then I was strong enough to break every bone in his body.

I’m the one that was, that is, a monster.” He stopped walking, faced her, and went on in a calmer voice, “He gave me hope, a chance to live as a man. He set up rigid schedules of grueling exercise, and at night I slept chained. We couldn’t risk a craving hitting and me sneaking out again. But I learned to control the curse. Control myself.” She tried to take it all in. To her, it sounded brutal and cruel. Didn’t someone love him, give him some softness and caring? Protection? “What about your mom? I mean, didn’t she know your father was a witch hunter?”

His shoulders tensed to granite, the veins in his neck popping. “No. We never knew who my father was. My mom got upset and confused whenever anyone tried to ask about my father.” He looked back, his face a tightly drawn mask of rage. “Her memory had been shifted. She literally couldn’t remember and it made her agitated. Eventually…she died of dementia at forty-three.” There was no end to what Ram had suffered. Staring up at him, she asked, “From memory shifting?”

“That’s my theory. If not done right and carefully, then shifting can set off a chain of events in the brain that are extremely damaging.”

She couldn’t bear that raw pain in his gaze. “Your mom must have loved you, Ram. No matter what your father did, she loved you.”

“Yeah, she did,” he said, his voice flat.

At least he’d had some love, she thought. That’s why he was so kind with her, so—

“Until the end,” he went on. “Until she screamed in terror whenever she saw me, thinking I was him.” He turned away again. “Watching his daughter, my mother, deteriorate like that on top of everything else, it killed my grandfather. He had a massive heart attack and died the day of her funeral.”

Ginny heard the words, flat and brutal, and knew he held his pain as tightly as he held on to his guilt. She shuffled off the bed, walked to him.

He stepped back, his face ravished. “You don’t know me, Gin. I’m
wrong
, just like this bird on me is
wrong
. You’re an angel, and I’m a predator who kills.”

“No.” She couldn’t stand his pain. Ram had been the one who helped her. She needed to do the same for him. She closed the foot of space between them, putting her arms around his waist.

He stood immobile, frozen.

She tilted her head back, looking into his eyes. “You’re a survivor. Not a quitter. You’re going to find the solution, Ram, a way to stop the electricity burning through you.”

“Ginny…”

She hugged him tighter. Ignoring the tattoo, she pressed against his chest and laid her cheek to his heart. “I’ll be here with you. As long as I can, I’ll be here.”

***

Fire seared Ram’s veins. The pain drove him on relentlessly. It was so fucking hot, it felt like
he was in a furnace. His guts cramped, he had to find relief.

Then he caught the scent. Froze, lifting his nose like a wolf on the hunt.

Witch blood.

His muscles twitched with need. Predator silent, he slid his knife from the thigh holster,
following that scent. Down a hallway.

Deep in his brain, he felt a warning flare go off. This was wrong.

No distractions! He was on a mission; he needed that blood. There. Behind the door. Ram
took one step back and kicked the door right off its hinges.

Familiar. Why did this feel familiar?

Focus! Must have witch blood.

Right in front of him, a witch was chained to a wall, her sweet, powerful blood flowing from
multiple cuts. The aroma bloomed thick with power.

Sweat coated his body, and tremors attacked his nervous system. His body coiled, ready to
strike.

A hand, cool and small, touched his arm.

He flung it away. His witch blood! He’d hunted it, he
—

“Ram, wake up!”

He snapped to full consciousness, his heart pounding like he’d sparred with Axel and Sutton at the same time. He bolted up to a sitting position and Ginny’s bedroom came into focus. He’d fallen asleep here, with her. It was dark, Eli was still out, probably wouldn’t be back until morning.

Looking down, he saw his knife was clutched in his right hand. Oh shit. Not good. Turning his head, he saw Ginny on her knees, her dark hair tumbling around her. The little tank top she had slept in was sliding off her shoulders but drawing tight over her breasts.

Desire, need for hot pounding sex, blasted through him.

He recognized that he was deep in the hell of withdrawals from his earlier contact with witch blood, but the pain, the tremors wouldn’t let go. Conflicting cravings crashed through him. He stilled his body, commanding his muscular system to follow his orders.

Ginny stared at him, her eyes flooded with worry.

He only had one question. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She looked as though she wanted to get closer to him, touch him, but concern still glittered in her gaze. “Are you all right? You were having a nightmare.” He looked down at the knife he held. A block of ice formed in his stomach. Christ. He could have attacked her. And if he had, she’d be dead.

He had to get out of there, put distance between him and Ginny. After setting the knife by his holster on the nightstand, he shoved the covers back and started to swing his legs off the bed.