Witch's Heart

Witch’s Heart

Tabitha Shay

UÉÉ~ gãÉ Éy à{x j|ÇáÄÉã j|àv{xá Éy ftÄxÅ “Illumrof is you, female. You’re human.” Sage reluctantly lowered Hannah to the floor. He allowed her body to slide slowly down the hard length of his body. He never thought he’d see the day when he could summon the least trace of interest in an illumrof. How odd. Life had a way of becoming strange and unpredictable. Faced with the woman standing before him now, he discovered he could muster a hell of a lot of interest. Samhain! If this woman was an example of human females, then dammit, his race needed to figure out a way males could successfully mate with them and produce offspring. No matter they would breed a race of Impures. As he saw it, half-breeds were better than extinction!

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Witch’s Heart

Witch's Heart © 2008 by Tabitha Shay

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic of mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

An Eternal Press Production Eternal Press Wangaratta, Victoria, Australia, 3677

To order additional copies of this book, contact: www. eternalpress.com.au

Cover Art © 2008 by Renee Rocco Edited by Sally Odgers Layout and Book Production by Julie D’Arcy eBook ISBN: 978-0-9804739-8-8 First Edition * February 2008 Production by Eternal Press Printed in Australia and The United States of America.

Tabitha Shay

UÉÉ~ gãÉ Éy à{x j|ÇáÄÉã j|àv{xá Éy ftÄxÅ

Tabitha Shay

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Witch’s Heart

Uç gtu|à{t f{tç‰ By Eternal Press

g{x j|ÇáÄÉã j|àv{xá Éy ftÄxÅ ~Witches' Brew~ ~Witch’s Heart~ ~Witch’s Moon~

Tabitha Shay

Wxw|vtà|ÉÇM To Ann Marie Bradley, (Ruby to her friends and family) author and friend, who never failed to support or lend an encouraging word. I know she’s smiling down from Heaven on all the authors from the Paranormal Romance Critique Group Two and cheering us on. We miss you, Ruby.

Tv~ÇÉãÄxwzxÅxÇàáM A big ‘Thank You’ to Melinda Contino, Manager of The Salem Inn, Salem, Massachusetts, for taking time away from her busy schedule to provide me with invaluable information about the Inn. Any mistakes made about the Salem Inn are my own. Also, thanks to Dahlia Robertson, my critique partner, who spent almost as much time on this novel as I, and never once stopped cheering me on. A special ‘Thank You’ to Laura Elliot, friend and fellow author, I can’t count the reasons why. Candace Clayton, gosh, what can I say about such a loyal and supportive fan? You’re my rainbow at the end of every rainy day. Thank You, Sally Odgers, my wonderful editor, who is there when I need her and so supportive of my work, just so you know, I’m working hard on ‘Witch’s Moon’ so you won’t have a long wait.

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Witch’s Heart

Áj|àv{Ëá [xtÜàË g{x áàÉÜç áÉ ytÜM What happened in Witch’s Brew... 1692; Salem Village during the black days of the Salem witch trials. It is a time when witches and wakens (male witches) dwell among humans, but because of the wakens’ ability and desire to steal a witch’s soul while mating, the females choose human males for their mates. Elsbeth Winslow is one such witch. She and John Connor have three young daughters, Nyra, Kirrah and Saylym. Evil MeLora Haven seduces John and he accuses Elsbeth of witchcraft and shoots her. The children are rescued by Elsbeth’s Coven and brought up separately, as humans. Their memories are erased and their ability to use magic concealed. Present Day When Saylym’s powers begin to return, she is magically transported to Sanctuary, a small village in the land of Ru-Noc where the witches have taken refuge behind a wall of magic. Saylym is overwhelmed when inanimate objects begin to move and talk, and when everyone assumes she is a witch. Her uncontrollable use of magic brings her under the scrutiny of the Waken Guild. Despite the terrible shortage of fertile witches, she is tagged for elimination Waken assassin Prince Talon is sent to terminate Saylym by stealing her soul, but with the Kingdom of Ru-Noc on the verge of war, it falls to Saylym and Prince Talon to save it and make Sanctuary safe. Before they can do so, Saylym must learn to harness her skills. Meanwhile, warlock Black Drayke has teamed up with the vengeful MeLora Haven. He kidnaps and tortures the queen while MeLora seduces the king in an attempt to rule RuNoc. Black Drayke and MeLora both want to eliminate Saylym. Prince Talon’s cousin Sage joins Talon and Saylym in their fight, but while attempting to save Saylym, Sage takes a blast of electrical energy in the chest. As the battle rages on, his body vanishes in a blur of brilliant light. And so, begins the story of Sage and what happens to him after he was struck by the powerful bolt of magic.

Tabitha Shay

V{tÜtvàxÜáM Saylym Winslow: a witch confused by her returning powers. Now married to Prince Talon, and expecting twin boys. Elsbeth Winslow–Saylym's mother, a witch mated with a mortal. She was shot by her husband in the 17th Century. Queen Shy-Ryn: sister of Elsbeth and mother of MeLora. She has gifted her magical emeralds to Saylym. Eldora: Saylym's foster mother, a member of Elsbeth's coven Nyra: daughter of Elsbeth Kirrah: daughter of Elsbeth Hannah Miller: a human who is Kirrah’s best friend King Darak: king of Ru-Noc Queen Helayne: queen of Ru-Noc Stry: crown prince of Ru-Noc Talon: prince of Ru-Noc, married to Saylym Kali: princess of Ru-Noc Sage: Talon's cousin MeLora Haven: Saylym's cousin. An evil witch who has seduced King Darak. She is pregnant by Black Drayke, but Darak thinks it is his Black Drayke: evil warlock, MeLora's lover, who has kidnapped and tortured Queen Helayne. She is now pregnant with a child named Cyn Celine: Queen Helayne's familiar, a Persian Futhar Topaz: Saylym's familiar, in love with Celine, but accidentally matched with her sister, Maxine Dinka: Sage's familiar, a bullfrog

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Rule of Three Ever mind the Rule of Three Three times what thou giveth returns to thee. This lesson well, thou must learn, Thou only gets what thou dost earn! Author- Unknown

Tabitha Shay

cÜÉÄÉzâx After The First Battle for Ru-Noc Mojave Desert, southern California Illumrof Realm

\

t was a perfect night for murder, except when Sage opened his eyes he wasn’t looking up at the moon and stars, but at a vivid blue sky. Blue? That couldn’t be right. He’d never seen a blue sky before. Lime-green and lemonyellow, sure, but certainly not this strange blue with fluffy white clouds dotting the sky like marshem puffs. He couldn’t possibly be in his realm. In Ru-Noc, clouds bobbed across the sky like enormous, pink lolli-roos. Murder? He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his hand across his aching forehead. Murder. Now why did that come to mind? His brain felt jammed with the absurd; blue sky, white clouds and murder. He wondered vaguely whose party he’d attended and just how much of the potent amber wiska he’d consumed. He pulled himself to a half-sitting position, moaning as he forced his tortured body to move. Sharp splinters of pain sliced through his skull. Unanswered questions buzzed around inside his head like a plague of Mandreyan bees. “I couldn’t have murdered someone.” What the hell kind of party did I go to? True, he’d never had a head for wiska. One sip of the intoxicating waken’s brew and his speech slurred, his legs wobbled, and he crashed faster than water racing down a sluice. However, it didn’t usually leave him with the mother of hangovers. He rubbed his heart. Acute pain lodged in the center of his chest. That was something new as well. Someone must have punched a big hole in him, and for added measure, ripped out his guts through the cavity. On top of everything else, he seemed to have misplaced his memory. Only snippets of things—words, popped in and out of his skull, mish-mashing with the constant buzzing. Nausea slipped in, a black fissure in his stomach. He tried to swallow. Hell, there wasn’t a hint of moisture to dampen his parched throat. He couldn’t spit. The sand in his mouth refused to budge. Sand? There was another word that made little sense. He made a face and spat out the grit. Chomping down was a major mistake. The 10

Witch’s Heart

miniature granules crunched beneath his teeth like tiny beads of glass. Rough. Crispy. It set his teeth on edge. Erg! His stomach chose that moment to rumble its complaints, reminding him he had no idea when he’d last eaten. He rubbed his blurry eyes. Blinked. Rubbed them again, but rubbing only made them burn worse. A steaming lobstroid in a pot of boiling water couldn’t burn any worse than his eyes. Swiveling to the left, he gasped. Never in all his centuries of living had he seen such desolate land. Where the hell was he? Great! That’s exactly where he was. Hell. He must be in Hell. But how had he gotten here? He’d never breathed air like this—bone-dry and hotter than the sweltering red dunes of the Underworld. So maybe that was it. Forget Hell. He was in Dym’s Underworld. The Prince of Death had collected him. He drew in a deep breath but fell into a fit of coughing. Everywhere he looked, sand, sand, and more sand. Tall, thick things dotted the vast, scorched land—spiny arms stretched toward the sky. Uneven ridges of rocky, lusterless mountains jutted upward and outward in bumpy, jagged walls of sandstone. Splashes of white, the pale gold of champagne, and the blush pink of a sunset gave the stone ledges spectacular color and a sense of life. Fingers of apprehension snaked down his spine and coiled around him like a Junus vine. The aloneness hit him, the total isolation. He was an alien in an unfamiliar world. A slight movement on the sand diverted his attention. He stared at the pinkish colored bug. It scooted across the creamy colored granules as if it was on fire. Its long narrow tail spiked over a ribbed back. In front, a set of pinchers grasped a small black spider. “Devil’s toenails!” Panic whipped through him. His gut clenched. The bug might be small, but he’d never seen anything so damned ugly in his life. Of course, he could have the misfortune of meeting a human. Illumrofs were damned ugly, too. That’s what he’d been told anyway. It crept closer. “What in the bleeding hell are you?” The odd-looking creature didn’t bother to answer him. It darted beneath a rock with its soon-to-be-meal, but the critter was too close for comfort, especially since he didn’t know what the ugly bugger was. Sage crab-crawled back from the rock and froze. There was another strange creepycrawly undulating toward him. Its entire body was colored sandy beige with darker, diamond-shaped markings bordered by lighter-colored scales. Suddenly, it whipped into a coil and furiously wiggled its black-banded tail. He stared at it, fascinated. Damn, if it wasn’t closer than the ugly bug under the rock. For some reason, the rattling creature with its thin lips reminded him of Black Drayke. Black Drayke! He remembered the evil warlock. Sage sighed. Nothing else came to mind. “By the Devil’s wicked brew, this is getting worse by the minute.”

Tabitha Shay

Here he’d awoken in an alien world, surrounded by wicked-looking critters, his memory sketchy at best. He hoped whatever god played this joke on him was having a good laugh. He wished the funny looking—thing would quit shaking its tail at him and stop making that strange noise. It was beginning to sound like the odd buzzing in his head. Annoying. Spitting more grit out of his mouth, Sage rose to his feet and wobbled unsteadily. Goosebumps rose on his arms. Whatever world he was in, he didn’t like it here. He wanted his home at Droth. He wanted Ru-Noc. Yesterday. Hell, he’d settle for Sanctuary. Today. Ah. More words. More memories filled his head. Home. He remembered home, but only in a distorted sort of way. The blazing sun beat down on the top of his bare head. His left eye hurt like the devil, the same eye Hannah Miller slammed her fist into a few nights ago. Hannah Miller was one human who definitely did not look like a troll. Another piece of the puzzle slid in place. He remembered Hannah. Sage squinted, searching the distance. Did Hell actually have big silver boxes that sort of looked like a place to dwell? Metal houses? Yes! There was life here, after all. If he didn’t hurt so badly, he’d shout with delight. Maybe there was someone who could tell him where he was and what had happened to him. He stared at the distant images, happy to see any form of a lifeline. The metal houses wavered and floated in the obscure distance like a ship adrift at sea. Greasy nausea rose from the back of his throat. He leaned over, retched, and stumbled closer to the angry creature shaking its tail. It flicked its tongue at him. Sage sucked in a sharp breath as the thing suddenly jumped its full length straight at him. “Mother of the Devil!” He tottered back. “Holy witch’s brew, it bit me!” He tore at the metal button on the front of his black leather pants and dragged the zipper down in a mad rush. White-hot pain nipped at his balls. “I can’t believe it. It—bit me on—” “—my cock!” His voice cracked with horror when he saw exactly where he’d been bitten. He cupped his balls and collapsed to one knee. Sharp pain curdled through his groin. “Ouch! Sheeahta!” He watched the demon creature slither away. “Come back here, Thing! I’m going to rip you in half!” He released his aching balls, muttered a chant, and wiggled his fingers. And waited. The creature didn’t explode. There were no wondrous sparks of energy. No explosion of mighty, waken power. “Gods. I have no magic.” Incredulity spread through him. He was stranded who knows where with no magic and a creature had just bitten him for no reason. He rose slowly to both feet, but the hideous thing rudely ignored his command to come back. It crawled on its belly until it reached a clump of prickly bushes a few feet away. There it coiled its stodgy body under the shade and flicked its wicked tongue in silent warning. It dared him to make a wrong move. Sage snorted. Yeah, right, like he wanted the cock-biting son of a bitch near him again. He drew a short breath. His gut clenched as he looked down a second time. Yep. Sure enough, there were two tiny pricks mid-way up the length of his ... prick. “May the devil weep.” Sage eyed his cock. His brows knitted in a frown. Droplets of blood oozed from the

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two identical tiny punctures. He sucked in a sharp breath. The wounds burned like the Fires of Damnation. Horrified, he scowled at the matching sites. Suddenly, his cock throbbed. He watched, jaw agape as his shaft stretched full length—not with passion, either. Samhain! Was he now going to walk around with a permanent hard-on? Hmm. If that was the worst thing that happened from the monster’s bite, he’d find a way to live with it—somehow. Grunting, he reached down to pull up his pants. The ground rushed at him like a speeding rom. He swayed unsteadily. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he crashed like a felled tree. Sage blinked. “Whoa! What happened?” Be damned if he wasn’t right back on his back and sprawled on the sand. He closed his eyes, fighting the green bubbles of nausea fizzing in his stomach. Warily, he opened one eye, then the second. Big mistake! The strange, blue sky lurched to one side like a giant tidal wave. Devil’s toenails, sure as Samhain, he was going to hurl. Only the gods knew how long he lay there too paralyzed to move while the crazy world he’d woke up in sucked him to the center of its spinning black vortex. It seemed like hours. He squeezed his eyes shut and clawed at the loose sand. His fingers buried in the granules as the wild ride went on and on, spinning and spinning in an endless voyage. He couldn’t think. He could barely breathe. In what a sad shape the creature’s bite had rendered him! His breath climbed into his throat and lodged there. He gasped, trying to suck air into his lifeless lungs. His last coherent thought as he lay there naked from the waist down, pants twisted around his boots, was he really must have died and gone to the Underworld. There was no other explanation. He’d died. And his punishment was having a big, swollen cock and no female to ease the problem. The sad truth hit him. He felt too sick to even give a shit. Was it hours later or merely a moment before he heard an odd, growling noise? Gods, he hoped the damned crawling thing wasn’t bringing its father to finish him off. He raised his head high enough to see what angry monster approached, then fell back, closing his eyes. It was impossible to move. His body was stone and growing stiffer by the minute. His muscles were simply locking tightly together. The strange rumbling sounded like thunder as it drew closer. He forced his eyes open and turned his head to one side. What kind of beast roared on four wheels? It jerked to a sudden halt beside him. He could swear it belched fire and brimstone as it sat there and rumbled. Watching the woman climb off the reined-in brute, he choked back a gasp. Oh, no. No way. This could not be happening to him. Impossible! He was in the illumrof world? The human world? The worst enemy known to witch kind? He must be. How else could he explain the beautiful, but hostile face of Hannah Miller—the only human he’d ever met—standing over him? She leaned closer and snorted. “Your dick is burned to a crisp, Waken!” “My cock is fried?” Horror engulfed him. He groaned. Oh, yes, he was in the illumrof world,

Tabitha Shay

punishment for daring to face MeLora in battle, for saving Saylym. This had to be part of his penalty for banishing Hannah from his world. He closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere but here. Memories tumbled, revolving over and over in a heedless blur through his mind, twirling, whirling like the gears of a watch. Spinning—spinning—until—until— He remembered...

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V{tÑàxÜ bÇx Before The First Battle for Ru-Noc Sanctuary The Time of Beltane

V

hurning black clouds chewed away at the pale slice of moon hooked in the sky until only an occasional patch of moonlight lit the way for the weary traveler. It was a perfect night for murder. Moving along the narrow, twisting back alleys, Sage made his way silently through the small village. Angry at what the Waken Guild had ordered him to do, he couldn’t fault the female witches for being wary of the wakens. Nor could he blame them for choosing to live in seclusion, away from the males of his race—and assassins like him. Their existence was in constant jeopardy. Why couldn’t the Guild comprehend that Ru-Noc, the Land of Witches and Wakens, was on the edge of extinction? If something didn’t change within the next hundred years, Ru-Noc would cease to exist. In his realm, the world as he knew it withered away a little more with each passing century—not that he could do anything to force the Guild to change their laws. He couldn’t. No one could. An icy wind howled, sending cold shivers down his back. The woolen cloak, leather pants and thin shirt he wore gave little protection against the biting wind, but the grey and black colors made it easier for him to blend into the shadows. He preferred the dense obscurity of the darker areas. But at times, he had to feel his way down the deserted streets—blacker than the cavernous jaws of the Underworld—by sliding his fingers along the crumbling brick walls of the ancient buildings. He edged around the corner of a building. Frosty air sliced through his lungs with the sharpness of a newly-honed knife. Frozen rain bit at his face. Swearing, he pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders. Damn, if he remained out here much longer, his balls were going to clank every time he took a step. He almost snorted at the thought, except his nose and jaw muscles felt too stiff. He paused, rubbing his hands together to thaw the numbness in his bare fingers. Maybe if he was in bed somewhere with a beautiful witch, his hands curled around her warm breasts, he wouldn’t be thinking about his balls freezing. Icy sweat coalesced and slid down his spine. He shivered, but he didn’t think the cold had anything to do with it. Tonight he would kill, not one, but two innocent

Tabitha Shay

women—Hannah Miller, a human, and Kirrah Walker, a witch. The rumor these two were friends shook the Guild members to their toenails. In their minds, conspiracies were everywhere and always to be feared. Friendship between a witch and a human was a catastrophe waiting to happen. How horrifying! It struck terror in the older wakens' hearts. Worse, the illumrof dwelled among them. Unheard of! Nor would it be tolerated. This time, Sage managed a snort. The Guild wouldn’t have to deal with how a human had entered their world if he did his job and eliminated her. No illumrof had ever crossed over before now. How had Hannah Miller managed to move between realms? No mortals were capable of moving from one realm to another on their own. That meant someone aided her. Kirrah Walker? On this, he and the Guild agreed. Hence, both women would die. Sage headed across the street to the new pastry shop, Sugar ‘N’ Spice, where said illumrof worked. No sign of her! By the Devil’s toenails, he wanted to puke at the thought of what he must do. But he couldn’t delay any longer. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing his cousins, Prince Stry and Prince Talon, were having the same problem offing their marks. He probed the darkness, his gaze thorough. There! Was that a movement inside the bakery? Sage’s steps faltered. He peered through the ice-glazed window, leaned to his left and rattled the doorknob. Ah ha! Whoever was in there was human because only mortals locked doors. One chant and he could be through it. The shadow inside moved across the shop. A lamp snapped on, casting a weak circle of light. What would she look like, this illumrof he’d been sent to destroy? “Samhain,” he called to the Celtic god of death. “Please don’t let her be ugly as a troll.” He’d always heard human females were repulsive. If she was that hideous, he might need to use a mirror to avoid any Medusa affects. Crap! He’d forgotten the blasted thing. Maybe he should go back for it and do this another night when it wasn’t so cold— “What you wait for, Sage? I bet you ‘fraid of unattractive, illumrof woman troll.” Sage cut a sharp glance down at Dinka, his familiar bullfrog of the Futhar Lyzine race. She poked her green head up from his shirt pocket and studied him with inquisitive, yellow eyes. “I’m not afraid, Dinka. I just—don’t like trolls.” “Humph! You have much dread, all right. Not ‘cause female maybe look like horrible troll. My Sage don’t have in him heart to kill human woman, no matter how she turn him stomach. Is fact. Okie-dokie?” He puffed out his chest as if the act alone would lend him nerve. “I’m a heartless assassin, Dinka,” he reminded the Futhar. “If I don’t terminate her, the Guild will send Black Drayke to do it. He would be less merciful than I. That warlock is just plain mean.” “Well, then, what you wait for? Let us go and get dastardly deed done so we can escape frozen night from Hellsville.” Sage nodded. Reaching inside his pants pocket, he pulled out a black silk eye patch. “Ah. My Sage use him crafty disguise to sneak up on illumrof woman? My Sage brave waken, him not need hide behind patch.” “Your Sage needs this disguise. It bolsters my confidence, in which I’m sadly

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lacking when it comes to facing an illumrof creature, even if that illumrof is merely a female.” The act of feigning injuries to gain a witch’s sympathy came easily for him. It was a role he played to ensure compassion. It worked well and was a good way to start a conversation without tripping over his tongue. In his opinion, it made him appear vulnerable and less threatening to a witch. The ultimate result was the surrender of her body, a chance to mate, and the hope of creating a child, or less of a struggle if he had to steal her soul. But this female he’d been sent to terminate wasn’t a witch. Maybe his feigned injury would work on her anyway and give him time to get close enough to gain her trust. Not that he planned on talking to or bedding the illumrof; he didn’t. He intended to go into the shop, do the deed, and get out, just as Stry had recommended. Icy chills swept over him. He dreaded seeing this human for the first time. Drawing in a deep breath, Sage slid the silk patch over his left eye. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light cast by the bakery’s display window. A groan slipped past his throat. “Why did she have to come here?” Determined to finish the job assigned to him, he chanted softly: “In this tween time, this darkest hour, I call upon my waken power. Come to me, who calls you near, Come to me and settle here. Where I find my path is blocked, To clear my way, turn the lock.” Hearing the soft snick of the door unlocking, Sage reached for the doorknob. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Whether the human resembled a butt-ugly troll or not, Hannah Miller died tonight and nothing would change that fact.

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãÉ Sanctuary

[

annah paused to sniff the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen to the front half of the bakery. She smiled, pleased with the yeasty aroma. She shifted the lightweight ladder she carried and worked her way around the first counter where the cash register stood to her right, and propped the ladder against the wall to her left. The bakery was compact and filled with rows of white shelves. Freshly baked goods burdened the racks, goodies that came straight from the spacious kitchen behind her. Outside, the wind screeched. It whistled around corners and whipped tree limbs into a wild frenzy. The display window suddenly rattled. She whirled around, suppressing a gasp. The single lamp she’d switched on earlier didn’t give off much light. She preferred the dimmer lighting. That way if someone was out and about and up to no good, maybe they’d think no one was here. A trickle of unease slithered down her spine. Being alone in the bakery late at night always made her nervous. She marched over to the door and twisted the doorknob, still locked after inspecting it for at least the fifth time. She shivered, strode back across the room and climbed the ten-foot rickety ladder. This wasn’t her regular shift, but Kirrah wanted the night off to practice new spells. Kirrah owed her big time. She shook her head and grinned at the latest hare-brained scheme her best friend planned. Kirrah, it seemed, was determined to teach a broom to fly. Knowing Kirrah, she’d probably succeed ...eventually. Leaning as far to the right as possible, Hannah still couldn’t reach the container of spice she needed. Toadstools and Horny Toads! It was already well past two. If she didn’t set her second batch of dough to rise soon, she wouldn’t get out of the bakery before sunrise. How in the world had Kirrah put the cinnamon there? Magic? She chortled. Nevertheless, it was typical Kirrah. Only her friend would think it made perfect sense to place something they frequently needed out of reach. With her illogical thinking, if it was in plain sight, then it had to be the logical place for it. Ha! Her petite friend was getting too good at mumbling words and causing strange things to happen. Shaken, they’d both finally accepted the fact Kirrah was a witch. It was downright unnerving the way Kirrah’s powers had grown since their move to Sanctuary. 18

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Kirrah’s powers were stronger, yes, but nearly everything she did was wild. As teenagers, they haunted the libraries, reading everything they could get their hands on about witches. They hadn’t missed a single episode of Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, not even the reruns. They’d come to the disheartening conclusion Kirrah simply hadn’t mastered the technique of harnessing her magic. But she refused to give up. She practiced. And practiced. Her friend seemed to always be mumbling some new chant, then she’d look at Hannah with a rueful grin and give a half-hearted shrug as a book floated in the air straight into a wall or a dish crashed to the floor and shattered. Again. This whole business of unskilled magic and her friend being a witch was definitely peculiar. Hannah stretched a little further and felt along the top shelf. The ladder rocked unsteadily and tilted to the left. She yelped and grabbed the edge of the shelving. Too late! The ladder toppled over. Crash! Hannah screamed and gripped the edge of the shelf with her fingertips. The shelf quivered and groaned, then pulled free from the wall on one end. Jars of homemade jellies, jams, and extra containers of spices flew off the end of the shelf and shattered on the floor below her. Surplus sacks of flour smacked the cement floor, bursting open and spraying mushroom-shaped clouds into the air. Bags of sugar landed with a dull thud and split apart, spewing crystal granules in sunburst patterns. It reminded Hannah just how high she dangled. If she fell, she could break a bone. “Help! Somebody help me!” But who was there to help? She was at least twelve feet in the air. Her legs churned the air like the pistons of an over-worked locomotive trying unsuccessfully to gather enough steam to race up a hill. She looked down to her left and right, but there was nothing close enough she could drop onto. She winced as her arms started to cramp, and to make matters more difficult, she needed to pee—badly. Why was it, when one was in a predicament, one suddenly had bodily functions attacking as if declaring war? She couldn’t even cross her legs as she dangled there in midair. To make things more exciting, a fly suddenly zipped around and around her face. It buzzed like a pissed-off bumblebee mad at the world. Oh, no! It lit on the tip of her nose. Pushing out her lower lip, Hannah huffed and puffed, trying to dislodge it. She twitched her nose. She prayed. Nothing worked. The damned thing must have decided her nose felt like home sweet home. Ack! She wouldn’t be surprised if the pesky thing ran up a flag to stake its territory. Hannah gave cursing a try, but she’d never been very good at swearing. Besides, what good would it do? The fly was just a dumb bug, doing what came naturally. Inwardly, she cringed. Here she was on the verge of slipping and falling, so why she was thinking stupid, mundane thoughts when she was about to break a leg or worse— both legs? Thinking rationally was impossible for her at this precise moment. The muscles in her shoulders quivered. Cramps laid siege to the upper portion of her arms, which trembled violently. Sweat dampened her fingers. Hell, even her eyeballs sweated!

Tabitha Shay

Her grip on the shelf slipped a little more. She knew, as sure as there were angels playing harps in Heaven, that when her fingers started to sweat it was all over but the crashing. And damn, if the distance to the floor didn’t look farther and farther away. Oh no! The last of her strength gave. Shrieking, she plunged downward. “There now, I’ve got you.” Strong, masculine arms closed around her, cradling her securely. The man gave a slight grunt and staggered beneath the sudden onslaught of her weight, but he held her tight, saving her from injury. “Dunghill!” She locked her arms around his neck, buried her face against his wide shoulders and trembled. Warm breath brushed against her throat. “Dunghill?” The voice sounded mildly curious. “As opposed to shit, I’m not very good at swearing.” Soft laughter filled her ears. “Yes, I can hear that.” She pushed her nose against his hair and inhaled. “I’m tapering my damn language, okay?” “Sure. Are you sniffing my hair?” “Er—umm, course not.” “I see.” His tone plainly said he didn’t see at all. His hand glided down her back as though he was gentling her to his touch. She gripped his neck tighter and shuddered at the near injury he’d saved her from. “It’s all right, mau-ley,” he soothed. “Mau-ley?” She whispered the word against his throat. “My love.” Her heart pounded. Her stomach tightened like it had a lump of soft mush hardening in the center. My love? He might have saved her from a terrible injury, but she couldn’t keep from thinking the town had battened down for the storm’s onslaught hours ago. The bakery was closed for the night. How had he gotten in? Oh, but those masculine arms felt wonderful. Nice, solid, strong and he smelled divine, like almonds and cinnamon and hot frothy chocolate. Surely he wouldn’t have saved her if he meant her harm? However he’d managed to get inside the bakery, she was grateful he’d arrived in time to keep her from being injured. She buried her nose against the hard wall of his chest and inhaled deeply, sighing with the pure pleasure of his tantalizing scent. “Hey, you’re okay. Right? You didn’t hurt yourself?” For the first time she realized he had an accent, one so thick he sounded like Bela Lugosi. She would know—she’d watched enough old vampire movies with Kirrah to recognize the Old World accent. “I’m fine. I think.” She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Thank you.” Hannah gulped when she looked into the rugged face so close to hers. Heat radiated from his body into hers. Dark hair tumbled about his shoulders, reminding her of a sable’s rich coat, soft and black like the most prized fur of one of those small mammals. It fell carelessly around his face and down his back. Her hands itched to touch it. The man was sensually, sinfully, beautiful. Even with a silk eye patch over his eye, he was still gorgeous.

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Ah, how tragic. He’d probably lost the eye in some terrible accident. Cripey! She had his full attention, that single eye focused on her diamond hard. Surrounded by a wedge of thick, black lashes, it was the most peculiar shade of lavender. Dark purple striations sparked with heat in the warm lilac depths. She’d never seen anyone’s eyes shimmer, except for Kirrah’s, and she could easily explain that away because Kirrah was a witch. Hannah swallowed hard, but she couldn’t quite conceal the excitement in her voice, “You’re a waken!” “You’re an illumrof,” he shot back. “And what do you know about wakens?” The expression on his face turned dark and dangerous. “How do you know about wakens?” The very softness of his questions gave her plenty of warning. This man was no one to prank around with. He had lethal down to perfection, Alpha male right down to his toes. “I don’t know about wakens. Not really. I mean, I haven’t ever met a waken—er— before now—well, except for the man next door who claims to be a. . .” her voice trailed off as it suddenly hit her. She gasped. “Actually, I haven’t seen any males in Sanctuary since I moved here, except for—the—er—Prince Talon, who claims he’s a waken.” She tilted her head sending her hair cascading back over her shoulders. “What’s an illumrof?” The heat shimmering in his eye went from inviting and sultry to cold and suspicious in a heartbeat. Truth to tell, it was damned daunting. Another truth hit her like a runaway freight train. Charming though this man might be he was like a big cat on a leash. If and when he broke that bridle, she better run like hell or else she would be in serious trouble. The rise and fall of his chest brushed her breasts every time he drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Hannah blinked. “Where do all you wakens live?” That single eye narrowed with lethal intent. Oh, dear, what had she said wrong?

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llumrof is you, female. You’re human.” Sage reluctantly lowered Hannah to the floor. He allowed her body to slide slowly down the hard length of his. He never thought he’d see the day when he could summon the least trace of interest in an illumrof. How odd. Life had a way of becoming strange and unpredictable. Faced with the woman standing before him now, he discovered he could muster a hell of a lot of interest. Samhain! If this woman was an example of human females, then dammit, his race needed to figure out a way males could successfully mate with them and produce offspring. No matter they would breed a race of Impures. As he saw it, half-breeds were better than extinction! “How do you know I’m illumrof —er, human?” Curiosity lined her face. “I can smell your human scent.” “My friend Kirrah is a witch. She never once told me she could tell I was human from my scent. What do I smell like?” He wanted to laugh at the disbelief in her voice. “Hot. You smell hot. Sexy. You are female to my male. Only a male would detect the difference and—react.” “Oh.” Faint color rose to her cheeks. “I think I understand what you mean.” “Do you?” He studied her. She definitely knew what he was. She had no fear of him. “No matter. You’re not supposed to know witches and wakens exist.” She rolled her eyes. “Get serious. I’ve known about witches since—forever. I wasn’t sure about the existence of males, but it only makes sense there would be two sexes.” She gave a sassy grin. Small, straight teeth flashed. “When we were kids, Kirrah discovered her witchy talents. Unfortunately, she wiggled her fingers and snakes and spiders magically appeared in Clarice Yates’ hair.” “Clarice Yates?” His lips twitched. He couldn’t help being amused. She was just so damned cute. “Yeah.” She nodded. “Chubby Clarice terrorized the second grade class with her bullying until one fateful Halloween night.” Hannah giggled. “You know, I think her family moved away soon after that. I can’t imagine why.” She peeked up at him through her lashes. Velvet-blue eyes sparkled with silent laughter. “You’re not going to tell me where the wakens live. Are you?” “Nope.” A tiny dimple flashed. “Why not? You don’t look so dangerous.” 22

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“And you don’t look like a troll. But I promise you, Hannah Miller, when necessary, I can do bad things.” He glared at her to prove his point. “I’m here to do just that. You’d better believe I’m the most dangerous person you’ll ever meet.” She propped her hands on her hips. “If you’re deliberately trying to scare me, you’re wasting your time. I don’t scare easily.” In spite of her bravery, he detected the slight shiver she gave. He admired the way she tilted her chin in defiance. She dared him to do his worst. His breath caught in his throat. Heat curled through his stomach and settled in his groin. His cock twitched. This illumrof woman was the loveliest troll he’d ever seen. Oh, hell! Sage shifted, uncomfortable with his body’s response to the beauty standing before him. He couldn’t be attracted to her. Sure, she was beautiful, but the very thought of touching her or being attracted to a human female curdled his gut. It wouldn’t do at all. There was no way there could ever be anything between them, no matter how interested his cock might be. He was a waken, a male of another species. If he mated with her and she conceived, both she and the babe were doomed. Besides, the Guild had laws. They considered a waken mating with a human an abomination, as well as an offense that could have him drummed out of his Coven. Instead of leaping forward to save her when he saw her falling, he should have let her fall. She could have died by accident and the dirty deed been accomplished without him lifting a finger. He could have walked away with a clear conscience. He sighed. Well, almost a clear conscience. But no, he’d had to be a hero. Rush in to save the damsel in distress. What had he been thinking? In order to do the job he was assigned to do, he had to remain distant and uninvolved. He didn’t dare keep delaying what was necessary. She straightened her shoulders and threw a glare back at him. A tough little thing, he decided. No matter how challenging she was, she couldn’t prevent what he had to do to her. She couldn’t keep him from carrying out her execution. He had to get the deed done. Now. Sage drew a deep breath to steady his nerves and slowly exhaled. This was it. Show time. He might as well get it behind him and move on to Kirrah Walker. He flexed his fingers and took a determined step forward.

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V{tÑàxÜ YÉâÜ Sanctuary Hannah folded her arms over her breasts and kept a wary eye on the mysterious waken. Despite her intentions to stand her ground, her feet shuffled across the kitchen tiles until she felt the heat from the preheated oven warm her back. She looked around, startled to realize she’d backed all the way into the kitchen. The hunky waken stood nose to nose with her and had not uttered a word. What was she doing? Why on Earth was she allowing him to intimidate her? Could be because he’s bigger than me, tougher and meaner. Duh! Like slivers of icy sleet, apprehension trickled down her spine. The man before her might be handsome as sin—well, actually, there was no might be to it. He was definitely handsome as sin, but she sensed danger. Determination blasted off him like atomic heat waves. He directed all that dark passion and lethal intent straight at her. She flinched when he suddenly reached out and stroked a fingertip down her cheek. His lavender eye was so penetrating; she feared he could almost see straight through her modest silk blouse. She crossed her arms over her chest and he dropped his gaze lower, widening his oh-so-kissable lips when she unconsciously straightened her apron over her lower half to assure herself it hadn’t vaporized from his speculative stare. She licked lips that suddenly tingled with need. It was past time to get out of his reach. Cautiously, she took two steps to the side away from the hot oven. Why, the man could pick her up and thrust her inside the baking compartment and hold the door shut while she roasted. Did wakens eat humans? Her heart accelerated. Adrenaline pumped hotly through her veins, along with a healthy dose of scared shitless. Wasn’t it a witch who tried to devour poor, innocent Hansel and Gretel? All right, so what if that story was a fairytale. So what if they’d been eating the old biddy’s gingerbread house. The kids were hungry, damn it! Hadn’t she read somewhere that most tales were based on fact? Her heart leapt into her throat and lodged there. “Are you going to eat me?” He choked. “It’s a thought, mau-ley, but somehow, I don’t believe we’re thinking of the same meal. A dinner of sensuous pleasure might suit me better.” Oh, joy. A perverted waken. From his reply, his mind had immediately leapt to— well; it definitely took a giant leap south of the border. As if hers hadn’t. And wasn’t it just the pits that despite the fear chugging through her body, her 24

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fingers itched to touch the sleek, powerful muscles of his biceps. To stay in her safety zone, she took another step to the side. No touching, she told herself, no matter how tempting he looked. He did so remind her of a dangerous cat, a sleek and well-honed panther ready to pounce on his unsuspecting prey. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and kept pace with her. Well darn! He’d just blocked her way to the industrial-sized mixer where tonight’s work waited, along with a drawer stuffed with big, butchers' knives. How was she going to get past a man the size of a lumberjack, one who obviously took joy in terrorizing helpless females? She had the feeling she’d been stalked by the best. Now that he had her cornered, he was through playing his little game of cat and mouse. He meant business. But what exactly was his business? “Why did you have to come here?” he asked, removing his cloak and tossing it across the counter. Hannah gulped. Why was he removing his cloak? Maybe he planned on making himself at home? Well, sure. It made perfect sense. Why not be comfortable while he did the dirty deed? That way he could take his time peeling the hide off her poor dead body, once he murdered her. She winced. Of course, she had her handy-dandy drawer of sharp knives to assist him with that particular project. Slice and dice—rules to live by for today’s would-be stalker. She licked her lips. “I—er, like it here.” “How did you get here?” “How? Oh, the usual. We flew in on our brooms.” His eye widened. Maybe that wasn’t the best selection of words. “We drove here. What the hell do you want?” A fine tremor ran over his arm as he reached out and smoothed away a strand of her hair that had fallen over her eye. He snatched his hand back, as if he suddenly reconsidered—all his perfect muscle straining to keep from leaping—the predator in him ready to pounce. His jaw tightened. His eye twitched—the one not covered by a patch. She kept her gaze fixed on his face. She wasn’t about to blink. Sure as she did, out would pop the dicing knife. He scowled darkly, as though annoyed she was afraid of him. She nearly snorted. What did Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly expect? Heck, she wasn’t afraid to admit she was scared. “Hannah, the coward.” He gave her a curious look at her muttered words. “Coward?” She nodded. That was her all right. She was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. The quiet ticking of the clock on the wall scraped her nerves raw. Although she wanted to, throwing something at it was out of the question. A windblown limb rapped on the plate glass of the rear door. She practically jumped out of her skin. Right. This was a scene right out of a B-grade horror movie. There was no way out and they were all alone. The heroine couldn’t be in more serious peril and there wasn’t a hero in sight to save her. The coward had to handle things all on her own. Trapped! She was trapped inside the bakery with a man she’d never seen before tonight, he could do whatever he wanted. No one would ever be the wiser.

Tabitha Shay

He knows who I am! She licked her lips as the thought suddenly hit her. “How do you know my name?” That startled him, and Hannah took the opportunity and shot around him. Escaping the kitchen section of the bakery seemed essential to her safety. At least there was a big window in front of the store where a passerby could see them, if one happened to be passing by at such a late hour. Broken glass and granules of spice crunched underfoot. Her boots slipped on globs of jelly as she tried to hurry into the front of the bakery. She couldn’t gain enough traction to run, not without slipping and falling. He circled around her so quickly, so smoothly, her breath caught on a gulp. How did he do that? It was almost as if he’d skipped stepping around her and just appeared in front of her, blocking her path. “All right, enough!” She flung up a hand as though to halt him. Sure. Like that would put a wrench in his plans. Not likely! She puffed out an angry breath. Coward be damned! There was no way she was going to tolerate this man who seemed bent on turning her into a quivering mass of Jell-O. So what if he knew her name? She had no clue how he knew, but it wasn’t a secret. Who was he? What were his intentions toward her? She had enough common sense and protective instincts to realize his purpose for being here probably wasn’t good. Her intuitive sense of immediate danger wafted too strongly. “Get out of my way.” She shoved him. He arched a brow, stepped to one side and gave a slight bow from the waist. Yeah, he let her pass. The dirty sneak! He’d tricked her into allowing him behind her. More fool her! Now, she couldn’t see what he was doing. Ah, that wasn’t good. He could slice and dice and she’d never see it coming. He followed her across the front of the shop. She gave a sigh of relief when he bumped her shoulder and pushed past her. Yep, that was much better. Better to see what he was doing than have to guess. Then he took up a position against the door, a lone sentinel who blocked her only avenue of escape. Crap! Not good. Oh, but he was a clever one, and cool, as unruffled as the sea at a dead calm. He smiled—a smile filled with frost, and, at once, graced with deadly beauty. Without taking his eye off her, he fiddled behind him. The nearly soundless snick of the lock snapping in place sounded like a gunshot blast inside the shop. Locked? When had it been unlocked? How had he unlocked it to get inside the shop? Hannah drew a deep breath and forced herself not to flinch in reaction. It didn’t really matter how he got here. He was here! “I know a lot more about you than your name, Hannah Miller.” His voice was pure silk. It wrapped around her like a fur coat, warm, sensual and smooth as honey. She couldn’t keep the curiosity from her voice. “Oh? What do you know? Exactly?” “I know you’re human, a frail illumrof whose life span is but a twinkle, then gone. I know you should have remained in your own dimension. And I know it’s impossible to mate with you.”

