The Werelion and the Cat Page 6

  “What the hell?”

  At the sound of a bike engine roaring to life, Sully dumped his half-full mug down the drain and sped toward the garage. It took mere seconds to cross the distance from the kitchen through the utility, but the door didn’t open as it should have when he pushed. Instead, he piled into it, the wood creaking in protest as nearly two hundred pounds of lion shifter slammed into it.

  “Go on,” Hale urged behind him. “What’s the holdup?”

  “It’s fucking jammed,” Sully snapped, stepping back and slamming a booted foot into it. Brute force wasn’t the answer to everything, but it worked well for a blocked door. Between him and Hale, they made short work of the door, crashing through the splintered wood to see Meredith shoot out of the garage, ducked down low on the bike.

  “Fuck!” Sully growled, chasing after her, but there was no way either of them could stop her, not at the speed she took off.

  “Go!” Hale yelled, motioning him toward his SUV. “I’ll secure the house and follow you. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up.”

  Sully didn’t need to be told twice. He raced down the drive, jumped and skidded over the hood and was behind the wheel before he was aware of drawing breath. Concern laced his every movement. She was injured and in the wind on that death-trap machine with the Latvarian Wolf Collective after her…

  “What were you thinking, sweetheart?” he muttered, shoving his foot to the mat and roaring after her.

  It was a struggle to keep the bike and rider in sight, but once she turned onto the Dragon’s Tail, he knew he had a chance. Most of it was speed restricted, and unless she pulled some heavy duty magic, which seemed unlikely given her recent injuries, she was forced to travel at a sensible speed.

  Within minutes, a big black muscle car appeared in his rear-view mirror, a flash of the headlights telling him that Hale had caught up. Nice wheels, he mused, transferring his attention back to the road in time to take a sharp bend.

  Only to find the road full of black SUVs and partially shifted wolves.

  “Fucking hell!” He swerved to avoid hitting a couple, pulling a one eighty that had him grill to grill with Hale. Both men looked at each other in surprise and then launched themselves out of their vehicles.

  There was only one reason the Latvarians would be here, and that was Meredith.

  “Get your fucking hands in the air where I can see them!” Sully roared, stopping at least three wolves in a partial shift. “Anyone else shows fur and they’re a fucking dead wolf!”

  “No time for this,” Hale muttered, moving his hands. There was a shift in the air and Sully’s ears popped like he was on a plane. Within the time it took him to blink, the wolves around them were no longer standing. Instead, they lay full length on the ground, already in the process of shifting back to their human forms. A self-defense mechanism from the days they’d had to hide from humanity.

  “Nice trick,” Sully commented as they raced down the slope in the direction the other wolves had gone. Screw the fact they’d left the cars and unconscious men on the road, finding Meredith before the wolves did was Sully’s only priority. “Think you can get the rest the same way?”

  Hale ran beside him, the graceful lope less human and way more feline than Sully had expected. The werelock shook his head. “Nope, only works when they make it easy and stand still. Betting these fuckers won’t…”

  His words cut off as they reached the bottom of the gully. Sully realized the debris they’d been seeing on the way down, twisted bits of metal and plastic he’d assumed was years of detritus from the road above, was from Meredith’s bike. The rest of it lay in a smashed up pile, the back wheel still turning slowly.

  “Holy fuck…”

  “No blood,” Hale said curtly. “She’s on the move. Come on before they catch up with her.”

  A growl burst from Sully’s throat as he caught the scent of his mate and set off. Wolves were fast, but lions were faster. Within minutes, they’d caught up with the stragglers. Blood and screams filled the air as they dealt with them ruthlessly, running them down until, with a yelp, those that were left scattered and ran for their lives.

  “Cowards,” Hale slowed down to snarl, watching the furry backs disappear through the trees.

  “Foot soldiers,” Sully commented, his attention on the trail they were following. Frowning, he stepped back a couple of feet and tasted the air. Then he took a few steps forward to do it again. Deep within his throat, his lion growled.

