The Silverwing's Sorceress: THe Shadow Slayers, Book 2.5 (15 page)

“
Fulmen!
” she said aloud, her voice bitter and full of vengeance, and the entire tunnel—hell, maybe even the entire mountain—began to shake.

The man stumbled back and thrust his knife out before him as Abbey lurched to her feet. She could feel the current. It was as if every twining thread of energy around them was filtering through her body. It was magnificent, as though she could control the universe if she simply gave the dark force its due.

Nex veneficus
, she mused, her hair beginning to go wild around her head as the energy played with the strands. She had all the power she would ever need finally at her fingertips.

The tunnel continued to quake, and huge cracks began to form, running the entire length of the shaft. The man with the knife cowered before her, looking as though he was considering attempting a spell but didn’t have the guts to try it.

She glanced at Jaxon’s prone body and the man poised over him and knew that no matter how wonderful it felt to be a high priestess with this magnitude of power, she had to end it. “I’m sorry, my friend,” she said to the ether, then raised her hand in the air, and slammed it down in a chopping motion. “Terminus!” she called, and the entire tunnel went instantly still, the torches sputtering to black.

“Jaxon! It’s done!” he heard, but when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was in the Abyss or awaiting regeneration, because everything was as dark as pitch.

“Abbey?” he called, and heard shuffling to his right.

“I’m over here.”

If Abbey was over there, then whatever rodent was scampering out of the tunnel wasn’t her. He got to his feet with a silent moan, and ran a few paces in the direction of the noise until he connected with a large, solid body. Fielding a blow as he felt for the man’s neck, Jaxon sank his claws into the man’s throat and with his other hand, grabbed his chin.

“How dare you thrash my woman’s head,” he growled, but the response was barely a gurgle as he tore the man’s head from his shoulders.

“Jaxon?” Abbey’s voice, vibrant and strong, rang through the tunnel.

“I’m here, dove.”

“There’s another one! He’s got a knife—” she started to say, and his heart stopped when her words cut short and the sound of a struggle replaced them.

“Abbey!” He lurched toward the noise, but then Abbey squeaked like a mouse stuck with a pin. “Abbey!” he bellowed.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” she chanted. “I think I killed him. I stabbed him, Jaxy…” And next he heard the sound of her dry-heaving somewhere in front of him.

A second later, Jaxon followed the sound of her spitting and moaning and tripped over something in his path. He reached down and found the body of the second man. He felt around until he came upon a knife buried in the man’s stomach. But the bastard was still breathing. No one who tried to kill his woman had that privilege.

Jaxon yanked the blade from the man’s abdomen and stabbed it through his chest, right where his heart should be. When the man’s last breath seeped from his lungs, Jaxon called, “You didn’t kill him, dove. I did.”

He heard the sound of her sobbing and made his way to her. Touching her warm skin and feeling her heartbeat convinced him he was the luckiest man in this realm. “Praise the Maker, Abigail. I thought I’d lost you.”
Again.

She clung tight to him as he led them down the hall, his hand along the tunnel wall guiding them back. It didn’t escape his attention that what was once a fairly smooth-hewn surface was now jagged and crumbling at his touch. He almost tripped when the dirt floor changed elevations as though the ground had separated. But thankfully, everything was still now. The terrible quaking had ceased after Abbey invoked the final word of the spell.

They stepped into the pantry, Abbey slipping briefly in the spilled sugar coating the floor. When they entered the kitchen, the floor was littered with broken dishes and debris that had shaken free of the cupboards, and the only light in the house was what was filtering in from the moon. No appliance was lit, as though someone had flipped the switch to the circuit breaker…and maybe that was exactly what Abbey had done.

He grasped her nape and brought his head down to press his forehead against hers. “What did you do in there, dove? You almost brought down the mountain.”

Her eyes wide with concern, she met his gaze. “Umm…sorcery, I think. I used
the book
.”

She looked as though she was waiting for him to scold her, but he laughed instead and squeezed her tighter. “Well done! We’ll deal with my people if the time comes. For now, we celebrate. The Northwestern Coven’s high priestess has ascended to her rightful place—a sorceress, no less.”

She went still. “Not quite.”

Somewhere in the dark tunnel was
The Book of Death
, and there were bodies he needed to dispose of, but at this moment, with Abbey before him, all that shrank into the background.

He frowned and cupped a hand to her cheek. “What do you mean? No one will support your uncle remaining in power now that you have proof of his treachery.”

“What I mean is, while I am planning to lead my coven, and I won’t let my people down—” she put her hand over his and gave him a slow, thorough kiss, “—my ‘rightful place’ is with you.”

His lips parted, and everything in his body quieted at her declaration. “Are you certain?”

“I love you. And I’m in love with you. You’re my best friend and my greatest lover, and I want to spend the rest of my witchy life with you.”

He wiped at the moisture in his eyes and tucked a flame-colored lock of hair behind Abbey’s ear. “My life’s ambition will be making you happy, Abbey, from this moment and forevermore.”

“You’ve already got the
happy
covered.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Next thing we’ll need to discuss is who gets control of the remote—or if we’ll have to wrestle for it.”

Jaxon laughed and at the stirring of his will, his blessed silver wings stretched from his back. “I plan to keep you too occupied to worry about television for quite some time.”

A spark lit in her eyes, and she pressed her body tighter against his. “Mmm… Is that so?”

Flexing his wings, he gathered her close and took her sweet lips one more time.

One lifetime—or a hundred—it would never be enough to quench his thirst for his woman or diminish his love for her. All that mattered was spending their days side by side. “Let’s go home.”