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“Mate with me?” Hannah gulped and put her hand on the rolling pin she’d left on the counter earlier. If she was no use to him, then what did that mean? He was going to kill her? Crap! They were back to the slice and dice. She tightened her grip on the rolling pin. “Over my dead body!” she said under her breath. Bad choice of words, Hannah. Really bad. His gaze slid over her, rested on the pulse throbbing urgently near her throat. Helplessly, she swayed toward him. “I can hear your heart pounding. And yet—” he stroked her shoulder, trailed his hand along her arm and gently removed the rolling pin and set it aside. His touch sent an electrical charge through her body, in spite of her fear. Heaviness pooled in her stomach. Unexpected warmth settled between her thighs. The pull of desire had her breath hitching. Wasn’t it enough she was scared witless without her hormones jittering in response to his touch? What a traitor her body had become! That single eye narrowed, then widened with surprise. His gaze came to rest on her mouth. “You want me. You’re human and yet you’re excited by me.” Hannah’s jaw dropped. “Well, of all the nerve! You couldn’t possibly know such a thing. And it’s not true!” “It is true.” He touched a fingertip to his nose. “A waken’s sense of smell is ultrasensitive, especially at Beltane. Your pheromones are tripping all over themselves. You want me, all right.” His voice deepened, grew huskier. “Little cat in heat, you’re already wet for me. I can smell the cream between your thighs.” Hannah swallowed hard. Anger seared her blood. It pissed her off the way his knowing smile remained fixed on her. No. No. He made her angry. She wasn’t going to cuss just because he set her alarm bells to clattering. She wasn’t pissed. Furious was a much better adjective! The conceited jackass! How dare he look at her with raw hunger as if his one aim was to take her to bed and thoroughly ravish her body? How dare this man think she’d be so easy as to hop in the sack with someone she didn’t even know? How dare he make such assumptions! His gaze flickered to the junction of her thighs. Her stomach clenched, and to her utter dismay, she felt her panties dampen. Annoyed, she clamped her legs together. A slow, knowing smirk settled on his lips, the devil quirked a brow at her, his eye burning with interest. Steam whistled through her veins. A boiling teapot couldn’t have been hotter than the rush of her scalding blood. How could he make her feel as if she wanted to leap on him and rip off his clothes? And what in Heaven was Beltane? She didn’t like the sound of it one bit. All right, so Coward Hannah had returned. She edged a little father back from him. Again. Her movements were jerky. She bumped against a worktable behind her. Hannah glanced around, bewildered. Damn, if she wasn’t right back in the kitchen. The smile faded from his face. He crowded her there, invading her space with a slowness that appalled her and chilled her blood. In no hurry, he simply took his time moving in for the kill. He leaned in toward her. He rested his hands on the counter beside her. She was neatly caged within his muscular arms. Hemmed in, there was nowhere to run, no way to escape. Her heart fluttered against her chest like a captured bird beating its wings against a cage. Helpless. Hopeless. No escape. “Who are you?” she whispered in an unsteady voice. “What do you want?”

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eave me alone!” Her panicked voice bounced off the brick walls of the bakery workroom. When her bottom lip trembled like that, Sage knew there was no way in hell this was going to be easy. “Unfortunately, sweetheart, I can’t do that. You never should have come here.” “Here?” Her voice cracked. “What’s wrong with me living here?” Her look suggested she was as bewildered as she sounded. Did she have no clue she was living in a different realm? Sage shook off the stirrings of doubt. He couldn’t afford to let the woman get under his skin, but he didn’t think she fully comprehended the trouble she faced. He wanted to kick something, preferably the Guild, in their prejudiced asses. How could he make her understand she played by a whole new set of rules? She had to accept that no future existed for her here. She had no future, period. “I told you, you’re no longer in your own realm. You’ve crossed into Ru-Noc, the land of magic, the land of witches, wizards and wakens.” “Uh—right.” She looked around, apparently searching for an avenue of escape. Sage deliberately backed off and walked slowly around the center island. The island between them gave her breathing space. Asshole, he thought, cursing himself. What was he doing? Delaying the inevitable would do neither of them any good. “Just because I believe Kirrah’s a witch, and that maybe you have—er—a certain waken appeal—er—ability—doesn’t mean I accept there’s a Twilight Zone.” “Twilight Zone?” “A whole other world with unseen boundaries and other dimensions. Uh-uh. No way.” “Believe, mau-ley.” She shook her head. Sage scowled, but the distaste he felt for what he was doing burned the back of his throat like acid. The woman was innocent of any wrongdoing, except for being in the wrong world—and being illumrof. However, she now possessed the knowledge of their existence and that was a death sentence for any human. His world could not risk exposure. When it came to 28

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understanding the unknown, humans were fanatical creatures. They panicked at a hint of other realms, and fell into primitive superstition resulting in hysterical violence at the first mention of witches. If humans learned how to cross realms, then ultimately, there would be war. It would be the Salem massacre all over again. Only worse. And Hannah knew. The fact she was here in Sanctuary meant she knew how to cross realms. She knew—too much. He couldn’t just ignore it or her. His choices weren’t just lacking, there weren’t any. Dammit, he preferred not to kill her. He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to come up with an alternate resolution, something acceptable to the Guild. “The only solution I can think of to save your butt is to Handfast you off to one of the warlocks. Warlocks aren’t much picky who they fook.” “Fook?” Hannah stood there a moment, puzzled. She gasped when she finally worked out what he’d said. Heat stained her cheeks. “Do you have to be so crude?” He blinked. “What? Fook? You don’t like to talk about fooking?” “No, I don’t like to talk about fooking!” “I do. Not only do I like to talk about it, I like fooking too.” “For your information, Waken, I’m not interested in Handfasting with a warlock or you!” Sage scoffed. “I didn’t mention me, Human. I merely said I enjoy fooking. Only a fool would sacrifice his standing in the community to fook a mortal, let alone bond with her. Warlocks have no such standing to sacrifice.” Sage rubbed a hand over his face. Hell, let a warlock have her. Black Drayke came instantly to mind, a picture of him breeding Hannah against her will, planting his seed inside her. Her dying. The thought curdled his gut. Could he make the sacrifice? Could he give up his life, his standing for her? Sage wrinkled his nose at the thought. He could never touch an illumrof, not as a man touches his mate. Even if they lived, children of such a union would be an abomination. Impures bore a stigma and they smelled. He didn’t want any children he might one day father to have to cope with such problems. He’d always thought that once he fell in love, bonded, if he ever bonded, he would be able to ritually mate with his chosen life partner, hold her in his arms, and give her children. To have clandestine affairs with witches in an attempt to produce pure blood children he could never have with an illumrof mate wasn’t the way he wanted to live his life. It wasn’t his nature to live the life of a liar and cheat, not when it came to something as serious as Handfasting. His nostrils flared at the flow of intoxicating pheromones she didn’t even realize he could smell. Her firm breasts, the tantalizing roundness behind the purple silk of her blouse silently tempted him to tear open the neat row of pearl buttons down the front with his teeth. His fingers itched to slip through the black ringlets of her thick hair and bring her sweet mouth to his for a kiss. He’d weigh the fullness of her breasts in both palms while he found her nipples through the lace of her undergarment, for she had to be wearing lace. A woman with so many buttons... It could take a man an infinite amount of time to unfasten each and every one of

Tabitha Shay

those tiny pearls, pushing them one by one, slowly, through each miniscule slot. He groaned, savoring the inestimable amount of time required to fully savor the unveiling of her creamy flesh inch by exquisite inch. She was a beautiful woman, not thin, but sexily stacked. Tight jeans clung to her lush hips and she’d tucked that tempting blouse neatly inside. She had a trim, dainty waist his hands could easily span. Tan suede boots encased small, wholly feminine feet. Her skin was flawless and pure as ivory. A mane of thick hair drifted down her back in a riotous tangle of curls and complemented the deep blue of her eyes. She looked wild and outrageous and in need of taming. Damn it. Why did he suddenly have this yearning to be the man who conquered her? Shocked by his swift desire to taste her ripe, luscious mouth, he ground his teeth together in denial. No. He couldn’t allow this to happen. She was human. Human females and wakens did not mix! When she demanded his name, he told her, too stunned by his overwhelming desire for this human to do anything but reply. “I’m Sage,” he answered, and could have ripped out his tongue. She had no business asking him questions. He was the one in charge here. He was a magical being. She was mortal. He was an assassin. She was his intended victim. “I’m here to kill you, Hannah Miller.” He figured he might as well make it plain to her now. He started toward her, knowing he had to do his duty. “The hell you are!” She leaped at him, attacking so quickly, he didn’t have time to realize her intention. She charged him like a little demon straight from the pits of Hell. Swinging her fists, Hannah pummeled him, raining blows upon his head. She bit him on the chest, sinking her teeth into his torso. Fingers clawed. She fought like the wildcat with which he’d compared her, and flayed the daylights out of him with claws, teeth, fists and fingers. He swore when she ripped some of his chest hair out by the roots. She was worse than a rabid animal. The little spitfire gnawed a hunk out of his chest! He flung up an arm to protect his face, but one of her tiny fists slammed into his mouth. “Fook! You split my lip. Ouch! Dammit, that hurt!” He made a grab for her hands, manacling both her tiny wrists with one hand. Dislodging her teeth from his chest was a bit harder to do without hurting her. He pried open her mouth with his free hand, and lifted her chin until their eyes met. He wanted to kill her, but inflicting pain was not entirely essential. He didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted to terminate her. Well, wanted wasn’t exactly right. It was his damn job! A job he wouldn’t hesitate to perform, if her scent wasn’t driving him to insanity. Her silken flesh, so soft would tempt any male. He loosened his grip on her wrists, less he bruise— She whipped away from him, but didn’t get far. He pushed her against the counter, pinning her in place with his lower body. Hannah raked her hand down his face. Her fingers tangled in his eye patch and she jerked it off his eye with a snap! Sage smothered a groan. Oh, man. He was going to catch hell for certain. He didn’t think this quick-tempered illumrof —he’d mistakenly thought a fragile human—would

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appreciate his game of fake injuries the way the witches did. He puffed out a breath. Damn, she’d fastened her gaze on the patch like she held a poisonous spider in her open palm. She shuddered. “Oh, yuck!” She stared at the black silk and froze right where she stood. The color slowly drained from her face. “Oh—uh, didn’t mean ‘yuck’. I’m sure it’s not yucky, just, oh, dear...” “Hannah, look at me.” She shook her head wildly. “No. If I do that, I’ll be looking straight into an icky, empty eye socket. I’ll barf for sure.” “Dammit, Hannah, do as I say. Look at me!” She drew in a deep breath. Her chest heaved. “I’m warning you, if I throw-up, it’s your fault!” Hannah slowly raised her head. She gave a sharp, high-pitched scream. Sage slapped his palms over his ears. Damned woman was going to rupture his eardrums. She threw the patch at him, smacking his jaw with it. “You son of a bitch!” “I thought you weren’t going to swear any more?” He dropped his hands to his side and smirked. “I didn’t swear.” “Yeah, baby, you did.” “Swearing in anger doesn’t count as swearing.” “Why not?” He arched a brow in question. “Because.” He arched the other brow. “Oh, all right. You aren’t a son-of-a-bitch. You’re a sneaky, low-down, sympathyseeking—low-down—” Sage eyed her with a degree of smug satisfaction as she sputtered to a stop. At least she had some color back in her face and didn’t look as if she was going to crumple in a heap at his feet. He grunted as she launched herself at him again and pummeled his chest with her fists. “I thought you’d lost your eye! Dammit, I felt sorry for you.” “You’re swearing again.” Doubling up her fist, Hannah slammed it into his left eye. Sage stumbled backward, groaning. “Shit! Why did you do that?” “It’s called justifiable cause. Jesus, that hurt.” She shook her hand, her lips parting on a moan. “And you’re swearing,” she said sweetly. Sage cupped a hand over his injured eye. “Samhain! Are you trying to blind me?” “Yes! And who the hell is Sau-Moon?” “Who is Jesus?” he shot back, still cupping his eye. Her eyes widened. “You don’t know who Jesus is?” She backed up. Raising her hand, she made a mini-cross of her index fingers. “You stay away from me. You—you unholy, pagan worshiper! You—spawn of Satan.” Sage dropped his hand and glared at her through his puffy eye. “I’m not a pagan worshiper nor am I the spawn of Satan! I’m a different species. Certainly I have different beliefs because—because—well, because—I’m different.” “Uh-huh, that’s original.” She kept her fingers up and shaped into a cross. “Different species?” She snorted. “What? You think you’re a Martian, now?”

Tabitha Shay

“Quit backing away from me like I’m a damned vampire. And stop warding me off. It doesn’t work anyway. I told you, Hannah, I’m not a spawn of Satan. I’m a waken. A male witch. And I have no idea what a Martian is.” Sage lunged for Hannah. She yelped and kicked at him, missed, fell off-balance and stumbled forward. He wrapped his arms around her trim waist, but in the process of her kicking and his lunging, their legs tangled together like a knotted ball of yarn. Hannah twisted, but only succeeded in tangling their legs even more. Sage swore softly, and held tight to Hannah in attempt to take the brunt of the fall he knew was inevitable. When they crashed, he rolled with her, but they still went down hard. He grunted from the force of the impact on the stone floor. They turned, over and over across the floor in a snarled heap of thrashing legs, elbows and a bevy of grunts and groans. Metal racks teetered unsteadily and clattered to the floor with a loud bang. Packages of Danish rolls rained down on them. The clear plastic wrap split apart spewing clumps of white frosting through the air. It landed in gooey globs on their clothes and hair. Glazed donuts and other sticky treats crashed around their tumbling bodies. Mushy crumbs lay scattered across the floor. Hannah locked her fingers in Sage’s long hair and tugged fiercely. “Let go of my hair.” Sage tussled with Hannah. His fingers snagged the front of her blouse and several of the pearl buttons popped off and flew toward his face. He slapped them aside and yanked her closer. “Let go!” he repeated in a low growl. She tightened her grip. Sage swore viciously and flipped her beneath him. He straddled her, pinning her beneath his hips. Her fingers slipped free from his hair. “Damn, but you’re a handful!” He stared at her in awe as she grabbed a handful of chocolate frosting off the floor and smeared it across his face. “For Samhain’s sake!” Sage pressed her harder against the floor. His chest heaved like a steam engine blasting full speed ahead. He wiped creamy goop off his face in one quick swipe. She bucked wildly beneath him. “Stop it.” “You wish!” She butted his chin with her head. He tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. “Stop it, Hannah! Now. I mean it!” Shackling her wrists with one hand, he held her arms captive above her head. “Mother of Samhain!” he yelled. “I said stop it.” Blood trickled from his nose. He wiped it on the back of his hand, muttering beneath his breath. His fingers were unsteady as he thrust them through his tangled hair, shoving it back from his eyes. Winded, he slanted his gaze down at her. “Samhain,” he whispered. And felt his cock go stiff as a witching rod.

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annah wriggled furiously beneath him on the hard floor. Sage drew a sharp breath and wondered if she had any idea what she did to him when she rubbed against his thighs like that. Flour dusted her face. Icing caked her hair, and still, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He shifted his body slightly to support his weight with his forearms. The sides of her blouse gaped further apart. The luscious curves of her breasts spilled over lacy lilac cups. A shadow of delicate pink areolas pressed against the wispy lace. Tight little nipples poked against the filmy material. The succulent curves of the illumrof’s breasts practically begged him to cup their fullness. He groaned. She might not realize what she did to him, but he could damn well see what he did to her. A huff. Then a sticky bun bounced off his forehead. “That’s it! You win,” he said, not meaning a word of it. She stilled. A web of silky, black lashes blinked at him in surprise. “I do?” “Yeah.” He corralled her dainty fists and brought them over her head in one fist, just in case she decided to start throwing punches again. The position did nothing for his libido. His gaze shifted back to the inviting curves. What was that, there, at the edge of the lace? A small, distinctive, and utterly erotic tattoo of a man and woman locked in a lover’s embrace played peek-a-boo over her heart. Without thinking, he stroked the lace aside, the better to view the design. “You creep, you don’t play fair!” “Don’t you forget it, sweetheart. There are no fooking rules between us and even if there were. . .” he shrugged. Somehow he didn’t think she was serious about him playing fair. Not with her nipples begging for his mouth. Her eyes glowed with bubbling excitement. Oh, yeah. He turned her on, all right. She was so damned hot for him he could smell her creamy scent wafting from between her thighs. “Be still,” he said, feeling her heartbeat thrum against his finger resting inches from her aroused nipple. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. At least, she’d stopped fighting him. The etched drawing captured his attention, lured him. He slipped the strap of her bra down her arm, eased the lace further aside and discovered the figure of a woman wearing a pale blue blouse, the sleeves twisted around her bare shoulders.

Tabitha Shay

It bound her arms and forced her bared breasts against her partner’s broad chest. Dark hair spilled down her back, a glorious tangle that fell over the muscular arms of the male holding her flush against his thighs. His palm cupped her naked butt while one of her slender legs hugged his waist. There wasn’t much left to the imagination, not when it was obvious the male was buried to the hilt inside the female. It was hot, sensual and downright designed to stir the senses. Sage ran his finger back and forth over the tattoo. Momentarily distracted by Hanna’s sharp breath, he glanced briefly at her face but he didn’t want to be drawn from the carnal allure of the picture. He refocused on the tattoo. The female’s slender arms clung around the man’s neck. She had her head flung back, eyes closed, lips parted in silent ecstasy. He’d never seen anything more erotic. A mass of dark hair hung to the man’s waist. The male figure was the image of a waken. The image of him! His cock twitched. He swallowed hard. The male was doing exactly what he so desperately wanted to do to Hannah at this precise moment. Devil’s teeth! It was as if destiny had wrapped itself around the two of them and brought them together for this single moment, a single moment of sexual delight, a cruel joke. But then the Fates were known for their cruelty. How could she have known? How could she have ever known about wakens? About him? The only answer that came to mind was she couldn’t. It was impossible. But somehow, she knew him. Sage struggled against the hot desire scalding his body. For a moment, his fingers toyed with the button at the top of his leather pants. He fumbled with the zipper, combating the urge to free his cock, fighting against the need to rip off her clothes and bury his cock to the hilt inside her, just as the tattoo showed. There was no question...the image of the man was definitely him, the female locked in his sexual embrace, Hannah, and before he killed her, he damn well intended to get the information from her if he had to choke it out of her.

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annah lowered her eyes, mortified he’d witnessed the suggestive design on her left breast. The only other person who knew she had it was Kirrah. She lifted her gaze to meet his, those lavender eyes, strikingly familiar. Why hadn’t she realized before now? She supposed the patch across his eye had changed his looks enough for her not to recognize him. No longer embarrassed, she opened her blouse and looked at the tattoo again. Then she looked back at him. He was definitely the man in the tattoo. The man who’d haunted her dreams for years. Not wanting to ever forget what he looked like, she’d had his image inked into her flesh. Afterward, the dreams had come more frequently, as if having his image stained on her flesh made him come alive. Her body had seemed to soften in anticipation. She didn’t know when or how, but she’d known then he would one day come for her. She’d fallen a little bit in love with her dream man. And she’d waited for him. In her dreams, he’d kissed her and made love to her until her body went limp. He’d touched her with passion, need and regret. She’d felt him tremble with fear when he possessed her. Fear for her. Why? She knew his body. She knew the exact rhythm he set when he entered her. She knew how it felt to have him buried deep inside her when he shuddered and rode out his climax. He’d touched her intimately, took her in more ways than she could begin to count. Kissed her. Claimed her. All in dreams! How could that be? “I know you,” she said, knowing she sounded a little awestruck. She felt the blood drain from her face. He stroked a fingertip down her cheek. “No, mau-ley, I’ve never seen you before. You’ve never seen me.” Hannah thought of denying it, but she couldn’t argue the fact they’d never met. They’d touched. Intimately. It was him. He came to her, owned her ...but only in dreams. She choked back her disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t supposed to be real. He was her dream man, nothing else. Had he dreamed of her? Ever?

Tabitha Shay

“I’ve dreamed of you,” she whispered. The silence between them thickened. Gently, he rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Dreamed?” He frowned, his dark brows drawing together. “I’ve never dreamed of you. You have blood on your mouth.” She bucked against his hips. “Fine! And if there’s blood on me, it’s your fault!” “Quit that. I only have so much control. If you don’t stop wriggling against my cock, I swear to Samhain, I’m going to strip those tight jeans off your beautiful ass and, baby, you really don’t want me to go there.” He closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. She felt his body tense, as if he was struggling with the desire to grind his hips against her. “Sweetheart,” he said hoarsely, “I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more than riding you. So if you don’t want this to go any further, quit bucking and keep still.” She wasn’t stupid. The warning in his voice left no doubt, he was at the edge of his control. She heeded his advice. Hannah looked up at him, heat warming her cheekbones. He shifted his hips and pressed his arousal snugly between her thighs. Her eyes widened. “Damn,” he muttered. “This isn’t supposed to happen. I can’t go there with you. Ever.” “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” He looked down at her, startled, as if he hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. “You. Me. Hell, I don’t know.” He sounded utterly frustrated. She grinned. From the feel of it, she figured frustrated was putting it mildly. He moved his hips, groaning as he pressed his penis tighter against her. There was little doubt the man was generously endowed. “Uh, you can stop grinding that thing against me. I’ve figured out you’re a little on the needy side here.” “That’s right, sweetheart. In this realm, we’re approaching Beltane. It’s the mating season, baby. And you are in the wrong place, at the wrong time.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Apparently illumrof females have the same affect on wakens that witches have.” “And that is?” She tried wiggling again but knew immediately that was the wrong thing to do. His erection grew even more. She swallowed hard. Dunghill! “Ah, you little sweethearts make us males extremely horny. Don’t,” he warned. “I won’t say it again. Don’t move—unless you’re willing to accept me inside your body. That would be dangerous, Hannah Miller, very dangerous, indeed.” He slanted a look at her. “Trust me on this. You don’t want to go there with me,” he cautioned. “You wouldn’t survive it.” “Oh, I suppose you have one as big as your ego!” His lips twitched. “Big enough.” “Do you have to be so damned smug? So damned irritating?” She clenched her teeth. “So damned male? Stop toying with me. What do you want?” He glanced down at his groin, then back at her, arching a brow. “Besides that! And I can assure you, mating season or not, you’re not getting any!” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “No? You couldn’t handle it anyway, baby. Unfortunately—you’re right, I’m not getting any. You’re the wrong species. I touch you, you die.”

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“What!” Sage eased off her, pushing himself to his feet. “Well, it isn’t exactly the intimate touching that will kill you, then again, maybe it is. I’m not sure. Most waken history was lost during the war between witches and illumrofs.” Hannah snorted. “What war?” Both brows rose. “The War of 1692. Surely you’re aware of that war? Your people slaughtered my people. Your people burned my people at the stake. Your people—” “Are you talking about the Salem witch trials?” she interrupted his tirade. “That wasn’t a war.” “Were you there?” he asked with barely restrained savagery. “Were you?” “No.” Sage folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. “I’ve never been to the illumrof realm.” He shuddered. “I pray to Samhain I never have the misfortune of crossing into your world. I was young in 1692, perhaps only a hundred at the time, but I remember the horror on the elders' faces when they returned to our realm, the gruesome tales. And in my realm, we don’t dress up our history to suit ourselves. We tell it like it is. Innocent witches were hanged for no reason, other than your people are damned superstitious and greedy.” “Stop saying ‘your people’ like I’m some kind of alien!” She raked her gaze up and down him. “Only a hundred,” she said sweetly. “So how old are you now?” “Over three hundred.” “You expect me to believe that crap?” “I’m telling you, I’m over three hundred.” “You’re crazy! You can’t be more than thirty.” “Thirty in your world. Not in Ru-Noc.” His eyes heated. “I want children some day. And, baby, here in Ru-Noc, you are an alien.” Hannah blinked. “So?” “So?” “You said you want children some day. What does that have to do with me?” “Nothing. You can’t provide them. Initially, your body would accept my seed, but it would—never mind.” He leaned over her to give her a helping hand. “Don’t hit me. How do you want to go? Drown? Electrocution? Energy bolt? Death chant?” Hannah looked up from straightening her clothing and snorted. “You are certifiable.” He brushed the sides of her blouse apart. “What’s with that damned tattoo?” “Is it the tattoo you find so fascinating or my breasts?” “Both.” A grin touched his lips. “So what about the tattoo?” “You’re going to kill me, and you expect conversation?” Hannah jerked the edges of her blouse together. “And stop ogling my breasts!” “Can’t help it.” His mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Like you, they’re irresistible.” She snorted. In one breath the man talked about ‘doing’ her, and in the next, he named the different ways he could end her life. He was a lunatic! “The tattoo is none of your business. Just do what you think you have to do, and I’ll decide if I’m going to cooperate.” “Sweetheart, I’d love to do you,” he said wickedly, “but that would be just plain criminal on my part. You need to be broken gently.” He raked his gaze over her then grinned. “Then you need to be rode hard. If you give me a kiss, I might delay your

Tabitha Shay

execution for a few days.” “Give you a kiss? Do me?” Fury bit into her. The beast! “Not in this lifetime, buster.” He watched her knot the silk blouse beneath her breasts with eyes that sparkled with silent laughter. Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet hers. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, Human, and I’ve decided not to kill you.” “How gracious of you.” “It is, actually. You have no idea of the trouble I’ll get into. I’ve decided to banish you. Killing you, like breeding you, would be such a criminal act.” She couldn’t win a physical battle with him. She knew it. The man stood at least six foot three. She barely topped five foot three. Compared to her, he was a veritable giant, but one more grin from him, one more word about ‘doing’ her, and she’d be tempted beyond control to give it another shot. “What do you mean banish me?” “I’m sending you back to your own realm. You will stay there. Never return to RuNoc.” Her lips parted. Sage laid a finger across her mouth before she could utter a protest and shook his head. “Don’t fight me over this, Hannah. If you want to live, swear to me you will never return here.” *** How much could he tell her? How much could he reveal and still keep the Guild from breathing down his neck or dispatching Black Drayke in his place? He had to warn her. It wouldn’t be fair or safe for him not to prepare her. “Listen to me, baby. Even then, you might not be safe. They could send someone after you in your own realm. You will always, always have to be on guard. If you see anyone you think might be a waken, run fast and run far.” “I don’t want to go back. I have no one, nothing to go back to.” Sage ignored the tightening in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to keep her in his world, hold her in his arms and make certain she remained safe. Gods. How could he feel all that he felt, all this consuming desire and emotion for this little human waif? He couldn’t keep her. It was impossible. For one thing, she was too much of a temptation. If she remained here, especially at Beltane, he’d take her. His hunger for her was already rampant. He could feel the preakness racing through his blood. He could hear his need in his voice. When Beltane reached its zenith, he wouldn’t care if he bred her. That’s what Beltane was all about. Breeding. A waken could no more resist the urge to procreate than a vampire could do without blood. It didn’t seem to matter this female was human. He wanted her. They would both die if he allowed her to remain in Ru-Noc. Black Drayke would see to it that his soul was cast into a black void, never to return to his body. And then he would go after Hannah. That would leave Hannah vulnerable to the evil warlock’s cruelty. “Dammit! There’s no choice for either of us, Hannah. None. If you refuse to leave, I will terminate you.” Even as he voiced the threat, he knew he could never harm her. He touched her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “I can refuse to do this

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ugly deed, and believe me, I’d like nothing better than to do just that, but you wouldn’t like the one the Guild sent in my place. Once Black Drayke took possession of you, you’d never escape him.” She raised her stricken gaze to meet his. “Who is Black Drayke? “One mean, ugly, son of a bitch. His greatest pleasure in life is breeding pretty little things like you, then watching you and the child die.” “But—but my friend Kirrah, she’ll be lost without me.” Hannah looked up at him, glaring. “I can’t just leave her.” “Didn’t you hear a single word I just said?” His breath constricted at the pain he heard in her voice. “You will be dead, Hannah Miller. Your friend will miss you a lot more if you’re dead.” “She won’t know where I’ve gone—will she?” “No.” He knew he was ripping out her heart. He felt like a dirty rat. Sage looked away and swallowed hard. “Bastard.” He blew out a puff of air and turned toward her. “Exactly.” Sage pulled her into his arms and pressed her face against his chest. He couldn’t bear this. The pain in her eyes unmanned him. He tilted up her face. “I wish there was some other way, Hannah. I do. But if you want to live—short of hiding you out here and that is impossible—you must return to your own realm.” Her lovely mouth quivered. He swore softly. Tasting her had become as necessary as breathing. He could not endure another moment of not sampling her lush mouth. He tilted her face back, swept his thumbs down her cheeks. He played his thumb tip along her bottom lip, tugged gently and parted them. Framing her face with unsteady hands, he lowered his head and closed his mouth over hers. He wanted her flavor on his tongue. Sweet. She tasted so damned sweet. This one kiss, this one meshing of mouth and tongues would have to last a lifetime. The darkness of defeat, of having to banish her back to her world, rose like an ugly shadow in his mind. If the kiss had to last a lifetime, then by the gods, he was going to put his heart and soul into it. She would never forget him, just as he knew there would be no forgetting her. He ravaged her mouth without mercy, plundered the tender inside. His tongue tangled with hers in a wild mating dance, and with all the pent up desire of a man losing a woman he’d discovered he wanted, but could never have. It was hot and hungry, a little savage, a lot desperate. He knew instantly, he’d made a terrible mistake in kissing her. Her taste would remain forever on his tongue. If her taste was going to linger in his mouth, then by the gods, he was going to give her something to last forever as well. He slid his mouth down her throat and latched onto the tender flesh. Sage drew deeply, unable to stop when he knew he should. She moaned and tilted her neck to give him better access. At last, he lifted his head and stared at the bruising mark he left on her throat. Dark lavender. He’d totally skipped the insect bite stage and went straight for leaving a large stain upon her flesh.

Tabitha Shay

The claiming mark crawled up the side of her throat like something alive until it covered the left side of her neck. Sage blinked. What was he thinking? Why in hell had he claimed her? Marked her? Absolutely nothing could come of it. Still, this woman, this human, had managed to wiggle her way inside his heart in a short time. Sage dipped his head and returned to her mouth like a starving bee going after sweet nectar. She clung to him, unresisting. Her lips parted beneath the wild onslaught of his mouth, accepted the invading thrust of his tongue once again. He took his time and took a deeper taste of her. Hannah moaned, her body going limp against his in sweet surrender. Sage raged at the bitter victory. She was his for the taking and he could not, dared not, take her. They were both losers in the bittersweet game of chance and love. Slowly, he released her mouth. Ragged breaths escaped as he inhaled and exhaled. Her name was a hoarse, choked whisper on his tongue. “Hannah.” She slowly opened her eyes. The grief mirrored there in the deep blue depths struck a blow to his heart like a sharp dagger. She looked fragile and broken and incredibly beautiful. Sage puffed out a slow breath and wished fervently he’d never kissed her. No other woman’s lips were ever going to taste as sweet as this woman’s—or as right. “Please,” she whispered. “Tell Kirrah what happened to me. She’ll be worried. Please?” “I can’t do that, love.” He touched her hair with a gentle hand and stared bleakly over the top of her head, allowing Hannah to rain blows on his chest. When she at last crumpled against him, exhausted, his eyes stung. Gently, he pressed her face against his chest. “Damn. Damn.” He rubbed his chin against the top of her head. The almond and coconut fragrance of her hair filled his nostrils. He committed the scents to memory. Her fist lay curled against his chest. He heard her ragged sobs, felt the suddenness of her hot tears dampen his shirt. Fook! He hadn’t expected her to break. She’d been so valiant, fighting him every step of the way. Sage drew in a harsh breath. “Don’t cry. You’re killing me.” He moaned. “Don’t. There’s no other way. Nothing I can do. If there was something else, some other way, I’d choose it. I’d hide you out, I would, but some other waken or a warlock would eventually catch your human scent.” She nodded without saying a word, her silence more devastating than if she’d punched him again or called him names. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Sage closed his eyes for a long moment. Dammit! He’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. He just hadn’t realized how much grief he’d cause her. He should have just taken her life and ended it all. But he hadn’t been able to terminate something as beautiful as Hannah Miller. He held her tight for the longest moment. She gave a faint whimper. His heart shattered for the pain he knew he caused her. “Hannah,” he whispered her name one last time, savoring the sound of it in his mind.

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At last, his lips moved and he softly chanted against her hair: “Ancient Ones of strength and might, Come and aid me in this plight. Hannah Miller will go away, And not return another day. From whence she came, there shall she stay. And so my path is clear and free, As I will, so mote it be!”

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one. She was gone. Sage looked around the bakery, a slightly dazed feeling slipping over and through him. The loss of Hannah’s gentle warmth left a vacancy in his heart, a hollowness he hadn’t anticipated. He shivered. It was as if she’d taken all the sunlight, all the warmth and left a slab of ice in her place. And whose fault is that? Sage rubbed a palm over his aching chest. If he could, he’d curse the Guild and their stupid mentality to the bleakest parts of the Underworld. He glanced around at the destruction he’d caused. The pastry shop looked like a war zone with shelves tumbled harum-scarum and globs of icing and spices smeared across the floor. When he’d first enchanted the lock and entered the little shop, it had been neat and clean. His nostrils had flared from the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread. Then he’d heard Hannah scream for help, heard a crash. At first, he’d thought Black Drayke had ignored the Guild’s ruling and come after the human. In that moment, he’d decided no matter how ugly the mortal was, he wouldn’t allow her to die. A tiny webbed hand gently patted his damp cheek. He shuddered. “You not grieve, my Sage. You break Dinka’s little green heart when you so upset and sad. You did what best thing to do for troll lady.” “She wasn’t a troll, Dinka.” He appreciated the familiar’s attempt to comfort him but he didn’t think anything was going to take away the terrible ache in his soul. Dinka slipped back inside his shirt pocket and sighed. “I know, my Sage, but think comedy might help grief. Dinka have plenty tears. I cry for you, my Sage. Okie-dokie?” “Okie-dokie?” Sage gave a strained laugh. “Yeah. Okie-dokie. You not fight with illumrof woman no more, ever again. Thought Dinka gonna be little green, greasy spot, was praying for zipper on shirt, so Dinka not get spun out of pocket and squashed like donut under legs.” “I’m sorry, Dinka.” Sage dropped his head, ashamed he hadn’t even thought about the danger the familiar had faced. “Dinka hold tight to pocket, still, Dinka a little dizzy from rolling ‘round on floor. Soon be okie-dokie though. You not worry. My Sage have bigger fish to fry. Must find witch named Kirrah and steal her soul.” “I’d have to kiss her, Dinka.” “Is so. Is way powerful waken steal witch’s soul. Is painless for witch, and my Sage must do him duty to him king or face Guild—risk severe punishment you do when no do job. Maybe kicked out of coven.” 42

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Sage wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which didn’t erase the tactile memory of Hannah’s mouth against his. Why could he still taste her on his tongue? His lips? He should be able to just wipe her memory from his mind, but he didn’t want to. He couldn’t anyway. He’d tried, but there was no getting rid of her scent or her flavor. “I can’t, Dinka. I’ll never touch my mouth to another woman’s as long as I live. I can’t steal Kirrah’s soul.” “You make excuses. You know you risk life and limb, my Sage, for illumrof woman who now hates you. You risk bad whipping from Char-Flum-Rope.” “I know.” Sage tucked Dinka’s head inside his shirt pocket. “I don’t think Uncle Darak will allow such a punishment.” He shuddered. The Char-Flum-Rope burned a man’s flesh off to the bone with each stroke applied. No one had ever died from a whipping from it but there was so much pain, it damaged the witch’s mind. The witch was then sentenced to the Kydora Plains, the great salt plains of Ru-Noc. From there, the insanity only worsened. No witch could tolerate salt. Constant contact with the mineral boiled the flesh away like acid, a hideous punishment. Dinka poked her head back up and blinked. “Uncle might be king, but him obey laws of Guild. They say whip, him order whipping. My Sage must steal witch’s soul.” “No. I’ll think of something else.” “Is no other way, would be useless to banish witch to illumrof realm when she have power to return to Ru-Noc, might return with ugly lady troll.” “I know.” Sage raked fingers through his hair. “I know it! And dammit, stop calling Hannah a troll. Just be quiet, Dinka. I have to think.” “Humph! My Sage should think before him kissy-kissy troll woman and want to keep her flavor on him lips. Don’t think Dinka not know what going on. Dinka verra smart. Know my Sage desire make whoopee with troll female. Him can’t, and him feel mighty frustration.” “Whoopee?” “Yes, you know, my Sage. When waken stick him big cock in female and have good time.” Sage choked. “Where do you learn this stuff?” Dinka sniffed. “Illumrof world. Dinka watch sexy, x-ray movies, always new position to learn.” “X-ray?” Sage frowned. “You mean x-rated?” “Is what Dinka say, my Sage. X-ray. Dinka be hot bitch one day. Keep mate verra happy.” “You keep going to the illumrof realm and you’ll be hot, all right. Someone there will catch you and fry your legs. Humans eat frog legs.” Dinka trembled inside his pocket. “Then Dinka be verra careful in future when sneak to cannibal human world.” Sage chanted, restoring the pastry aisles to order. Once everything was in order, he quietly closed the door to the shop behind him, chanted the lock back in place, and faced the bitter cold. He had nothing, no one in his life that mattered, except his cousins. He cared about his father, but there had always been an unforgiving distance between them. It was difficult to love the man who’d stolen his mother’s soul. A harsh, uneven breath escaped him. He blinked, fighting against the sting in his eyes. Hannah’s last words haunted him. His shoulders slumped. He suddenly felt

Tabitha Shay

crushed. Defeated. “Tell Kirrah what happened to me. She’ll be so worried. Please?” Sage bowed his head and buried his face in his hands. How could he tell Kirrah he’d sent her friend back to the illumrof realm? He couldn’t tell anyone. He’d overstepped his authority by banishing Hannah instead of killing her as decreed by the Guild. Dinka was right. There would be harsh punishment for his rebellion if they discovered what he did. Black Drayke would insist on it. But it would crush Hannah if he killed her best friend. She might not ever know he did it, but he’d know it. He knew in his heart what it would do to her if she ever found out. No. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Maybe he could just find the witch and order her to return to where she came from. First, he had to find her, and the little witch seemed to have a great capacity for staying out of sight. He should have forced Hannah to tell him where her friend resided, but he couldn’t bring himself to cause her more pain. He supposed he could wait at the bakery, but the witch could decide not to show up. Eventually, he’d find Kirrah, and when he did. . . Sage paused and looked around. What an idiot! He’d walked to the edge of the thick woods that surrounded Sanctuary. Dammit! He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even been aware he’d left the small village. He looked up at the dark sky. The icy rain had stopped but a sprinkle of ominous clouds dotted the sky. A thin sliver of moon struggled to cast a glow over the land of magic. Snap. Coming from the woods, the sharp crack snagged his attention, a brief noise like the soft sole of a shoe snapping a twig. He whipped his head in the direction of the racket. Yes. There was someone there, to his right. A shadowy outline lurked in the gloom cast by the towering Ark trees. Trees that were as big as the giant redwoods in the mortal world he’d once seen in pictures. “Who is it?” He narrowed his eyes against the tunneling blackness of the dusky forest. He couldn’t see the figure clearly and that unnerved him. “Come out of there!” As silent as the sinister darkness around her, a woman stepped forward out of the shadows. Her face and body remained obscured by a hooded, red velvet cloak that covered her from head to foot. Her face blended into the depth of the cowl making it impossible to distinguish her features in the dark. Sage froze. Chills crept up his spine. “Who are you?” He caught a brief glimpse of black Celtic symbols embellished on the outer edges of the long cloak as she walked slowly toward him. Her scent, rich and pure, wafted beneath his nostrils. Not a mating scent, but an earthy mix of herbs and woman. She stopped a few feet away and extended her left arm. A long, ivory-colored staff materialized in her hand. She seemed to focus her attention on the clear, scrying crystal embedded on the top of it. Then she lifted her head. “Don’t be afraid,” she said softly. Sage snorted. “I’m not afraid, witch. Who are you? Why are you spying on me?” “You are saddened this night. The sorrow in your heart summoned me. You are burdened with grief. I thought to offer you comfort with words and perhaps a healing spell. Do not do this to yourself, Waken Sage. Dangerous times follow us and one of our darkest hours has already begun. You did what must be done for the protection of our people and for the human’s protection as well.”