  “What is it?” Hale asked, a frown on his face as he joined Sully.

  “The scent changes from here…to here,” he said, pointing from one spot on the ground to another. “Becomes fuller and more animalistic. Like a shifter when they change.”

  Mate, his lion insisted again, telling him it knew exactly why the female’s scent had changed. She’d released her inner lion.

  “But that’s impossible.” Hale finished the thought for him. “Even with her energy depleted, it was evident your girl is a magic user. And the only spell slingers who can shift are…”

  His eyes widened as he bit out a curse filthy enough to make any number of sailors blush. “You got a picture of her? On your cell or something?”

  “Yeah, why?” Even as he spoke, Sully pulled his phone from his pocket and flicked through the case files he had on it. “Here. This is the one our guys managed to pull from her driver’s license. We think it’s a fake name though.”

  Hale looked at the photo for less than a second before he swore again.

  “Oh shit. Yeah, it’s a fake name. I didn’t see it before, she must have had something done to conceal her appearance in the flesh, but it can’t fool a camera. Her name is Elizabeth Roark, and if I’m right, she’s a werelock like me.”

  Sully’s gaze was direct as he looked at the other guy. Roark…

  “She’s a relative?”

  Hale’s face was pale as he looked up and caught Sully’s eyes.

  “My cousin. My dead cousin. She died when we were eleven…”

  “Really?” Sully cocked his eyebrow. “Funny, because she looks very much alive and kicking to me.”

  “Yeah.” Hale’s expression was set, the look in his eyes stating that someone somewhere was going to be answering some very pointed questions from the tall werelock. Then he frowned, walking along and sniffing the air. “But even if she is a werelock, she shouldn’t be able to shift, not unless she’s found her mate. Do you scent any other animals with her? I can’t.”

  Anger exploded through Sully. She didn’t have a mate. He was her mate. At the growl trickling from his throat, Hale turned and fixed him with a quick look. Realization sparked in his eyes.

  “Crap, it’s you, isn’t it?” Anger rolled from the big man as he advanced on Sully. “You bastard, you touched her while she was out of it, didn’t you?”

  His anger was burnt away by pure rage and he caught the warlock’s punch before it could land.

  “She’s my mate,” Sully growled, his voice no longer human. “When I claim her, she’ll be conscious and aware. And begging me to. Do I make myself clear?”

  Hale grinned suddenly, a quicksilver change of mood that had Sully blinking in surprise. “Good, let’s go and find her then, shall we? Keep up if you can, lion.”

  And with that he turned tail and shot off, his turn of speed surprising for the fact he didn’t shift. Sully set off after him, following the trail easily.

  “Fucking crazy ass werelock.”

  She reached the cabin at an all-out run. Relief surged through Beth as the familiar protective magic of the clearing around her friend’s home washed over her. Staggering onto the porch, she shrugged and found herself walking on two legs by the time she reached the door.

  She half-fell against it, telling herself that she’d been hallucinating during her run. Adrenaline or whatever… there was no way she’d turned into a lioness. No way. No how.

  Power surged through her and with a wave of her hand, the door lock popped open. Once insi
de, she made a beeline for the Hearthstone and reached for the chest there.

  “Ouch!”

  A warning belt from the wood made her yank her fingers back hastily, eyes wide with surprise. She surveyed the box warily. It had never done that before. Sigils glimmered over the surface, warnings and protection spells, which had previously allowed her in but now reacted badly to her.

  The new strangeness in her blood snarled at it. Biting her lip, she tried to stuff the presence back down into the depths of her soul. It wouldn’t go, wriggling and snapping at her like a genie that had finally been let loose and had no intention of ever going back into the lamp.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Play nice, would you?” she hissed at it, her temper flaring. To say she’d had enough today was a complete understatement. “I’m trying to keep us alive and I would appreciate a little fucking help here, okay?”

