Page 58 of The Warlock's Kiss

“What’s that for?” Danny looked from the gun to Merrick. “Don’t you havemagic?”

Merrick met Adalynn’s gaze and held the shotgun out to her. “I do. But you two don’t.”

Only hours earlier, he and Adalynn had been in each other’s arms, drifting on seas of passion, relishing the joining of their bodies and souls. During that time, there’d been no other cares—the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Future and past had faded into meaninglessness. The present was all that had mattered.Adalynnwas all that had mattered.

Clearly, the outside world had deemed that unacceptable.

Adalynn’s face paled further, but she took the shotgun in both hands. Merrick felt the trembling of her arms through the weapon before he released it. She held it against her chest, one hand on the action and the other on the stock.

“I’ve never used a gun,” she said, her voice low but steady.

“Point and squeeze the trigger,” Merrick replied. “Pump the action to chamber another round and fire again.”

Adalynn adjusted her grip on the weapon, clenched her jaw, and nodded.

Merrick cupped the back of her head with one hand, leaned forward, and kissed her. Despite the urgency of the situation, he was tempted to let the kiss linger. He resisted that temptation and drew back after only a moment. “Stay here. Donotcome outside, no matter what happens.”

She released the shotgun’s stock to press her hand against his chest, fingers curling as though to grab him. “What? Where are you going?”

Merrick covered her hand with his and gently squeezed it. “To greet our visitors.”

“Dude, you can’t!” Danny said.

“No!” Adalynn said simultaneously. “Those things rip people to shreds, Merrick.”

“And you don’t even have a shirt on,” Danny added.

“Stay here,” Merrick repeated. Magic thrummed from his core, pulsing outward in waves, each stronger than the last. He sensed several presences outside now, all similar in the feel of their mana songs—each contained a burning core of rage, as animal as it was human.

“Please, be careful,” said Adalynn. She looped her arm around his neck and pulled him into another quick but passionate kiss before releasing him.

“You two are lucky we have bigger problems,” Danny said, “or I’d have alotof questions for you right now.”

Adalynn took the shotgun in both hands again. “Danny, grab that box of bullets and stay close.”

Frowning, Danny bent down and scooped up the box. “Shells.”

“Shells?”

“Yeah. It’s a shotgun, these are shells. You sure you don’t want me to hold the gun?”

“No,” Adalynn and Merrick replied in unison. They exchanged a brief, amused glance before Merrick turned away and walked to the balcony doors.

The bestial presences outside remained in place, giving off their unique resonances, which were more distinct now as Merrick willed his awareness of the ley line running beneath him to life. Though he only slightly opened himself to the ley line, its sound was more a roar than a song, at once harmonious and discordant, deafening and whisper-quiet, high pitched and low-rumbling.

Merrick opened the glass door and stepped onto the porch. Just before he closed it, he said over his shoulder, “Lock it behind me.”

He turned his attention forward. The air, while not cold, had a crispness that hinted at the approach of fall. Insects made their soft night music beneath leaves gently rustled by the breeze, and his ears were sharp enough to pick up the sound of the brook running about a hundred yards to the manor’s north. The gray haze blanketing the sky was more pronounced out here, but the moons—two primary halves that had once comprised the greater whole—shone through it, casting their unsettling, bone-yellow light on the world below.

And none of that mattered.

Merrick walked around the porch toward the back of his home. Once he rounded the corner and the back lawn was in sight, his gaze fell on the tall, powerful figures in the grass, staring up at him. Four werewolves—two males and two females, he guessed, as the former were larger and more broadly built. They were hybrids of human and wolf; they stood upright on two legs, their bodies were covered in fur, and their fingers were tipped with wicked claws. Their lupine eyes glowed yellow with reflected light.

He stopped and settled his hands on the railing. The werewolves were displaying more control than he’d thought possible from their kind. Before the Sundering, werewolves—like anything else humans considered supernatural—were exceedingly rare, and only appeared in this form during the full moon. The few he’d encountered had been ravening, bloodthirsty beasts, no more controlled than wild animals.

These werewolves, on the other hand, had intelligent gleams in their eyes—at least as intelligent as a human’s.

“We’ve come for food and shelter,” said the foremost wolf in a growling, guttural voice—but in perfect modern English, nonetheless.

---