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Sage tried hard, but for the life of him, he couldn’t move any closer toward her. His legs refused to obey his commands. By the gods, the witch had hexed him! “Are you a seer?” Although he couldn’t see her face, he felt her smile. “I suppose that is one of the names given me, Waken. The more common is ‘healer’ but you may call me ‘seer’ if you prefer.” Who was she, this mysterious woman who preferred the darkness of shadows? How had she so easily used her magic on him? He hadn’t heard her chant, but even if he had, a witch’s magic was useless against the males of their race. So how had she enthralled him? She stepped closer and reached for his hands, cupping them in her right hand. Her head remained bowed, her face hidden in the deep hood of the cloak. There was gentleness in her touch. Kindness. The air around them grew static, a barely audible hum vibrated, disturbing the silence. The night shimmered with an effervescent light that grew and formed into a bubbly mass. It surrounded them, moving from her hand into his and back to her. Soft. Soothing. Lively. She whispered quiet, melodious words. A chant, as sweet as music, rose from her slender throat and drifted in the darkness like fingers of sparkly vapor. Her body trembled as the swirling lights burst through her body and disappeared. Too late, Sage jerked his hands free of hers. “Don’t! Don’t take it away.” But the pain melted away from his heart and spirit, a bittersweet memory—lost. Somehow, this only made him ache more. “You shouldn’t have done that. I deserve to suffer. I broke the Wiccan Rede. I harmed another.” “There will be no repercussions, Waken Sage. What you did was necessary. The Coven has already forgiven you. Forgive yourself.” “Well there should be repercussions!” His body tensed and he uttered a curse. “She wept in my arms. I’m to blame for her tears, her pain. Do you have any idea how low that makes me feel?” “You may have broken the illumrof’s heart, but you took her out of harm’s way. There was nothing else you could do to protect her. Not now. Be kind to yourself, Waken Sage.” He caught a glimpse of heart-shaped lips curving sweetly into a faint smile. She touched his face with a gentle hand, her voice ultra cool. “All is not lost. Hannah will be fine. I promise you. Take care of you, Waken Sage. I fear your heart is too tender for the cruel work of an assassin. You are one of the good ones and they are so few. You’re very important in the scheme of things. Do not be saddened. When you find her, your true bond mate will be perfect for you. You will love her like no other, but she will not be what you believe. Search for the facts in Ye Olde Book of Truth. You will find it at the Old Colony.” She turned away, faltered, and slowly turned back toward him. Hesitating, she stood there for a moment longer in the shadows, as if considering her next words. “Be wary of the witch.” She turned and walked away. Be wary of the witch? Sudden panic slammed into him. His gut tightened in a knot. He was in Sanctuary, up to his ass in witches. How was he supposed to know which witch she meant? And did she mean male or female? “Hey! Dammit, don’t do this to me! Don’t just walk away!”

Tabitha Shay

She swung back to face him. Waited. “Who the hell are you?” She stood there, silent. Still. He held his breath and waited for her reply. Tension rose between them, faltered and vanished as quickly as it had built. It seemed an infinite amount of time passed. His heart pounded. He could hear the faint sound of her soft breathing. “Who are you?” he asked again. “Tell me.” “Nyra. I’m called Nyra.” “Nyra?” Sage drew in a sharp breath. “Stry’s Nyra? You’re the mystery witch? The healer Stry’s searching for?” She stared at him. “I’m a healer, yes. But I belong to no one, Waken. I will not give up my soul, not even for the future king. Tell Stry to stop his search or else I will spell him into oblivion.” “You can’t threaten the future king!” Sage stared at the wispy curls of smoke floating upward, ghostly swirls of sparkling white mist that spiraled toward the night sky, and faded into nothingness. She’d simply vanished into the dark as quickly as she’d appeared. Except for the blinking of his eyes, he stood there motionless. His tongue felt as though it was tied in a knot and dragged the ground. “Holy shit.” He took three faltering steps after her before stumbling to a halt. It would be useless to chase her. She was gone, and it was well past the witching hour. The town slept. No one had seen her but him. Certainly no witch would aid him in his search for another witch. “It was her. Nyra. Stry’s witch. It had to be. She’d said her name was Nyra.” Sage raked trembling fingers through his tangled hair. And Nyra had simply walked up to him, brazen as could be, holding him spellbound until she was ready to release him. He and Stry had searched for her for days. And there she was. “Unbelievable. Appears and disappears.” Just who did she think she was, appearing before a waken, casting her spells, making threats, and then vanishing without his leave? “She threatened Stry’s existence, the future king of Ru-Noc. She can’t make such threats.” Sage chewed on his bottom lip. “She did, so maybe she can.” Somehow, she’d been able to hex him. She’d spelled him to remove his sadness as well as keep him at bay. What else might she have done to him? He patted his zipper then gave a sigh of relief. Still attached, but one could never be too careful when dealing with the females of his race. They tended to take great satisfaction in putting hexes on a waken’s joy piece. No wonder the Guild wanted this particular witch eliminated. She was simply too powerful. Where had she gained such powers? Sage looked around. He was too close to the forest for comfort. Dammit, he had to go in there, into the dark woods. Stry was there somewhere, still searching for Nyra. He had to locate his cousin and tell him he’d seen the witch, talked to her. Warn him of her threat. Even now, she could be in there. With her strange powers, she might do anything to his cousin. He couldn’t allow that to happen. “She could turn him into a frog,” he

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muttered, wary of entering the forest where the powerful witch could be waiting to ambush him. “Nothing wrong with frogs, my Sage.” Dinka sounded offended. “No offense, Dinka.” “Humph!” Dinka tunneled deeper in his pocket. “Nothing wrong with frogs. Like frogs. Especially like male frogs. Like being frog, too. Get to eat all kind of bugs. Dinka like bugs!” Dinka peered over the top of Sage’s shirt pocket. “Dinka not like these woods. Spooky. Get bad vibrations.” Sage felt the little Futhar tremble. “Sage not like these woods, either.” “We go home to nice, warm palace. Right? Forget this camping shit. Okie-dokie?” “No, Dinka. We need to stay near Sanctuary. We have to find Stry. He might need my help.” “Ooo-kie doo-kie. Big, macho waken, either zap our asses back to palace now or Dinka start to scream her little green head off!” “All right. I’m easy. I’m with you, Dinka, but I can’t abandon Stry.” “Humph! Waken easy only with troll creature. She wrap you ‘round her little pinkie. Break your heart into tiny pieces, she will, right after she rip it from your chest.” “Hush, Dinka. She won’t get the chance to break my heart. I’ll never see her again.” “Wanna bet?” “No. I don’t want to bet.” “Humph. ‘Fraid you lose ass.” “Dinka!” Sage choked back laughter. The Futhar was incorrigible. “What that?” Dinka asked, tilting her head upward. Sage looked up at the sky. He gasped, instinctively ducking as a witch zoomed past on her broom. “What—the—hell?” She skimmed the treetops at a crazy rate of speed that had to be illegal. Her reddish colored hair streamed behind her in a banner of tangled curls. Shrill screams pierced the woods. She had a death grip on the broom like she thought she’d topple off at any second. “As if a witch worth her salt would fall off her broom,” Sage mumbled. His jaw dropped in utter shock. Damn, if the witch wasn’t yelling, “Down broom! I want down!” “Now I ask you, Dinka, what the hell kind of command is that?” Sage frowned at the Futhar. “Did you see that?” “Who that crazy witch zippy-zaggy on broom?” “Who knows? Let’s get out of here before a house falls from the sky and lands on us.” “Okie-dokie. But houses don’t fall from sky, my Sage. Do they?” Dinka quivered. He gave a half-hearted shrug. “At the academy, one of the illumrof movies we were required to watch was about a house that dropped from the sky straight on top of a witch. Bam!” “What happen then, my Sage?” “I don’t know. It was so scary I left the classroom.” Dinka snickered. “Want to see this movie, my Sage. Sound funny.” “Not funny, Dinka.” “Okie-dokie. Not funny, if you say not funny, must not be funny. Still want to see house fall on witch.” Dinka sighed and buried herself comfortably against his chest.

Tabitha Shay

“Good grief, when did you become so bloodthirsty?” Dinka snorted. “Not thirsty for blood, curious to see what happen to witch when house fall on her. Okie-dokie?” “It flattened her, Dinka, and a mean girl stole her ruby slippers right off her poor squashed body.” “You kid me!” Dinka gasped. “I ask you, my Sage, how cold is that? Ripping off old witch’s shoes when she stone-cold dead and flattened?” “I know.” Sage shook his head. “It just isn’t safe in the illumrof world. Anything can happen.” A yawn took him by surprise. He stretched tiredly. Be wary of the witch. Nyra’s words returned to haunt him. Sage took a distrustful step back from the woods and stood there, wavering and cautious. He looked up at the darkening sky. The wind tugged at his clothes, slapping strands of hair into his eyes. Dead leaves fluttered across the cold ground, clacking like dry bones, tangling and twisting at the knotted roots of the stout Ark trees. He hoped to hell this Nyra witch stayed away from him, because tonight, somewhere in the woods, he had to find Stry. And he had no idea which witch he had to avoid. But he’d start with this Nyra. By the god of the dead, he didn’t trust her. There would be no rest until he discovered just what was going on and why the mysterious witch had magical skills she shouldn’t have. First, he had to find Kirrah and force her to leave his realm. He could only hope she didn’t have the same kind of powers Nyra had and use them to blast him off the face of Ru-Noc.

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V{tÑàxÜ a|Çx After The First Battle for Ru-Noc Mojave Desert Illumrof World

j

hen she slammed the wheelbarrow into the front door of the rustic ranch house that had been home all her life, Hannah had the pleasure of hearing Sage belt out a painful bark. His butt bounced inside the scooped bucket, and he spat out an epitaph she was sure would bring hellfire and brimstone raining down upon her head for the extra pain she caused him. “Oops, sorry,” she said insincerely, “forgot that dang door was there.” He crunched himself up as much as possible to keep his boots from dragging the ground. Still, his long legs dangled over the side and he looked ridiculous. His arms lay folded across his chest like a corpse in a coffin. The image of a white lily placed in his hands caused her to stumble and snort with secret laughter. That would simply put the finishing touch on the picture he made. He glared at her. “Something funny?” “I don’t think you’d appreciate the humor.” She knew he detested the indignity of it all. She loved it! This was her opportunity for payback; she intended to give him hell. Hannah paused long enough to throw open the door, ignored the rage glittering in his eyes, and pushed the cart across the henna-colored tiled foyer. She bounced him and the wheelbarrow down the three stone steps that led to the living room. The lavish decoration of warm blues, greens, siennas, sands and sunny yellows of the Southwest felt welcoming. Dammit! She didn’t want Sage to feel welcome. His arrival here was unacceptable. He wasn’t welcome and he’d never be welcome in her home! Sage gave a surprised yelp as she made a sharp left and barreled dangerously close to the needle-point spines of a potted cactus. He sucked in a short breath and growled more swear words at her when his legs barely missed the sharp barbs. Hannah snickered and continued to guide the single-wheeled cart down the narrow hall and into the guest bedroom two doors down from her own. The man wasn’t exactly a light weight. He wasn’t exactly a happy camper, either. He looked around, a dark scowl on his face. To say he was upset would be putting it mildly. The bedroom belonged to Kirrah. It still had the same feminine decoration typical of an older teenage girl. Posters of partially naked, studly heartthrobs were plastered on the wall.

Tabitha Shay

The satin comforter on the bed was white with red and pink rosebuds. The curtains dressing the bow-shaped window were pale pink and adorned with frilly ruffles. A plush rose carpet covered the floor. The walls shined with satiny blush-tinted paint. Hannah saw Sage wince as she rolled to a stop near the bed. “Here we go,” she huffed, breathing deeply. She grinned at the incensed look he turned on her. “Are there any other fooking human contraptions of torture you can think of to haul me on?” He looked around the bedroom, his expression grim. His gaze settled on the curtains. “This is a woman’s bedroom. It’s got ...lacy, frilly-frou stuff everywhere and pictures of naked men. I can’t stay in here. Don’t you have something more mascu—?” “Aw, are we having a bad day?” Hannah interrupted. “Don’t you appreciate my efforts to rescue you?” “Is this a rescue or a declaration of war?” Hannah snorted. “War, one you started.” “Hannah, I did not declare war on you.” She shrugged, ignoring the soft hint for understanding in his voice. He’d hurt her. There was no forgiveness or understanding in her heart, not now. She turned away from the rebuke she saw in his eyes. Her gaze fell on the neat row of fancy perfume bottles left behind on Kirrah’s dresser. Grinning, she walked over and selected the strongest fragrance she could find. Without hesitation, she turned toward Sage and sprayed a cloud of the cinnabar fragrance into the air straight at him. “I’m afraid this is the only available bedroom. Take it or leave it.” She gave the atomizer a couple more puffs just for good measure. Sage coughed, glared at her, and finally nodded his acceptance of the room. He muttered beneath his breath through clenched teeth. Hannah gave an unconcerned shrug. Of course, his irritation could have something to do with the fact she’d dragged him across the desert on an old spring mattress tied to the back of the four-wheeler, before hauling him inside in the wheelbarrow. Since he couldn’t walk, she’d had very little choice in either case. Neither had he. “You’ll have to help me get you on the bed.” He looked aggrieved, his face shadowed with helpless rage, but his body was simply too cadaver-like for him to move without her help. There was no way she could handle his inflexible weight by herself. Hannah tipped the wheelbarrow over and dug her shoulder into his side. In a matter of seconds, he lay sprawled across the queen size bed as rigid as a damned corpse. She snickered. His eyes flashed fire. She arched a brow. He growled low in his throat. “How did you get here in my realm?” He didn’t acknowledge her question. Why was he here? Had he changed his mind and decided to kill her after all? Hannah fumbled with the button and zipper on his leather pants. “Let’s take a look at that snake bite. Are there any other bites?” “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I passed out.” He spoke through clenched teeth which only added to his macabre appearance. Hannah grinned, enjoying herself. “I swear to God, you make a perfect ghoul. If the rigidity hasn’t worn off by Halloween, maybe I’ll stand you on the front porch for

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decoration.” “There’s nothing left you can do to me. I’m dying. I need a doctor.” “A doctor can’t help you.” She worked his pants down his lean hips, and though she tried not to look, her gaze flickered upward. “Oh, my,” she gasped. His penis was swollen to twice its normal size. At least, she hoped that wasn’t his normal size when he was erect. No man could be that well hung. “Good grief,” she whispered. She licked her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat. If that was normal for him, well then, he was an out-and-out stallion. “Is it painful?” He blessed her with another one of his hot glares. “What do you think?” “I think it hurts like hell.” “Bingo!” Hannah hastily yanked off his boots, then finished the task of dragging his pants off and dropped them on top of his discarded boots. “I need a witch doctor,” he insisted, his speech slightly slurred, “someone who has knowledge of magic.” Hannah looked up from reaching for a pair of scissors in the nightstand drawer. She snipped the blades a couple of times in the air. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’m the closest thing to a witch doctor you get.” His eyes widened. Horror flashed across his dark face. “Is it your intention to castrate me?” She snorted. “It’s a thought, but no.” She leaned over him. “I’m cutting off your shirt so I can check for other snake bites. Now, lie still. I wouldn’t want the scissors to slip south.” When the shirt fell away, she leaned back with a soft hiss. There weren’t any other bites, but his chest was a mangled mass of blisters and half-healed burns. “Jesus.” Just above his midriff, a perfect circle about the size of a softball marred his skin. Angry red with blackened edges, it looked as if someone had a good time roasting him. Even she wasn’t that sadistic. She raised her gaze to meet his. He watched her with the fierceness of a hawk. She thought she saw a flicker of shame in his eyes before he lowered his gaze. “What happened?” she asked. “It looks to me like you lost the war.” “What happened doesn’t matter. And I did lose...everything.” He looked away and swallowed hard. “Just do what you have to do so I can get off this frilly bed.” Hannah frowned. She thought it did matter, and the roughness of his voice covered how he truly felt about losing whatever battle had taken place. Apparently the subject was taboo. “All right, if you don’t want to tell me what happened, keep your miserable secrets.” She gave a sigh and turned to leave the room. “You can’t just leave me lying here like this. I’ll tell you what happened.” Hannah turned back to face him. He’d sounded a tad panicked. “MeLora Haven, a crazy power-hungry witch, hit me with an energy ball. It was a killing blow aimed for Saylym. I took the hit.” “MeLora Haven? I guess I didn’t meet her while I was in Sanctuary.” Sage shook his head. “Probably not. MeLora spent her time conspiring to steal King Darak away from Queen Helayne. When I get back to my own realm, I’m going to hunt

Tabitha Shay

her down and kill her for what she’s done. That is one witch’s soul I’ll enjoy stealing.” Hannah shivered, thankful she wasn’t a witch. Sage’s eyes had turned so cold, it was shocking. She had to get out of the bedroom, away from him, at least for a few minutes. She didn’t know if she wanted someone in her home who could state so coldly he was going to kill someone, no matter how much they might deserve to die. “Where are you going?” She looked back over her shoulder. “I thought I’d help you get rid of the swelling.” “Yeah?” For the first time, he sounded delighted. His eyes lit with anticipation. “Yeah. I just have to get prepared.” Hannah tightened her lips, forcing herself not to burst into laughter. The look on his face was priceless. She knew exactly what he thought she was getting prepared for, like he would be able, even if she was willing. Which she wasn’t. She knew the paralysis was temporary, but she wasn’t about to share that information with him. She also knew he wouldn’t die from the snake bite. For some reason—probably because he wasn’t human, the venom worked differently on a witch. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said in a husky, inviting voice. “I’ll be right back.” She snickered as she left the room.

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V{tÑàxÜ gxÇ Mojave Desert

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amn it, Sage!” Hannah slapped the package of frozen peas on his swollen penis for the third time. She glanced around the girlish bedroom then back at him, hardening her heart when he howled a protest. “Leave it there. You didn’t expect me to suck out the poison, did you?” He choked and gave a strangled hiss. He was a pitiful sight—sprawled buck- naked across the queen-sized bed, looking more and more emaciated. He clenched his teeth in a skeletal snarl. “I can hope, can’t I?” “Sure. Hope away. See how far it gets you.” Hannah knew she had him at her mercy and she wasn’t feeling compassionate. She glanced at his face then dropped her gaze to the package of peas sliding to one side of his leg. He was poker-stiff, in more ways than one. His face was a little green. His breathing had changed growing shallower in the few minutes it took her to retrieve the bag of peas from the freezer. His eyes looked a bit glazed and unfocused. Served the bastard right, he deserved to suffer after zapping her back home to California. He’d sent her back, condemning her to a life of loneliness without the one person she considered family. She hauled the bag of peas back in place and draped the cold plastic tighter around his rather impressive package. “That should help the swelling,” she said sweetly, “better than me sucking the poison out any day.” Sage whimpered between colorless, cadaver-like lips. “You cold-hearted savage!” Hannah snickered. Hmm, guess he was still pretty rigid all over. “I’m merely trying to help with the rigor mortis.” His right eyelid twitched. His lavender-colored gaze grew wide. Horror whipped across his face. “Rigor mortis?” “Yep, you know that thing that happens after something dies?” “My dick is not dead!” He glared at her, his eyes flaring with anger. “Nope. Mr. Lucky there isn’t likely to develop dropsie anytime soon—not that I care. He can turn purple, shrivel up, and fall off, but that poor Mojave Green is probably in need of extreme unction right now. You killed it.” “I didn’t kill anything. What’s a Mojave Green?” “The rattlesnake that bit you on your dying pride.” At his frown, she tilted back her head. “Ah, you don’t know what a rattlesnake is. Yep, you killed it all right. One lip-lock on Mr. Lucky and the poor snake must have keeled right over. Kirrah got bit by a Mojave when we were fourteen. Remember her? My best friend who is more like my sister? The

Tabitha Shay

sister I haven’t seen in a year thanks to you? “Well, a little while after the snake bit her, it curled up and died.” She placed her hand over her heart in mock respect of the snake passing into reptile heaven. “There must be something in the system of witches that kills the poor snake once it bites one. Your blood is probably puke green or something.” “I don’t know what a rattlesnake is. There aren’t any such mean creatures in RuNoc that bite for no reason.” His body jerked. He moaned. “If you must know, my blood isn’t green, it’s—dark.” “Dark?” “Blackish—maybe?” “Blackish?” Hannah shot him a look. “Very funny.” She lifted the package of peas, stared between his legs, and shook her head. She clicked her tongue, tsking. “My, my.” “What?” Sage lowered his chin in order to see what she saw down there. “Is there something else wrong with it?” “What a shame.” “What? I don’t see anything else wrong.” He fell back on the pillows. “You’re driving me crazy!” “I don’t think it’s in danger of falling off. Pity.” She shook her head. “However, one can never be certain.” Sage groaned and closed his eyes. “Gods, you’re such a vengeful bitch.” “Indeed.” She grinned. “The Green is known for its aggressiveness. That’s one mean snake you tangled with, not one for backing down. Did you know its poison is forty-four times more toxic than the Diamondback?” He opened one eye and glared at her. “You’re enjoying this,” he accused, opening the other eye. “Sure am.” She shifted the icy sack, pressed it tighter. Sage’s eyes widened. “Baby, you keep patting that damned cold thing on my balls, I can promise you, there will be a payback. And just so you know, I don’t know the difference between a Mojave Green and a Diamondback, so you’re wasting your time trying to scare me.” “Uh-huh. How did you get in my world and what are you doing here?” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Hmm, is there some way I can banish you to your own realm? No, on second thought, it’s good you’re here. I want to make your life as miserable as you made mine.” Sage suddenly sucked in a sharp breath as a spasm shook his body. “What?” Hannah asked innocently. “Have a little problem?” “I’d say you’re doing a damn good job of getting even, baby. My cock’s an icicle, and I’m totally at your mercy. You should be satisfied.” Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “The cold will help reduce the swelling.” “Humph. That remains to be seen.” “If you were human, you’d be dead. One doesn’t mess with a Green.” “I didn’t bother it. It attacked me!” “I see. Well, I have to buy groceries. I wasn’t expecting company and there’s barely enough food here to feed me. What would you like to eat?” She ran her gaze up and down the length of his bare, muscular legs and back. “You do eat, right? You don’t drink blood or anything nasty like that?” She pulled the sheet up to his hips and draped it carefully over the sack of peas.

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He turned a glare on her. His eyelid twitched. “I’ve told you before; I’m not a freakin’ vampire. I’m a waken. A male witch. Or I was, until MeLora nearly blasted my heart right out of my chest. Of course, that’s nothing compared to what you and that damned snake have done to me. I’ll be a eunuch by the time you get finished.” She ignored his hostility. “I don’t think there’s much chance of you becoming a eunuch, but Mr. Lucky might get crotch rot.” She smiled. “So, you eat food?” He blinked at her. His eyes narrowed to mere slits. He muttered something that sounded like ‘fook’. “Oh, no, no fooking for Mr. Lucky, I’m afraid he’s ...er, out of luck. Now, what will it be? Food? Or blood?” He muttered something again. This time she was sure he was swearing at her. “Stop cursing me and answer the questions.” “Yes, I eat food. Just food! Some things are different and some names may be different in my language, but it’s basically the same as what you eat. And trust me, I wasn’t cursing you or you’d be slithering on your belly, a mate for the Mojave Green.” Hannah snorted. She grabbed her purse off the nightstand and gave him a searching look. “Don’t try to get up; you’ll fall if you do. I won’t be long, maybe an hour. Wait right here.” She laughed and locked the door behind her. *** Sage growled. His impotent fury made him feel even more at her mercy. His lack of magic scared the crap out of him. Worse, there was no witch doctor readily available. No telling what kind of long-term effect that creature’s venom would have on him. What was he going to do? How would he return home? He frowned. Hannah had completely disregarded his abilities as a witch by locking him in the room. That pissed him off. When he was feeling better and could actually move more than eyelid and his lips, he was damned well going to let her know how angry he was at her for her lack of respect. Here he was, a witch, stuck in the one world where they burned his kind at the stake. The only person he knew in this misbegotten realm was Hannah, and she certainly didn’t have much love for him. She might lust for his body, but that didn’t necessarily mean she liked him. She hadn’t been overly pleased to see him lying on the sand, neither had she been the least bit friendly or polite when she brought him in from what she called, ‘the desert’. With little concern for his pride, she’d dumped his ass on the bed with all the finesse of a Grubo wrestler. Then she stripped him of his clothes. He thought she took an infinite amount of time to check him from head to toe for snakebites when he kept telling her he’d only been bitten once. Sage laughed then groaned as the sack of peas slid to his nether regions. He’d never forget how Hannah’s eyes rounded or the little ‘O’ her mouth puckered into when she saw the matching prick marks. He wouldn’t forget the sound of her laughter, either. If she’d been a fire breathing dragon, she would have shot flames out her nostrils, she snorted so hard. He thought she was going to fall on the floor and roll with laughter. Finally, after wiping her eyes dry, she eyed his cock and snorted all over again. Oh, the indignity of it! She had no consideration for his waken pride what so ever.

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When she closed the door behind her and he heard the soft snick of the lock, his lips twitched. What? Was it her aim to keep him her prisoner? Huh. The mortal didn’t have a clue. Obviously, she didn’t realize a lock could never confine him. It would take magic, a lot of magic, a power she did not possess. He grimaced. Hell, it was a power he no longer possessed. “Have no fear, baby, I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.” He grinned and knew he must look like a lovesick mon-kar. “I might detest this world where you live, but I’ve been given a second chance. I’m not leaving until I’m finished with you, not even when my magic returns.” He eyed his bare feet and tried wiggling his toes. When they moved to his satisfaction, he sighed with heartfelt relief. Ahh, life crept back to his lower extremities. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Hannah. Sweet, sweet payback. He closed his eyes, his thoughts replaying Hannah’s words. He was almost asleep when his eyes popped open. His heart accelerated with a sudden memory. There was one particular thing Hannah said that made sweat bead down his forehead. It had been a year since she’d seen her friend? “Impossible. She’s lying. I banished her barely a week ago.” But a niggling doubt crept into his mind. What did he know of her world? Nothing. He knew nothing about how time passed between the two realms. Maybe the power bolt MeLora zapped him with left him in some sort of soulless limbo for a year. Maybe he’d died. Maybe he technically didn’t die. Some said a witch’s death wasn’t always a permanent death, not like what humans went through. In the case of a severe injury, a witch’s soul could wonder endlessly through a void of blackness until it located its body again. Just like that? No consequences? Huh. Hell this dying thing was new to him. Maybe if he’d been killed, that explained his lack of magic. What if Hannah was telling the truth? If she was, then he’d been separated from his soul for a year. In essence, he’d been killed in Sanctuary when MeLora struck him with her magic. When Hannah had asked him what happened, he’d suspected even then he’d been killed. He couldn’t tell her he’d died and returned. She’d never grasp the notion. Inside, he cringed. It was a concept sometimes difficult for a witch to comprehend. He chewed on his bottom lip and mulled things over in his mind. What had taken place in Ru-Noc this past year? Did anyone know he was stuck in this realm? Were Talon and Saylym still alive? Had the twins been born? He had to figure out a way to get back to his realm. What of Hannah? Sage shuddered. He couldn’t take her with him to Ru-Noc. But he wanted her and before he returned home, he intended to have her. He’d have to be satisfied with whatever time they had together. Surely he’d get her out of his system after a couple of matings. Then he could return to Ru-Noc and find a witch to build a life with, have children with, and given time, he’d forget Hannah.

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A plan began to formulate at the back of his mind. There was a way he could successfully mate with Hannah, if he could manage to maintain the rigid control he’d need. He wanted that chance. Yes, a few matings to get her out of his blood, to rid her scent from his mind. Mate with her, then leave, never to return to the mortal world again, never to see Hannah again. It had to be that way. He didn’t dare take her back to Sanctuary, not with the price on her head. If he returned there with her, he might return smack in the middle of Beltane. Her human scent would reach every horny waken in town. “Every fooking warlock.” There would be no gentleness from a warlock who might chance upon her. She would be impregnated, and she would die. Giving her his child wasn’t an option. It wasn’t something he was willing to risk. He’d have to take precautions to ensure it didn’t happen. Nor could he bond with her. Bonding with a mortal was strictly forbidden a waken. He grinned. “But fooking for the pleasure of it was something entirely different.” As long as he was careful, Hannah wouldn’t conceive. He relaxed and closed his eyes. He would make certain that didn’t happen, but nothing was going to stop him. He would have her...soon.

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ XÄxäxÇ Ru-Noc Realm Sanctuary Black Tongue Lounge

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opaz knew the world as he’d known it had ended. Bam! Sudden stop. Get off here. It had tumbled down around his ears the moment he’d shagged Maxine Pasha, his beautiful Celine’s identical twin sister. However, it wasn’t the reason for the misery twisting his gut into an aching knot. It wasn’t the reason his eyes burned or the cause of the hollowness gnawing inside his chest. He looked around the smoky lounge and blinked. It was all so surreal. Futhar felines of all shape, size, sex and color, bellied up to the bar or gathered around tables. They laughed. They talked. They drank. Some went outside for a jukey fix or a quickie with a hot Alley Cat. All these things, he was guilty of doing, once upon a time. His former lifestyle wasn’t anything he was proud to remember. What he’d done to Maxine and Celine and even to his self was far worse. By the gods, he didn’t want to remember what he’d done to Maxine. He only wanted to recall the sweet face of his Celine. Feeling desperate, he searched the faces of the crowd. There wasn’t a single, individual face he could see clearly or that made an impression on his troubled mind. They all looked like red-eyed monsters to him. Laughing, shallow, red-eyed monsters, high on life, high on lust and stupid enough to believe life was one big lark. The way he used to think and act. He’d learned the hard way that fun and games could sometimes hurt someone and there was always a price to pay when you were reckless. He grimaced and took a swig of the Catnip Rum the waitress served him. She hadn’t bothered to ask him what he wanted. She’d simply assumed he was here to drink and party. Why the hell not? He’d always been a party animal. Just because MeLora had managed to steal King Darak from his true mate and take control of the former Queen Helayne’s throne shouldn’t keep him from having a good time. Who was he kidding? There wasn’t a witch, waken, wizard or Futhar familiar who wasn’t sick or worried about the war brewing in Ru-Noc. A week had barely passed since the first big showdown with Saylym Winslow and 58

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the demon witch, MeLora. Even though the witches and wakens were still talking about the way MeLora turned and ran, there were bound to be more battles. Still, none of these terrible things was the cause for him sitting alone in a dark corner in the Black Tongue Lounge. He’d lived more centuries than he could remember, kings and queens came and went, wars were fought, battles won and lost, and royal families toppled. One learned to adjust and live with such events. But he’d never had his heart torn from his chest and trodden into the dirt the way Celine had done. Dammit, the lovely Persian didn’t even know yet that he’d shagged her sister. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t touched Celine in a sexual manner—though he couldn’t deny he’d given it his best shot, she hated his guts. But deep in her heart, she knew he loved her and she belonged to him. Before this was all over, he’d be nothing more than cat gut stretched out to dry. He’d end up a dried out old rug in front of some waken’s fireplace. He’d always played loose and free, chased Alley Cats and had his way with every single one he’d chosen to shag. When he met Celine, Queen Helayne’s Futhar familiar, he’d lost his heart. Too bad it had been a one-sided love affair. Maybe if Celine hadn’t resisted his advances so hard, he wouldn’t be in the mess he was in now. Disheartened, he sipped the potent, amethyst-colored Catnip Rum. Wisps of purple fumes rose from the glass he held in his big paw. The Black Tongue was the ‘in’ place, especially at Beltane, the place where the party crowd of feline Futhars gathered and chatted away the hours. At Beltane, it was where the single males picked up a willing female. He then took her to the back alley where he spent a fun-filled night in a heated, sexual romp, rolling the meat to her. Topaz had taken more than his share of pussies in the alley and the pleasure had been all his. Tonight, however, he wasn’t in the mood to romp with a strange kitty. All he wanted was his small Persian love, Celine. Feeling more morose by the minute, Topaz kept his head lowered, sipped his drink, and hoped no one saw him seated at his favorite table, looking gloomy. Deep in his heart, he knew he should be with Prince Talon and Saylym Winslow, but he just couldn’t bring himself to join them at their new home. Not yet. Celine lived there. Celine, the love of his life and the female he’d never be able to claim for his own. Maxine, Celine’s identical twin sister, had put a screeching halt to his courtship of Celine. Grimly, he took another swallow of the Catnip and made a face. The brew was powerful and burned a path to his gut. It settled there like liquid fire and did what it was most famous for doing. It sizzled. He rarely consumed Catnip, mainly, because it did something to his memory. He could never recall the next day what he’d done the night before. It seemed he always awoke in an unfamiliar place and with an unknown feline in his arms. Of course, in his tomcattin’ days it wasn’t such a bad thing, but now, he certainly didn’t want to wake up with a strange cat sleeping beside him. No, what he wanted was to wake up with Celine in his arms—preferably, for the rest of his life. Although he’d love to place full responsibility on Maxine for the disaster his life had become, he couldn’t honestly say it was her fault. And Maxine carried two of his kits. She was now his bond mate. There was no changing the Futhar feline law. Once kits were created between

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couples, they were automatically bonded. Only her death would free him to pursue another. He accepted responsibility for the kits she carried. He knew they were his, but he didn’t love Maxine. He’d never love Maxine. The girl kits he’d given her had been meant for Celine. Some mistakes lasted a lifetime—all nine of them. He’d honestly believed when he pounced on Maxine and forced her into a receptive, mating position, it was Celine. He hadn’t known Celine had a twin. He brooded, allowing his rage to simmer on a low heat. The anger continued to grow, building and bubbling to a fine boil. He knew eventually, he’d lose it and do something he’d regret. He took another swig of the rum and hoped it would cool his seething temper. Tonight, he wasn’t looking for company. Shagging good pussy was what had gotten him in the mess he was presently in. No matter how he thought things through, he saw no way to prevent Celine discovering what he’d done. He knew in his heart the first chance Maxine got, she’d tell the whole sordid mess to Celine and probably embellish it. Besides, he wanted any relationship between himself and Celine to be based on love and honesty. He didn’t want to keep secrets from her, but he didn’t want her to find out what he’d done either. He couldn’t bear to break Celine’s heart. Might as well face it, his life had gone down the shitter. He was doomed. His one true love was lost forever. Oh, the unfairness of it! Another swallow of the rich Catnip Rum went down rough and burned the chill from his blood. He needed that fire. Anger at the stupid thing he’d done suddenly hit him. He slammed the mug down on the table. He’d fucked the wrong female! Literally. But worse, so much worse, was the fact he’d given Maxine two kits. In his lost love’s eyes, it would look as if he’d gone back to Maxine for a second round of mating, when in actuality, he hadn’t gone back, but had come twice, back to back, impregnating her both times. Oh, he was guilty of pouncing on the beautiful Maxine. He couldn’t deny he’d shagged her, but the second planting of his seed had been an uncontrollable response to her riding his cock ...the first spilling, a big, big mistake. “Hi there, you big, handsome hunk of feline fur.” The purring, Mae West voice coming on to him came from Emerald Du-Puss, the hottest pussy walking around on four legs. Well, sometimes, like now, she walked around on two legs and imitated the glamorous movie star’s slinky walk. Although Emerald’s normal hair color was green, tonight she wore a platinum blonde wig to enhance her Mae West imitation. Topaz swore softly in the Futhar language. He didn’t have much regard for the green feline. She was trouble. Every tom in Ru-Noc had shagged the lovely Emerald, including himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t fully comprehend what she was or what she’d do to a tom if she got the chance. A few times, she’d been known to take on a train of toms. A few times he’d been guilty of standing in line, but it had been a very long time since he’d bothered to mate with her. He knew he’d made an enemy of the green puss and that deep inside she resented his lack of interest in her. Topaz looked up from his drink as the dark green feline slid into the chair next to

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him. He reached down and removed her caressing paw from his cock. She pouted. “What'sa matter, Topaz? You used to love my paw jobs.” Topaz gave her a dark scowl. “Used to being the operative word, Emerald. Beat it. I don’t want company.” She chose to ignore his sullenness. “I’m hot you big tom and sooo horny. Come on, stud. We’ll go out back where you can show me what you got and how you use it. I’ll devote the entire night to just you.” Once again, Topaz removed her paw from between his thighs. This time, he applied pressure to her wrist. “I said no. I’m not interested.” Emerald’s green eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. She jerked her paw free. “Nobody turns me down, stud. Nobody!” She walked a paw up his chest. “I’ll make you sorry you ever refused me.” “Get your claws off my mate!” Topaz smothered a groan. Maxine. He’d know her voice anywhere. She sounded nothing like his Celine. Maxine’s voice was deeper, huskier, and sexier. What the hell was Maxine doing here? How had she known where to find him? He looked up feeling a barbed knot twist in his belly. If Maxine was here, in Sanctuary, where Celine lived—ah crap! His ass was dead meat. A damned doghouse would look great about now. Emerald whipped around, claws extended, and hissed. “Your mate?” She cut a sly gaze at Topaz then looked at Maxine. “Your mate just tried to sweet talk me into going out back to the alley so he could do a bit of shagging. Obviously, you aren’t keeping the big guy satisfied.” Maxine made a flying leap at Emerald. “You bitch!” Topaz shoved the table to one side and grabbed Maxine around the waist. “Keep that white-furred bitch away from me or I’ll make both of you sorry!” Emerald threatened. Topaz wrapped a paw around Maxine’s shoulder and moved her to his side. He flung a barbed glare at the green pussy. “Your quarrel is with me, Emerald. You go near my mate, and I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.” He released Maxine and pushed Emerald to one side. Maxine snapped her sharp teeth together and snarled. “Get your stinking paws away from her, Topaz. You’re my mate now and that’s final. Say goodbye to Emerald.” Topaz stared at Maxine, stunned. Maxine was fighting for him? As if she loved him? Had feelings for him? Impossible! Maxine was as big a deceiver and trouble-maker as Emerald. He didn’t trust her. He let go of Emerald and grabbed his mate. “Don’t even try to order me around, Maxie.” Maxine hissed and clawed his face. “Let go of me! I’m going to rip out her eyes!” “Calm down. I did not ask Emerald to go out back. She’s goading you. Think of our kits, Maxie.” “Kits?” Emerald threw back her head and laughed. “Poor Topaz, you finally made the ultimate mistake and bred one of us. Bet that was a shocker. You’re going to be a daddy? My, oh my, will wonders never cease?” Maxine twisted in his arms. “Turn me loose, you lousy dog! Do you believe for one minute I give two shits for these kits you put in me? I’ve never wanted kits! Let me go! I’ll claw out her green heart!” Topaz gripped Maxine’s shoulders and shook her. “Stop it! I said stop it! You do

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anything to harm my kits and I swear I’ll kill you!” He heard the shocked gasps of the crowd. His threats echoed loud and clear in one of those stunning moments when everything is absolutely silent. Dirty looks flashed his way, some with fury, and some with satisfied smirks over the mess he’d gotten himself into. There were outright snickers from others over the fact two kittens with claws were fighting over him, and he didn’t give a crap about either one of them. Still, others looked with understanding and pity. He had a right to stop his mate from hurting his babies. He turned and frog-marched Maxine toward the front entrance. She fought and screeched the entire way to the exit. She sounded just like a damned female Alley Cat getting good and shagged. “Dammit, behave! Let’s get the hell outta here before the Panther Patrol shows up and hauls us both to jail.” Maxine hissed. “Don’t concern yourself with the Panther Patrol. I have a cousin who works the Patrol. You better worry about whether I have these kits you forced on me. There are ways to get rid of them and I know every one of them.” Topaz backed her against the wall and wrapped his paws around her throat. Rage burned in his soul. “You harm my kits, Maxie, and I swear to the gods, you will not live to see another day. I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear.” He looked around, saw they were being watched and his words overheard. He shoved Maxine through the exit. “Get out of here and don’t come back!” He swore softly and turned around to head back to his table. Maxine poked her head back through the door and huffed. “But, where can I go? I have no home now that the palace has fallen under MeLora’s rule.” Topaz turned back and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t give a damn where you go. Go live under a bridge or a leaky roof in the alley. I never want to see your face again! Stop following me!” Maxine stared at him, big tears in her aqua-green eyes, then she withdrew, allowing the door to close behind her. Topaz made his way back to his table and ordered a double Catnip Rum. This was one night he wanted desperately to forget.