  At her words, the snapping and growling in her head subsided and the presence slunk back down inside her. Sighing with relief, she reached out and was able to open the box with just a minor warning buzz against her fingers. Inside it, she found two healing potions, the tiny vials filled with shimmering liquid. Snapping the tops off them, she downed both, one after the other.

  “Yeeeeaooowwwww…” the sound that emerged from her lips was somewhere between a yowl and a sigh, more feline than any sound she’d ever made before.

  Demon magic coursed through her, sharp and spiky. It was almost but not quite painful as it sought out all her wounds and set about healing them. She’d expected that. It was powerful stuff, some of the most potent magic in existence, and not always particularly friendly. It wasn’t inherently evil, though, as most people assumed thanks to the bad rap hell had gained from heaven over the years. Since demons had once been angels, the power all came from the same place, and it wasn’t a battle she’d ever wanted to weigh in on. She had more important matters to worry about…like what she was going to do about those damn wolves on her tail.

  The magic fizzled out, leaving a trail of pins and needles over her side. Pulling her ruined top away from the skin, she checked out the damage. It was healed, leaving just a thin pink scar where there had been a gaping and poisoned wound.

  “Better,” she commented to the empty air and rooted in the box again.

  Her energy reserves were way down, and although she’d gotten a break and tore away from those wolves, she wasn’t daft enough to think her luck had changed. Wolves might not be fast, but they’d track her down eventually. She looked up, casting a glance out of the window at the clearing in front of the house. The wolves might already be out there, trying to figure out a way past the wards. They were spelled not to allow anyone who had nefarious purposes in. Murder…that definitely counted as nefarious.

  Nothing out there, so she returned her attention to the box. Plucking out various rings and bracelets, she piled them on. Each one was spelled. Some were for protection, some for luck, others for power…all enchanted by Astarte herself and left here in the event that either her daughter, Ruby, or Beth should need a quick boost. Right now, she could kiss the demoness for her foresight. These would tide her over until she could recover her natural energy reserves.

  Movement out of the corner of her eye got her attention and she snapped her head around. Her eyes widened in surprise. Impossibly, the warlock stood in the middle of the clearing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes boring into her.

  Beth’s lips curled back into a small snarl, the trickle of sound from the back of her throat drawn directly from the creature within her as she rose to her feet. How the fuck had he gotten past the wards? Demon-magic didn’t play well with warlock spells. She’d learnt that to her cost when Astarte had taken Beth under her wing. She’d almost had to unlearn everything she’d learned as a child and begin again “the right way” as her mentor had put it.

  Yet, there he was, bold and brass and twice as arrogant. Blanking her expression, she walked toward the folding doors at the side of the lounge, waving her hand to open them. They moved back out of the way with a clatter.

  “How did you get in?” she demanded, not letting his familiarity get to her. Hale Roark had grown up into a tall, broad-shouldered tank of a man. His sandy hair was loose around his shoulders and he watched her with a keen gaze.

  “Hello, Elizabeth. Long time, no see.”

  The familiar voice, deeper with age, tugged at her heartstrings. They’d played together as children, learned their first spells together. They were family, the same… She shut down the warmth spreading out from the centre of her chest. They weren’t family. They weren’t the same. She used demon magic now, and something darker lurked in her blood.

  “That’s not my name. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she started, suddenly aware of someone creeping up on her from behind. Snapping her head around, she saw the other one, the big guy who smelled so good from the museum, by the side door.

  Shit. How had he gotten through the door without her hearing him? Dividing her focus, she stepped to the side, one hand out facing the warlock and the other on her not-so-little friend.

  “Hold it right fucking there before I fry the pair of you,” she snapped. “I don’t know who you guys are, but you picked the wrong woman to mess with. Now fuck off before I get really mad.”

  “Elizabeth? Is that your name?” Tall, blond and sexy to the left asked, taking a step forward. She lifted her hand in warning, the form of a spell already glowing around it. He frowned, but not at her hand.