About the Author

Cassi Carver lives in sunny Southern California with two dogs, four kids and a hubby who gives great massages. She gets to the Gaslamp Quarter for research (okay, happy hour) as often as possible. She’s never saved the world, but she keeps sexy boots on hand just in case the opportunity arises.

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www.cassicarver.com

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Look for these titles by Cassi Carver

Now Available:

The Shadow Slayers

Slayer’s Kiss

Shadow Rising

Her lover is back from the dead…but now there’s hell to pay.

Shadow Rising

© 2012 Cassi Carver

The Shadow Slayers, Book 2

When Kara Reed learns her bondmate, Julian, is truly dead, and that Gavin has seemingly skipped town, she figures things have hit rock bottom. But soon, a string of bizarre accidents has her doubting those closest to her. And to make matters worse, the demon-king’s brand carved into her best friend Abbey’s stomach is deteriorating by the day.

Then a powerful coven of witches issues Kara an ultimatum. Bring them the blood of a true fallen angel—the only thing that will heal Abbey—or die. Kara would do anything to help her friend. Problem is, the only fallen angel she’s seen lately is the disoriented black-wing who attacked her scouts. One who looks suspiciously like Julian. Getting his blood might be easier if he was more interested in kissing her than killing her.

Caught between a coven of vengeful witches and a murderous dead lover, Kara must deliver the blood, heal the slow poison of Abbey’s brand, and save Julian from being consumed by the Abyss. But to do this, she may need the help of the one man she swore never to trust again…Gavin.

Warning: This book contains an angry demon returning from the dead, a clan lord hiding a terrible secret, and a hunted heroine cracking open a can of whoop-ass. Watch out for creepy kitties, exploding bad guys, and some very sudsy shower sex.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Shadow Rising:

The black-wing sat at her kitchen table and sprawled his legs apart while Kara filled a pot with hot water from the tap. She lit the stove with trembling fingers and took out three boxes of macaroni from the cupboard. “It’ll be a few minutes.”

“Hurry.”

She couldn’t believe it. She was being held captive by a nude Aniliáre who had no qualms about rubbing his bare ass on her breakfast chairs. She took out a jug of milk and some butter from the refrigerator to make the sauce.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She held up the jug. “This?”

He frowned and rose to his feet. “Yes.”

“Milk.”

He walked to the kitchen counter and extended his hand. “Give it to me.”

Without a word, Kara handed him the jug. With the claws poking from his fingertips, he shredded the top of the plastic bottle, then held it to his lips as he gulped and gulped. Milk ran down his chin, onto his chest and the floor under his feet. Shit. That was going to reek when it spoiled if she couldn’t get it out of the rug.

A tiny bubble of laughter burst from her lips. What did a ruined rug matter when she was going to be dead soon? She stuffed back her laughter, thinking of how he might take offense again, but he didn’t seem to care about anything but the white liquid he was guzzling.

Kara watched in wide-eyed shock as he drained the entire gallon of milk. When he was finished, he threw the container down and used the back of his hand to wipe his damp face. “What else do you have?”

Holy shit.
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of carrots. “Do you want them peeled?”

He ripped the bag from her grip and shoved one long carrot in his mouth. He chewed quickly at first, then slowed, his ravenous expression turning into a disgusted grimace. “No. Not this.”

He flung the bag so hard, it dented the paneling on her cupboard and sent the carrots flying in all directions like little projectiles.

Kara put her hands out. “Calm down, Mr. Black-wing. I’ll find something.” She emptied the pasta into the pot, then turned to inspect the contents of the freezer.

“Julian,” he said.

“What?” She stood with a package of frozen steaks in her hand. “What did you say?”

“I want you to call me Julian.”

“Okay…Julian.” She’d call him whatever the hell he wanted if it got her out of this alive.

He stepped close to her and took the frozen package from her hands. “I’ll eat this.”

“It’s frozen. I have to defros—” The words died in her throat when his cupped palms lit up, burning the plastic cover from around the steaks. Steam rose from the meat. Juicy blood trailed down his forearms as the solid block went floppy in his hands.

He bit into the raw meat and growled. “This. Yes.”

It was half-disgusting, half-enthralling, watching him tear off thick hunks of flesh, devouring the slab of steak with his sharp fangs fully extended. While he finished the second one, Kara drained the macaroni. She didn’t have any milk left, so she just poured the noodles back in the pot and added the butter and cheese powder.

“You still want to try this?” She pointed to the stove. Her knees felt weak and even she could smell the bitter tang of fear oozing out in her sweat, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing anything in her expression but contempt.

He strode forward, grasped the handles of the pot and tipped the metal to his mouth. When the scorching surface hit his lips, he howled and chucked the pot against the far wall, cracking the drywall and splattering cheesy elbows from the entryway to the dishwasher. “How do you eat that?” he asked, surprised—and maybe a little impressed.

Kara would have snickered if the whole damn thing hadn’t been so bizarre. “I put it in a bowl and wait for it to cool down.”

“Ah.” He rubbed a fist over his distended stomach. “I’ve had enough.”

She wet a dishtowel and wrung out the water, then tossed it to him. “Here. For the…” She made a face and gestured to his sticky chest and bloody arms.

He frowned, seeming to ponder the merit of the towel, then he wiped it over his skin and threw it down. “I will rest now. Come.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the master bedroom. From the other side of the room, he lifted his hand and the balcony doors slammed shut. She felt the ward springing back to life, first the blue flame, then a stronger surge of energy wafted up from the floor, covering the blue light in smoky, undulating shadows.