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V{tÑàxÜ gãxÄäx Mojave Desert

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age walked slowly to the front door and held it open for Hannah. She’d been gone for over three hours. The entire time she was gone, he’d worried and stewed. What if something had happened to her? What if Black Drayke or even MeLora followed him to this realm to make sure of his demise? Black Drayke would know immediately who Hannah was and he’d take great pleasure in killing her. That would be his fault for leading the warlock to her. Then there was the fact he was at death’s door. She blithely went off on her merry way and ignored the fact he could barely move. Not that he was going anywhere, but he’d lain in that bed, in one spot, for nearly two hours bored to death! Dammit, his ass hurt. His cock burned. And his temper was at the biting edge. He wanted her back here where he knew where she was and what she was doing. It was irrelevant that most of the paralysis had left his body in a little over three hours or that he could walk again. By the gods, she shouldn’t have deserted him for so long! “Where the hell have you been?” She looked up, surprise on her face. “I went shopping. I bought you a few things, three pair of stonewashed Levis, a couple of T-shirts, socks, underwear. Then I got caught up in a traffic jam.” He eyed the clear plastic wrapped around the clothes draped across one arm while she juggled two bulging sacks of groceries in the other arm. He didn’t know what a traffic jam was, but it didn’t sound like fun. “You shouldn’t have done that. My magic will return soon, then I can make my own clothes.” “What if it doesn’t return? You want to spend your time naked?” “Why not? Sounds like a perfect plan to me?” She scowled at him, her dark brows knitting together. “Funny.” He grabbed one of the grocery sacks, kept the door out of her way with his hip and grinned at her frown as she squeezed past him. “It’s good you’re walking again. I knew the snake bite wouldn’t keep you down long...or is that up?” He snorted. “Nothing keeps a good waken down, but I’m betting you can keep me up for hours.” She slanted her gaze over the towel he’d knotted at his waist. Quickly, she looked away and rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. I didn’t realize ‘it’ was ever down.” She sailed past him and headed into the kitchen. “I thought I locked you in your room?”

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“You did. Just so you know, it is rarely ever down, particularly when you’re near me, and especially at Beltane.” Sage followed right behind her. He grinned and gave a low whistle of appreciation. Hannah whirled around. “Are you eyeing my ass?” “Admiring. It’s a nice ass.” She shook her head and strolled into the kitchen. “You’re a sick man.” “Yeah. I think you should probably check out the swelling again, give ‘it’ some...tender, loving, care. ” “What?” Hannah turned after setting the sack of groceries on the counter. She draped the clothes over a barstool, dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, and turned to flutter her lashes at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sage walked slowly toward her. He placed the sack he held beside hers then leaned in close, pinning her against the counter behind her. “I know I explained Beltane to you before and what it does to a male witch. But in case you don’t remember—” he pressed his lower body against her, moved his hips. “That’s all real, baby, and has nothing to do with the fooking snake bite and has everything to do with you.” She opened her mouth to deny the affect she had on his body. He shook his head. “Don’t play games with me, Hannah. I won’t play nicely. I didn’t stop wanting you just because we’ve existed in two different realms for awhile. Right now, I’m horny as hell. I don’t even remember the last time I fooked.” His eyes darkened. “I don’t play well with others, especially with teasing, sexy little cats in need of a good fo—” Hannah placed a trembling hand across his mouth. “Don’t say it. I don’t play games, either, Sage. I don’t tease.” “Good. Now we have an understanding.” He lowered his mouth toward hers. *** Mercy, she could swear there were two shades of lavender bleeding together and swirling in his eyes. Tiny sparks shot through the heated depths as he brought his mouth closer to hers. He hesitated. Black, silky hair spread across a wide chest that was truly a sculptor’s wet dream. He drew in several deep breaths, a little rough and ragged. Biceps bulged, almost as enticing as the package at his crotch. Obviously, he still had a problem with swelling. The skin on his cheekbones looked as taut as hide stretched across a drum. His face was flushed, and she knew it was from a fever of a different kind. He moved his hips, reached down and did some adjusting to the damp towel. She had time for a quick peek; saw his hard length in his hand just before he pushed it between her thighs. If she hadn’t still been wearing jeans, he would have penetrated her to the hilt. She caught her breath on a ragged gasp as his mouth took hers in a hot, hungry kiss. Tongues tangled. His arms crept around her waist and he brought her close, closer still, and all the while, he thrust between her thighs. He felt hard and big, and her jeans dampened between her legs, whether from her or from his pre-come, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. God help her, but she’d never wanted a man like she wanted this man. Sage. Why did he make her feel like ripping off her clothes and saying, “Here, have your wicked way

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with me?” She tried to squeeze her thighs together. Instead, she found herself rubbing urgently against the hardness, riding his shaft. The inner muscles of her sheath throbbed and felt as if they caught on fire. Wet heat burned deep inside her. Her womb clenched. His mouth was wet and wild. He kissed her like a man dying of thirst. Both his hands went under her T-shirt. With one, he palmed a breast. With the other, he slowly, exquisitely, rotated his thumb around her nipple. Her breath hitched. He reluctantly released her mouth. With a deep moan, she flung back her head, and rode his cock faster. Much more and she would— “No. Don’t.” He held her still. His breathing sounded as jagged as her own as he held her tight. “The first time I make you come I want to be buried inside you. I want to feel you wet and pulsing around my cock.” He pulled away from her and readjusted the towel. “Damn that snake and its needlepoint fangs! I’m still too sore to take this any further.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed things to get so out of hand. I wanted to know what it felt like to be close to your heat.” He swallowed hard. “Samhain, you’re as hot as the flames of Hell.” Hannah whimpered as he turned away from her. Jesus, what was wrong with her? She had never in her life ridden a man’s shaft like a bitch in heat. All he had to do was look at her and she was ready for whatever he wanted. He touched her and she went up like flames in a burning house. She’d never wanted or needed a man like this in her entire life, never needed love, sex, or to be taken, except in her dreams. Sage was her dream man. She knew his body intimately. Like an addict, she’d become addicted to his touch, to the feel of his body slamming into hers. She wanted that. Needed that, desperately. Knowing this, she should never have let him near her. This was the man who’d caused her so much grief. She’d sworn, if she ever got the chance, she’d make his life as miserable as he’d made hers. She missed Kirrah. The terrible ache in her soul wouldn’t go away and leave her in peace. Remembering what he’d done to her was like getting slapped in the face with an icy rag. She clenched her fists at her sides. Anger slammed into her, hot and furious. She didn’t care that she would have risked death if she stayed in Sanctuary. It was her choice, her decision to make. He took that from her. “Tender cock or not, how can you just turn and walk away from me?” Jesus, that wasn’t what she meant to say. She stiffened her shoulders. “Don’t touch me again, Sage. I’m not yours to do with as you will.” He whipped around and raked his hot gaze up and down her body. Suddenly he doubled over, clutching his stomach and moaning. Sweat beaded and slid down his forehead and throat. His chest heaved with ragged bursts. Inhale. Exhale. Fast. Furious. Finally he straightened up, wiped the perspiration from his face with the back of his hand. “Baby, you touched me as much as I touched you. You rode my cock so damned hard and fast we both almost came. Oh, yeah. I’ll be touching you again and soon, but not until I’m completely healed. When I jump your bones, you’re damned well going to know you been rode hard.” Hannah stared at him. She felt a tingle slide down her spine at his words. She ignored it. Something had just happened and she wanted to know what. “What the hell just happened to you? Why were you in pain? Are you having some kind of residual

Tabitha Shay

affect from the poison?” Sage shook his head and drew closer. “I imagine it has something to do with Beltane and maybe the fact you’re human. Male witches and mortal females don’t mix so well together when it comes to mating. It’s probably my body’s way of rejecting you.” “Yes, well, didn’t you say you couldn’t touch me or I’d die?” He slid his hand around her throat; toyed with the neck of her shirt before stroking the violet stain he’d marked her with months ago. It seemed to come alive beneath his questing fingers, warm and pulsing. “It’s not exactly the touching, sweetheart. A waken’s seed is too potent for a human female. I claimed you the first time I saw you. I left my mark on your throat.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t have done it. It will always be a living connection between us.” He traced a fingertip over the mark. “It’s mating season in my realm. I wouldn’t have this fooking hard on for you if it wasn’t. Make no mistake, Hannah, I have every intention of having you. I just have to do some thinking on it.” She jerked away from him. “Your mating season doesn’t apply to me. I’m human. Remember?” “It’s not something I’m likely to forget, mau-ley.” He thrust fingers through his hair, shoving it back from his face. “Sheeahta! I’m not in the mood for this!” She licked her dry lips. “What are you in the mood for?” Good grief girl, are you crazy? You’re just asking for it. All you have to do is nudge that towel and you can feel what he’s in the mood for. S-E-X! It was quite simple to understand. As if he read her mind, he grasped her hand and held it against the front of the towel. “I don’t think you’re ready for what I’m in the mood for, babe. But hold onto the thought.” She choked. His hard shaft throbbed against the palm of her hand. Hannah felt heat sweep up her throat and the tip of her ears burn. She jerked her hand back. “There’s nothing between us except hatred!” “I don’t hate you, baby.” He glided a fingertip down her cheek. “I’ve never hated you. I’ve been too busy thinking of a safe way I can fook you to hate you.” Hannah opened her mouth to declare she hated him. He laid a finger across her lips and shook his head. “Don’t lie. I know you want me. I felt it in your kiss, the way you rode my cock. I can smell it on you.” She slapped his hand away. “You said I’m the wrong species.” “You are for bearing me children.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’ve decided to temporarily give up the idea of fatherhood. I’ll be careful with you, Hannah. I swear. I won’t take any risks with your life. Trust me to do the right thing when the time demands it.” He backed away a step. “But for now, how can I help you with dinner? It feels as if it’s been a year since I last ate.” Hannah blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Dammit, I hate it when a man says “trust me”. And don’t you think for a moment I’m going to be easy.” She nibbled at her bottom lip. She could still taste him on her mouth, the special heat and warmth, the hot spice unique to him would forever be on her tongue. She frowned. What exactly had he said? There had been something in his words that should have set off alarms. What had it been besides his stating he’d been thinking of a way he could fook her? Of course, any woman in her right mind would take that as a warning and run like hell, but where could

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she run to that he wouldn’t find her? He was magic. She was mortal. There was nowhere she could hide. Besides, he hadn’t made it sound threatening or dirty, in fact, just the opposite. He said fuck the way Sean Connery said pussy galore without making it sound—well, without making it sound like he was talking about pussy when in reality, everyone knew that was exactly James Bond’s meaning. Sage used the word with honesty and with a smooth, sensual accent guaranteed to heat a woman’s blood and cause her panties to dampen. “I didn’t mean to leave you speechless.” He reached inside the sack and pulled out a lettuce head and tomatoes. “Lutto and tomoes. What else is in there?” He peeked into the sack and turned back to her with a grin. “Ish crom, chocco, my favorite.” He looked up from examining the carton, his expression serious. “I never for one moment thought you’d be an easy lay, but understand me, Hannah, I’m determined.” He exhaled slowly. “I want you. I wouldn’t have stopped just now if I wasn’t so damned sore and the wounds weren’t still open. I don’t know how long I’ll be in your realm. I could be sucked back to my own world at any given moment. My being here isn’t the norm and I’m sure even now the Guild will be making a countermove to get me back where I belong.” She grabbed the carton from his hands. “Ice cream. It’s for dessert. You need real food first.” He looked at her, an odd expression flitting across his face. “You can try to ignore what’s between us all you want, but it won’t go away, Hannah. Not until our desire for each other has been satisfied. I think you know it.” Hannah put the carton of ice cream in the freezer, fished down a bowl to make a salad and glanced up as Sage mumbled something and headed toward the back door. “Where are you going?” He hesitated, looked back at her over his shoulder, his body tense. “I need some air, time to cool off. You need some time away from me.” She arched a brow. “You’re wearing a towel.” “So?” She shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t have any close neighbors. I just didn’t want you to catch cold.” He grinned. “Baby, I’m too hot to get cold. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” When he returned, it was as if nothing had happened between them, except their voices were stilted, the periods of silence awkward. He prowled through the sacks of groceries she still hadn’t put away. Hannah shook her head. He was like a little boy with his favorite toy, sex forgotten for the moment. Well, if he could be so casual about it, then so could she. Anyway, he wouldn’t have her until she was ready to surrender. It wasn’t his decision. She watched him pull out a loaf of bread, a whole pre-cooked ham and a package of cheese. While she rummaged in the refrigerator for salad dressing and drinks, Sage sliced the ham and put their sandwiches together. “What do you want to drink? I have beer or Coke.” “Beer?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s a malt drink, alcohol.” “And the Coke?”

Tabitha Shay

“Non-alcoholic.” “I’ll have the Coke.” “Okay, coming right up.” Hannah filled a glass with ice, and before handing him the cola, shook the can, then gave both items to him—and waited. “Hmm.” Sage set down the glass and examined the can of cola. “How do you open it?” “The tab.” Sage nodded and tugged at the tab. The can hissed and belched its contents in his face and down the front of his chest. “Ack! Blub!” He swiped a hand down his face, removing the sticky-sweet liquid. He stared at her, his mouth open with shock. Then amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You did that on purpose!” He shook his dripping hair and wiped cola off his chest with a towel she handed him. “Guess you didn’t know I’m one for getting even. Huh?” He started toward her. Hannah swallowed her giggles and backed up a step. The waken looked dark and vengeful with mock fury on his face. Still, it was worth it. He set down the can and reached for the glass of ice. Giggling, she tried to dart around him but he closed in on her until he hemmed her in a corner. “Now, don’t do anything foolish that could cause you to lose your towel.” He arched a brow. “Don’t worry about my towel, mau-ley. If I lose it, it will be on purpose.” He lifted her shirt and dragged the ice cube across her bare midriff. “Don’t! You’ll make me wet my pants.” “I already made you wet your pants, baby.” “I wasn’t talking about that kind of wet.” She slapped at his busy hand and laughed. “Stop! I surrender. You must take some kind of perverted thrill in torturing me.” “I do.” He raised her shirt higher, stared at the flesh-colored bra cupping her breasts. “I like this thing you’re wearing. I can see your nipples.” He dragged the ice cube across her bra, wetting the tight buds through the soft material. She wiggled and gave a yelp. “Enough! I give!” “Not enough wench! Say you’re sorry and then I might stop this torture.” “I’m sorry. Now let me out of this corner.” “I lied.” He laughed and reached for a second piece of ice. “Me, too. I’m not sorry at all.” “No?” he said playfully. “Hmm, maybe I can think of another way to torture you.” Slowly, he lowered his head, giving her time to draw back if she wanted. She wasn’t a fool. Sage was hot. Why should she miss a kiss from a studly man? No reason came to mind. Then his mouth touched hers, his tongue probed, parted her lips and glided inside. He tasted like smooth, whipped chocolate and hot steamy sex. His exploration of her mouth was thorough, a bit rough, and a lot hungry. Jesus, he knew how to kiss. Hannah moaned and arched against him. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she held him against her as he rocked his hips in a familiar rhythm. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes shimmering and hot. His chest heaved with a ragged breath. He moaned. “Don’t move, mau-ley. I...just don’t move any more.” He

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rested his forehead against hers and breathed deeply. “Give me a minute. Fook!” He quivered against her, his body trembling. “There’s just no foreplay that’s going to work for us, Hannah,” he whispered. “Neither of us can wait much longer. When I touch you, I want you immediately. Gods, baby, do you have any idea how much you turn me on?” He dragged her hand to his erection in case she had any doubt then just as quickly removed it. “Ouch. Crap! Bad idea,” he whispered. “The damned thing hurts like hell.” His breathing began to calm. He pushed away from her. “I think we just better concentrate on easing another hunger for now.” Hannah nodded, started to step around him, but he locked his fingers around her arm, halting her. “That was just an appetizer, mau-ley. We have yet to enjoy the full meal.” She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “I know what you must think. I’m easy. You can have me anytime you want.” “Hannah,” he whispered. “Baby, look at me.” When she wouldn’t, he tilted her chin with a fingertip. “I want you to understand, I want you. I’ve never felt for another female the way I feel for you. I think you want me just as badly. That doesn’t make you easy, mau-ley. That makes you mine.” Tenderly, he brushed a kiss across her brows. “You belong to me. If it makes you feel any better, I belong to you. No other woman will ever take your place.” The half-lie choked him going down. No, there would never be another human woman, but there would be a witch he’d love one day, a witch to bear his children and Hannah ...Hannah would be part of the past and nothing but a sweet memory. He studied her a moment. How, when the time came, was he ever going to be able to give her up? His heart lurched in his chest. The answer was simple. He couldn’t. So where did that leave him? He knew only one thing for certain, if he made her his own, there would be no going back to Ru-Noc. She couldn’t return to his world, so he’d have to live in hers. It would also mean giving up the chance of siring children. This was a decision he’d have to give careful consideration, because when it was all said and done, remaining in the mortal world would mean never using magic again. It would also mean that one day Hannah would grow old and die. He’d remain young, but he’d be alone for the rest of eternity.

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|ÜàxxÇ Outside the gates of Sanctuary

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ueen Helayne stood at the edge of the ancient, magical forest that surrounded Sanctuary. She stared bleakly into the gathering darkness. Nothing but empty shadows filled her life. Painful memories hammered at her skull, reminding her of the loss of her mate and two of her children. Kali and Stry might not be dead, but there were worse things than death. Not knowing where her elder son, Stry, had disappeared to or if Captain Koran T was treating her daughter well in the human realm preyed upon her mind. She could only beseech the gods to keep her children safe. Wearily, her shoulders slumped. She pressed a trembling hand to her bosom. Just once in her life she wished she could shed tears. But a full-blooded witch could no more weep than a rose could survive winter. Instead, all her tears dripped from her heart like drops of blood. Her heart, her soul, had never felt so heavy. The utter taste of defeat robbed her of the will to live, but the need for revenge gave her the strength she needed to do exactly that. Although terror was a constant companion now, she wasn’t afraid for herself or frightened of the night. She wasn’t scared to enter the woods. There was nothing that could be done to her body that Black Drayke hadn’t already done. She looked down at the twisted deformity of her hands and wrists. Barely a week had passed since Black Drayke shattered the bones in her wrists; still, they were starting to mend. But they would never be the same again. Misshapen and nearly useless, they resembled knotty lumps protruding from the ends of her arms. There had simply been too much damage to the fine bones when Black Drayke splintered them. Ru-Noc lay in much the same shape as Sanctuary. Under MeLora’s rule, Droth would crumble like the bones in her hands. Certainly, Sanctuary had its battle scars; the blasts of fireballs from MeLora and Saylym had damaged the quaint village, but with Saylym living there, there might be a chance of salvaging it. If Saylym could somehow manage to keep it from MeLora’s evil clutches. Ru-Noc might not physically be in total ruin, but there was little doubt it was spiritually beaten. All because of MeLora Haven and Black Drayke’s scheming. They’d succeeded beyond their wildest dreams in destroying her family. The years of peace and prosperity she and her family had shared with the citizens of Ru-Noc were gone like ashes in the wind. A new queen claimed the throne now, a witch her own mate had chosen over her. 70

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Bitterness and hatred saturated her soul, and the yearning for revenge beat as hot and heavy inside her as a pagan war drum. It grew and grew until it had manifested into something so powerful, so ugly, it bore away at her soul like a shrum worm in a pile of shymeta. Helayne gasped and grew still. Repugnance flooded her heart and soul as the babe inside her belly moved. It was Black Drayke’s final gift to her. Slowly and reluctantly, she cupped the small mound with her wrists. The babe reached for her, tiny fingers glowing with love and warmth. She jerked back her hands, recoiling from the babe’s touch, unable and unwilling to reassure him of her love. She felt no love for the child. No hatred. What she felt was empty. She’d decided to name the babe Cynner. Cyn would walk alone in a cruel, loveless world of his father’s making. Helayne started down the wooded path that wound through the magical forest. Nothing stirred. The absence of the predictable hum of woodland made her pause. Neither animals nor birds stirred. It was as if the enchanted creatures of the woodland knew her sorrow and grieved with her. Helayne sighed. She’d managed to find a place of safety. There, she’d settled in and hid from Black Drayke. She knew the monster wasn’t dead. He knew she carried his son. He’d hunt her down and steal the babe the minute he was born. She didn’t know if she even cared if he took the child. But as a means of revenge, she would do her best to keep Cyn from his father. She had no idea if she carried warlock or demon. She wasn’t sure it mattered. This child was Black Drayke’s. Of a certainty, he was bound to be evil. Even with all Black Drayke’s previous, vicious rapes and his tasting of her soul, she’d never felt the terror she felt that second night when he morphed into a demon. He’d thrown back his head and roared his pleasure as his hard length grew and thickened, filling and filling her. Throughout the long night, he took her in both forms, switching back and forth, from warlock to demon, at his pleasure. There was no way to know which bloodline he’d seeded her with. She didn’t think he knew. His mind had been too hazed with the aphrodisiacs he swallowed. She moved on, making her way through the woods until she reached the old abandoned cottage she claimed for her own. She paused outside the door, looked around to make certain no one followed her, then slipped inside, grateful for the lamp she left burning. “It’s about time you got back.” Helayne jumped and swallowed hard. I had to check on my son. I needed to know he is safe. I wanted to see what his mate looks like, see with my own eyes if she loves him or is a deceiver like MeLora...and I had to know if they knew—yet. Eldora looked at Helayne, sadness reflected in her blue eyes. Don’t be sad because I can no longer speak. Eldora’s lips tightened. “It pisses me off that Black Drayke melted your vocal cords and has not been punished for his evil crimes or the atrocities he inflicted on you.” I’m more worried about my son than what Black Drayke has done to me. “Let your mind rest easy, Helayne. Saylym is nothing like MeLora.” A blessing. “And I can assure you; neither Saylym nor Talon realizes they are descended from

Tabitha Shay

the same bloodline. Thank the gods there’s nothing improper or illegal for distant cousins to bond, and luckily, centuries separate their births and their blood.” They did discover Saylym is related to MeLora. “I think Talon and Saylym’s kinship should remain our secret if at all possible. No need to give the Guild something to quibble about. Knowing them, they’d dig up some old law from somewhere and try to put an end to the bond between Saylym and Talon. They haven’t realized yet that girl is our salvation.” She isn’t alone. “She is for now.” But her sisters will soon join her in this battle. Besides, I don’t think Katch would ever allow the Guild a chance to harm Saylym. He wanted the bonding. Saylym is his granddaughter. He will fight to protect her to the best of his ability. Eldora looked around the cottage then shook her head. “But there are no guarantees.” Life doesn’t come with guarantees. Even in her own mind, Helayne knew she sounded bitter. “If another one of my diaries is discovered, the fact I am Queen Leyla’s sister is recorded in the Winslow history and that you are her great, great aunt. When we both changed our last names to conceal our identity, I noted the fact on the pages. Eldora Winslow became Eldora Waters, Helayne Winslow became Helayne Wilson. Only Leyla and Queen Shy-Ryn knew where the diaries were hidden. They took that secret to their eternal resting places.” Helayne’s heart shattered with the tears she couldn’t shed. She could feel the crimson teardrops pouring from her heart, drenching her soul. Talon is not only bonded to his cousin, but he is bonded with an Impure. “There’s nothing improper or against our laws for distant cousins to mate and bond. She carries his sons. Twins.” I know. “Then stop worrying.” Eldora stepped out of the shadows and set a cup of hot tea on the table beside Helayne. “Set your mind at ease, Helayne. Saylym loves Talon and he loves her. We cannot allow anything to ruin this. You cannot leave here and run these kinds of risks. Black Drayke could return at any time, day or night, and his fury at your escape from the mirror will be merciless. He will kill you.” I would not care. Helayne took a sip of the healing tea. At least then, this abomination I carry would die. I would kill him myself if it were possible. “Helayne, don’t think such things. The Coven will not allow you to harm a child. Our children are much too precious to us, even those fathered by a warlock.” What if he was fathered by the demon? Then what? Eldora shrugged her bony shoulders. “I’m sure Cyn will carry the mark of the demon regardless. It will not matter. A child is a child. His future has already been written in the stars. I saw it last night while you slept. He’s a part of you, too, Helayne. There will surely be some redeeming qualities in him, some goodness and mercy.” Helayne sighed and pushed the empty teacup aside. Talon is all I have left. My daughter is in the human realm and Stry has disappeared. My mate, she shuddered, my mate lies in the arms of that horrible witch. “And you lay in Black Drayke’s.” Do not be cruel, Eldora. I had no choice.

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“Neither did the king. You must forgive him.” I can’t. He enjoys bedding her. “Did you not have an orgasm with Black Drayke?” Queen Helayne bowed her head. To my everlasting shame, I had several. “But not because it was something you wanted. It’s no different with Darak. If his mind was clear of the Black Magick, he would prostrate himself before you and plead for your forgiveness. You know this.” They are bonded, Eldora. Nothing can change that. He took her for his life-mate. “And you know the son she carries is not his. Yes, your life with Darak is over. He will never belong to you again. You must move on, Helayne. Look toward the future and look to it without hatred and revenge in you heart. You must.” I can’t promise that, Eldora. Eldora sighed. “We should have kept a closer eye on MeLora. We should have been able to prevent her from murdering Sage. Poor man, his heart exploded inside his chest.” Helayne nodded. MeLora’s turn will come. I swear it! I know Dinka is beside herself, filled with grief. Eldora gasped. “Oh, gods! That reminds me of the reason I came to visit you. Dinka has disappeared!”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ YÉâÜàxxÇ Mojave Desert Mortal Realm

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annah swallowed hard. She had no idea what dark thoughts were flitting through Sage’s mind, but she knew whatever he was thinking, he looked like he needed time to come to a decision. “If you’d like to take a shower before I serve dinner, I’ll be glad to show you where everything is.” He jumped at the chance. Hannah showed him where shower gel, towels and a razor were, adjusted the hot water since he had no clue, and beat a path back to the kitchen. While she raced to put the finishing touches on their meal, she listened to the sound of spraying water coming from down the hall. She smiled. He hadn’t bothered to close the door on the guest bathroom. She figured it was more because he had no sense of mortal etiquette than a hint for her to join him in the shower. A few minutes later he rejoined her. He stood there in the kitchen doorway, propped against the doorframe. His arms were folded across his wide chest. He watched her with the silent interest of a big cat getting ready to pounce upon its hapless prey. On second thought, maybe he’d fully expected her to join him in the shower, after all. “I like these human-made jeans.” “Levis.” “Lee Vess.” “Close enough.” She frowned. He sometimes had difficulty pronouncing English words. This made her wonder just how frequently he used English or if he mainly spoke in his own language. Before she could give it sufficient thought, he moved toward her. She swallowed hard when she saw just how well the faded denim cupped the bulge at his crotch. He’d shampooed his hair, slicked it back and tied it at his nape with a discarded strip of leather. The vanilla scent of her favorite shower gel wafted from him when he walked past her. “Er—go ahead and sit down. Dinner is ready.” He hadn’t bothered to put on one of the plain white T-shirts she’d purchased. So here she sat, straight across from the finest chest she’d ever seen, a chest that rippled with well-honed muscles every time he moved. A liberal sprinkling of hair dusted the pectorals and arrowed downward. She bit her tongue to keep from asking him to stand back up so she could see exactly where that arrow of hair disappeared to and if he needed her to check his snake 74

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bite again. She told herself if he could walk without flinching, he was doing just fine. But oh, the temptation he presented. Hannah squirmed in her chair. Having dinner with Sage, she was sure, would be like having sex with him. Hot. Fast. Furious. And decidedly nerve-wracking. Not that Sage didn’t make his seduction of her glaringly obvious! Well, he did and he didn’t. He was clever, using the faintest of caresses, a look, and a smile. Eye contact. But when he grabbed her hand and slowly licked frosting off her thumb, there was nothing subtle about it. She nearly came undone and he knew it. His deep laughter sent shivers down her spine. Sage handed her the salad bowl, brushing his fingers against hers. She stared at him searching for a sign he’d done it deliberately, but he looked back at her with total innocence stamped on his handsome face. He handed her a napkin, and again his fingers brushed hers. She felt heat sear her face, but he’d touched her so lightly, she wasn’t sure he’d even done it. “Don’t you want dressing on that salad?” His voiced held silent laughter. Before she could reply, he reached across the table and flicked a crumb from the corner of her mouth. Slowly, he traced her lips with his fingertip. “Amazing,” he said. “Did you know your top lip is a perfect heart shape?” She blinked, dispelling the wicked charm he used to seduce her. It didn’t faze him a bit. He leaned across and removed an eyelash from her cheek and blew it in the air. “Eat your salad,” he said and handed her the ranch dressing. The man couldn’t keep his hands off her. He shifted his weight. His knee bumped hers under the table. Not knowing if he’d done it deliberately, she swallowed hard, and dug into her salad. It was the longest meal she’d ever endured in her entire life, and the hottest. Every single gesture, every bite he took was done with a sexual connotation. He licked his fork, taking infinite pleasure in working his tongue between the tines. He sucked on a tiny tomato, lapping the juice from it. He was driving her crazy! Now, as they exited the kitchen, Sage reached over Hannah’s shoulder and flipped off the kitchen light. In the process, he bumped her rear with his thighs. He flipped the switch back on, grinned, and flipped it off again. “There are just some things in the human realm that are a work of magic.” He caressed her shoulder, brushed a strand of her hair from her face, and leaned close. “I don’t mean the light switch, either,” he whispered against the nape of her neck. He traced her ear with his tongue, nibbled at her nape, and laughed deep in his throat at her soft groan. Playfully, he kissed her ear. Hannah felt the dampness of his tongue lapping the pulsing mark on her neck. The touch was so slight, she wasn’t sure he’d actually pressed his mouth there or if her imagination ran amuck. Regardless, her heart tapped out a rhythm against her chest like an enthusiastic drummer in a parade. The constancy of his obvious foreplay throughout the meal drove her mad. Her body was so sensitized that just a waft of air across her breasts caused her nipples to stand at rigid attention. Her stomach knotted. The night wasn’t over. She headed toward the living room, nearly moaning at the warm friction between

Tabitha Shay

her thighs. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d never felt this needy before. She whirled around. “We have two choices!” He paused and arched a brow. “Uh—we can watch a movie or—” “Or?” He arched the other brow. She couldn’t think, not with the heat of his body overwhelming hers. He pulled her into his arms and lowered his head. “What’s the movie?” He nuzzled her ear, brushed aside her shirt and nibbled a path to her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten in response. Oh God, she’d never wanted a man’s mouth on her breasts the way she wanted Sage’s. She tangled her fingers in his chest hair. “Uh...The Wi—wizard of Oz.” He stiffened and reared back. “Is that where a mean young girl purposely drops her house on an innocent old witch and then steals her ruby slippers?” Hannah grinned. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” “It’s required watching at the Waken Academy.” He grinned. “What’s the second choice?” She turned from him, sorted through some CDs and put on a slow bluesy tune. “Dance with me?” She regretted giving him the choice as soon as it left her mouth. His answer only confirmed what she already knew. He was going to seduce her and he wasn’t pulling his punches. “Oh, yeah, I like number two.” Sage pulled her into his arms. His groin brushed against her in a slow rhythm. They moved across the large living room in time to the music. Hannah drew in a slow, deep breath, stunned to realize her breathing had adjusted to the rhythm of his. Their chests rose and fell in perfect synchronization. Their heartbeats aligned and beat as one. Her breasts felt fuller, and she yearned for the touch of his hands. As if reading her mind, he slid a hand beneath her T-shirt and cupped one breast. He rubbed the nipple with the pad of his thumb. Heat raced along her veins, scalding and turning her blood into molten lava. He settled his mouth on hers with a deep moan of hunger. She stood on the tips of her toes to meet his kiss, allowing his tongue to part her lips. The strength of his mouth, hot and heady, branded hers. She thought she’d melt into a steaming puddle. She found herself backed up against the hall wall. He pressed his groin against her crotch and rubbed. Hannah moved her arms around his lean waist. Slowly, she dipped two fingers inside his right hip pocket and eased a thumb inside the waistband of his jeans just above his left pocket. She pulled him closer, so close, she imagined their bodies blending together in the shadows cast in the dark hall. Abruptly, he released her mouth and turned her to face the wall. She heard his raspy breath, felt his hot breath against her skin. His hardness throbbed impatiently against the crease of her butt. Sage slid a hand over her breasts, lingered for a brief span of time, then eased across her stomach. He popped open the button on her jeans. Masculine fingers delved beneath the wisp of triangle. “Spread your legs apart.” She obeyed, too weak to deny him. He searched out the tiny nubbin hidden beneath the nest of thick curls there and rubbed it gently. “This makes you mine,” he whispered and stroked deeper.

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He tormented and teased the nubbin with his thumb, until she thought she’d scream with the need to climax. Hannah gasped as he parted the delicate inner folds and inserted two fingers deep inside her. She moaned as he explored her. She pressed closer and whimpered with need, silently begging him to bring her to completion. With his free hand, he lifted her hair, exposing the delicate curve of her nape. He licked his way across, leaving a trail of warm moisture. Hannah shuddered. She’d never considered the back of her neck an erogenous zone, but the touch of his lips, the stirring glide of his tongue and the faint scrape of his teeth, turned her on faster than she’d ever been turned on in her life. Any second now, she was going to come. She was practically riding his fingers as he worked his way deeper, thrusting in and out of her in a heated rhythm. She felt his body tense as his fingertip nudged against the shield of her virginity. He swore and pushed a little harder against the fragile membrane. She moaned. “No. You have to stop. You can’t—” “I don’t want to stop. I want to take what will make you mine. You belong to me, Hannah. I want to be inside you. I want my cock buried so damn deep and you riding it hard. I want you begging me for more.” He probed, causing her a moment’s discomfort. She gasped. “I’m asking you to stop, now, before it’s too late.” Sage released her instantly. He turned her to face him, his breathing harsh and erratic in the darkness. “I didn’t know—” He thrust unsteady hands through his hair. “Sheeahta!” Without another word, he turned and left her standing there. She heard the slam of his bedroom door down the hall. It was then it dawned on her that she hadn’t been pressed against the wall after all, but against her bedroom door. He’d been slowly, but steadily taking her to the bedroom. They’d been mere steps away from her bed, steps away from finishing this thing between them. She touched her neck where his mark burned and pulsed with life. Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob. Unexpectedly, a blast of heat slammed inside her. It punished and hammered away at her until it punched its way through her. The sheer force of the energy knocked her to her knees. “Oh, shit!” She doubled over, holding her middle. Colored lights circled around her in a sparkling, blurry haze. They danced across her body like streaks of glowing tentacles, wrapping and twining around her, squeezing and squeezing, until she could barely breathe. The lights disappeared as suddenly as they’d appeared. She collapsed on the floor in a quivering mass of tingling nerves and lethal energy. For the longest time, she stared at the ceiling, unable to move. Long seconds passed before she was able to inhale and exhale. Finally, she dragged herself up and opened her bedroom door. Closing it behind her, she sat down on the side of the bed and shivered. Tears welled in her eyes and slid down her icy cheeks. Sage must have been angrier than she thought. Well, he’d certainly exacted his revenge. His violent attack stunned her. He hadn’t told her he’d regained his magic.

Tabitha Shay

But then, why would he? He was magic. She was mortal. He wasn’t about to cross the barrier, not even for her.

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V{tÑàxÜ Y|yàxxÇ The Noddon Caverns Annu Mountain North of Sanctuary

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lack Drayke unfolded his brown, leathery wings and dropped from the ceiling of the cavern where he’d hung upside down and slept like a giant black bat. He landed on the balls of his feet and sniffed the air. No one had discovered his haven while he had rested. Except for Kallibus. Like a vampire, Black Drayke was most vulnerable when he slept. If Kallibus learned about his fears, he would take advantage of them. The King of the Demons was here, somewhere in the dark toying with him, testing his fortitude. He refused to show fear, although his bowels suddenly felt loose and his bladder near to bursting. For some reason, Kallibus made a habit of skulking, especially when he, Black Drayke, slept. He hadn’t figured out why the demon prowled like a thief lying in wait, but he knew Kallibus wouldn’t harm him, at least, not until they came to some kind of an agreement first, then Kallibus might decide to end his life. Black Drayke knew he had to remain alert when requesting favors from the demon. If he kept his end of whatever bargain he made with Kallibus, then things might not get dicey. It depended on what the King of the Demons demanded from him for payment. He looked around, pleased with his shelter and waited patiently for Kallibus to creep out of whatever crevice he’d concealed himself in and state the purpose for his visit. The caverns deep inside Annu Mountain had welcomed him like an old friend. Better still, few knew of their existence or if they knew, they didn’t know how to locate them. The pitch-blackness inside the caves felt soothing and easy on his eyes, eyes that had gone from peridot green to black as the Onyx Ocean from his use of Black Magick. Somewhere inside the caverns existed a gateway to Ayrumus, the demon world. He also knew those gates were well guarded by a legion of demons. He would never be allowed beyond them until he and Kallibus struck a deal and he kept his end of whatever bargain Kallibus set forth. Black Drayke shuddered at the grating noise of nails scraping across the stone walls. He whipped around. Sparks flew in the dark, twisting the grotesque face of the demon that was finally making its presence known. Kallibus lumbered toward him.

