Page 2 of Witchblood
I wanted to wrap myself around him, bathe in his essence, and beg him to never let me go. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see his face and didn’t know his name. My soul told me he was mine. It sang of promise, as his warmth trickled through the shattered walls of my personal wards.
What sort of magic was this? Was he fae?
He lifted my head and shoulders into his lap, his words a rush of noise around me without coherent sound. Or perhaps that was just my brain. The night itself was silent and unmoving. No wind, birds or bugs. A bad omen? Or permanent brain damage?
The form that held me, stroked my hair. His embrace felt like kindness, love, and sadness.
“Are you a spirit of dark or light?” I asked, not sure if sound actually left my lips.
His face nestled close to mine, little more than just a shadow in the darkness. His hand was warm on my cheek when he said, “I will be your light or dark. Your strength and pain. I offer you all of me. My soul to yours.” Sweet words spoken with an unfamiliar voice. If I could have touched him then, I would have. I wanted to beg him to speak more, hold me tighter, and not leave me to die alone.
All I could think to say was, “Then kiss me and share your spirit.”
Odd that the words seemed to choose themselves. I had no thoughts of kisses or spells before that moment as I was too far gone. But the second his lips touched mine, everything became liquid fire. His heat poured into me, soothing the wounds, pressing into places that hurt—a deep, raging, flame. We both gasped for breath as the power flowed between us. Healing me like nothing I’d ever imagined possible before.
I had a moment of terror when his hold on me went slack. A fine tremor ran through him, but I couldn’t stop the flow of energy. Was I killing him? No! My heart screamed with the possibility of it. He couldn’t die.
My lungs healed, and the throbbing behind my eyes faded. For a breath, my vision cleared enough that I could almost see him, make out pale eyes, and the outline of his lips. But I ripped myself out of his grasp, transforming as I did so. From human to fox in one breath to the next. He reached for me, the link still live between us.
His need echoed mine. The link between us carried the emotion to me in a wave of feeling. The way he reached for me made my heart ache to drop into his arms and beg for him to hold me.
Only the life I took from him was too much. His eyes drooped and his shoulders fell slack as he toppled backward.
I waited a few heartbeats in terror, watching for movement in his chest. Was I truly a monster? Had I destroyed someone so perfect for me? A moment passed into the next and finally I saw it. The small rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing. The link between us was fading, but I could still see it stretching between us. His energy flowing into me. Still healing.
The boisterous sound of voices moved toward us from the distance. I trembled, fear renewed. What ifhefound out he failed to kill me? Would he try again? This night hadn’t been any sort of accident. I had to get away.
I took one last longing look at the man who’d saved my life, then turned to run away. Into the darkness of the forest I raced, leaving behind everything. My entire life had been in the camper, attached to a wolfpack who reviled me. Only now one small thing tugged at my heart, the mysterious stranger I’d left behind. The link between us thinned like over-stretched taffy. I thought it eventually would snap. But it just continued to stretch as I ran, connecting me forever to a man whose kiss I dreamt about nearly every night for the next year of my life.
Chapter 1
One year later.
Sometimes when on the run, all a man could hope for was a safe place to sleep and a bit of food. The delicious scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air made me pull my dilapidated Volkswagen Beetle into the lot of a small bakery. Small bakeries were a good place to find day old bread for cheap and sometimes work for a few days. The place was busy, which made me hope the food was good, and even I, with my auburn hair, mixed heritage and magic blood, could easily get lost in the crowd.
All I needed was enough cash to refill the car and a bit of bread to stop the rumbling in my stomach. I could sleep in the car. Had been sleeping in the car for months, using motels to wash up when I had the cash, and gas station bathrooms when I didn’t. Distance was all that was important, though really I could have crossed the ocean and still not been able to escape prying eyes.
Self-delusion. I was good at that.
The Sweet Tooth sat in a very classic looking brick building with wide windows painted in artful letters. The smell had drawn me from miles away. Pastry and sugar laden pictures on billboards, the promise of food filled with delight and pleasure, though temporary it may have been, lulled me off the highway to follow the signs to the tiny main street. I had high hopes of filling my empty stomach, and a few hours of under the table pay before jumping back on the road. Small places in the middle of nowhere like this often needed labor they didn’t want to pay long term benefits for. Most of the time it was diners, but I’d done bakery service enough to know my way around a mixer. Had even been a short order cook for a few weeks in Chicago. When it came to food I was a Jack-of-all-Trades, and I liked eating it just fine too.
It wasn’t until I stepped into the bakery, having to swerve around a group of customers leaving with arms full of baked goods, and others who waited in line at the counter, that I smelled more than just yeast and sugar.
Werewolf.
Fuck. My hunger took a nose dive as my anxiety rose. Dammit.
I didn’t even know where I was. Some middle of nowhere town in Washington State. A commuter town I’d heard of at the last gas station. Was there a pack here? Small towns were sometimes good places for packs if there was a lot of room to run. Most stuck close to the state parks and I was further north than that, contemplating Canada. If I had a passport, I’d have already crossed the border. Might still do it on four paws rather than two legs if I really began to run out of real estate. Not that I was a fan of the cold, and going north only brought out the grumpy Texan in me.
I thought about stepping out before anyone noticed me, but the crowd shuffled toward the counter. Customers had come in behind me and were now blocking the door. It would have been odd if I left. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but I suspected the werewolf I’d smelled would notice. If not my skittish behavior, then he would have noticed my scent already.
Not that I was a werewolf. I wasn’t a were-anything.
Witchborn. A tiny voice echoed in my head.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled to myself. Not like I could escape the truth. The factors of my birth were out my hands, much like the consequences of the past year. What I could control was the here and now. My stomach grumbled, reminding me it had been two days since I’d eaten last. I’d been running too hard to stop and hunt. Weeks I’d lived on nothing but occasional hunts and fast food. If I had to eat another mass produced burger for a buck, I’d puke.
You can always come home.