Tabitha Shay

“Kallibus, welcome to my humble abode.” The demon king barely gave a grunt. “You knocked upon the doors of my kingdom. What is it you seek, warlock?” Black Drayke knew from the demon’s response that he did not accept him as a fullfledged demon yet, nor would he open the gates to Ayrumus until they discussed terms. “I seek to hold Ru-Noc at my command. I would destroy King Darak and be king. With the aid of your demon army, I’d succeed in my goals. Once I rule, you and your demons would be free to join me and walk in the daylight once again.” Kallibus rubbed his leathery chin. His red eyes glowed in the dark like two pieces of burning coal. Occasional tufts of smoke escaped his pointed ears. Foul smelling gas fumed from the demon’s skin and filled the cavern where they stood. Black Drayke felt his stomach churn. Although he couldn’t see them, he knew parasites crawled over the demon, searching for a portal to enter the smelly one’s indigestible body. He wondered vaguely how many of the tiny creatures made it inside and if they knew there was nothing but death once they tasted the demon's acidic blood? “I allowed you to have your fun with Queen Helayne, mainly because I controlled your body. You felt the powerful pleasure of a climax, but it was my seed that filled her womb. For two nights we filled her body as one and when you tasted her soul, we both received great pleasure. The second night, something most unexpected happened for me.” Kallibus laughed. “Through you, my seed reached fertile ground. I want the babe I planted inside her. I want Helayne. Bring her to me. The babe shall be delivered in Ayrumus where I shall claim him as my heir. Helayne will rule beside me as my queen as has always been her destiny. You, warlock, are never to touch her again. If you dare lay a hand to what is mine, I will turn the parasites from hell loose on you. They are flesh eaters and I will see to it they eat the flesh from your bones very slowly.” Black Drayke clenched his fists at his side. Rage boiled inside him. Kallibus would do exactly what he said he’d do. He had no choice but to do what the demon king wanted. Still, he protested. “Queen Helayne and the babe belong to me.” How in hell could Kallibus be so sure the babe was his? There was no way the demon could possibly know for certain, at least, not until the babe was born and then Kallibus could smell the bloodline. He didn’t believe for a single moment the seed he’d spilled inside Helayne was only Kallibus’. The child could belong to him. He was the one who’d fucked Helayne, not Kallibus. Yes, he’d known Kallibus had claimed his body while he mated with Helayne. He’d felt the demon’s presence, but it was his cock and his seed in her. He should have known Kallibus would come up with a demand he’d detest. Kallibus had to know he desperately wanted this babe with Helayne. He didn’t give up what he claimed easily, but neither did he want a battle with Kallibus. He needed the demon’s army to take Ru-Noc from MeLora and Darak. He’d sacrifice whatever he had to win. “They were never yours. You refuse to turn the queen over to me?” If he was to survive, Black Drayke knew he had to surrender Helayne and the babe to Kallibus. “You can have her. It’s not like you can touch her without me.” Kallibus laughed deeply. “You are a fool, warlock. I could always touch the queen. I chose not to frighten her with my presence. You are wrong. Since using your body and

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touching your magic, I now have the ability to change my looks. I will mate with the queen as a waken claims his chosen bond mate.” Black Drayke shrugged. “I care not for what happens to the witch, but why do you claim the babe? He is from my loins.” Kallibus laughed. “I will not stand here and debate this issue with you. You want my army, you have my demands. I aided MeLora in your successful change to demon. I supplied you with the demon’s seed that swelled your balls and poured out of your man’s tool to fill the belly of the queen. Would she accept me, I would have impregnated her years ago.” He picked off one of the parasites, tossed it on the cave floor, and squashed it beneath his heel. “Long have I desired the beautiful Helayne. Through you, I had her, over and over. I don’t need you anymore. Betray me, and I shall end your useless life.” “I will bring her to you.” Kallibus’ eyes glowed fiery red. “Helayne will never accept my child or care for him. I would see my son grow up and inherit what is rightfully his, the Kingdom of Ayrumus.” “You knew Helayne was fertile?” “Of course I knew she was fertile. I purposely chose that night for you to morph into the demon. I want this babe she has named Cyn.” “Done.” “So easy? You have no care for the babe?” Black Drayke shrugged and cupped his balls and cock. “I have no care for any babe. I can always plant another seed in a fertile witch. Besides, MeLora carries my son. I’ll be content with that child.” Black Drayke frowned as a thought occurred to him. “One question, what if the babe inherits a stronger witch bloodline than a demon?” “Then I will devour the flesh from his bones and plant another child in Helayne.” Black Drayke’s lips parted on an objection. “Enough! When I present you with the gift of my army, I want every male of the waken race slaughtered, but only the males. Bring me their females. My army is without mates. Breeding the witches will keep my demons content and less likely to rebel.” Black Drayke blinked. “But, most of the witches are infected with the virus Infertilus.” Again, Kallibus laughed. “A virus created by my own chemists. I have the cure. Of course, I will not share it until the witches are mated to my own race. From their magic, I will breed an army of magical demons and then, I will invade and conquer other realms.” Black Drayke bowed his head. “I’m very happy to serve you, milord.” “Bring Helayne to me and I will supply you with a demon army, then we shall both be happy.” Kallibus removed a wicked-looking dagger from the folds of his leathery skin. “Give me your wrist.” Black Drayke swallowed hard. “Now!” Black Drayke held out his arm. Kallibus drew the sharp blade slowly across the warlock’s wrist, then held a thick goblet under it, and filled it to the rim with Black Drayke’s black blood. Kallibus lifted the goblet and eyed the dark, satiny liquid. “Perfect.” He turned his attention on Black Drayke, eyeing him, then he laid his fingers across

Tabitha Shay

the gaping wound. The slash sealed instantly. Kallibus tipped the goblet to this mouth and drank the noxious blood in a single swallow. Flinging the empty glass against the cave wall, he licked his full wet lips. In seconds, Kallibus’ leathery body glowed with the magical energy Black Drayke supplied him through his blood. “Your blood tastes delicious. I could get used to it, become addicted. It makes my cock rise so I can use it without possessing your body. Next time we meet, I shall require another sample. I do not expect you to hesitate when I command you to hold out your arm. I will take what I want, what I need. Cross me, and I will drain you dry.” Black Drayke swallowed hard and sighed with relief when the king of demons vanished in a fine mist of glittering particles. He slumped against the stone wall, thankful Kallibus departed without demanding more of his blood as a sacrifice. He would never have brought Kallibus into this war if he didn’t need the demon’s aid. His chances of winning Ru-Noc just tripled. He grinned and cupped his aching balls. Let Kallibus have Helayne and the babe. All the witches would fall under his power once he ruled Ru-Noc. He could breed any witch he wanted. There was no way in hell he would turn the witches over to Kallibus’ army. Even though he’d taken a calculated risk, it had been a smart move on his part to call upon Kallibus and request shelter in the demon world and aid from Kallibus. Although the fierce king of the guardian demons might be reluctant to give him aid, now that Kallibus believed he’d sired a son with Helayne, he’d do everything in his power to help Black Drayke take the kingdom of Ru-Noc. Helayne would be left with nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to for help. She would have to surrender to Kallibus. Black Drayke smiled pleased, after all, that the demon king believed the babe his, but Black Drayke had no doubts the babe had been fathered by himself. So be it. Kallibus could have the child. Deep inside his ugly, twisted soul, he had no true concern for the babe. A demon’s throne was as good as the throne of Ru-Noc. Besides, one of his sons would be king of Ayrumus one day, the other, the king of Ru-Noc. How could he lose? He would make a point of pleasing Kallibus and the uneasy truce between them would continue to strengthen. Black Drayke knew that until he could take control of Helayne and turn her over to Kallibus the demon wouldn’t lift a finger to aid him in his quest to conquer Ru-Noc. However, once Black Drayke captured Helayne and presented her to Kallibus, then Kallibus would open the portals of his realm and set his army of demons loose on RuNoc. Not only would the army conquer and capture MeLora, but they would destroy every waken. Yes, the night was his friend, but not his only friend. He stumbled, feeling his way along the bumpy ridges of the stone wall. Even though Talon had tried to kill him by slicing his throat, it hadn’t been him, but a clever Image. But still, holding that Image for so long, feeling the bite of the cold steel in his brain weakened him to the point he needed time to recover. Prince Talon must have figured out by now he wasn’t dead. Black Drayke cursed the waken prince. He cursed Helayne for escaping his enchanted mirror. She couldn’t hide forever. He would find her.

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Right now, he was hungry. Hungry for flesh. Hungry for a female. He hadn’t been sexually satisfied since the last time he fucked Helayne. He hadn’t eaten flesh since then either. A week of doing without those two pleasures was way too long, but he’d spent the time wisely. It had allowed him to heal and regain his strength. He was ready to face Prince Talon and his whorish mate, Saylym Winslow. Yes, he could almost taste the beautiful silver-haired witch’s flesh. He would delight in making a gourmet meal out of her in more ways than one. Soon, the battle for Ru-Noc would begin in earnest.

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ f|åàxxÇ Mojave Desert Illumrof Realm

Âg

hat makes you mine.” Hannah couldn’t get the sound of Sage’s words out of her mind. She sat on the side of the bed and eyed the clock radio at her bedside with distaste. Two a.m. Four hours had passed since Sage stormed away from her, punishing her for not sleeping with him, and she hadn’t had a wink of sleep. His words kept coming back to haunt her. They punched into her skull and kept right on punching. Something about the way he said it made it sound like he declared to the world he owned her. No one owned her. But his words ...they buzzed around in her brain, tugging and pulling at her, as if in some obscure way, Sage bound her to him. She knew he was right down the hall and yet, she needed to see him, touch him, and make certain he was real and really here in her home. He acted as if the mark on her neck said it all. For sure, the damned thing pulsed every time he came near it. Resisting him would be a lot easier if the pulsing didn’t feel so good. Except, none of it made sense, he’d claimed her. Yet, he constantly reminded her she was human and he dare not touch her. So what was the deal? He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. He marked her simply to keep any other male from laying claim to her? That might work if they were still in his world, but here in her realm, most men would simply assume it was a hickey. It wouldn’t necessarily stop one from pursuing her. Okay, so maybe he’d marked her because he thought only of her safety. He wouldn’t touch her because he feared for her life. He seemed to think it was his Godgiven right to make choices for her. It wasn’t just his decision. Safety, be damned! She’d changed her mind. She was a woman and a woman could do that sort of thing; besides, the risk was hers to take. She should just forget him, forget the things he said, and forget the way he kissed her. He was right. There was no way he could ever belong to her. He’d made that quite clear. She lived in one world. He lived in another. It was impossible for him to stay and she couldn’t return to Sanctuary. Oh, the desire for each other was equal. Given the chance, he’d take her, if he could figure out a safe way to go about it, but he’d never commit to her. As he’d said, she 84

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couldn’t give him children. Obviously, this was important to the waken. She padded into the bathroom, filled a glass with water, and took a sip. Heaven knew she wasn’t the least bit thirsty but she drank the cooling liquid down as if she’d never had a drink of water in her life. She killed another minute, rinsed and patted her face dry. She stared gloomily at her reflection in the small mirror above the sink. Her skin still felt as hot as the burning sands of the desert. Her breasts ached. Her nipples tingled. She couldn’t stop squeezing her thighs together. She felt as restless as a cat in heat. Her skin itched. Dammit, she wanted him! For the hurt he’d caused her, no matter his reason, she should despise him. She should be furious that he’d used magic on her. She should hate him. Hannah drew in a deep breath. Her stomach clenched with need. Her body burned. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Sage. Energy hummed through her blood, singing a sexual command. It whispered words low in her mind. Go to him. Take what you want. Give him what he wants. What had he done to her mind? In some way, he’d bound her to him. No, she didn’t hate him. She wasn’t furious. Annoyed and slightly pissed, maybe, but nothing she couldn’t forget or forgive. She clenched her fists, nails cutting into her palms. Oh, that wasn’t right. She was furious! But she couldn’t control her own mind. Forget being angry. Go to him! All right! The inferno burning through her body overwhelmed all other needs and conquered her inhibitions. There was only one thing that would cool the fire. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, brushed her teeth and then gargled. When she looked at herself in the mirror, a determined glitter sparkled in her blue eyes. She wanted this man and nothing stood in her way but a closed door and a few feet of carpeted hallway. She turned and eyed the thin, sexy, midnight-blue gown clinging to her body. In the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she saw a woman whose skin glowed like pearls, whose eyes, a deeper, darker blue, sparkled with anticipation. A becoming blush stained her cheeks; her lips curved, lush and inviting. Somehow, her breasts looked and felt fuller, her nipples deliciously sensitive to the brush of the silk. The full curves lavishly displayed in the v-split at the top of the gown made her look voluptuous. She turned and saw a flash of skin play peek-a-boo with the slits up the side. This would do. She squared her shoulders, closed the bathroom door softly behind her, and marched over to the bedroom door and wrenched it open. He stood there, fist poised in the air to knock. His eyes widened at her sudden appearance. She saw his throat work with a dry swallow. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his thumb and wiped it on the towel knotted at his hips. Yep, he was wearing nothing but a saucy red towel. That should bother her, but she couldn’t get past how perfect he looked standing there, his burning gaze devouring her. She licked her lips. Mercy, but he was a tall drink of water and when it came to him, she was a thirsty woman. She had the most wanton desire to press her mouth against his chest and seek out the flat brown discs buried beneath his chest hair. She wanted to

Tabitha Shay

nibble her way down the arrow of hair, to the obvious tenting of the towel, and take his engorged staff inside her mouth. She wanted to lick and taste, tease and torture, until she brought him to his knees, begging her to give him relief. He reached out, fiddled with a strand of her hair. “I can read your mind, you know. What you want to do...well, you set me on fire, baby. I have no objection.” “Me either.” “I can’t stop thinking about you, Hannah. I’m going insane wanting you.” “It’s the same for me ...wanting you. I ache.” “I like that blue thingy you’re almost wearing.” “You do?” “Yeah, I do. It’s been driving me crazy for hours, knowing you’re just down the hall from me. I’m so damned hard, my balls ache. I want to taste you, too. I want your flavor on my tongue, forever on my tongue. You’re already always on my mind.” He took her hand, pressed it against his chest. “I need you, Hannah, more than I’ve ever needed another woman. Don’t send me away again.” “Don’t use magic on me again.” For a moment, he stared at her, his brows knitted with confusion. His lips parted. Hannah laid her fingers across his mouth and shook her head. “No more words.” He nodded and stepped past her. The door closed softly behind him. In a heartbeat he had her in his arms. He swept her close and cupped the sides of her face. “I don’t need magic as long as I have you in my life.” Sage lowered his head. He claimed her mouth, possessing, plundering. He held her close and molded her body to fit the hard line of his. Hannah clung to his bare waist, holding tight, to steady herself, to anchor him. She gasped as he slipped his tongue past the seam of her lips and took a deep taste of her mouth. He groaned, the tortured sound escaping his throat. He raised his head, his eyes hot and glittering. “I’ve waited for you for so long. Let me love you, Hannah, the way you were meant to be loved.” Slowly, he bunched her gown around her hips then lifted it over her head. The silky material drifted to the floor to puddle at their feet. His hands cupped her bare butt, he lifted her against his hard shaft, and rubbed against her feminine mound. Hannah toyed with the knot on the towel with fingers that had suddenly gone numb. With a growl, he ripped the towel off and together, they fell on top of the bed, laughing. Sage flipped her over on her stomach and teased her spine with light flicks of his tongue. He traced the fine ladder of bones with his mouth to the curves of her butt. Deftly, he slid a finger down the intriguing crease until he reached her womanhood. Reaching his goal, he dipped a finger inside and explored. She moaned her approval, rising to her hands and knees to give him better access. He covered her immediately, like a stallion rearing up on a mare. He nudged the portal he sought with his hard shaft, seeking her hidden entrance. His probing finger left her body and she felt him fumble, lift her hips higher, then slowly, inch by pleasurable inch, enter her from behind. The sensation was incredible. The broad head of his cock felt huge. He worked it slowly, shallow thrusts that tortured both of them. He wasn’t even in her far enough to touch her virginity, but the inner tissues felt swollen and so stimulated, she thought she’d die with the pleasure-pain of his shallow penetration. She cried out as the inner muscles gave and he settled a fraction deeper.

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“Gods.” He moaned. “I can’t take much of this, sweetheart. You’re so damned tight it’s killing me.” Sage brushed back her tangled curls and kissed the nape of her neck. Reluctantly, he pulled out of her. She cried out a protest. The sound of his soft laughter was like a breeze touching her mind. He turned her over, cupped the sides of her face. “I never want to let you go,” he whispered. “I’m never letting you go,” he corrected. Lowering his head, he kissed a path to her breasts, rolled a nipple under his tongue and suckled. Sage lifted his head, blowing on the damp bud. “Did I ever tell you that you have exquisite breasts?” Hannah bit her lip to keep from crying out as he drew the other nipple deep inside his mouth. Sage grunted with satisfaction, released her breast, then glided his tongue down her belly. He paused to explore the tiny dip of her bellybutton, kissed the insides of her thighs. Sliding a muscular arm under her buttocks, he lifted her closer, parted the satiny curls and nibbled at the tiny nub hidden there. He teased and tortured it with teeth and tongue. Hannah screamed with the raw pleasure he gave her. He laved and suckled and explored every satiny inch of the sensitive tissues. “Oh, God,” she cried and clenched the sheets between her fingers. No longer able to hold back, she exploded beneath his questing mouth. Then, he started all over again. He was merciless, giving her no chance to catch her breath. She quivered and arched to meet the deep, hot licks he gave her. Tiny electrical currents traveled along the inner muscles of her hot channel and exploded. The tingling sensation sent her over the edge, time and time again. Her breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath. She couldn’t take any more. Hannah tangled her fingers in his hair. His eyes burned hotly as he regarded her. “Please. No more,” she begged. “More,” he said hoarsely, “until you can no longer move. Until you’re so sated from my touch, you have no doubts you belong to me.” He dipped his head, nipping and biting, sucking and laving the tiny stings. She thought she’d die. She thought she wouldn’t die life’s petite death. She’d simply spend the rest of her life in one huge orgasmic cluster where her muscles quivered with weakness and her body begged for more. At long last, he rose above her and nudged her thighs apart. Ish nagaz ami tu-sha. “The night belongs to us.” The words filled her mind, her heart, tugged at her emotions. He was working magic on her again whether he realized it or not. Cais nu, unt-tha day ee shama tu exneu, yu ahara ee em yur mannazz. “From now, until the day I cease to exist, I am your man, your mate.” The words wrapped her, like something alive, holding her as tightly as he held her in his arms. His lips blazed a direct path to her breast. She shuddered when his mouth closed around one aching bud. He laved the pebble hard nipple, nipping it with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. He raised his head. His pale eyes glittered with fire, hot and possessive. Cais nu, unt-tha day yu shama tu exneu yu ahara moy mannara. “From now, until the day you cease to exist, you are my woman, my mate.” Hannah wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to accomplish, if in someway he was

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binding them together. She only knew the words raced through her with surprising urgency and locked deep inside her mind. They scalded her blood, filling her with burning hot desire. She arched against his thighs, felt his hardness there, the tip of his penis was wet with need. He pressed against the portal of her sheath. “Open for me, sweetheart. Tonight, I lay claim to you. This makes you mine.” *** Sage sighed with relief. He’d gone about it the old-fashioned way, using oldfashioned words without benefit of a Handfasting ceremony, but they were just as legally binding, maybe more so since they burrowed in the mind, forging the couple, making them as one. He’d said, “This makes you mine,” for the third time and irrevocably bound them together for eternity. He’d never intended to that. He’d never intended to say the words for the third time, but the urgent need to bind her to him was too strong to ignore. “Open for me, baby,” he whispered against her mouth and nudged her knees further apart. She complied, scraping her nails down his shoulders as he gave a slow push of his cock, filling her hot channel inch by inch. The tip of his penis touched the thin membrane of her purity and he knew there was no way to keep from causing her pain. No going back. They’d passed the point of no return. He couldn’t stop now if he wanted to, and the gods knew he didn’t want to. She cried out as he pressed deeper. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his neck. He knew he was going to hurt her, but going slow and easy would hurt just that much worse. Maybe it would be best if he took her quickly. Sage pulled back and thrust hard, surging deep and tearing through the fragile barrier of her virginity. Hannah arched beneath him, inadvertently sending him the last few inches. For a moment, he felt her clenched fists against his back. A low, soft cry escaped her as he continued to fill her. Then she relaxed, gave a sigh, and wiggled her hips under his, accepting his full penetration. But her earlier cries of distress ripped at his heart. His goal was to give her pleasure, not hurt her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Gods, if there had been any other way—” “I know.” She nodded her understanding, patted his shoulder, then cupped the sides of his face. “It’s all right. It’s done. I’m okay.” His heart clenched when she pressed her mouth against his, offering him the solace of her kiss. Sweet. She was so damned sweet. Here he’d caused her pain and she was comforting him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I love you, Hannah. I don’t give a damn that you’re human. We’ll make this work. Somehow, we’ll make this work for us. I promise.” Tears glistened in the depths of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I love you, Sage. I’ve always loved you.” Her tight, velvety muscles clenched around his hard cock like a warm, silken glove. He shuddered. “Samhain! You feel so good. Hot. Tight.” He brushed the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Ssh, don’t cry, baby. I’m so damned deep in you, I ...I can barely stand it.” His hands trembled as he tangled his fingers in her hair. He kissed her mouth, her

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eyes, and the tip of her nose. He devoured her mouth until she was compliant and lifted her hips to meet his slow thrust. Gradually, inch by inch, he moved in, and out, setting a smooth rhythm. Against his will and better judgment, he uttered the final words of the binding chant under his breath: “For eternal bliss and happiness The waken promises with a kiss To surrender his heart, surrender his fate And dwell in the arms of his life-mate He becomes hers; she is his And all is sealed with the witch’s kiss.” In that instant, when his mind locked with Hannah’s, he surged deep into her body. His cock ached, swelling even more and urgent with the need. He groaned, realizing there was no way he could pull out of her in time. He’d been so sure he could control his body, so certain he could be careful with her, but his seed erupted, flooding her fertile womb. Sage threw back his head, teeth clenched, unable to do anything but shudder with the force of relief as he spilled inside her. Tears filled his eyes and slid down his cheeks. By the gods, he’d just sentenced Hannah to a hideous death. Both she and the child they just created together, a male child. His son. Their son. “Samhain, forgive me. I never meant—” The abruptness of the surging fire combusting inside the room caught him offguard. Like a hungry, roaring beast, it stormed toward them. “What the hell!” Sage shouted. Hanna’s shrill scream drew his attention away from the conflagration snarling its way closer and closer. He pulled her nearer, huddling over her, using his body to protect her from the wall of heat leaping toward them. Her body stiffened beneath his. She collapsed, staring at nothing but the distant inferno, her eyes fixed and dilated. Air slowly escaped her lungs and past her cold lips in weak puffs. “Sheeahta!” This wasn’t supposed to happen. By the devil’s teeth, this could only mean one thing. “You aren’t human,” Sage groaned. “Hannah, dammit, hear me! You aren’t human and by the gods, you aren’t dying on me!” He slapped her face, hard. No response. “You’re a witch, baby.” He laughed, even as he choked back fresh tears. “Not just any witch. You’re a fooking royal-blooded witch! By the gods, breathe.” Sage groaned, flinging up his arms as the flames burst higher and swept around them. He surrounded them in a shell of protective magic. He watched the blaze cover them and felt his heart beat quicken, the Flaymes of Eternal Life. He’d heard about them all his adult life, but had never thought to experience them. From that moment, he somehow knew what he needed to do to save Hannah. Slowly, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth against Hannah’s and filled her lungs with his own breath. He repeated it, again and again, until finally, she gave a slight shudder and her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. Sage sank down on top of Hannah, pulled her as close as he could, and gave in to

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the overwhelming blackness that shrouded his mind. The last thing he heard was the roaring of the Eternal Flaymes covering them in a blanket of flames.

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V{tÑàxÜ fxäxÇàxxÇ Ru-Noc Palidine Palace

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eLora Haven stepped out of the shower cubicle and shuddered as pain after pain cut across her belly like a sharp knife. “Nooo!” She doubled over, watching the blood slide down her inner thighs. The babe had to survive. She needed him. He would be heir to the throne. Even as she fought it, she sensed the babe’s rapid heartbeat stop and the urge to expel it from her body. She sat down on the edge of the tub and rocked back and forth. She’d never lost a babe, not like this. The tiny blob on the floor didn’t resemble her in the least. A boy, who had the brief promise of becoming a warlock one day, strongly resembled his father, Black Drayke. She stood up, snapped her fingers, and set magical flames to destroy the proof of her loss. This time, she cleansed herself in the witch fashion, then stared at what had been the afterbirth. She waved her hand, sent the heap of ash flying to the commode, then flushed it. Standing in front of the mirror, she carefully examined her face. All color had drained from her face, but otherwise, her belly was flat once again, her waist slender and inviting. She felt a little shaky, her knees unsteady. She cast a spell to strengthen her trembling muscles and in the process return to her perfectly groomed self. In just a few hours her body would be completely healed and she’d be ready to breed again. A new plan was needed. She sought a calendar in her mind and counted the days. There was still a good three weeks left of Beltane, almost four. She would come right back in heat and be fertile again. Of course, King Darak was like a horny, young waken, constantly pawing her and demanding her surrender. She couldn’t tell him about the loss of the child he firmly believed to be his. He’d want to put another in her right away. Pregnancy was all right. She wanted another baby inside her too, the quicker, the better. She just didn’t want King Darak’s seed growing inside her. Gods, she detested that weakling. Prince Talon’s seed swelling her belly would be perfect, but he wouldn’t spit on her if she was on fire. Prince Stry was still missing, as well as the handsome, Captain Koran T—if only she hadn’t killed Sage. He would do nicely. Destroying Sage had been an accident. The killing blast had been meant for Saylym and he’d taken a direct hit by stepping between them. Now Sage had been one hot, sexy male. He would have fathered a babe and done right by a witch, too. She’d heard rumors about the sexy hunk, whispers from the other

Tabitha Shay

witches who told how the waken knew how to use his big shaft and satisfy a witch before ever seeking his own pleasure. Too bad she’d offed him. Ah, but she knew of another such male, one who worked in the royal stables and stayed to himself. Creed LaVeau. According to the king, Creed had one of the rarest waken bloodlines known to their race. She wasn’t sure what else made Creed a rarity to go along with the fact he had a last name. But she thought there was something else Darak had not shared with her regarding Creed. She wanted to know what that something else was and just how she could use it to her advantage. She still had some of the magic powder she'd got from the wizard and used on Darak. Oh, yes, she’d gain control of Creed and seduce him to mating and breeding her. Then she’d kill him. From what she’d seen of Creed’s muscular body when he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he’d give her a fine son to replace the one she’d just lost. Her mind made up, MeLora left her chambers in search of the king. She had just the spell to keep him out of her way for a few hours, give her body time to heal, then she’d find Creed and give him the ride of his life.

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V{tÑàxÜ X|z{àxxÇ Ru-Noc Palidine Royal Stables

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reed LaVeau spun on his boot heel and locked callused fingers about MeLora Haven’s dainty wrist. The witch believed herself invincible and able to sneak up on him, but he’d caught a whiff of her spicy scent the moment she entered the royal stables. He applied enough pressure to the delicate bones to be certain he had her full attention. “I know what you want, MeLora. I bedded your type of female for centuries, until I grew weary of your treachery. Don’t come sniffing around me for stud service, witch. I promise you, you wouldn’t like the ride.” She made a moue with her lips, but her trademark male-alluring pout was lost on him. Creed snorted. No doubt about it, MeLora was beautiful, sexy and tempting, but about as treacherous as a viper. Still, his body reacted normally to her closeness. He felt his cock lengthen and harden beneath his pants. Fuck! He didn’t need her kind of trouble. Panting, he tried to regulate his breathing. The animal instinct to mate rose hot and fierce. A giant tidal wave of lust overwhelmed his abhorrence for the woman. He shuddered and cursed the changes taking place in his body. By the gods, he hadn’t even reached full Lu-Nark yet. He wouldn’t reach that cycle of his life for another hundred years, but his body already felt the wild craving of a changeling male. He had to get himself under control. Now. Even a damned Beltane could have his body leaping past the years and bring on early Lu-Nark. He gritted his teeth as spasm after spasm racked his body, twisting across one side of his rib cage to the other and back again. Damn! With MeLora’s presence, compounded by the fact he was struggling with changes taking place within his body, control wasn’t about to happen. Sweat popped up on his forehead and upper lip. He swallowed hard, fighting the nausea that bubbled like a slimy, green geyser in his stomach. His jaws ached. White-hot pain slashed his gums like the blade of a razor-sharp knife. Bestial drool filled the lower cavity of his mouth. Fangs, sharp and deadly as spears, burst through his tender gums and quickly retracted. Tufts of fur sprouted on the ears that lengthened, then returned to normal. The sharp slice of an invisible claw branded a stripe on his chest. This stripe, his second since reaching puberty five hundred years ago, marked him as a maturing male

Tabitha Shay

of his species. Creed clenched his teeth and prayed he wouldn’t give in to the animal instinct crowding his mind, urging him to mate. His top lip quivered and curled back in a responsive snarl. It’d been a very long time since he’d had the pleasure of a hard ride between a female’s luscious thighs. Outwardly, he was no different than any other waken at Beltane ...inside—except he knew he was different. Oh, his mating instincts were the same, but his level of need rose quicker than the typical waken’s, especially now. The urgency to mate always escalated at certain times of every month, not just at Beltane. But his second Lu-nark approached. It could occur at any time and although he shouldn’t reach the second phase of his metamorphous for at least another hundred years, it appeared it might arrive early. His body throbbed, awakening to the pull of Lu-Nark. Not only was he battling Lu-Nark, but in a couple of nights, with the rise of the full moon, he’d be so damned horny he’d practically be slobbering. If MeLora had waited and approached him then, he’d already have mounted her. He wouldn’t care if she attempted to use her sorcery on him. Tonight, he did care. “You’d make such a fine stallion, Creed.” Apparently unaware of his private battle, she boldly walked her fingers up the swollen length of his cock and sighed. “I’ve heard you please a lady quite well.” “Maybe I do, I don’t recall any complaints, but you’re no lady, MeLora.” Creed released her wrist and gave her an icy smile, along with a slight push away from him. “You never have you been. Bedding you would be like allowing a poisonous spider in my bed. You’re a sticky web, MeLora. I’m warning you. Leave here, while you still can.” MeLora ignored his warning. There was nothing he could do to thwart her plans for him. Burning rage filled her mind. He dared threaten his queen? She moved closer to him, palm outstretched. Pursing her lips, she blew a mist of fine powder in Creed’s handsome face. “I am your queen. You think to deny me? Kneel before me.” He stared at her, making no move to obey or touch her. Chalky residue drifted across his face and shoulders and it coated the long strands of his dark hair before settling on his clothes. Creed glanced down at the powder and slowly brushed it off his shirt. Repugnance for the witch battled with the malice that filled his soul. He didn’t want to kill her, but if she pressed him, pushed him in a corner, then he knew the tight rein he held on his control would snap and he’d give her exactly what she asked for. “You are not my queen. I haven’t yet had the honor of meeting my queen, but I know of a certainty, it isn’t you.” He edged toward her. “You don’t carry the mark of my kind. I would see it in your eyes. Smell it in your hair.” MeLora thought she’d pass out from fear when his jaw tightened and he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “Your evil magick does not work on my kind.” His eyes suddenly changed, leaving the depth of the eye sockets cloaked in shadows. Big yellow orbs replaced the darkness of his gaze and were little more than reflective circles glaring at her like two huge moons. His voice deepened, grew gruffer. “I give you warning, MeLora. One bite is all it will take. My blood will mingle with yours, but I will direct my magic away from you. You will

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become nothing but a slobbering beast, neither an Alpha nor a Beta, but a lowlife Cur Female every single male in my pack will hump. They will not stop coming at you until you are torn to shreds between their teeth.” He gave her a push toward the stable doors. “Now go, before it is too late for both of us!” MeLora stumbled and did something she’d never done in her life. She raced away from a man. Fled from the male who was more beast than man, and who’d just given her the biggest fright of her life! And a man, she realized, who would be deathly allergic to silver.

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V{tÑàxÜ a|ÇxàxxÇ Mojave Desert Mortal Realm

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annah slowly opened her eyes and focused on the dark face staring at her with tenderness and concern. Sage lay stretched out full length along her right side, propped on one elbow. Slowly, he glided a fingertip up and down her bare arm. “Oh! We were on fire! What happened?” “No, baby, one doesn’t actually catch on fire from the bonding Flaymes. They’re magical, not real.” “They felt real enough.” “Yes, we’re supposed to feel very warm and toasty. The barrier of magic I threw up is to allow comfort during mating.” “I don’t like them.” “No one does, but they are a part of a true bonding. They rarely appear, but when they do, it sanctifies our union. There has to be a very strong bond between the mating couple for the Flaymes to appear. We were blessed by their appearance. Do you know,” he said, his voice low and husky, “your skin is like silk.” He tucked the already hospital neat, floral sheet more snugly across her breasts and ignored the casual way it fell about his hips. Hannah blinked, trailed her gaze down his wide chest, and drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh oxygen. She slowly exhaled. The man was seriously ripped, muscular pecs, six-pack abs, a dusting of black hair that arrowed down to disappear under the sheet where she knew a manly package rested. Sexy, lavender-colored eyes watched her with deceptive bedroom drowsiness. He might look like a well fed tom, but she knew he was pure Alpha. Bit by bit, her memory started to return and she suddenly realized why he watched her so intently. “Something terrible happened.” “Something wonderful happened,” he corrected. His steady gaze locked with hers, ablaze with warmth. “But I swear by the gods, I had no idea anything like this would take place.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Even when you said, ‘Don’t use magic on me again,’ I didn’t realize you’d felt the heat of the Flaymes. I thought you were referring to the magic I used on you in Sanctuary.” He swallowed hard. “Until the Flaymes surrounded us, my magic hadn’t returned. Otherwise, I would have flashed us back to Sanctuary the moment I arrived here, and requested a bonding ceremony for us.” He nuzzled her neck. “The ancient words I used 96

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to bind us weren’t accomplished by my magic, but by the magic in the words spoken.” Lightly, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “You felt physical pain before we ever mated. Didn’t you?” “Yes. I thought you were punishing me for not sleeping with you.” He leaned back, eyed her. “I would never hurt you purposely. What you felt was the pull of Beltane heating your blood. It’s normal, under some circumstances.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why would Beltane affect me?” “You’re a witch, sweetheart.” He sniffed her skin and frowned. “But even now, you still carry the scent of a human. I don’t understand, either. Are you certain you were born to human parents?” He nuzzled her neck again, lowered the sheet to her waist, and rubbed her nipples. “How you have witch blood is beyond me. So much history was lost during the Salem Wars. I don’t have the answers we need. Maybe they’re there in Droth or Sanctuary.” “I have witch blood? I’m a witch? I don’t believe it.” “What?” He leaned back, staring at her. “Your eyes have changed color, the way a royal blooded witches would change once bonded and mated.” He eased the sheet past her hips, drinking in the sight of her bared breasts, her belly. An unsteady finger traced the line of a pale vein on her right breast. “My eyes? Forget my eyes. You can’t just dump the fact on me I’m a witch.” She gasped. “I just remembered something.” “What?” “I was adopted.” “All right, you were adopted.” He drew lazy circles on the slopes of her breasts. “Your eyes are no longer blue, but a mix of pale blue and lavender. Our royal bloodlines have joined.” His body trembled against hers. “I love you.” He kissed her face, her mouth, then sampled her breasts before eyeing her with a puzzled frown on his face. “What does adopted mean?” “Shit.” “Adopted means, ‘shit’?” Sage blinked. “I thought dunghill, meant ‘shit’?” “No! Adopted means I don’t know who my birth parents are. My mother told me years ago I was adopted, but that’s all she would say.” He took her hands, placed them on her belly and grinned. “Feel. This is the something wonderful that has happened. It’s the most important thing, besides you, in my life. I don’t care if you were adopted or hatched under a toadstool. I love you, Hannah. I love our baby. I want to leave here, take you back to Sanctuary where you can see your friend. I want to introduce you at court as my bond mate, present you to the Guild, and my king.” He laughed. “I want to shout we’re having a baby! Will you come with me to Ru-Noc?” Hannah gasped as tiny fingers, barely formed, stretched toward hers. “A baby?” Tears spilled from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “But how?” She laughed. “I mean I know how, but how did you know?” “A boy,” Sage said quietly. “We have a son.” Hannah cupped her belly and laughed through her tears. “You couldn’t possibly know that.” “Yes. A waken is born with the gift to know when a witch conceives his child and the sex of the babe. We have a son. His name is Alexx.” “You all ready named him?”

Tabitha Shay

“No, sweetheart, he named himself. A name is chosen by the embryo.” He brushed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m assuming these are happy tears? You do want our child?” She nodded, laughing and crying at the same time. “Of course. I love you, too, you know. Yes, I want our son.” He grinned, then abruptly frowned. “You shouldn’t be able to cry. Witches can’t cry. Their heart bleeds tears. If you were an Impure, this would make sense, but you’re a full blooded witch.” Hannah sniffed. “Well, I certainly don’t have any knowledge of being a witch. Maybe I’m not.” “You’re a witch. You have witchmarks on your left butt cheek. I should know I kissed every single star there.” He grinned with smug satisfaction. “More than once.” “What?” She twisted, trying to get a glimpse of her ass. “I don’t understand. I didn’t put them there.” She stared at the small cluster of red stars sprinkled across her butt. “They only appear when a witch is sexually sated or she mentally commands their appearance. Since you weren’t aware you’re a witch, you would never have commanded them to appear.” He grinned. “And since you were a virgin ...well,” he wiggled his brows, “you know the rest of the story.” Hannah sighed. “I don’t have any magic. Do I?” “Yes, but it’s weak. In fact, it’s practically nonexistent. It must be buried inside you. Where are your parents, your adoptive parents? Surely, they have some answers.” “Dead. They were killed in a car accident when I was twelve. After that, Kirrah and her Aunt Penell came to live with me. Kirrah and Penell became my family.” Sage looked down at her, kissed the tip of her nose and dragged her close, holding her tight. “Did you invite them to move in with you or did they just sort of move in?” “I asked them. Why? Does it make a difference?” He nodded. “It makes a big difference. If you asked them, then that means you were drawn to magical beings even then. Why else would you ask strangers to move in with you?” “They weren’t strangers. Kirrah and I were best friends from our first day of kindergarten. I was either at her house or she was at mine. Her aunt was like a second mom to me.” “Bet you money your first day of kindergarten, you approached Kirrah first.” “I don’t know. I don’t remem—yes, I did! Clarice Yates had pushed Kirrah down and I went to Kirrah and helped her. I’d forgotten all about that.” Sage slid his hand down her belly, lower still, until he found what he was searching for. He teased the tiny nubbin with the tip of his thumb. “So, sweetheart, will you go back with me to Ru-Noc?” Hannah caught her breath on a gasp as he slid a finger inside her and pressed his palm across her mound. “No.” He hesitated, then stroked deeper. “No?” His voice sounded unsteady. “Why not?” “Because.” Hannah groaned and arched against his palm. “You think you have the right to make decisions for me.” She shuddered as he teased the nubbin and pushed deeper inside her. “You bound me to you without my permission. I don’t like it.” “Yes, you do.” “How do you know?” “Because, baby, you’ve had your sweet little hand wrapped around my cock for the

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last ten minutes. You keep stroking it like that and I guarantee an explosion.” Hannah sighed and removed her hand. “We have to find where I was born.” Sage rolled her beneath him and entered her in one swift thrust. “Later,” he whispered against her mouth. “I have a stick of dynamite ready to blow and you’re the fuse.” He wiggled his brows and pushed deeper. “Got any matches handy?” *** The next time Hannah awoke, it was to the whisper-soft lightness of Sage’s lips trailing kisses down the ladder of her spine. “You’re awake,” he said huskily against her skin and dipped his tongue inside the dimple at her hips. “Hmm,” she groaned and turned over. “My turn,” she said and slid beneath the covers to take his hard length inside her mouth. She felt him shudder as she released him and traced her tongue up and down the firm length. Teasing him, she lapped at the engorged tip before dipping her tongue inside the tiny opening and exploring. “Hannah.” He wrapped her hair in his fingers and thrust his hips. “Samhain, you’re killing me, baby.” Hannah took him deeper, suckled and tasted. She teased and tormented until he growled with frustration. “You better stop,” he groaned. “Now.” Ignoring his warning, she drew him deeper, suckled harder. Sage clenched his fingers in her hair, stiffened and shuddered. “Baby, I’m telling you; I’m going to—ahhh.” He thrust deeper, swore beneath his breath and trembled. She felt the rippling explosion of his climax, tasted the salty wetness of his seed on her tongue. At last, Hannah raised her head. Sage stared down at her, his face flushed with heat and desire. He pulled her into his arms and melded his mouth with hers. “You didn’t have to do that.” “I wanted to,” she said, brushing a strand of ink-black hair back from his face. “I’ve wanted to taste you for the longest time.” He chuckled. “Baby, if that’s a sample of your nibbling, you can taste me anytime you want.” Sage closed his eyes and relaxed. In seconds, she heard the soft, even sounds of his breathing. He had to be exhausted. He’d spent the better part of two hours making love to her. He’d made certain she found her release first, before he’d give into the heat coiling inside him and shudder with his release. Her body felt tender and sore. Her breasts ached, the nipples sensitive. Tiny bruises dotted her inner thighs where he’d gripped her when he struggled to keep from spilling his seed until he knew she’d reached climax. Her body definitely ached, but it was a pleasant, sated ache. In reality, he was a much better lover than her dream man. She sighed, closed her eyes and drifted to sleep with the feel of Sage sliding his arm across her waist and drawing her close. His shaft nestled against the crease of her butt as he held her spoon-fashion. An hour later, Hannah opened her eyes. Sage snored softly, his breaths light puffs of air against her neck. Groggy with sleep and exhausted from the hours of making love, she slipped from the bed, paused a moment to kiss his mouth, then pulled on her robe

Tabitha Shay

and started down the hall. Automatically, her hand slid to her belly where a tiny bump had already started to make its appearance. Pregnant. She hadn’t even considered birth control. Sage had said trust him and she had. It wasn’t that she regretted the baby, she didn’t. She wanted him with all her heart. It was just that given the choice, she would have preferred to wait until her relationship with Sage was on more solid footing. Where were they going to live? His world or the one she'd known here all her life? Would Sage even allow her to raise their son in the human realm? Public schools and cartoons? No. She didn’t think so. That would mean moving back to a realm she now feared. A death sentence hung over her in the land of magic. Maybe she was a witch, but she still carried the human scent. That would mean she would never be accepted as a witch in Sanctuary. What about the assassins? Sheesh, a woman could easily find herself in a lot of trouble in Ru-Noc. These were issues she and Sage would have to discuss later. The house had that early morning, pre-dawn light of shadows and semi-darkness. Yawning, she pushed through the swinging door that opened to the kitchen. Hannah halted two steps past the door and stared blankly at the odd-looking shiny, green rubbery-like material balled up on the middle of the dining table. She blinked. What in the world? She jumped back when the thing reared up on two long legs. It stretched its soft neck to the limit, and stared at her with two big yellow eyes like some kind of frozen-inhead-lights E.T. Then it started to tremble worse than someone with a bad case of palsy. Parting its thin lips, it screamed like a banshee. “Don’t fry Dinka’s little green legs!” Hannah screamed, backed up against the swinging door, and froze. “Ugly woman troll, where my Sage? You keep my Sage prisoner in alien house. Give him back or I put gris-gris spell on you and turn you into low-down-dirty-dog!” Hannah screamed again, shriller, louder. The swinging door slammed into her back and sent her flying as Sage bounded into the kitchen. She landed half-way across the table, nose to nose with the abnormal, talking frog. Hannah stared into the frog’s round eyes. Her eyes crossed. Her mouth gaped. The frog stared back. “Ahhhh!” They yelled in unison. “Oh, ugly, alien woman-troll, don’t touch Dinka!” “What in the world—” Sage broke off. “Dinka! What took you so long?” Sage helped Hannah up and pulled her close to his side. “Are you all right? I didn’t know you were behind the door.” “She be fine, my Sage. Ugly troll nearly give Dinka mighty big heart attack. Dinka innocent, do nothing but give ugly woman slug verra small fright. Mortal slug give Dinka big, big fright.” Dinka paused to draw a big breath. She slid her big yellow gaze up and down Sage. “Uh-oh, think Dinka might arrive bad time. My Sage not wear him clothes, naked like man who busy sticking him big cock in woman, my Sage, him done make whoopee and the kiss-kiss thing with human troll.” Dinka suddenly grinned, her thin lips splitting from ear to ear. “Ahh, my Sage, him mighty stud, him done make little baby troll with ugly slug woman, how sweet, Dinka ready now, go back to witch world, leave stinking, human race behind. ”

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Hannah groaned. That was all the warning Sage got. Her knees buckled and she collapsed. Sage caught her, lifted her in his arms and threw a glare at Dinka. “Couldn’t you have arrived with a little more discretion and less talk?” Dinka snickered. “Maybe, but Dinka followed my Sage’s cosmic trail. It led here where Dinka discover my Sage leave another cosmic trail of seduction glowing everywhere. My Sage da bomb in him skimpy towel in cosmic picture. Course, my Sage, him look pretty bomby right now with him big cock sticking straight up, ready for action satisfaction. What my Sage been doin’ in human race world, besides kissy-kissy and sticking him big co—” “Enough! Good grief, Dinka. I swear you have a one-track mind.” “Hmm, maybe so, maybe if Dinka get laid, I stop thinking bout sex all time.” Sage muttered beneath his breath. “Okie-dokie, my Sage, now that Dinka here in troll world, wanna watch at least one movie. Want to see house fall on witch and smash her body to smithereens.” Sage grimaced. “No, Dinka.” “Yes, my Sage.” Sage sighed. Once the Futhar got something in her head, there was no changing it. Dinka wouldn’t stop bugging him until she watched the house fall on the witch. Sage shuddered. “All right, have it your way.” Dinka leaped off the table and followed him down the hall. “Dinka plan to have her way with many things. Dinka gonna hunt for and find big, handsome cowboy frog with great big cock. Dinka have some fun then.” Sage could swear he heard her snicker and mumble, “Yee haw! Dinka for sure, gonna put on spurs and ride handsome, hot studly frog. Gonna get me some.”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç Ru-Noc Palidine Palace

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eLora stepped through the back entrance of the palace and gasped as King Darak grabbed her by the shoulders, whirled her around to face the wall and squeezed her breasts. She gasped, more in despair than with pleasure. She clenched her teeth when he pressed a slobbery kiss to the back of her neck. “I’ve been waiting on you, my beauty.” He fumbled with his zipper, flipped up her dress, jerked down her underwear, and shoved his cock inside her. A few thrusts later, he grunted with satisfaction and pulled out of her. “You’re such a hot piece, my lovely bride. All I think about is getting you in bed and having my wicked way with you.” King Darak threw back his head and laughed deeply. “Come, my mate. The hour grows late, well past the time when we should retire to our chambers.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “Come along, darling. Tonight I have the energy and needs of a young waken.” MeLora followed him, too numb to object. *** Hours later, MeLora rolled over in bed and stared at the man lying naked beside her. He’d mated with her twice more before finally falling to sleep. King Darak. How she hated the man. His loud snores kept her awake. Everything about the man she was stuck with for her mate drove her insane. After she’d left the royal stables, she thought she would have the opportunity to search for another male to bed, but King Darak put a stop to her plans by pouncing on her in the dark. Black Magick aside, the man was an insatiable pig, always grunting and sweating over her. She’d be damned glad when Beltane was over and she could ax his ass. To her dismay, the last time he pulled out of her, he laughed, pleased with the results. Oh, yes, with the third mating, King Darak managed to impregnate her. She now carried the king’s son for real. He patted her on the butt. “Ah my queen, you make me very happy this night. We shall have a beautiful baby boy.” He grinned like an idiot and fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t seem to recall she was supposedly already pregnant with his son. Black Magick kept his mind in a haze most of the time, except when it came to mating with her. The powders she used on him kept him a constant state of full arousal. That 102

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wouldn’t wear off until she died or uttered the chant to break her spell over him. Slipping from the bed, she walked over to the window and stared at the stables. This was Creed's fault. If the man had mated with her in the stables, she’d be pregnant with his child instead of Darak’s. Her hatred for the half-were, simmered just beneath the surface. If he’d mated with her, she’d have received part of his magical blood in the transfer of body fluids. Were magic was one of the strongest. It would have strengthened her powers, perhaps given her the edge she needed to conquer Saylym. Blast it! She had to get those emeralds embedded on Saylym’s fingers or she’d never be able to take Sanctuary from the bitch’s control. And ...she wanted revenge against Creed for refusing to give her a son. MeLora quietly pulled open a drawer and drew out a silver handled Athame. She slashed off a hank of her hair and tied a blue ribbon neatly around it. Hunkering down, she drew a magical, green-glowing circle on the floor. She pulled multi-colored candles from the air and rowed them around the circle, lighting them one by one. Smiling, she stepped inside the magic circle and sat down. MeLora held the beribboned hair to the flames and watched it burn with eyes that suddenly felt icy cold. Demonic wings escaped their prison and fluttered lightly on her back. Tiny horns thrust upward from her skull. Pale brown scales, shiny and with a putrid odor, covered her skin. She licked the viscous drool off her lips and chanted: “Kallibus, Demon King of divine revenge, Grant my desire: A weapon of silver, pain like fire A stab in the back is my desire. Leave him in pain Leave him drained. I’ll be content with my demon’s game.”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@bÇx Mojave Desert Mortal Realm

[

annah turned to grin at Sage as he clutched his head, moaned, and slid into a wide, leather chair in the living room. “What’s the matter, darling, don’t you like the Wizard of Oz? It’s a

classic.” “That’s the fourth damned time she’s watched it today.” Sage looked at her and gritted his teeth. “Dinka hear verra good, my Sage, know what you say. Dinka would like more popcorn and slurpy drink, please. Good part coming up soon where mean human girl toss bucket of water on poor, sweet old witch and melt her to greasy spot.” Sage winced at the frog’s antics. Hannah snorted. It had taken her awhile to win Dinka over, but she’d finally won the frog’s affections when she put on the movie for her, placed a small bowl of popcorn on the end table beside her, and set down a big bowl of Coke beside that. Dinka jumped right in and came up only for air. “Hmm, is yummy drink, almost good as champagne. Maybe ugly human troll not so bad, after all.” Hannah laughed. “Stop calling her ugly troll, Dinka. Hannah’s my mate and the mother of my child. Be good!” “Humph! If my Sage keep him cock behind zipper, him might not have to bond with ugly, human troll. Too late now, my Sage stuck with gruesome female critter who gonna have baby troll.” Sage picked up the remote and clicked off the T.V. and DVD player. Dinka reared up, peeping at him. “My Sage! That was good part. Flying monkeys rip up man of straw.” “According to you, every scene is a good part. I need to ask you some questions.” Dinka pouted but nodded her head. “One for money, two for show, go witch go!” Sage sighed. “For the love of Samhain, where do you come up with this stuff?” Dinka rolled her eyes. “Turn movie back on and Dinka might tell.” “No. I want you to tell me what’s happening in Ru-Noc. Now.” “Bad Juju, my Sage. Black Drayke, him be evil demon who hide somewhere. No one can find him new home. Witch bitch, MeLora, she control King Darak, him be worse zombie every day from witch bitch Black Magick. Poor Queen Helayne, she verra sad witch. Black Drayke, him leave him baby in the queen and her heart be broken. Prince 104

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Talon, him know him mother be living, but him not know she gonna have ugly baby warlock or where her hide in tree land. Not only have she lost her mate, but Prince Stry and Princess Kali both be missing. Everyone think you dead and verra sad believing you gone to witch heaven. But Dinka know truth, my Sage. I know you not dead, only in Shadow Land. Lovely Saylym, her belly getting big with twin boys and Eldora, old crone witch, she be getting it on with old waken, Saul. Saul, Katch and your father, Teek, they all be living with Saylym and Talon. Still, Saul and Teek be verra frightened of Saylym’s powers. Anything else my Sage wish to know, just ask Dinka, she know everthing.” Sage blinked. Hannah stared at him, her mouth agape. “Good grief, that sounds like a soap opera.” “Humph, better than soap opera if you ask Dinka’s opinion, better than world spinning on axis.” Sage glanced at Hannah. “What’s she talking about? Do you know?” Hannah nodded. “I think she’s talking about ‘As the World Turns’. It’s a daytime soap opera.” “Bingo!” With that, Dinka dived back into the bowl of Coke. Sage shook his head. “Amazing. I’ll never figure out how she knows so much.” Hannah frowned. “I know you want to return to Ru-Noc, but I can’t help but think we might miss something important, something we might need in Ru-Noc. I think we should stay here awhile, try to discover my history first, who my real parents were, anything we might ascertain. It could be important.” She unfolded a legal-looking document. “What’s that?” Sage peered over her shoulder as Hannah hunkered down in front of him. He eyed the paper in her hands. “What is that?” “My adoption papers. I found them in an old shoebox in the closet. Mother stored a lot of papers in shoeboxes. ” “So how will the papers help?” Hannah smiled and kissed his cheek. “Because they give the name of the orphanage, the Charter Street Orphanage, and where it was once located. “Once, located?” “Hmm.” Hannah nodded. “Mother said it burned right after they adopted me. We’re going there. Maybe we can locate some old records at the courthouse or a church or something. I already booked us a flight in the morning.” Sage turned Hannah in his arms. He searched her face. “I know I’m not going to like your answer, but where are we going?” Hannah arched a brow. “Why, where it all began, of course.” “Where is that?” “Salem.”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@gãÉ Sanctuary

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alon closed the door quietly behind him. Saylym looked up from the ancient tome titled ‘Ye Olde Book of Magickal Skills’ and eyed her bond mate. She drew a red line with her fingernail to mark her place and closed the book. Talon sent her a sheepish look. On his shoulder, the tiny purple owl, Vox, sat with obvious pride. On Talon’s right arm, a different type of creature perched. Its long claws gripped the leather arm protector. Saylym blinked. The huge black bird sort of resembled a hawk or a bat or maybe both; she wasn’t sure. “This is Rune. I found him in the woods. He’s Stry’s familiar.” Saylym gasped. “I take it you didn’t find Stry?” “No.” Talon shook his head. “Poor Rune doesn’t remember what happened, at least, not everything. He said some crazy witch on a broom dive-bombed and crashed into them. Rune was knocked out and landed in a clump of bushes. Apparently Stry was also injured, but Rune doesn’t know what became of him.” Saylym sighed. A Futhar. Another one. That now made five, Topaz, Celine, Vox, Rune and Banjo, all of them living in her home. It was fast becoming a zoo in the old millhouse. Between Eldora, Talon’s Papa Saul, who was Sage’s father, Teek, and her grandfather, the High Wizard, Katch, her home was full. She loved it. The ancient wakens who had once made up the powerful Guild in Droth and sent Talon to terminate her had little magical power left to them. MeLora had drained them of most of their magic and turned them out of the palace. Talon had found them huddled together in the forest, weak from hunger, cold from exposure to the unpredictable spring weather, and brought them home with him. Saylym fed them, welcomed them, and loved them with all her heart, but she wondered how many more strays Talon was going to bring to their home. Not that she minded, but if he kept it up, they were going to have to add a third floor to the house. He’d already added a second floor with two bedrooms, one to ensure their privacy. The other was for the Futhars to share, except for Celine and she preferred the privacy of the hall closet downstairs. In all, there were four bathrooms and four bedrooms downstairs and two bathrooms and two bedrooms upstairs, all in use. Katch occupied the first and largest bedroom and bathing chambers. Sage’s father claimed the next, then Saul and Eldora. Saylym’s lips twitched. She highly suspected Eldora spent more time in Saul’s bedroom than she did her own. Eldora had a bit of a smutty mind. The old witch was apt to share everything with 106

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her, describing parts of Saul’s anatomy she was certain she didn’t want to know about. Sometimes she couldn’t believe this was the woman who’d raised her. When she’d been growing up, she never even heard the word damn escape Eldora’s lips. Now, the only thing the witch talked about was sex. Of course, it could be because it was still Beltane. Sanctuary had become a wild flurry of activity in the past week, with male witches and warlocks roaming the street in search of mating partners. Saylym glanced down at the rounded mound of her belly. Talon had claimed her right properly. She cupped her stomach and felt the warmth from the twins, assuring her they loved her. A wave of love and tenderness swept through her. Talon settled both birds on a perch and strolled over to her. Gently, he pulled her in his arms and kissed. He slid a possessive hand across her belly. “Blessings, my sons.” His green eyes widened with delight. “Gosh, they’re growing. I can’t believe how big they’ve become in just a week.” Saylym smiled through the veil of tears. “I know. They’ve been fussing with each other over the lack of space.” Talon nuzzled her neck. “I couldn’t leave Rune in the woods alone.” “Of course not. I’d never expect you to leave your brother’s familiar out in the dark.” “Thanks. I know Stry will appreciate you allowing his Futhar to stay here with us until he —” He broke off, worry darkening his eyes. “I can’t imagine what has become of him. If a witch injured him in some way, why hasn’t she brought him to Sanctuary and to a witch doctor?” Before Saylym could reply, Talon froze, lifted his head and stared out the colonial style window with its diamond grid glass. Saylym wondered if he could really see in the inky darkness. “Something’s out there,” he said quietly. “Not one of us, but ... he has a waken’s aura.” Talon released her, whipped around and headed to the front door. “Stay inside.” He tossed the words over his shoulder. “Talon, don’t go out there. What if it’s dangerous? It could be a trick of MeLora’s or Black Drayke’s.” “No. He means us no harm. He isn’t dangerous, La-Scheme, not for us. He’s hurt.” Talon hesitated before flinging open the door, “possibly dying.”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@g{Üxx Mid-Air Flight Approaching Massachusetts

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annah bit her lip to keep from laughing. Sage had a death grip on the armrests. By now the imprints of his fingers were surely embedded and would remain a permanent fixture. Her arm was numb from his squeezing it so tight at times. She patted his hand. “Relax. It’s just turbulence, nothing to worry about. We’ve had a very smooth flight.” “Turbulence my ass, it’s a fooking human death contraption. I’d rather fly on my broom.” The Marilyn Monroe female impersonator seated across the aisle, who’d been making goo-goo eyes at Sage the entire flight, batted her false eyelashes and imitated the famous movie star's sexy voice. “Just think of it as bumps in the road, honey,” she advised and leaned across the aisle closer to Sage. Her blue, peasant-style blouse dipped low in front, revealing the plump curves of a fantastic boob job. Hannah chewed her tongue to keep from giggling at the distasteful expression darkening Sage’s face. She’d told him earlier in sotto voice that the ‘she-he’ was actually a ‘he-she’, then she’d had to explain in more detail because Sage hadn’t a clue what she’d meant. Now, Sage raked the phony female passenger with icy eyes. “Madame, I’m a bonded male. Kindly cover up your bumps and quit exposing them to me every time I turn your way.” The ‘he-she’ gasped and flipped around in her seat, muttering under her breath about his rudeness. Hannah snickered. “You hurt his feelings. I think he’s rather beautiful. Don’t you?” Sage cut a sharp glance at her that simmered with the promise of retribution, but before he could comment, the ‘Fasten Your Seatbelt’ sign came on. “The plane’s starting its descent,” she said. “How’s Dinka?” Sage slid two fingers inside his shirt pocket and glanced inside. “Green.” There was just a hint of male satisfaction in his tone. “I don’t mean her normal green, either. She’s more a—a pukey, yellowish-green. That will teach her to stuff herself with popcorn and Coke and watch a poor old helpless witch get demolished by a house.” Dinka poked her head up from the pocket. “Dinka hear insult, my Sage, resent being called pig in round-about-manner. Dinka not sick from digesting popcorn and swallowing delicious Coke. Dinka ill ‘cause she sneak outside last night and get action108

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satisfaction, got happily laid by hunky, adoring bullfrog, only—Dinka take him poking too serious. Dinka now gonna have hundreds of little baby Dinka tadpoles in few short weeks. Herman, him one fine studly bullfrog with lasting power, him not called Donkey Dick Herman for no reason. My Herman, him mighty well hung with biggest coc—” Dinka paused, retched, and threw up in Sage’s shirt pocket. “Sheeahta!” Sage moaned and pushed the frog inside his pocket. “Gods, stay down. Someone will see and hear you and then we’ll be dead. They’ll burn us at the stake. There are humans everywhere!” Hannah doubled over with laughter. “Sage, don’t jab her on the head like that. She’s in a delicate condition.” “So are you,” he muttered between clenched teeth, “but at least you used the air sickness bag and not my shirt pocket when you vomited.” Hannah laughed and shook her head. “We’ll be on the ground soon and then you won’t have to deal with two of us being air sick.” Sage frowned and drew her close. “No, what I’ll have to deal with is much worse. Humans and Salem, two of my worst nightmares brought together in one place.”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@YÉâÜ Sanctuary

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alon stepped down the four steps leading off the wrap-around porch of the millhouse and moved uneasily into the night. The darkness felt bloated with something malevolent and evil. It watched and waited, patient as a spider, for the right moment to strike. Chills crept up his spine like the icy fingers of a corpse. He eyed his surroundings, alert for anything that could possibly be concealed in a shadowy corner or hiding behind a bush. The forest neighboring the millhouse had never felt evil ...until now. Always welcoming, tonight it felt ripe with disturbing undercurrents of mystery and magic and something more. Gloomy shadows wove in and out of the beams of soft moonlight filtering through the trees. Tree limbs like bony, elongated fingers stretched toward him, eager to make their capture. Squat bushes swayed and seemed to masquerade as friendly goblins and gnomes before creeping away to vanish in the leaves. He sensed the prevalent unease growing in the magical forest. There were no welcoming lights aglow inside the giant-sized mushrooms that dotted the woodland floor where the sweet-natured fairies dwelled. The tiny chills snaking up his spine turned into full-blown goose bumps that crept over his flesh. He wanted to get the hell back inside the house, where Saylym waited, happily ignorant of the evil lurking near their home. “Creed?” “Over here.” The weak reply came from the edge of the thickest part of the trees. Talon narrowed his gaze, focused, and saw the shadowy outline of Creed supporting himself with one hand braced against a stodgy looking tree. Talon hurried over to him. “How bad is it?” “Bad.” Creed let go of the tree and staggered. Talon grabbed Creed’s arm and looped it around his neck and supported him. The sticky warmth of Creed’s blood on the back of his shirt coated Talon’s fingers. “You’re bleeding. What happened?” “Shot.” “You’ve been shot?” “Shot, yes—not with—gun.” Creed grunted his reply. “Arrow—in—back.” Talon leaned back to get a closer look and for the first time saw the solid wood shaft 110

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of the arrow. “The arrow tip is silver?” “Yes.” “Let’s get you inside, friend, and get the damned thing out.” “Your mate—” —“might be a little spooked once she finds out what you are, but Saylym would never turn away an injured person.” “I’m not, you know.” “Not what?” Talon nearly buckled under the strain of supporting Creed’s weight. Even as big a man as he was, Creed stood taller, and outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. “Not a person. I’m more animal than—” “Shut up or I’ll let go of you right now and you can fall on your ugly face.” In spite of his threat, Talon gripped Creed tighter. “Saylym doesn’t think like that and I’m insulted you believe I think like that. You’re a good friend and have been for many years. That isn’t going to change just because you’re approaching Lu-Nark.” “Thank the gods, ‘cause I don’t think I could go much further. That damnable silver is frying my insides like hot grease. She put a hex on it.” “Who?” “MeLora.” Talon stumbled, paused, then pushed his way on up the steps. “That bitch did this to you? Why?” “I refused to fuck her.” “Good thing too, or your cock would probably fall off when she got done with it.” Creed snickered, then groaned with pain. “Gods, don’t make me laugh. I guess it pissed her off when I didn’t supply her with what she wanted. I should have been watching my back.” Talon turned a little to his left and gave the forest one last searching look. “There’s something out there and it’s pure evil.” “Cavern demons. A couple of them lurked nearby for the last hour or so. They crept deeper inside the forest when I approached your house, but I smelled them, that awful, sulfuric fume that clings to their hide when they leave the pits of Hell.” Talon swore and kicked open the front door. “Why the hell would demons be watching my home?” “I don’t know, but you better surround your home with a force-field of magic. Something’s building, and I don’t think it’s going to be very pleasant when it explodes.” The two of them staggered like two drunks across the large, airy living room. Talon lifted his chin and made a silent gesture toward Eldora’s bedroom when Saylym gasped. She hurried past them and flipped back the plain black comforter on Eldora’s queensized bed. Talon lowered Creed to the side of the bed and exhaled deeply. “Easy,” Saylym ordered when the injured man groaned in agony. She leaned over him and eyed the arrow shaft protruding from his back. “Good grief, why would anyone shoot someone with an arrow?” “MeLora’s handiwork,” Talon supplied. “She would conjure an ancient weapon. They’re more difficult to remove. The tip is probably solid silver and locked snugly in place with barbs.”

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“It is.” Creed grunted. “It’s less than an inch from my heart. She meant it to torture me. Unless the arrow is removed soon, the silver will fry my heart. She knew there would be no way to remove it quickly. ” Creed pressed an unsteady hand to his heart. He looked up at Talon and winced. “I’m going to need wolf bane from the forest to fight the poison from the silver. Would you let Ransom know? My brother is the only one I trust to bring me what I need.” “I’ll send him a message,” Talon said. “Tell him to come alone.” “Enough talking.” Saylym lifted the back of his shirt. It was saturated with blood the color of rich, dark mud. She grabbed a pair of scissors off the nightstand and snipped the shirt away from the shaft. “I’m Saylym,” she said and gently patted the injured man’s arm. “I’m sorry, but I need a closer look at your back.” He drew in a sharp breath and turned to his right so she could see the entry angle better. Saylym bit her bottom lip and probed the entrance wound with her fingertips. Creed groaned but held still. “I know it must hurt like hell. You’re right, the arrow is deep. I can’t feel it at all. It will have to be pushed through, but first the shaft will have to be trimmed down to a shorter length.” “Do what you have to do,” he said through clenched teeth. “But hurry.” Saylym busied herself unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll need hot water,” she said to Talon. Talon nodded. “Sweetheart, this is Creed LaVeau. We attended academy together. Creed’s a were.” Saylym’s fingers stilled on the last button and she lifted her gaze to meet Creed’s intent dark eyes. He sat there, so still, looking as if he expected an ax to fall across his neck. She saw his chest rise and fall with inhalations and exhalations. He watched her with an intensity that shattered her nerves. Their gazes locked. “As in wolf?” She swallowed hard. Creed gave a barely perceptible nod. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll understand.” “I’ll box your ears if you say something like that to me again.” Saylym huffed, then grinned to take the sting from her words. “I’m a witch. Do you want me to leave?” An odd expression flickered across his face. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. From the corner of her eye, Saylym saw Talon stiffen at her side. She glanced up to see his grin slowly fade. “You’re sure?” he asked. “Yeah,” Creed replied. “I’ve waited and watched for signs for centuries.” Saylym returned her gaze to Creed. He looked a bit pole-axed, his face pale, his eyes wide and dark. “What?” she asked. “If you’re trying to tell Talon I’m a witch whose magic sometimes fails, we already know.” She helped him out of the shirt and tossed it in a corner. “No, I—” Creed abruptly broke off his words. Saylym looked up in time to see Talon shake his head in warning at Creed. “Never mind,” Creed said. “Don’t do that,” Saylym snapped at Talon. “Don’t shut me out.” He stared at her, stubbornly silent. She tightened her lips. “You wanna get me that water, some bandages and a sharp knife?” Talon nodded, drew blazing green symbols in the air, then held out his hand. A

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bowl of hot water magically appeared. He placed it on the stand by the bed, pulled bandages from the air and a wicked looking athame. “Here you go, sweetheart. Be careful with the dagger. It’s extremely sharp.” “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I might be slightly pissed at you, but I have no intention of cutting off any manly parts ...yet.” Creed snorted. “Thank the gods.” He looked up, laughter in his chocolate brown eyes. “Ah, you’re talking to Talon.” “Yes, but you’re safe as well.” She grinned and took up the athame. “Take some deep breaths and try to relax.” “Easy for you to say,” Creed grumbled. “You aren’t the one facing a slightly pissed witch with a sharp knife in her hands.” Saylym laughed. “That’s right and best you remember that.” “Yes, ma’am.” After battling with MeLora a week earlier, Saylym felt she could handle most anything. To take Creed’s mind off the pain she knew she caused him, she started chattering as she whittled away on the arrow shaft. “I hate it when Talon tries to protect me from all the things that go bump in the night. His coddling annoys me.” She darted an angry glare at her mate who simply stared at her. “You’re pregnant, La-Scheme,” Talon said, as if that explained everything. Saylym eyed her thickening waistline. “Yes, I have rather noticed that.” “He loves you, and there are some pretty nasty things that go bump in the night.” Saylym glanced at Creed, saw him clench his teeth. Sweat beaded his forehead. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Almost done.” Before she could demand further explanation from Talon and Creed of what they were determined to hide from her, Talon’s Papa Saul, Sage’s father, Teek, and her grandfather, the High Wizard, Katch, stormed into the room. The three elderly men surrounded the bed, Katch at the foot, Saul and Teek on the far side. “There are demons in the woods,” Teek blurted. The athame stilled. Saylym looked up at the three elderly wakens. “What?” “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Saylym,” Talon said, shooting a warning glare at his uncle. Teek stiffened. “I certainly do. There are two of them. We saw them peeking through the windows. I think they’re hunting for someone.” Saylym snapped the shaft protruding from Creed’s back and turned her accusing gaze on Talon. She pressed the athame into his hands. “Demons? Looking through our windows? When were you going to tell me?” “They were not looking through our windows,” Talon said with exasperation. “Oh, so there are demons?” Saylym smiled sweetly, baring her teeth. Talon rolled his eyes. “All right, yes, there are two demons, but they aren’t bothering anything.” “Yet,” Teek said. “Eh?” Papa Saul cupped his ears. “Did someone say lemons?” “You be careful of him, Saylym, weres are highly unpredictable, especially those approaching Lu-Nark,” Teek advised sagely, ignoring his angry nephew. “Eh? Did you say there’s a spark? Poor creature looks like he’s going to pass out.” Katch leaned closer, eyeing the shorter arrow shaft and shook his white head. “I can put a spell on him; put him to sleep, get him out of his misery. Silver is a nasty thing

Tabitha Shay

when used on a were.” He raked his fingers through his long white beard. “Euthanizing is a good thing for weres. Painless.” “He isn’t going to pass out,” Talon said, irritation foremost in his voice. “No euthanizing.” “I’m not so sure of that, nephew,” Teek inserted. “He’s mighty pale. I think Katch should put him to sleep. Silver must be cooking his insides. Poor, poor soul.” He shook his head woefully. “Euthanizing would be best.” Creed eyed the men surrounding the bed. “Good grief.” “Be much easier on the poor soul,” Katch agreed shaking his head sympathetically. “Let him go peacefully. A little cooked inside, but still, less painful if he’s euthanized.” Creed’s jaw dropped. Saylym looked up from her task of washing the blood off his back and shook her head. “Pay no mind to them. They have this thing about offing people.” “Granddaughter, I did not try to have you offed,” Katch denied. Saylym grinned. “Excluding my grandfather, but Papa Saul and Uncle Teek might be rabid.” “Eh? Fried wolf meat? Never tasted it.” Saul rocked on his heels and scratched his head. “Be better to put him to sleep,” Teek mumbled. “He’s a danger to you, Granddaughter.” Creed growled softly in his throat. “Don’t let them euthanize me.” Saylym laughed. “No one’s putting you to sleep. Relax.” “Katch is right. I’m a danger to you,” Creed replied. “I could bite you.” “You bite me, I bite back.” Talon choked. Creed grinned weakly. “Yeah, but I’m very much afraid your bite won’t have the same affect as a bite from me.” “You won’t bite me.” “Not deliberately. Especially since you’re—” he flinched as Talon pushed the shaft through all at once. “Shit.” Creed groaned and slumped to one side. “Couldn’t you have warned me you were about to do that?” “No. You would have tensed and it would have been more painful on you. It’s done.” Saylym swallowed hard as the damaged flesh surrounding the silver tip sizzled. Charcoal colored smoke rose from around the wound where it protruded through the wall of his chest. She grabbed the sharp tip with a pair of pliers Talon supplied her and gently pulled it the rest of the way out. “Since I’m what?” Saylym concentrated on the new wound and ignored the fact the elderly men jumped back when Creed groaned and slumped toward her. She glanced up as Talon grabbed Creed’s shoulders. “Help me lay him down.” Saylym nodded. “I can clean the wound, suture it and put a dressing on it easier with him lying down anyway.” Talon gripped Saylym’s arm, helping her to stand. “Are you all right? Not too tired?” “I’m fine.” She smiled. “Now that the silver is out, his were magic will heal the wounds. We just need to bathe him and make him comfortable. Katch can perform a sleeping chant so he will rest

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easier. And when Ransom gets here with the wolf bane, it will help him mend even faster.” Saylym eyed her grandfather. “No euthanizing.” She shook her finger at him. Katch chuckled. “Yes, Granddaughter.” “Euthanize,” Teek uttered. “Best thing for him.” “Eh. Did someone say there are mice?” Talon glowered. “Gods, give me strength.” Saylym locked her fingers on Talon’s arm. “Yes, you’d best pray to the gods, because I want to know what that look was all about between you and Creed. No secrets, Talon. I have a right to know what’s going on.” Talon sighed and squeezed her hand. “You won’t like it, La-Scheme.” “Try me.” “According to Creed, you carry the mark.” “The mark? What kind of mark?” “A werewolf.” “You’re right, I don’t like it.” Saylym bit her lip. “Crap. How does he know?” “He saw it in your eyes, full moons. His species are the only ones who can detect the mark.” “Why?” Saylym rubbed her shoulders briskly. “Darn it, I’m getting goose bumps. Does this mean I’m going to change into a hairy dog, smell and howl at the next full moon?” “No, darling.” Talon pulled her into his arms and held her close to his heart. “You aren’t a werewolf.” “Then what?” “You won’t like it.” “I do wish you’d stop saying those words to me. Every time you say them, you’re right, I don’t like it. Just tell me.” “It means you’re destined to be the mother of his future mate.”

Tabitha Shay

Diary Entry Ru-Noc: Land of Witches and Wakens. Beltane fell to the festival of Bron Trogain, the time of year for the Last Feast, but times were harsh. Both mortals and witches were accused of the crimes of witchcraft and hanged or burned at the stake. Burning was the one sure way to send a real witch to her final resting place, leaving no chance for her soul to return to her body and bring new life. With the arrival of fall, it became apparent MeLora was with child. Although children are loved and accepted in the Ru-Noc Realm and the term bastard does not exist, MeLora’s pregnancy was considered an abomination by the Coven. -From the Winslow History of Witches In the Year of Samhain, 1692

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V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@Y|äx Salem, Massachusetts Curwen House

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annah and Sage, along with the now, too-sick-to-chatter, Dinka, checked into the Salem Inn in Salem, Massachusetts. The Inn, comprised of what had originally been three separate historic townhouses, reeked with history. They’d chosen to stay at the Curwen House in one of the Honeymoon Suites. Hannah grinned when Sage told the clerk they’d just gotten bonded. “Married,” she explained to the clerk who stared at them with a puzzled frown on his face. “My husband’s from another country and doesn’t understand English very well.” “I understand English, very well. You don’t understand Waken Goth.” “Oh, is that the language you speak?” She smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes at Sage. “Close enough,” he whispered, “for a human to comprehend.” He batted his lashes back at her in mock imitation of her. Hannah snorted. “Better not let another male see you do that, else you’ll be mistaken for a lover of men.” He looked horrified. “You, witch.” “Yes. Temper, that’s much better. Shows what a real man you are.” He scooped her up in his arms, and since there were no elevators in the house, started toward the curving staircase. “I’ll show you what a real man is.” Hannah giggled. “Put me down! Someone will see us.” Sage lowered her to her feet. His eyes sparked with flashes of lavender flames. “I have plans for us in this room you call a Honeymoon Suite,” he whispered against her neck. He nibbled at the mark that pulsed wildly beneath his lips. “Big plans.” “I can’t wait.” Sage took her hand and they climbed the stairs. Hannah sighed with pleasure, loving the feel of history that surrounded them. They could have chosen a more modern hotel, but The Salem Inn was centrally located in the heart of one of the oldest seaports in America. Salem, a quaint mixture of old and new with a history steeped in the legends of witchcraft, had plenty of attractions to draw the tourists. Not only did it have the Salem Wax Museum of Witches, the Salem Thirteen Ghosts and the Salem Haunted House, but it was a charming coastal New England city with more than three hundred years of art, architecture, history and culture.

Tabitha Shay

Hannah frowned. Much to her dismay, it had no history of a Charter Street Orphanage that had burned or existed by that name ... ever. They’d spent the day searching diligently through copies of deeds at the courthouse, looking at old photographs and any other kind of records they thought would shed some light on the orphanage, but there was nothing. The more they lingered among the busy throng of people coming and going in the Courthouse District, the more nervous Sage become. Even though he wore sunglasses and remained silent most of the time while she did all the talking, people, male and female, old and young naturally approached him, drawn by the allure of his mysterious, magical aura. Sage’s discomfort level spiked to the point he perspired heavily. His chest rose and fell with short, ragged breaths. All color bled from his face leaving him pale and clammy. Once, he even took off to the bathroom, his hand cupped across his mouth as he made a mad dash down the hall. He returned a little later, a sheepish look on his pale face. “It’s the human scent,” he explained. “My senses are on overload. I’ve never been around mortals. They’re damned smelly and...er, a bit scary when they invade our space.” Hannah grinned and shook her head. Sometimes he surprised her the way he blurted out his weaknesses to her. Most males would go through nine degrees of torture before they admitted to being faint-hearted about anything, but Sage was man enough to state them without it taking away from his masculinity. The smell of humans made him ill. Big deal. She loved the man anyway. She slid her arm around his waist. “How do you stand being with me for so long?” “I don’t know. Maybe deep in my subconscious, I know you’re a witch so your human scent doesn’t affect me.” He grinned. “Well, you do affect me, but not in the way you mean.” She punched him on the shoulder. “Will you be serious?” “Lady, where you’re concerned, I’m always serious.” They went back to their research, but after hours of searching through records with no results, Hannah gave up. “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s call it a day.” Hailing a taxi, they headed back to the hotel. Now, they trudged down the long corridor until they reached their room. Sage unlocked the door and pushed it open. Their luggage stood just inside where the bellboy had placed it in the room when they first arrived. The Suite looked inviting with attention paid to period detail and furnishings. Homey touches and a working fireplace gave it a cozy atmosphere, yet it still had up-to-date touches, a coffee maker, cable television and a telephone. Hannah stepped around the luggage, used the step-stool provided to climb up on the high, canopied bed. She flounced back on it and stared at the ceiling, fighting to hold back the tears of frustration stinging her eyes. “I can’t believe this! How on Earth did my parents acquire adoption papers from an orphanage that never existed? Maybe I was kidnapped. Maybe I’m one of those missing kids you see pictures of on milk cartons and posters everywhere.” Sage sat down on the edge of the bed, lifted her onto his lap, and cuddled her close to his chest. He pressed soft kisses against her brow and shushed her with soothing words. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Don’t cry,” he whispered and rocked her back and forth like a baby. “We’ll just keep searching until you’re satisfied everything that can be

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researched has been looked through.” She cried harder. “I don’t have the kind of money to remain here indefinitely and my credit cards will soon be maxed.” He laughed softly, snapped his fingers and a healthy stack of hundred dollar bills appeared on the bed beside them. “Will that be enough?” Hannah gasped, picked up one of the bills and stared at it. “That’s over ten thousand dollars. You can’t do that. It’s counterfeit.” He shrugged. “It isn’t counterfeit. It’s real.” “Where did you get it?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Every waken keeps human money on hand in case of emergencies like this. It’s real and I bought it from a wealthy waken years ago.” “You bought it?” “Well, sure. Human money has no value in our realm. We buy it in shops for little or nothing.” “Ohhhh,” Dinka moaned. “Dinka gonna be sick. Need little bucket to hurl in.” Dinka lay sprawled in the fruit basket they’d emptied and padded with a towel just for her. Her skinny legs stood straight up in the air and she rubbed her soft belly. She lifted her tiny green head and blinked her big eyes at them. “Dinka feel sooo bad. Dinka think twice before she go look for studly bullfrog she believe lack whooshy-whooshy. From now on, Dinka play verra hard to get, keep legs crossed and not play role of loose harlot.” Hannah giggled in spite of the distress she knew the Futhar felt and placed an empty paper cup by the frog. “Whooshy-whooshy?” Sage grinned at her. “Lacks the ability to fertilize her eggs.” “Ah, I see. Well, I certainly know what she means.” “Are you calling me a studly bullfrog?” “Just studly.” Hannah pressed her mouth against his, took time to savor his taste on her tongue, then leaned back. “You have two choices.” Sage lifted a brow, his eyes warming with interest. “And that would be?” “Plain, ordinary food or steamy sex in the Jacuzzi with me.” Hannah squealed as he jumped up and flung her over his shoulder caveman style and strolled toward the luxurious bathroom where an oversized Jacuzzi waited for their pleasure. Sage lowered her slowly to the floor allowing her body to slide down the front of his. He linked his arms across her lower back. His eyes sparked with glints of purple fire. “How-about-sinfully-delicious-food,” he punctuated each word with a kiss. “And hotsteamy-sex. Later we can cool off with ice-cold-champagne?” He cupped her butt and lifted her against his erection. “I can be persuaded to show you what a horny waken can do with a flickering, vibrating cock ring.” Hannah shivered and automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. She slid her arms around his shoulders, felt his sleek muscles under her hands. She toyed with his nipples, heard his sharp gasp. The flat discs on his chest hardened beneath her teasing fingers. Hannah’s insides turned to mush. “Flickering?” She swallowed hard. “Cock ring?” “Lady,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck, “I’m going to light a fire in you, so fooking hot, you’re going to melt in my hands.” He licked her ear, nibbled a path across her neck and up to her mouth. “I guarantee you orgasm after orgasm. The ring will keep me

Tabitha Shay

harder, longer, and will stimulate your clit.” Heat gathered at the apex of her thighs and spread through her. She clutched his shoulders for support. His eyes, those fantastic eyes darkened with need. He lifted her slightly higher, eased her up and down the ridge of his hard cock. Hannah bit down on her lip to stifle a whimper. “I’m at your disposal, you evil man.” “Ah baby, you haven’t seen evil, yet.” He kissed her chin, nibbled, then licked a slow tormenting path down her throat to her breasts. Their clothes drifted to the floor with a flick of his wrist. Sage lifted her in his arms and practically glided down the three steps into the foaming tub of steamy water. He slid into the water and eased her away from him. Sage worked his hand between them, tested her for readiness. Hannah gasped at the feel of his finger stroking her. “You’re so damned tight,” he muttered and slipped a second finger inside her, preparing her for his size. He groaned, removed his fingers and teased the sensitive tissues of her labia with the broad head of his cock. Sage wrapped her legs around his middle and slowly pushed inside her, deeper and deeper, until she felt stuffed. Hannah gasped at the unhurried way he filled her. She moaned, flung back her head, and closed her eyes, enjoying the added sensation of the bubbles hitting her clit in just the rhythm she needed because Sage wasn’t moving. No, he wasn’t moving, but she could hear his ragged breathing, as if he’d run miles and miles. The warm water laved her vulva and clit. Hannah whimpered, needing him to move. She wiggled her hips. He gripped her hips and held her still. “No. Don’t move.” Hannah’s eyes popped open. Not moving was impossible. “You just want to stay inside me?” “Yeah.” He lay back against the rim of the tub and eyed her through hooded lids. “I want to savor the feel of you around my cock. You feel like satin, wet and sleek.” He inhaled, exhaled in a ragged puff. “No wiggling. Just enjoy the feel of the bubbling water around us. It feels so good. My balls are tingling.” Sage mumbled a chant and a silver tray stuffed with chocolate-covered strawberries and a small pot of melted chocolate appeared, creamy brie, so soft it looked as if it’d dissolve as soon as it touched the tongue, small crackers and finger-sized pastries popped up on a red glittering dish near the lip of the Jacuzzi. Crystal ice chips spilled from a silver bucket where a large magnum of champagne chilled. Two delicate stemmed glasses appeared beside the bucket. Sage waved his hand and the top flew off the magnum of champagne. The bottle floated lightly through the air. Hannah watched, amazed as the fluted glasses were filled with the bubbly liquid. He scooped up a strawberry and fed her, then licked the chocolate from her lips. Hannah slipped a sliver of the brie between his lips and kissed him. Sage nibbled a path down her neck, cupped her breast, and dribbled champagne over her nipple. She gasped as the icy liquid slid down her breast and disappeared in the water. Slowly and delicately, he sipped at her nipple, lapping off the champagne, until she squirmed in the water. “No wiggling,” he whispered and grinned. Sage pulled a single, long-stemmed red rose from the air and glided the velvety petals down her cheeks and across her nipples. Slowly, he crushed the petals between his

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fingers then thrust his hand through the damp strands of her hair. He tugged her closer, cupping a breast. “I love, you Hannah,” he whispered. “Gods, I never thought I could ever love a woman the way I love you.” He glided his tongue down to her breast and curled it around the nipple. He treated the other nipple to the same, exquisite torture and slight nips of his teeth. Sage leaned back, his face flushed. He traced a fingertip across the inked drawing on her breast. “Did I ever tell you how much that fooking tattoo turns me on?” He cupped her breast and eyed the colorful drawing. “I love it.” Hannah licked her lips and tightened her inner muscles around his iron-hard shaft. The force of the water felt incredible, moving them back and forth, up and down, in a slow, rhythmic dance. “I dreamed about you for years, your touch, you taking my body. You were always a secret part of my life.” The mark on her throat pulsed hotly, sending heat through her body. She gently squeezed his shaft with her thighs. “Oh gods, baby. Don’t do that or it will all be over. I wish I’d been there with you, baby, in your dreams.” He trailed kisses down her face, her neck. He licked the mark, leaned back and groaned. “It’s like it’s alive with flames. It just fanned upward a little bit.” “Is my entire face going to turn lavender?” Hannah rocked her hips to punish him a little for branding her. “Noo,” he moaned, “but it will always be there. How old were you when you began to dream of me?” “Fifteen. I was really too young to understand what was happening. I just knew I woke with the feel of a man’s mouth on mine and his body rubbing against mine. My breasts throbbed. I’d be so hot I couldn’t breathe.” His body quivered, creating a ripple of heat inside her. “How old are you now?” “Twenty-three.” Hannah dipped her fingers in the warm, melted chocolate and painted his nipples. She licked and suckled and took sharp nips of the hard buds. She felt him shudder, felt his breath escape in a rush. His cock stretched and hardened even more inside her. Sage’s body jerked. He groaned, pulled out of her, and lifted her in his arms. “I can’t bear this a moment more. I have to have you, now.” He stepped out of the water and in the few steps between the Jacuzzi and the bed, they were dry. Hannah swallowed hard at the array of sex toys lined up on the bed. “You do have plans.” “Yes, mau-ley, I do.” He laid her on the bed and looked down at her. Hannah looked up; saw the love and lust leashed on his face before he joined her on the bed. She glanced down and saw how much he wanted her. She touched his face, brushed a strand of dark hair back from his face. “I love you, Sage. I have always loved you.” His skin looked as if it was drawn tightly across his cheekbones. He curled up beside her and rubbed his palm across her nipples. Slowly, he trailed kisses down her stomach to her bellybutton. Sage blew distractedly on her bellybutton, then dipped his tongue inside and explored the tiny opening. He raised his head, grinned, then reached for the cock ring made of super-stretch jelly and eased it in place. “You know what this means?” He nudged her thighs apart, reached down and teased her entrance with the broad head of his cock.

Tabitha Shay

“What?” He arched a brow. “With this ring on, I’ll stay harder, longer and that fire I promised you will turn into a raging inferno.” Sage thrust inside her. Hannah gasped as one of the three soft prongs on the ring gently teased her clit and brought her to instant orgasm. Sage groaned and switched on the multi-speed vibrator at the base of the ring, at the same time, he lightly scraped her vulva and labia with the two other prongs attached to the ring. Hannah raked her nails down Sage’s back. “Mercy,” she panted. “I’m going to die of pleasure.” “No mercy,” he laughed, “a small death, perhaps.” The sensation of the vibrator strummed against her vulva, along with the three soft prongs and Sage filling her was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt. Her inner muscles quivered. Her stomach clenched with spasms. She gripped the sheet with her fists and bared her teeth. Sage pushed in and out of her, in and out in a slow, titillating rhythm, then stilled. His chest rose and fell against her breasts. “Again,” she demanded. “Faster?” He nuzzled her ear. “Yes, harder, faster.” “Deeper?” “Oh-my-God! Yes! All of the above!” Sage thrust deeper as she commanded, harder and faster. Hannah moaned. Her body trembled. Hannah screamed her pleasure. She rode his cock, clawed his back, and bucked wildly beneath him. She wondered if anyone had ever died from multiple orgasms. “That’s it baby,” Sage groaned. “Come for me. Again.” He started over, building their pleasure slowly, until with each orgasm, Hannah swore she couldn’t climax again. Before the hours of exquisite pleasure ended, Sage skillfully used every toy on her in his array. He taught her how to pleasure him. There wasn’t an inch left of her skin he didn’t kiss, lick or nibble. Her entire body felt alive and buzzing with an inner radiance of sizzling heat. Sage knew how to draw out the climax for both of them. There wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to try or teach her. They explored each other, both giving and receiving pleasure. Until at last, Sage locked his fingers with hers and took her mouth in a deep, carnal kiss. Tongues tangled and his thrusts became punishing as he pounded inside her harder, faster until finally he threw back his head and yelled. His body shook with the force of his rippling climax. He pumped his seed inside her, then slumped on top of her. His breath came as hot and hard as the pulses from his body as he held himself deep inside her and shuddered. “Gods,” he moaned and turned away from her. “I’ve never climaxed so damned hard in my life. Much more of that baby and you’ll kill me.” He grinned, his eyes warm and filled with tenderness. Hannah drew her fingers through his hair. He turned away from her and fiddled with removing the cock ring. There was something wrong, something more or he’d look her in the eyes. “What aren’t you telling me? I can hear it in your voice, you know.” He sprawled beside her, drew her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her brow. His

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hands fanned across her stomach. “Baby Alexx is sleeping.” Hannah giggled. “I don’t know how he could be.” “Maybe we rocked him to sleep.” Hannah rose and propped herself on her elbow. Sage tugged back the sheet and toyed with her nipple. “What aren’t you telling me?” “You know,” he whispered, “if you’re twenty-three in mortal years that makes you a little over three hundred in witch years, a very mature woman.” Hannah reared back. “Over three hundred? Good God!” She thought that over for a moment, wondering what he hadn’t said. “My parents couldn’t possibly have adopted me.” Sage lifted his head and searched her face. “No?” “I don’t think there were any orphanages here three hundred years ago.” “Of course not.” He braced himself on his forearms and turned to stare down into her eyes. “It means your parents had to be witches, too. So they couldn’t have simply died in a car crash. How did they die, Hannah?” Hannah swallowed. “The car caught on fire after the crash. They burned.” “Bingo, as Dinka would say. That means your parents were murdered or else they would have been able to control and stop the crash. Someone hexed them. Someone wanted them dead.”

Tabitha Shay

Diary Entry There was no forgiveness for MeLora’s evil deeds, no acceptance for the boy child she carried. From the ashes of so much pain and betrayal, MeLora’s rage and hatred for her mother, Queen Shy-Ryn, the Coven, and the Circle of Three, had no bounds. The truth was, no matter which of her two lovers fathered her son, no good could be had from either situation, be it her uncle by marriage, John Tanner, or her blood uncle, Black Drayke, who fathered the babe. The babe was cursed and destined to be an outcast. Worse, MeLora had no use for a child for any other reason than to hurt Elsbeth, John’s mate. Queen Shy-Ryn felt guilty for sending her daughter to live with Elsbeth and ordered MeLora back to Sanctuary. Once there, the Queen used her powers and forced a confession from her daughter. She learned how MeLora seduced Elsbeth’s husband. Heard how she’d lain with Black Drayke and now carried his son. Queen Shy-Ryn cursed her daughter and turned her away from the safety of Sanctuary. For revenge, MeLora planted the seed in John Tanner’s mind that she carried his son and in order for them to be together, he had to turn Elsbeth over to the judges in Salem Village or destroy her. John returned to his home with a warrant for Elsbeth’s arrest and a flintlock pistol in hand. -From the Winslow History of Witches In the Year of Samhain, 1692

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V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@f|å Sanctuary

g

opaz gulped down the glass of Catnip Rum and took a hit of jukey. He scowled into his empty glass and waited for the agony to go away. He wanted to numb his pain. Misery gnawed away at his spirit. He’d never been so damned fed-up in all his life. He knew the booze and the jukey only made him feel worse, but at the same time, it was the only thing that shut out the pain of losing Celine. Maxine refused to leave him alone. She followed him everywhere he went, slinking around, hounding him, and crying until he was eaten up with guilt for abandoning her. Dammit, he detested Maxine. He wanted Celine so badly he could hardly stand it and all she did was stay hidden in that damnable closet, avoiding him. And here came Emerald, willing, available and settling at his table, uninvited, as usual. “Hi, you handsome hunk of love,” she said in that breathless way she had of speaking. Emerald reached underneath the table and coaxed him to a full state of arousal. He grinned as she pumped away on his mating rod. Beltane and the jukey fix he’d snorted earlier left him feeling as restless and jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. His nerves jangled from the jukey. He hadn’t touched the stuff in years and although it wasn’t an illegal substance, it was a powerful hallucinogenic and made a tom instantly horny and ready to play. Wired, he jumped up, grabbed Emerald by her paw and pulled her along with him through the crowd. She clung to him like a limpet. “Ooo, I just love it when you’re forceful.” She simpered and batted her eyelashes. “Really?” Irritation rippled through Topaz at the green feline’s coyness. Inside the toms' bathroom, he slammed, and locked the door. “Ooo-lah, are you really going to do me in the toms' bathroom?” Topaz shoved the green feline into a receptive bent over position and faced away from him. He lifted her dress over her head, and pushed his cock inside her. “Yeah, I’m really going to do you in the toms' bathroom.” One hard thrust and his release was instantaneous, hard and hot. Emerald huffed and looked over her shoulder. “What's 'a matter with you? You used to give a lady a good time. I’ve always wanted to bond with you. Come on, Topaz, surely you can do me better than that. I love you.”

Tabitha Shay

Topaz laughed and pulled out of her. “You, Emerald, are no lady. I gave you exactly what you asked for. No preliminaries. Bond with me?” He snorted. “Baby, I’m already bonded to Maxine and even if I wasn’t, I sure as hell wouldn’t bond with a tramp like you who spreads her legs for every tom around. Love has never played a part of what has gone on between us. You wanted to be fucked; I fucked you, end of story. Now get the hell outta my sight and leave me the fuck alone. You come near me again and I swear I’ll do more than shag you for my own release. I’ll slit your beautiful throat from ear to furry ear.” Emerald’s green eyes narrowed. She stood up and straightened her gown. “You’ll be sorry you treated me this way. No one uses me and gets by with it.” “Uses you? Listen, Toots, you’ve been well-used for years. You’ve had your hot paws all over me for the last three nights. Hell, I thought you were going to give me a blowjob under the table before we came in here.” Topaz tore open the door. “Get out!” “Don’t think for a moment you will ever get the chance to do me again.” Emerald stormed past him. “Good. Out!” Topaz slammed the door behind the green pussy and braced a paw against the wall. Breathing hard, he thought he was going to be ill from the jukey racing through his bloodstream. “Tsk, tsk. Hell hath no fury like a pussy scorned. You know better than that, Topaz old pal.” Topaz whipped around to see Onyx gliding from behind one of the stall doors. Shit. This was all he needed. Onyx, a sly, solid black tom with a wild reputation for offing the female he shagged once he grew tired of her. Onyx was a friend to no one and very dangerous. “You could have made your presence known.” “Why? I like watching, besides, that was pretty fast. I hardly had time to realize you were going to do it before you did and it was done.” Onyx laughed at his play of words. “Topaz fuckum fast; man, you need to slow down and enjoy a nice piece of ass when you get it.” “Mind your own damned business.” Onyx snickered and ignored Topaz’ bristling hostility. Instead, he pressed a jukey packet in Topaz’ paws. “Here, have a snort on me. You look like you need it. It’s good shit, strong, came straight from Bralia, pure gold.” “I don’t want it.” Topaz shoved the packet back at Onyx. “Chicken shit.” Onyx sneered. “Man, you got no balls. Pure gold jukey can’t be had by just anyone. It’s rare and I’m offering you a snort of the best, friend to friend.” Topaz grabbed the packet from Onyx, snorted the entire contents in one deep sniff and tossed the empty packet in the trash. “Happy, now?” Onyx gave him a sly smile. “Very. Now, take me for instance. I met this little Persian beauty the other night taking a stroll in the woods. Of course, I jumped her bones, and I been rolling the meat to her ever since, but I take my time. That sweet pussy can’t resist me.” He grinned and licked his lips. “I give her a few hits of jukey, got her addicted, now she goes wild. I give her what she wants; she gives me what I want.” Onyx snapped his paws to make his point. “I own her, but I tell you, man, she keeps up the whining and nagging for jukey, I’ll shag her ass and get rid of her. Celine’s a fine, royal piece of pussy, but I can’t stand a nagging bitch.” He threw back his head and

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laughed. “I understand you were climbing the walls to nail the lovely Celine. Afraid I beat you to her. She’s hot, my friend, hot.” Topaz pressed his face against the door after Onyx left. His head whirled. The room spun. His stomach heaved and rolled like a stormy sea. Onyx was shagging Celine? His sweet little love? His very own Persian? He wished the whore-chasing tom’s cock would shrivel up and fall off. Celine was most likely pregnant with Onyx’s kits. Topaz barely made it to the stall before he threw-up. When he came out of the stall, he swayed. Celine, his beautiful, sweet Celine, hooked on jukey. He needed to go to her, save her from Onyx. His legs buckled and he collapsed on the floor. He stared at the ceiling, watched it whirl in a dizzying pattern of black and white squares. Celine. His sweet, sweet Celine, lost forever. Blackness closed around him. His last thought before he sank into the black cloud smothering him was of how much he loved the Persian. *** Topaz knew he was in trouble the minute he opened his eyes. The Catnip Rum, along with the jukey, had done a number on him. A wayward, don’t-give-a-shit mellow feeling punched its way into his gut and settled like a rock. Where was he? He raised his head, but fell back. He closed his eyes and prayed to the gods his stomach would settle before he hurled. The last thing he remembered was being inside the Black Tongue Lounge. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his queasy stomach. “What the hell?” He looked at his wet, sticky paws. Red stained the orange and black stripes. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out what was on him. He looked down at his body. Blood marred the stripes all over his stomach and thighs. He stared at it, puzzled. Then he spotted the switch-blade razor a few feet away. Topaz pushed himself to his feet, bent over, and picked up the blade. “What the hell?” He turned back, searching the spot where he’d been lying. There, just a short space away lay something covered by a newspaper. Topaz shoved the paper aside. “Oh, shit!” There on the back alley street lay a white Persian feline, her throat slit from ear to ear. His lips moved, but no sound came. Which pussy was it? Maxine or Celine? He didn’t know, couldn’t tell. He rested his paw on the Persian’s soft belly. Two kits, their life force drained, lay curled against each other. Moisture dampened his eyes. He swallowed hard. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.” Tears tracked his face. There was no doubt in his mind which Persian lay dead at his feet. Celine. Both kits inside her were males. “Drop the weapon!” Topaz rose to his feet. The damned panther patrol making rounds. “I didn’t do anything.” “I said drop it!” The huge cat fired a round of laser beams. Fierce, glowing red beams smacked Topaz in his chest like live rounds fired from a

Tabitha Shay

Mackha gun. Powpowpow! The shots punched into him. His body flew backward, slamming him into the building behind him. Topaz slid down the brick wall and lay limp and unmoving. A black, smoking hole cratered his chest. The switchblade dropped from his paw, landing with a clatter on the back alley street. “I told you to drop the weapon, asshole.” Chatom re-holstered his weapon, twisted the knob on the tele-com on his shoulder. “I’d like to report a murder. Yes, the scene is secured. I have the perp in custody, dead, but in custody.”

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Diary Entry The night John Tanner returned to his home would never be forgotten or forgiven by the thirteen witches who made up the powerful Coven. As always, the children were what mattered most to the witches and three little girls saw their mother shot by their father. That was unforgivable. The girls would have been slaughtered too if the Coven had not stopped John. The Coven, fiercely protective of all offspring born to their species, assigned the Circle of Three to remove the three girls from the horror that had taken place in the hut. Nyra, the elder of John and Elsbeth’s children, was barely six in human years. Although Nyra had some training, her magical skills were lacking, and she had not yet reached the full potential of her ability to heal. Hysterical, Nyra demanded the right to stay and mend her mother, but Elsbeth’s injury gaped in her chest, a mortal wound that only time could repair. The musket ball had lodged in Elsbeth's heart. There was nothing Nyra could do to save her mother. The child fought the three older witches like a tigress, but of course, Nyra could not win. Times were too unsettled and dangerous in Salem Village. There was no question of leaving Nyra behind. It would not be done. -From the Winslow History of Witches In the Year of Samhain, 1692

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@fxäxÇ Outside the gates of Sanctuary

d

ueen Helayne reached for her cup of tea and paused. She cocked her head. There. It sounded like running feet pounding the ground. She rose, straining to hear against the noise of the wind whipping in a spring rain. Helayne jumped as something scraped the door. Running again, reminding her of a couple of rodents racing across a wood floor or inside walls. She shivered. Living outside the protective magic of Sanctuary’s walls gave her nightmares sometimes. She hadn’t felt safe since the day Black Drayke attacked her. She glanced down at her stomach. Inside her belly, the babe suckled his thumb and blinked. A handsome child to be sure and a miracle—thank the gods; he didn’t look like Black Drayke at all. He didn’t resemble her either, which was odd to her way of thinking. Cyn. She cupped her stomach and felt the babe reach for her with gentle fingers. As always, she jerked her hand back, unable to bear his touch. It was an abomination forced inside her body, and she couldn’t wait to rid herself of the parasite. Helayne jerked and whirled to face the door. The scraping noise grew louder. Suddenly the door slammed inward. The wind howled and screeched in protest. Helayne swallowed hard and backed away from the two creatures invading her home. Demons! Rexxon and Klux. She hadn’t seen either demon in centuries, but she’d never forgotten Kallibus’ personal emissaries. There was a time when demons were welcome in Sanctuary, but when Kallibus, King of the Demons, tried to force her to mate with him one All Hallows’ Eve, Queen Leyla had stepped in and cursed the demons to dwell in eternal darkness. They were no longer welcome in Sanctuary. So how is it they were now, above ground? What do you want? Rexxon, the larger of the two demons crowded her into a corner. Klux slammed the door shut behind them. Rexxon laughed. His beady snake eyes glittered like two slivers of black glass. “Tsk, tsk. So it is true, you cannot speak? Black Drayke did a number on you along with fucking you.” He eyed the slight swelling of her rounded belly. His dark, glowing eyes lit with delight. “Yes, you are filling out nicely.” He shoved her hand out of his way and laid his hand across her belly. “Ahh, Kallibus might be right. It’s too soon to 130

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tell a seedling yet. The boy child is shy. He will not come to greet strangers. ” Rexxon rubbed his hands together and ran his gaze up and down Helayne. “Were that it was me, I would have left your lovely voice intact, but Black Drayke, he is always one to experiment with something new.” Helayne cupped her belly protectively. Leave me be! I asked you what you wanted. Klux waved his hand and yellow sparks shot from his fingertips and zapped Helayne across the mouth. “Enough of these games! You will find you can speak now. We want to hear it from your lips. Whose babe do you nurture? You would know this thing.” Helayne shook her head and parted her lips. “Black Drayke!” she croaked, her throat dry from lack of use. “You lie!” Rexxon accused. “That is no warlock’s babe in your belly.” “Black Drayke is the only one who touched me during my fertile time. It is his child.” “Another lie!” Klux said. “Think you we do not recognize our own even though it be a seedling? You carry the son of Kallibus, next king of Ayrumus and well you know this.” “No.” Queen Helayne backed away from the demons. “The child was fathered by Black Drayke.” They closed around her. Rexxon laughed. “I assure you, Black Drayke did not father the babe. Kallibus made certain Black Drayke’s seed carried no life. Verily, we might not be able to detect our seedlings, but there are other ways to assure it’s our seed that touches a fertile womb. Our king made a visit to the warlock one night while he slept in the arms of MeLora. With the witch’s help, Kallibus and MeLora sterilized Black Drayke. Kallibus would never take the chance of the waken’s seed spilling on fertile ground in you, not when he himself craves a son with you.” Klux grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her. “Through Black Drayke, Kallibus bred you. It is his seed and only his seed that swells your belly. You will come with us now. Kallibus desires you be with him when his son is born. You will obey his summons.” Queen Helayne screamed and struggled against Klux’s grip. The demon clamped his claws tighter around her arm, ripping viciously into her flesh. Klux leaned over her arm and licked the crimson droplets that beaded on her skin. “Hmm, the magic in your blood is strong. You taste rich and delectable. Continue to fight me and I will drain you of every drop.” The demon licked his thick lips. “When I’m finished drinking your blood, I will then attack your son and his mate. I will bathe in their blood and feast on their unborn twins.” Helayne thought she’d be sick. “All right! I’ll come with you, but swear you will not harm my son or his family.” Klux laughed deep in his throat. “I swear it, my soon to be Queen.” Rexxon and Klux guided her through the door outside into the chilly wind. “Free her, demons from hell!” Helayne gasped at the sight of Eldora standing there, blocking Klux and Rexxon’s path. She looked like a human’s idea of a witch. Her skin clung to her bony frame, dry and withered with centuries of age. Her nose was hooked. Nails, long and dangerous, curled from her fingertips like blood-red daggers. A sickly, yellowish-green tint covered her face and arms. Beneath the tall pointy hat on her head, long white hair flowed past her frail shoulders. The skirt of her black gown skimmed lightly across the ground stirring leaves in her path. Prancing along beside her was Felixa, Eldora’s black familiar

Tabitha Shay

cat. The demons shoved Helayne behind them and stepped forward. “Out of our way, crone! Helayne has something our king wants. He intends to collect.” “You will never take Helayne’s son.” Eldora waved her hands. The air around them stilled. No sound filled the woods except for the ragged breaths coming from the demons. The night was suddenly lit with a blinding white light. It completely surrounded Eldora. She stood there, glowing, a mighty force to be reckoned with. In that instant, she flicked her wrists in a snappy move, bolts of light shot from her fingertips straight at the demons. In seconds, there was nothing left of them but two piles of ashes on the ground. As quickly as it came, the powerful light vanished and Eldora looked like her normal self again. She rushed over to Helayne. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine,” Helayne said calmly. “I knew you wouldn’t allow them to take me.” Eldora grinned. “Certainly not! It’s good they granted you your voice back. I couldn’t undo what the waken did.” “I know.” Helayne shivered and watched the pile of ashes dissipate in the wind. “You can no longer hide here the woods. Kallibus will not give you up so easily. He’ll send more demons or he will come for you himself.” “You knew the child belonged to Kallibus all along?” “Yes. I can smell the babe’s demon blood.” “He’s an abomination!” Helayne shuddered. “I can’t bear to give him life.” “He’s a baby and your son.” “No.” Eldora pressed her hand to Helayne’s belly and smiled. “He isn’t evil, Helayne. I don’t know how or why he hasn’t taken his father’s bloodline into his personality, but he looks nothing like Kallibus.” “I know. He has his own looks, but blood will out, Dora. There will be traces of the demon in him. There’s no other possible outcome.” “Very likely, yes, he will have some demon qualities. That can’t be stopped. He is Kallibus’ son. We must go now. I will not leave you here alone again.” Helayne started to deny this but Eldora held up a restraining hand. “We will not argue about this, Helayne. You are coming with me to Talon’s home. He’s grieved something terrible for you. It’s not fair to him. He knows you aren’t dead, but he has no idea you are so close by. Come with me. Now.” Helayne swallowed hard. “He will hate me when he discovers I carry Kallibus’ son.” “Possibly. But we won’t know until we go to him and learn what his reaction will be. Come now, before more demons appear to carry you away to the underground—the demons' domain.”

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Diary Entry To Nyra, the witches’ refusal to allow her to stay with her mother was cruel and unforgivable. In order to protect them, spells were cast on the girls. Their ability to use magic was buried deep in their minds, and even those memories were erased. Saylym, Kirrah and Nyra would never be allowed to remember they were witches until the day their magic chose to return, but they would always be drawn to all things magic, because that is a witch’s nature and could not be erased. The girls were separated, each one taken in a different direction, to be raised and protected by one of the Circle of Three. The sisters were to remain among the mortals, raised as humans. It was a good plan and worked on two of them, but Nyra— Nyra was different and she paid the price for the difference... -From the Winslow History of Witches In the Year of Samhain, 1692

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@X|z{à Salem, Massachusetts Curwen House

[

annah opened her eyes, yawned and started to stretch when she realized she couldn’t move. She glanced down and saw Sage had fallen asleep practically on top of her. His arms trailed along her sides in a protective boundary and his head rested on her stomach. His breath puffed gently on her bare midriff every time he exhaled. His dark hair fell around them like ribbons of black satin. She slid her fingers in his hair, enjoying the silky texture slipping through her fingertips. “Hmm.” His voice sounded drowsy. Her fingers slipped free of his hair as Sage moaned and lifted his head. He smiled at her, so handsome her heart fluttered. She knew if anything ever happened to him, she’d never survive without him. Their lives had always been entwined. She didn’t know how, but she knew he was as essential to her as living and breathing. He trailed light kisses across her belly then looked up at her, his eyes drowsy. “Good morning.” Her heart hammered in her chest as he nuzzled her sheath. “What do you want to do this morning?” he asked, teasing her sheath with his tongue. “Uh—?” her words caught in her throat. She couldn’t think when he did that thing with his tongue to part her inner folds. She swallowed hard and tried again. “Er, yeah— oh, mmm, that, er, right...” He gave her a long, deep penetrating lick, probing deeper. Hannah cried out, locked her fingers in his hair, and held him to her, relishing the way he nibbled and sucked her clit. “Ohh.” She bucked wildly and dug her nails in his shoulders. Her body melted in a blazing rush of liquid heat and magic. Sage rose above her. He was on her and in her in one smooth move. His hot gaze never left her face as he penetrated her to the hilt. He melded his mouth with hers. Their tongues tangled in a dance of passion hot enough to curl her toes. Hannah moaned and moved in the rhythm he set for them In moments, he rocked them both to climax. His chest heaved with ragged breaths and he collapsed on top of her. “Where did you say you wanted to go?” Hannah laughed and held him to her breasts. “I think you beat me to the answer.” Sage raised his head, concern on his face. “Too much? I know last night, well, we 134

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did a lot of things to each other and it felt damned good, in fact it felt great, but you’re new at this. Are you sore?” “Yes...er...a little sore.” He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “I love it when you turn all pink and flustered. How about we shower together and I wash you...all over?” He pulled out of her and rolled off the bed. Hannah squealed when he grabbed her by her heels and pulled her to the edge of the bed and lifted her in his arms. Sage looked down at her, his face suddenly serious. “I know I’ve told you before and I know I said it dozens of times last night, but I love you, Hannah Miller. I feel you inside my soul. You fit there.” Hannah laughed softly and nuzzled his neck. “Don’t ever stop telling me you love me. You have a lot of years to make up for. I’ve told you I’ve loved you forever in my dreams.” He pressed a light kiss to her mouth. “I love you, mau-ley.” He headed across the room. “Shower or bubbles?” He waggled his dark brows. “Bubbles, oh, yes, definitely bubbles.” *** Hours later, and after thoroughly enjoying the bubbles produced by the Jacuzzi, Hannah and Sage strolled hand in hand across the street to the Captain Nathaniel West’s home, part of the Salem Inn, where a complimentary, continental breakfast was served in the cellar of the house built in 1853. The cellar was in the original kitchen of the home and still had a beehive oven, though it was no longer usable. The house itself was four stories with a number of staircases that didn’t meet up. Long corridors led off in multiple directions. The rooms were strangely numbered due to the fact that the three original townhouses were numbered five, seven and nine, so depending on which house a guest stayed in determined how their room was numbered. If guests stayed in house five, then their room numbers began with the number five and so on. Hannah looked around the cellar with curiosity, eyeing the beehive oven. “Just imagine, we’re actually sitting down and having a meal at a house that has so much history, it’s incredible.” They selected fresh fruit and coffee and settled to eat their meal. When they finished, Sage looked around and grimaced. “Uh, can we go to the library soon? I’m beginning to feel slightly trapped.” Hannah grinned and shook her head. The cellar was filling with the Inn’s guests. There was no way Sage would ever be comfortable among humans. “Yes. I’m ready.” She took a final sip of her coffee and followed his lead from the cellar and out into the sunlight. “The Salem Library is only a few blocks away. It’s so pretty out; do you want to walk?” Sage cupped her elbow and steered her around a group of tourists who were looking and gawking and not paying much attention where they were going. “Walking sounds great,” he said and slipped his fingers between hers. Dinka chose that moment to poke her head over the top of Sage’s shirt. “This having babies are for the birds. Dinka no like feel sick all time.”

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“Sssh.” Sage pushed her down. “You can’t talk while we’re in a crowd.” “Dinka just want to say she feels sooo bad and ready go home and lay eggs near babbling brook.” “We’ll leave today, Dinka,” Hannah assured the frog, “just as soon as we’re finished at the library. I promise.” Sage looked at her, surprise on his face. “You’re ready to return to Ru-Noc with me?” Hannah nodded. “Yes. I just thought we might be able to discover something useful here before we leave.” “Dinka, how long before we have to leave?” “A few hours, my Sage, then Dinka must lay eggs in land of magic.” Hannah felt a chill slither down her spine the moment they entered the library. The hushed atmosphere created an eeriness that closed around them. She couldn’t believe there wasn’t a single person browsing among the endless rows of bookshelves. She flinched when the door slammed shut behind them and she heard the lock snap in place. She whirled around, her mouth gaping. “What in—” “Have no fear.” Sage gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s a magical library, one created by the witches. It must be thousands of years old.” “How do you know this?” “I can smell the age of the building and the crone is ancient. I can hear her bones creak when she moves in the chair.” “But—” “Relax, mau-ley, humans cannot see this building. We are the only ones who know it exists, outside of the librarian and the other witches.” “Other witches?” “The ones who helped her create this place.” He nodded to the white-haired librarian seated behind a desk, and they progressed across the long, marble tiled hall to where she sat watching them over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. “About time you found your way here!” she snapped, glaring at Hannah. “It’s certainly taken you long enough. I’m Relda and I’ve been waiting centuries for you, simply centuries!” Hannah reared back in surprise. “Are you talking to me?” “Who else would I be talking to, if not you, young woman? What took you so long?” Hannah blinked. “I think you have me confused with someone else.” The woman snorted. “Not likely. I can smell the human scent you were cursed with, but I know my own kind when I see one. Thank the gods you aren’t like her.” She arched a silver brow. “Hmm, you do resemble her though.” Hannah’s stomach knotted. She thought she’d pass out. “Like who? Who do I look like?” “Why, Aurra, of course. You’re the spittin’ image of your great, great, grandmother.” Hannah swayed. Sage wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to a chair. “Are you all right?” She nodded. “I have no clue just who Aurra is or was.” “I don’t recognize the name either, but it’s no surprise to me. Our history has been lost for centuries.” He turned a hard glare on the librarian. “My mate is with child, witch.

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You can’t just drop these announcements on her. She doesn’t know witch-ways.” “Of course she doesn’t! How could she after living life as a human? But her guardians knew one day she’d come here. The book is here. It has always been here, as well as the statue. Come along. Come along. We have no time to dawdle. The statue started humming a couple of days ago and the jewels started glowing yesterday. I knew you’d be here soon. Hurry! There isn’t much time and you must read the book of legends first, before you can ever venture to the statue.” “The Book of Legends?” Hannah frowned. “Is that the title?” “No dearie, the title is, “Ye Olde Tales and Legends of Witches. Come. Come.” She guided them down a corridor to an elevator. The door opened at her command and they stepped inside. The elevator shot down in a flash of blinding light, screeched to a sudden stop and the doors swished open to the fading sound of cackling laughter. They stepped past the doors into a cavernous room. “Dinka no like fast rides.” Dinka stuck her head out of Sage’s shirt and blinked. “Fast ride make Dinka hurl her innards.” Relda laughed. “That frog is full of eggs. Better get her to water soon or you’re going to be carrying those babies in your pocket until they hatch.” Sage grimaced. “She said we have a few hours yet.” Relda snickered. “Very few. You better read that book fast, unless you want to be daddy to thousands of tadpoles.” Relda pointed to a table at the end of the corridor. “I leave you here.” “Where did she go?” Hannah whirled around but the elevator door had already sealed shut and Relda was gone in a blink. “Her job is finished, sweetheart. She’s merely a guardian, holding the book for you until you appeared. She might have returned to Sanctuary.” The smaller area where the table set was no larger than a five-by-five cell. An ancient tome rested in the center of the table. A floating lantern hovered overhead and spotlighted the book. Sage took hold of her hand and together they approached the book. Two chairs appeared instantly. He held out a chair for her. Hannah let go of his hand and slid onto the chair. “I don’t understand. Why have I been chosen to read this book?” “I guess the only way to find out is to read it.” Sage sat down beside her. Hannah stroked the tome with an unsteady finger. It was covered in supple black leather. “I’m almost afraid to. I’m afraid whatever is in it, I won’t like.” Sage opened the book cover. “We don’t have the option of refusing. Just remember, baby, I’m right here beside you, no matter what.” Hannah shivered. A strange feeling passed through her, dark and prophetic. She shoved the tome away. “I don’t want to read it. Whatever secrets the book contains will tear us apart.” Sage laughed. “Baby, there is nothing going to split us apart. I love you, you love me. That’s what is important. What could possibly have happened in the past to affect us now? Nothing.” Hannah nodded, pulled the tome closer, and read the first line aloud. “In the time before time, before recorded history, there came a family of royal witches, known only as the Winslow Witches.” ***

Tabitha Shay

A few hours later, Hannah read the last lines of the tome aloud. “And it came to be, to the evil witch MeLora and the warlock, Black Drayke, another abomination was conceived. The babe was born with the powerful magic of her ancestors, the gift passed down to her from Aurra, the most powerful witch ever born. MeLora, jealous and envious of the gift bestowed upon the babe, placed a permanent hex on the infant. She enveloped her with the scent of a human so no witch or waken would recognize her as one of their own, then she wiped away the babe’s memory of being a magical creature. She stole the gift of magic granted the child, and when MeLora finished draining the babe of her magical energy, she abandoned her in the woods. The Coven claimed the child and placed her in the care of Zekla Winslow and Bymon. The babe was given the name of Hau-Nah.” Hannah closed the book and turned to look at Sage. “Hau-Nah?” “Hannah,” Sage corrected absently. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her in his life. Anger and hostility etched his face. “Hau-Nah means Hannah. You’re MeLora and Black Drayke’s daughter.” His voiced sounded choked and filled with disbelief. “The daughter of the witch who nearly killed me and tried to kill Saylym. Daughter of the witch I’ve sworn to destroy.” He scooted his chair back from the table and leaped up, his fists clenched at his sides. Hannah rose to her feet. “I—” She broke off when he backed away from her shaking his head. She reached out a trembling hand to touch him. “Please, I didn’t know.” Sage hit her with a blast of energy from his fingertips. The invisible force stung her face and chest and knocked her backward. “Don’t come near me. You’re an abomination sired from the loins of blood relatives and my enemies, my family’s enemies. There is no creature more despised by a witch or waken than a U-nullbred. You’re disgusting.” Hannah flinched as if he’d struck her with his fist. Cold chills swept over her, crusting her blood with a layer of ice. She shivered. Something inside her curled up and died from his cruel words. She gasped and backed away from him, clutching her heart. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, but she could feel the pain, the hurt and it cut bonedeep to her soul. She stared blankly at the floor, her mind numb. Her soul and heart felt layered with ice. She swallowed hard and fought the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. He might as well have stabbed her through the heart. Dinka poked her head up and glared at Hannah with fierce yellow eyes. “Dinka warned my Sage, you nothing but ugly troll woman, not good enough for my Sage, but him wouldn’t leave him zipper zipped. My Sage just have to stick him big cock in you and have him fun with low-life scum witch. Ugly troll woman not only stink like human, but she made from evil and is creature of witch bitch and demon warlock, stay away from my Sage or Dinka cause all your hair to fall out and teeth to rot. You kissy-kissy with him and steal him seed. Next thing, you will try and steal him magic. You evil gris-gris troll!” Hannah lifted her chin. She took Sage and Dinka in, in one glance. “You know none of that is true. I love you, Sage. I would never do anything to harm either one of you. Never!”

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“Born of two deceivers, you aren’t trustworthy.” Sage turned on his heel and headed toward the elevator. He paused, turned back and stared at her, his lip curled with scorn. “I never want to see you again. Do not return to Sanctuary, Hannah. If you do, Talon or Saylym will destroy you. And if they don’t, I will.” He waved his hand and opened a portal. Hannah watched the portal slam closed behind him, unable to speak. The man of her dreams had just abandoned her, as if nothing intimate had ever happened between them, as if they’d never joined their bodies, shared their secrets, and created a life from their love. Hannah cupped the tiny mound of life blooming in her stomach, and at last, gave in to the terrible hurt. She slid to the floor on her knees and rocked back and forth. She looked around, overwhelmed by the need to shed tears. Something was terribly wrong. Her eyes burned, but they remained dry. She’d always been able to cry, but suddenly, she no longer had the ability to weep. Instead, her heart contracted painfully, as if a hand wrapped around it and squeezed and squeezed it. The warmth of crimson tears leaked into the cavity of her chest, each one as sharp as a scarlet-tipped dagger. Hannah clutched her heart and moaned. She’d never felt such intense pain before in her life. The last words Sage uttered to her burned through her brain like a hot poker. I never want to see you again. Do not return to Sanctuary, Hannah. If you do, Talon or Saylym will destroy you. And if they don’t, I will. Hannah trembled and pressed her hand harder against her heart. She told herself the pain would go away soon, but she had a feeling it never would. *** Relda waited above on the first floor. She lifted her aged head and shivered at the sound of the haunting wail rising from the cavernous floor below. The stars never lied. Not once in her centuries of living had the stars ever deceived. She knew the handsome waken would leave Hannah heartbroken. Relda sighed. There was more. She’d wait right here until all was revealed to the young witch.

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Diary Entry Elsbeth’s body was secured in a container unit by the Coven and given over to Queen Shy-Ryn’s care. Although it was rare for Queen Shy-Ryn to visit the mortal realm, she felt she should visit her nieces and assure Nyra that one day, Elsbeth would reunite with her soul and return. Only a betrayal from within could have alerted the authorities in Salem Village to the queen’s presence. In a matter of hours, a warrant was served on Queen Shy-Ryn and she was arrested for using witchcraft. MeLora stirred the angry and frightened villagers into frenzy against her mother. Queen Shy-Ryn’s trial was skipped. She was taken to the stake, tied and burned without benefit of trial. Burning was the one sure way to secure a witch’s absolute and permanent death. It was a blessing no one knew where Queen Shy-Ryn had hidden Elsbeth’s body, or else, MeLora would have made certain her aunt was burned too. Thank the gods MeLora shrugged the girls off as unimportant and made little effort to locate them in the mortal realm. Although Queen Shy-Ryn had proclaimed one of her nieces the heir to the throne, MeLora was secure in her own magic and ability to seize the throne. This wasn’t as easy an accomplishment as she thought. -From the Winslow History of Witches In the Year of Samhain, 1692

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V{tÑàxÜ gãxÇàç@a|Çx Sanctuary

V

reed opened his eyes and immediately wished he’d remained unconscious. Three wakens studied him with varying degrees of interest. Saul, his faded blue eyes dulled by centuries of living, watched him with mild curiosity. Katch’s wise gaze gleamed with silent appraisal as if judging him worthy to be a member of his family. Teek’s furious stare, however, still held traces of the desire to euthanize him. Creed reared up in bed and propped a pillow behind his head. Saul and Teek both jumped back as though they believed he was going to attack them. He moaned and grabbed his shoulder. “Relax wakens, although I love raw meat, I haven’t resorted to cannibalism... yet.” “That’s nice to hear, brother.” Creed caught a flash of movement from his right and turned his head. “Ransom? When did you get here?” His younger brother stood up and stretched his tall, lanky frame. “Not long. You’ve only been asleep a couple of hours. I’d better warn you though; Bane is on his way home from the academy. He’s a bit upset over you not sending for him, too.” “How did Bane find out I was injured? You?” Ransom gave a deep yawn. His dark, shaggy hair fell past his shoulders. He had a laid-back attitude that fooled many. Ransom never got excited, never lost his temper, and he remained ice-cold under fire. Other than Talon, there was no one Creed would rather have cover his back than his brother, except for perhaps Bane, his youngest brother. Ransom grinned. “Guilty, as charged. When I received word you were shot with silver, I had no idea how seriously you were hurt. If I hadn’t sent for him and you ...well—I’d hate like hell to be on the receiving end of Bane’s temper. You know damned well what a hot-head he is.” He edged to the side of the bed, moving with that slow, lazy way he had of walking. No wasted movement, no burning of excess energy. “I got here right after you passed out from those sissy wounds. I can’t believe you let a little silver knock you on your ass.” Although Ransom teased, Creed saw the rage and concern in his brother’s eyes. “You brought the wolf bane?” Ransom snorted. His silvery gaze narrowed. “I applied the salve to your wounds as soon as I arrived. I examined them again about thirty minutes ago when Talon’s mate came in to change the bandages. The wolf bane is working, but it’s going to be slow.

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Entrance and exit wounds along with the silver leaving its poison as it ripped through the muscle; it’s damned hard to heal damage like that. ” “Did you see—?” “Yes. I saw the moons in her eyes. A witch? Your future mate is a witch?” Ransom shook his head. “You know what that means? What you will have to do to her? At best, it won’t be easy and the pack will find it hard to accept an outsider.” “I know.” Ransom rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad it’s you and not me. I’m going to search for more wolf bane. I only gathered enough for one application. I’ll be back soon.” “Be careful.” Ransom snorted. “I’ll certainly watch my back. I have no desire to be shot with a silver arrow.” Creed watched his brother leave and grunted, and at last, he gave into the steady pain tormenting him. The wounds in his back and chest throbbed beneath their bandages, reminding him he was far from recovered. Even when they were fully healed, the silver would leave a terrible scar. He muttered under his breath and adjusted the covers across his lap. Damn. His entire body burned. He knew it wasn’t just from the wounds. The next full moon would rise tomorrow night. He needed to be away from Talon’s home before that happened. He not only needed to be away, but if at all possible, he needed to stay away. Someday, Saylym would carry his mate and future queen. He couldn’t be around when she gave birth, or he would whisk the infant away, and have her raised and guarded by his own kind. Talon would never forgive him if he stole the babe from them. He would wait, for as long as it took, but he couldn’t remain in Ru-Noc to do it. He’d go insane with fear of something happening to his future mate. Katch cleared his throat and smoothed his white beard. “You must leave here, Creed, but never doubt, when the time comes, you’ll be welcomed back.” Creed nodded. “It would not matter if I was welcomed, Wizard. She is my only hope. My future and the future of my race depend on this one female. Peyton is mine.” “Peyton? You know her name and yet she hasn’t been conceived?” “I’ve always known her name. I just didn’t know who her mother was until I met Saylym.” Katch rubbed his jaw. “I know little about your species, except Lycans are clannish. Their mating habits are a well-guarded secret, but in order to mate with a female from another species and ensure fertilization, wouldn’t you have to convert your mate?” “Yes.” “How do you do this?” “As you said, the mating habits of my species are secret.” Creed sighed. You don’t want to know. Katch blew out a puff of air and shook his head. “I have a feeling I should have allowed Teek to euthanize you, but even I am not allowed to tamper with the future.” Creed flung back the covers and scooted to the edge of the bed. “The time of the next full moon approaches. I must leave as soon as Ransom returns.” He grinned. “But you have a hundred years, old man, to figure out a way to stop me from claiming what is mine.”

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç Salem, Massachusetts

[

annah climbed to her feet, hunched over like an old woman too bent with age to stand straight. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and swallowed back the hurt of Sage’s desertion. How could he do that to her? How could he look at her with such icy disdain? Okay, so he didn’t have to love her or even like her, but dammit, she was going to have his baby. How could he just turn and leave her like she was nothing to him? Like he’d never kissed her, held her, or whispered, “I love you,” in the heat of passion. Impotent fury filled her. Her temper simmered to a boil. She clenched her hands into tight fists. She wished he was here right this moment. She’d kick his ass up to a hundred and ten, then sit down and watch it register. Her jaw tightened. Obviously, he’d lied to her the entire time he was having his way with her. He didn’t love her. He took what he wanted, had his nights of fun, and now it was finished. Well, he might have broken her heart and left it bruised and bleeding, but her spirit rebelled at such treatment. How dare he treat her as if she was some kind of low-life scum not good enough to spit on his boots? She had no control over who her parents were and if Sage couldn’t realize or understand or even accept who and what she was, then he wasn’t the man of her dreams. She put a hand to her eye to control the tic that throbbed there. How dare he order her to stay away from Sanctuary? She’d be damned if she obeyed him like some meek and spineless creature. Mr. All Powerful Waken, Magic Man, Sage. Huh! He had a lot to learn about her. Giving her orders, well, that just didn’t go down well. No one was keeping her from returning to Sanctuary. She tapped her foot while she tried to figure out a way back there. No one threatened her and got by with it. Why, if she ever got her hands on a magic wand (if such a thing existed) she’d shove it up his wazoo and turn him inside out. Hannah turned to head in the direction of the elevator when a low, vibrating hum snagged her attention. She stilled and looked around the room. There was nothing but the table, chairs, tome and floating lantern. Hummmm! The soft, steady drone sounded as if it came from behind the rock wall. Hannah moved closer to the stone wall and pressed her ear against it. The wall vibrated. A panel slid open so quickly, she tumbled head first inside a gaping black hole. Landing on her belly, she cascaded down the slick, smooth ramp and landed on her hands and knees.

Tabitha Shay

She patted the ground. She’d landed in soft, sandy soil. “Ahhh!” Crack! The panel above her slammed shut. In complete darkness, Hannah screamed, and hustled to her feet. She whirled around waving her hands and arms, but couldn’t feel anything except empty air in front of her face. Oh, she so did not like this. She wanted out and she wanted out now. Hannah kept feeling for a wall, but the more she moved around, the more disoriented she felt, as if she’d been riding a merry-go-round in the dark. Sealed inside with nothing but the eerie dark for a companion, she knew there was no point in screaming any more. No one could hear her screams, except her, and besides, she’d already screamed until her voice was hoarse. She hoped her eyes would adjust to the endless void of space, then maybe she’d be able to see something, but even after at least an hour passed, it was still impossible to detect anything in the stygian black. Goose bumps shot up and down her body. She shivered, and wondered bleakly if she’d been sealed inside her tomb. Then she heard a low vibration, the return of the steady hum. Soft lighting flickered on, suddenly replaced the inky darkness. Hannah blinked. Her gaze widened. “Oh, God.” “Welcome, Hannah. I’ve waited for you a very long time.”

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@bÇx Annu Mountain The Noddon Caverns Ayrumus

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eep inside the underground city of Ayrumus, Kallibus clenched his scaly, leathery fists and roared with frustrated rage. The sound bounced off the winding, twisting stone walls in sharp echoes. Stalagmites and stalactites shattered and rolled across the stone floor like misshapen rock marbles. His anger wasn’t so much over the fact he’d lost his two demons, Rexxon and Klux, it was the fact that the opportunity to capture Queen Helayne and his son had slipped through his fingers. Two new sentries, Krame and Mulak, stood before him, heads bowed with shame or fear. He wasn’t sure which, but he knew they’d failed him just as Rexxon and Klux had. Mulak raised his thick head. His hairless skull was deformed with leathery bumps that stood several inches high. “Master, forgive us for our failure, but the witch protecting the queen is powerful. Her magic is as strong as a wizard’s. Rexxon and Klux were nothing but a pile of black ashes scattered by the wind.” “Who did this?” Kallibus asked. Who is this witch with such power? Name her!” “Eldora, my Master.” Kallibus snorted. “Eldora? That useless old hag? I’ll rip out her insides and feed them to Auk-Rus.” Kallibus shifted his gaze to the huge, black two-headed lion that rested on the floor beside the granite throne, then turned back to stare at his demons. “You allowed a witch as ancient as time to kill two of my best demons? It would have been better if you two had sacrificed your lives for theirs. Why didn’t either of you help them?” His eyes burned, as if two pieces of hot coals had been placed over them and left to sear away his eyeballs. The power of the magic gained from the drinking of a witch’s blood did strange things to a demon. It gave him a taste of forbidden magic, like consuming too much of the human’s chocolate. Magic caused the heart to flutter and race, blood soared hot and fierce and pooled between his thighs. It increased the urge to mate. Every time he drank Black Drayke’s blood, every part of his body roared with new life and an intensity that made him ache. Even now, when he needed to punish Mulak and Krame, all he could think about was mating with Helayne again. Once, his need for a female could be easily slaked, now, since he’d had the sweet relief of joining his body with Queen Helayne’s, he needed to fuck all the time. He’d tried

Tabitha Shay

gaining relief with a couple of the female demons, but they no longer satisfied him. He wanted his mate. He wanted the son he’d planted in Helayne’s womb. Not just this son, but the chance to breed many sons with her. He waved a hand to dismiss his demons, then thought better of it. “Go to the deepest recesses of Ayrumus, gather my army, every single male demon and bring them to me.” “But Master,” Krame complained. “There are thousands of demons in those caverns.” “And you will not fail me a second time. I will know if one is missing. Bring them, and tell them to come prepared for battle.” “Battle, Master?” Mulak sounded puzzled. “We go to Sanctuary to bring back my mate, Queen Helayne, and my son. Failure is unacceptable. We will bring them both to Ayrumus and there is nothing that anyone can do to stop us.”

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@gãÉ Sanctuary

X

ldora flung open the door and, uncharacteristically, rushed into Talon and Saylym’s living room. “There were demons in the woods tonight!” she announced. “I blasted the ugly bastards to smithereens,” she added, with a hint of superior smugness, cackled and rubbed her hands together. “Better than that, I brought you a gift.” She stepped aside. Talon looked up from where he sat beside Saylym rubbing her back. His hands stilled. His heart picked up its rhythm. “Mother?” He jumped to his feet, took three steps toward her before he froze. His gaze settled on her rounded belly. Talon stared wordlessly. His nostrils flared from the stench emanating from her womb. Chills rolled down his back and settled in his gut, a cold, icy lump of despair. A demon. His mother nurtured a demon inside her. His breath hitched. His heart squeezed hard, struggling to pump a single drop of blood. Gods. He felt as if every puff of air had been wrung from his body and he’d been tossed aside, an empty shell, useless as a porous bone. How his mother must have suffered. A demon had bred her, but not just any demon. Kallibus, the King of Ayrumus, who would assuredly want his son. It had been rumored for centuries he needed an heir for his kingdom. “Sheeahta.” His mother was in serious trouble. They all were. Even with Saylym’s magic and the power of the emeralds embedded on her nails, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to protect Helayne. He knew Kallibus well enough to know the demon king would leave no stone unturned in the quest for his son. He might even want Helayne. As a rule, demons didn’t mate or breed at random. The males selected a female very carefully, then they found a way to isolate the one they chose. It mattered not if the female was willing; she was taken to Ayrumus and never allowed above ground again. A demon’s ability to fertilize a female was seriously impugned, unless they could possess another male’s body to pump their seed inside the female. If the demon was determined to claim a life mate, then he would most certainly possess a body and plant his seed. Obviously, Kallibus was quite serious about Helayne. Talon stood before his mother. Uncertainty lined her brow. Shame filled her eyes. “Mother,” he said softly, and pulled her into his arms. “You did nothing wrong. I

Tabitha Shay

know what happened. I don’t love you any less because of it. Please, I want you to stay with us.” Queen Helayne’s knees buckled. She clutched his shirt and cried out. Her slender body shook. She lacked the ability to cry, but a heart-wrenching sob tore through her, ripping at his heart. Talon held her tight, supporting her. “Mom, you need to sit down.” He guided her to a chair and lowered her onto it. Talon hunkered down in front of her. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need anything?” She shook her head. “I just want to look at you. Touch you.” She traced the hard outline of his jaw. “You’re going to be a father.” Saylym jumped to her feet and rushed over to her mate’s side. Talon released his mother’s hand and took Saylym’s, pulling her closer. “Mother, I’d like you to meet my mate, Saylym Winslow, Saylym, my mother, Queen Helayne.” Saylym took the older woman’s hands, noted the twisted stubs and swallowed hard. “I’m so honored to meet you at last.” She bowed gracefully, then rose. “Welcome to our home.” Eldora patted Helayne on the back. “Let’s all have a nice cup of sassafras tea and Helayne can tell you everything.” Talon helped his mother across the room and they all settled around the table. Tea and talk? He laughed. How his life had changed in the last couple of weeks. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the ugly details of what had happened to his mother, but maybe she needed to tell it as a way of cleansing her soul. He’d listen, if that’s what she needed. He knew in his heart whatever had happened, his mother had suffered terribly, and Black Drayke and MeLora were behind it all. One day soon, he was going to make damned certain those two paid for their crimes.

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@g{Üxx Salem, Massachusetts

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annah stared at the incredibly huge statue of a woman and realized events in her life had been like a guiding star. All the narrow, bumpy roads, those long and lonely years, and those filled with love and laughter, had led her straight here, to this single unbelievable moment in time. A captive audience, her jaw dropped. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. She could only gawk in utter silence. It was so hypnotic, it was impossible not to believe life shimmered just beneath the smooth, cold alabaster. Cold? No, there was nothing cold about the statue. There was common life in it—in a most uncommon way. Slender arms reached out, beckoning the observer. The eyes were closed, shutting out the world, but at the same time, somehow, it knew everything going on around it. A secretive smile curved the perfectly chiseled full lips. Rounded breasts that had most certainly invited a man’s touch were bared to the world without shame. The impression of gauzy material draped casually about her lap hid the rest of her feminine secrets from further view. Hannah’s gaze trailed down the statue’s arms to the tips of her fingers. Because of the position of the statue’s hands, she didn’t, at first, see the dull gleam of the rubies encrusted in the stone nail beds. She swallowed hard when it dawned on her exactly what she was looking at, a fortune in semi-precious jewels. She shook her head as it suddenly dawned on her the statue hadn’t actually spoken. It wasn’t truly alive. It wasn’t warm. It was a damned lifeless statue, but it hummed with power and magic. The words it wanted her to hear had been planted in her head, sweet and inviting, but silent as death. Hannah stood in awe, drinking in every detail, and knew Relda had been telling the truth. She was an exact replica of the woman carved in the smooth alabaster. Before she had time to absorb this truth, a bolt of electrical energy slammed into her body from the statue’s fingertips. She gasped and doubled over. Still, the zaps of strange lights snaked toward her, hitting her with one strike after another until she was knocked, first to her knees, then punched backward, flat on her ass, then her back. She couldn’t move as a radiant, bluish-white glow of magic outlined her trembling body. She lay there, glowing like an extraterrestrial being. She panted. Sweat poured off her body, dampening her clothes. Although she was burning up, she shivered. Finally, the glow dissipated, leaving her lying there in abrupt silence.

Tabitha Shay

Her body zinged with incredible power. Her head, so stuffed with magic, felt as if it was going to explode. Her body throbbed, pulsing with new life and energy. Her fingernails burned. She didn’t care. She couldn’t move or breathe. Her breasts rose and fell in ragged, uncoordinated jerks as she struggled to draw in a single, life-giving particle of air. “Uhhhhh,” she wheezed. “Uhhhhh.” Christ, she sounded like Dinka croaking in heat or someone with a bad case of asthma. “Uhhhhh.” She tried again to draw in a breath of air. It wasn’t happening. No air, no life. Suffocation was most certainly imminent. Breathe, Hannah. Breathe! Relax and breathe. Slowly. Slowly. Sweet air filled her lungs, the first taste more delicious than honey, more precious than gold. Ahhh! Much better. She tried again, and managed a second and a third, until finally, her breasts rose and fell in normal rhythm. Welcome Hannah, daughter of my daughter’s daughter. I’ve waited the passing of many centuries to hand down the next set of precious jewels. See the stones on your fingertips and guard them well for there surely are those who covet them, their magic and their power. Hannah raised her hands, stunned to see the blood-red rubies on her own fingernails. Ouch! No wonder her hands burned. Gift of power? “I thought all my powers were stolen by MeLora.” Most of it was, except for a tiny reserve discovered inside you centuries ago. The one who craves them shall never be granted her heart’s desire. The stones choose the wearer. They are yours, a gift from the divine Goddess of Right and Wrong. Go now, to Sanctuary. Along with the stones, you will be needed there one day soon. A brutal war hovers on the horizon. “A war?” A royal war, one that has been in the making for centuries. Hannah jumped when a door dropped open at the base of the statue and a stone bed slid forward. A large book, wrapped in cloth and a layer of dust, occupied the space. Take the diary, Hannah. It is the second of three. You will find that Saylym Winslow has the first. The third is yet to be revealed. Go now. Return to Sanctuary. Return to your destiny. Hannah nodded, although she knew the statue couldn’t possibly see her. The panel above her slid open, the steps beside the slide fully lit. Hannah? Hannah whirled around at the summons. Forgive him, child. Sage loves you with all his heart and soul. True love is hard to find. You have the ability at your fingertips to destroy him. Revenge can be costly in the long run. Listen to your heart and know the truth. Hannah swallowed hard and turned away once more. That doesn’t mean you can’t kick his ass. For a moment, Hannah paused, then a smile curved her lips. If there was one thing she was good at, it was kicking ass.

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@YÉâÜ Sanctuary

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n the magical forest that surrounded Sanctuary, Sage watched Dinka hop from lily pad to lily pad in the small pond near Talon’s millhouse. He gave a sigh of relief. Dinka was feeling better, thank the gods. She’d deposited her eggs a couple of days ago and now seemed back to her normal, daring self. She drew near the bank and stared at him with those big inquisitive eyes. “What wrong, my Sage? Ever since my Sage leave him ugly troll woman, he not smile. My Sage unhappy camper, face gloomy all time. Dinka think my Sage’s heart broke to million pieces. No be able to piece heart together again. Not be whole until him back with him mate and him little baby troll he make while doing wild thing.” “I left her, Dinka. I turned and walked away. She’s going to have my baby, my son, and I left her alone, defenseless. Black Drayke could decide to go after her. I have to go back.” “Dinka left her studly bullfrog behind, too. My Herman, him have one big cock that get the job done, but Dinka not about to allow losing biggest cock she ever had get her down. Dinka gonna climb right back in the saddle and ride ‘em cowboy. Dinka not about to return to stinking, human world, no siree, Dinka find her a studly mate with big cock right here in land of magic.” Sage laughed in spite of the ache in his heart. “I swear you have a single-track mind. I thought you were going to give up sex.” She rolled her eyes. “Dinka not crazy, my Sage. Dinka like frog with big coc—” “All right! I know what you like.” “Sage?” Sage whipped around at the question in his cousin’s voice. “Talon, I’m over here.” Talon rounded the corner of the millhouse and stopped near the churning water wheel. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. There’s a festival in Sanctuary. The witches are building a big bonfire tonight. Some are going to dance around the Maypole, and make themselves available.” Sage grimaced. He’d been back two days and already Talon was acting like his older brother. “Don’t, Talon.” Talon looked puzzled. “Don’t what?” Sage held out his hands. “Do you see an eye patch anywhere or a sling on either of my arms? I’m not the same man I was before. I’m not reckless or interested in seducing and bedding a witch. Don’t treat me like I’m that same person I was before. I’m bonded. I have a son who will be born on All Hallows’ Eve.”

Tabitha Shay

Talon tried to hide his shock. He’d had no idea Sage had bonded. His cousin had been very quiet and solemn since his return. He’d answered few questions and where he’d always been outgoing and the center of a crowd, now he tended to go off by himself and spend hours alone. “Who is she?” Talon asked. “Who have you bonded with?” Sage rubbed a hand down his face, rocked back on his heels, and finally said, “Hannah Miller.” “What!” Talon exploded. “Are you crazy? You bonded with a human? Do you have any idea the seriousness of what you’ve done? And you bred her? She’ll die and so will the babe.” Sage’s mouth tightened. “I know very well what I’ve done. It’s you who doesn’t have a clue.” “No,” Talon gritted. “I don’t believe you realize that even though Ru-Noc is in a state of turmoil with no solid leader on the throne, the Guild lives in my home. They might not dwell in the palace anymore, but their laws haven’t changed one iota. They will demand her immediate execution and possibly yours.” “For the god’s sake, Talon, Hannah isn’t human. She’s a fooking witch! A fooking royal-blooded witch.” “How do you know?” “Because I saw her fooking witchmarks; how the hell do you think I know? Samhain! When we bonded, the damn Flaymes nearly caught me off-guard. And I can tell you, I had no intention of breeding her. I had every intention of spilling my seed outside her body. The magic took over and my son was created.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that! I had no control.” Talon frowned. “I don’t understand. She smelled like a human. I—” “She still does,” Sage interrupted. “She might always carry the human scent. She was cursed at birth, most of her magic stolen. Gods, Talon, we have bigger things to worry about than the fact that Hannah smells human. Her fooking mother is MeLora. Her father is Black Drayke. Worse, Black Drayke is MeLora’s blood uncle. Hannah is a U-nullbred.” Talon’s mouth dropped open. “Gods, Sage! Saylym is an Impure. I don’t love her any less because of her bloodline. What the hell is the matter with you?” “You don’t understand. I swore I’d kill MeLora. How do you think Hannah will feel if I destroy her mother? The last thing I ever expected was to fall in love with the daughter of our worst enemy.” “It doesn’t matter, unless of course you believe Hannah will go to MeLora, side with her in this war?” “I don’t know what she will do or how she feels about MeLora or Black Drayke. I didn’t give her a chance to tell me how she felt. I have to go back.” Talon arched both brows. “Return? You? To the world of humans? That doesn’t sound like the Sage I know.” Sage raked fingers through his hair. “I’ll face any human I have to, hell, I’ll even fly on one those fooking metal birds if I have to, but I have to go back, explain to her.” Talon grinned. “You’ll have to grovel.” “Grovel?” “Yeah, a female always expects a man to grovel to win her back.” “Sheeahta.”

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“Groveling is a good thing.” “Sure, it is. Did you have to grovel to win Saylym?” “Damned straight I did. It was humbling, but worth it.” Talon laughed, then sobered. “One thing, just remember that time flows differently between our realms. If she’s cursed with a human scent, she could also be cursed with their aging process. Hannah could be an old woman when you return.” Talon hesitated, then continued. “She could even have the short life span of a mortal. She might be dead.” “Fook!” “Exactly.”

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@Y|äx Mojave Desert

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he last thing Sage expected to see was two little dark-haired boys playing in the front yard of Hannah’s ranch house. His heart swelled inside his chest. His breath lodged somewhere between his gut and his throat. Who were these children? One looked to be about four, the other, possibly two. Was one of the boys his son? They looked up from playing with their cars in the sand when he swung open the gate and entered the yard. The older boy jumped up, yelling, “Daddy, daddy. There’s a strange man in the yard!” The screen door opened and a tall, rugged-looking man of about thirty stepped out, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Can I help you mister? I’m not buying anything if that’s what you’re here for.” The two little boys wrapped their arms around the man’s legs and held on. Sage grinned at them, then looked back up. “No, I’m not selling anything. I’m looking for Hannah.” “Hannah?” “Hannah Miller.” “That lady ain’t lived here in more’n six years. She sold me this ranch back then and lit outta here like she was on fire, haven’t seen her since.” “Six years?” Sage gave a sigh of relief. If she’d been gone from here for six years, neither boy was his. He knew in his heart Hannah would never abandon her child. Dammit! He’d been in Sanctuary for two days. Two days! And for Hannah, years had rolled by. His son would already be born and at the age to begin school. He’d missed out on those years, but be damned if he was going to miss out on any more. “Do you have any idea where she moved to?” “Nah, mister. That young woman wasn’t much of a talker. Sad little thing she was, like some man might have trampled her heart in the dirt. You that man, mister?” Sage shook his head when he saw how the man bristled, as if ready to beat the crap out of him if he’d dared hurt Hannah. “I’m an old friend. I was passing through and thought I’d say hello.” “Well, mister.” He paused, scratched his head, then continued. “Come to think of it, that little gal did say something about Salem and witches. Didn’t make much sense to me, don’t know if that helps any.” Sage wondered how shocked the man would be if he just suddenly vanished. Before 154

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he gave further thought to it, he snapped his fingers and did exactly that. *** Sage slammed the door to his hotel room, marched across the room to the wellstocked fridge, and grabbed a can of Coke. Frustrated, he sat down on the edge of the high bed, but as soon as he popped the tab, he was swamped with memories of Hannah shaking his first can of cola and laughing when it spewed all over him. He’d spent a week in this city that had been built on superstition and blood, one where his ancestors were tortured and hanged for being witches, a week in this damnable room, the same room in which he and Hannah had laughed together, shared the Jacuzzi, and made love. The memories haunted him, and gnawed away at his heart and soul. Grovel? He snorted. Hell, he’d get down on his knees and beg her to take him back, if only he could find her. He’d returned to the witches’ library, but it was warded against his entry. If Hannah was still inside, then she’d totally ignored him yelling her name, and if Relda was inside, then she’d done the same. He’d searched every museum, cemetery, hotel, gift shop and library he came across. He’d flashed the picture he’d magically produced of Hannah, but no one had seen her. She’d disappeared without a trace. Sage took a swallow of the Coke. He was hungry. He’d tried to eat earlier, but nothing tasted good. Dammit, he wanted his mate! He needed to know if she was safe. He wanted to touch her belly, feel his son, but then, he’d tossed away those chances for good. He’d warned her not to return to Sanctuary. His hand stilled, the Coke can freezing in mid-air on its way to his mouth. A slow grin twisted his lips. Sheeahta. What in the world was he thinking? He’d warned her. He snorted and set the can down on a coaster on the bedside table. For a woman with Hannah’s temper and personality, warning her not to do something wouldn’t set well. She wasn’t in California. She wasn’t in Salem. That left the one place he’d ordered her to stay away from. He laughed softly. “All right, mau-ley. You better want me, because I’m coming to claim what’s mine.”

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V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@f|å Sanctuary

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eLora screamed and dug her razor sharp nails into Darak’s shoulders as he pumped between her thighs. Grunting, he threw back his head and roared his pleasure. His seed jetted inside her in a hot stream of rushing

liquid. The fool, she thought. He didn’t have the presence of mind to realize she wasn’t screaming with orgasmic pleasure, but with rage. The second set of jewels, blood-red rubies, had been transferred to another witch. Even though the traditional passing on had taken place in the mortal realm, once again she’d felt the shift of power, a shift that placed them further out of her reach. Her own daughter, the bitch, had stolen what was rightfully meant for her. She wanted them, as much as she wanted the emeralds off Saylym’s fingers, and by the gods, she was going to get them. She’d own them, if she had to cut off their hands to claim them. In spite of her determination not to respond to Darak’s possession, she climaxed beneath his thrusting hips as he went at her again. At last, he grunted and rolled off her, pressed a wet kiss to her mouth and closed a possessive palm over her breast. “That was good,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. “I know you liked it. My shoulders burn from your claws.” When she didn’t reply, he curled his fingers through her hair and lifted her head. “Tell me how much you liked it,” he commanded. “I want to hear you say it.” MeLora gritted her teeth. Lately, Darak had become more demanding, more possessive and cunning with ways he trapped her into having sex with him. He wasn’t happy with just fucking her, he demanded a response from her and if it took him all night, he made damned certain she climaxed before he’d leave her alone. There was no faking it either, he’d only grin and pound her harder until she came. The man was more in love with her than she’d ever wanted him to be. His daily ‘I love you’ drove her mad. But having to say it back to him when she totally detested his touch was getting harder and harder to swallow. It was as if the Black Magick she’d coated his brain with was growing and growing and channeling into a fungus with its own mad desire feeding his. He watched her constantly, suspicious every time she was out of his sight. “You’re hurting me,” she snapped. “Let go my hair.” He snorted. “I’ll let go when I’m ready.” He twisted her hair tighter, jerking her closer. “Say it, MeLora. Tell me you like it when I fuck you. I want to hear the words.” She bit her tongue. By the gods, he was turning into a rabid animal. “I like it when 156

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you fuck me.” He nodded and let go of her hair. His fingers curled around her wrist and he brought her hand to his cock. “It makes me hard when you say it.” MeLora swallowed hard. Fuck. She knew what that meant. He was back on her in a heartbeat. MeLora moaned and clutched his naked ass, drawing him closer. She decided the only way she’d be able to sneak out of the king’s bed and meet her newest lover was to give Darak what he wanted so he’d go to sleep. Zebus, younger brother to Kallibus, king of the demon world, waited for her in the woods outside Sanctuary. Waited—and grew more jealous by the hour. Tonight, while the moon was full and the witching hour passed, they’d meet and Zebus would perform a very special ceremony with her. She had big plans with Zebus. Between them, they’d conquer Sanctuary. They’d rule Ru-Noc and Ayrumus. She smiled and hoped that for once the king wouldn't realize she faked an orgasm. Ah yes, she and Zebus would rule the mortal world.

Tabitha Shay

V{tÑàxÜ g{|Üàç@fxäxÇ Sanctuary

[

annah looked around the bakery. Home. Sanctuary was now home and would be for the rest of her life. Witches didn’t have to have a business to make money to survive. Magic provided everything one could ever need, but it grounded her in reality. For her peace of mind, she needed that stability. Her brows knitted with confusion. Her mind balked at meeting or ever talking to her mother. MeLora. To her, even the name sounded evil. And she shuddered at the mere thought of ever meeting her father, Black Drayke. She’d tried, but right now, she hadn’t managed to suck up the nerve to face the woman who’d so ruthlessly abandoned her and stolen her magic. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to meet her mother, or her father for that matter. How could two adults just abandon a baby in the woods and leave her to the Fates? She cupped her stomach protectively. She could never do something that mean or cruel to her baby. MeLora, she knew, was a deadly foe; not only had she abandoned her, but she’d stolen her magic and coated her soul with the scent of a mortal. She had stolen her memory ... those sins committed by MeLora left a singular distaste in Hannah’s mouth. She had a few things she’d like to say to MeLora, but she wasn’t going out of her way to find her. It would happen, when the time was right. Since returning to Sanctuary yesterday, she’d learned both her parents had changed into demons and more details about the battle Saylym and Prince Talon had fought with them to save Sanctuary. She didn’t know what a demon looked like. She didn’t want to know. The story revealed in Eldora’s diary was enough to make her never want to meet either MeLora or Black Drayke. No wonder Sage had walked away from her. She could hardly blame him. She glanced at the big clock on the wall. Four a.m. Her baking was done. She just needed to tidy the kitchen and she was out of here. She’d been back for one day and already Kirrah had begged her to take over the Sugar ‘N’ Spice bakery. Here she was, right back on her least favorite shift, and Kirrah was acting damned weird. Hannah froze when she heard the front door open and close and the sound of footsteps headed toward the kitchen. She could swear she’d locked that door when she came in to start her baking. She grabbed the rolling pin off the counter and wound her way into the front. “I’m closed,” she started, then swallowed the rest of her words. “Sage.” Her gaze devoured him. She knew it and knew there wasn’t a damned thing she 158

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could do to prevent it. She loved this man, always had, and always would. She frowned. Why in the world would he be wearing that dumb eye patch? “Because, I thought I should come to you as the man I was then, a man whose love for life and laughter was so foolish, until he met the perfect woman and fell in love, then threw it all away in a moment of insanity.” He swallowed hard, tore off the patch and dropped it to the floor. “I’m asking for your forgiveness. If you want me on my knees, I’ll go there. Even though I deserve it, please don’t hit me on the head with that rolling thingy.” Hannah dropped the rolling pin. It hit the floor with a clatter and rolled under a counter. In spite of how much he’d hurt her, she loved this man. She didn’t want him on his knees, at least, not to beg her forgiveness. Humbling him wasn’t something she could live with. She waved her hand in a simple movement, a single flash of magic, and gave him a wicked grin. “I’d watch my step if I were you. I’m fresh out of frozen peas.” Sage glanced down, swore softly and jumped on top of the counter. “Fook! Get rid of the fooking mean creatures! If one of those ugly beasts bites me, I won’t be able to fook you for hours and mau-ley, I got hours of fooking planned for us.” Hannah grinned. “Really? You ever plan on calling me a ‘fooking’ U-nullbred again? Because I’m warning you, if you ever do, you’ll wake up with one of these Mojave Greens in the bed beside you.” Sage arched a brow. “As a sex toy, I don’t see the possibility.” He grinned back at her, then shuddered as one of the scaly critters raised its head and rattled its stubby tail. “All right! I swear I’ll never call you a U-nullbred again.” Hannah waved her hand and the two rattlesnakes vanished. Sage jumped off the counter and stopped in front of her. He took her hands and stared at the rubies embedded in her nails. “Fook.” Hannah frowned. “You know what they are? What they mean?” He nodded. “I’m pretty sure they mean you can kick my ass any time you want to.” Hannah widened her eyes. “And don’t you forget it.” Sage grinned and tugged her into his arms. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his gaze suddenly serious. “I’m so damned sorry I hurt you. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I was so shocked to discover the woman I planned on assassinating is your mother.” Hannah frowned. “I know why you left, Sage. I understand. You can hardly kill my mother. No matter what, she’s still my mother. That doesn’t change the fact I’m a Unullbred, a product of incest. That will never change. Never go away. If it’s gong to be a problem between us, then I’d rather you go away now and never come near me again.” Sage shook his head and slowly backed her toward the kitchen. He held her with one arm around her waist, and with the other, he swiped all the items off the center island. Mixer, glass bowls, measuring cups, and big wooden spoons all crashed to the floor. In a blink she was naked and sprawled on the counter. “There’s only one way I think about you, baby.” His clothes melted away and he climbed on the island and settled between her thighs. “I love you, Hannah,” he whispered and nuzzled her ear. “I will always love you.” ***

Tabitha Shay

Some time later, Hannah sighed and flipped off the lights to the bakery. As Sage gave her a satisfied grin, she knew she’d never think about that center island in the same way. This time when she closed the bakery, she didn’t bother to lock it. One thing she’d learned was locks didn’t work in Sanctuary. She glanced at the early morning sun rising in a fiery ball of gilded orange and soft fluffy pinks. Sage took her hand and they started down the boardwalk. Gasping, he came to a sudden stop. His nostrils flared and he tilted his head. His gaze turned toward Annu Mountain. “Samhain,” he whispered, and squeezed her hand. “We have to get to Talon’s, now!” Hannah frowned, following his gaze with her own. “Goddess Divine, what are they? What’s going on? What do they want?” The south side of the mountain was black and crawling with life, as if billions of ants covered it in a wide-spread black cloud. Sage clutched her hand tighter and ran, pulling her behind him. “Demons,” he shouted. “Thousands and thousands of demons.” And they marched straight toward Sanctuary.

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XÑ|ÄÉzâx Sanctuary

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ust before dawn, and under the Fairway Bridge that led outside the magical gates of Sanctuary, a cloaked figure, hidden by the deepest shadows, hovered over the inert body of Topaz. Her hope of restoring life by the simple use of chants faded with each hour that passed. It had taken every bit of her strength to move his lifeless form from the alley where the panther patrol had left him, uncaring and unconcerned. They’d gathered Celine’s lifeless body, but they’d laughed at Topaz’ riddled form and walked away. Anger flooded her soul. They’d left him there to rot as if he was a piece of garbage. Her heart ached for the tom. She knew he hadn’t murdered Celine. She didn’t know the murdering Futhar’s name, but she knew it wasn’t Topaz. She wept and again muttered words of futile magic. The holes in the orange and black tom had not sealed as she commanded. There were no signs of life. Breath did not return to fill his lungs as she chanted spell after spell. Finally, she gave up, realizing it would take much more than simple chants to revive the tom. She flung back the cowl, leaned over the poor cat, and placed her hands on his chest. She should have done it this way to begin with, but the stronger her magic, the more attention it drew to her. The more attention, the less safe she was in her world. Soft lights circled and swirled around him, punched their way inside his body, shot back out and faded. She heard the weak cough, saw the tom shudder, and open his eyes. For a moment, he stared at her, his gaze blank and dull. “I know you,” he croaked faintly. “You’re that healer everyone’s been searching for.” Nyra pulled the cowl back over her head and neither confirmed nor denied her identity. “Go now, before the panther patrol returns and starts a search for you. Find your mate and hide, because neither of you is safe.” “Maxine is in danger?” Nyra nodded. “Yes. The assassin killed the wrong Futhar. Maxine was the intended target, not Celine.” Topaz groaned and shut his eyes. When he opened them back up, the witch had vanished, leaving nothing but a wispy trail of white smoke in the air.

Tabitha Shay

TuÉâà à{x Tâà{ÉÜ Tabitha Shay spent fourteen years in nursing until a near fatal accident changed her life and sent her back to her first love; writing romances. She has spent more than thirty years writing novels and spinning tales for her family’s entertainment. For three years, she’s been a member of the Oklahoma Writer’s Federation, Inc. Tabitha has served as Chairperson for two of those three years. Her first novel, “Witch’s Brew” won Second Honorable Mention in 2006 at the OWFI Convention and “Witch’s Heart” took First Place in 2007. She is hard at work on the twelve book series of the Winslow Witches of Salem and promises many surprises along the way, more romance and of course, more trouble for her witches. Tabitha lives at the foot of the world’s highest hill in Poteau, Oklahoma with her husband and two dogs, a poodle named Snuggles and a Shi-tzu named Buttons who is the spoiled baby of the family.

162

Witch’s Heart

VÉÅ|Çz áÉÉÇ yÜÉÅ XàxÜÇtÄ cÜxáá‰

j|àv{:á `ÉÉÇ EXCERPT

Kali turned and headed to her bedchamber. She halted as Captain Koran T fell into step behind her. She sprang around, glaring daggers at him. “Is it really necessary you follow me to my bedchamber?” Koran T smiled at her, but his pale eyes remained frosty. “The king has ordered it, so it’s necessary.” “I hope you’re not planning to follow me into my bathing chambers, Captain.” Koran T slid his cool gaze over her, lingering on the lush curves of her firm breasts. “It’s exactly what I plan on doing, Princess.” He cleared his throat, rubbed a hand down his cheek, and gave a slow grin. His gaze followed Kali as she whirled around in a cloud of black silk and perfume, muttering beneath her breath. “We’ll just see about that, Captain.” Koran T lifted a brow. “Yes, we shall, Princess.”