  “No, that doesn’t feel right… I’ll bet you use Beth, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t help the tiny catch in her breath as he said her name in that sexy drawl of his and then cursed as she realized she’d given herself away.

  “So what if I do?” Lifting her head in challenge, she glared at him.

  She stepped backward as he stepped forward, the warlock almost forgotten as the thing inside her surged to the front. The air between them grew thick with tension as he stalked her across the floor. Within a few steps, her back hit the wall and she was forced to look up at him.

  “Don’t come any closer,” her voice wavered as she warned him, lifting her hand to cast the spell she held ready. But she couldn’t fire it, hesitating each time until, finally, he put two gentle fingers against the inside of her wrist and moved her hand to the side.

  “Beth,” he murmured softly, lifting a hand to stroke her hair back from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I’m Sully. I’m here to save your life. But for me to do that, you have to trust me. Can you trust me?”

  Chapter 7

  “So he let you go that night? At eleven years old?”

  Beth didn’t think she’d heard anyone as angry as Sully when he broke away, running a shaking hand through his hair.

  She sat at the table in Astarte’s kitchen, her legs drawn up and her arms around her knees. It had taken her at least an hour to convince the two of them that this was the safest place she could be and that moving her to a safe house would likely end up in all their deaths.

  Hale, sitting on the other side of the table, shrugged. “It’s how our society works. They’re inbred, paranoid fucks. Anything different is viewed as…less. Not worthy. Elizabeth showed signs of it first, which is why they got rid of her. Or tried to.”

  Beth’s face tightened at her cousin’s words. She’d thought she was over it but still couldn’t stop the small movement.

  “You said I showed signs of it first…” She frowned, tight lines between her brows. “What do you mean?”

  Hale looked at her, his gaze—so like her own despite the lighter eyes—direct. “Come on, Beth, surely you’ve figured it out by now?”

  She had, she just didn’t want to put it into words. It was stupid. A kid’s story. There was no way it could be…

  “Let me guess, you’ve never managed to properly bond with a familiar?” Hale reached out and took her hand. Gently. “You popped a tail when you cast your first spell. Not surprising, we w
ere both born under a bad moon rising.”

  “You don’t need to fucking remind me!” Anger surged, tears following hard on its heels at the memory. She dashed them away with her free hand and set her expression. She was over this. SO over this. “My father tried to kill me! And no, I’ve never bonded with a familiar. I use demon magic now. They don’t like it.”

  A growl filled the room, surprising her, and Sully loomed over her, glaring at Hale. “Leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s upset, asshole?”

  “Bite me, Pussy.” Hale flashed his teeth. His very not-human, feline teeth.

  She gasped, leaning back against Sully. He was so close she only had to move a few inches to make contact. As soon as she did, heat rolled through her system like a tidal wave. Biting her lip, she eased herself away from him, trying not to make it obvious.

  It didn’t work. A firm hand on her shoulder pulled her back against Sully and, this time, she gasped for an entirely different reason. A surge of power flowed through her, direct from him to her, as though they were connected.

  “You’re not a warlock, Beth,” Hale continued, his gaze flicking between them. “You never were, and neither was I. That’s why you could never bond with a familiar. It’s nothing to do with demon magic.”

  “Don’t be fucking stupid,” she snapped. “Of course, I’m a damn warlock, what else would I be?”

  “Can you feel it?” Hale watched her steadily. “The power you’re pulling from him? Feel the power and strength flowing from him to fill your veins and your cells? Reaching down to the dark creature that lives in your soul?”

  “W-what are you on about?” Hurriedly, she pulled away from Sully. Instantly she felt like she’d been plunged into a vat of cold water.

  “That. I’m on about that,” her cousin said, indicating the two of them. “We’re werelocks, Beth. You didn’t need to bond to a familiar. You needed to bond to a mate. A shifter, specifically.” He smiled. “Funny, though, we both went for lion types. My mate, Renae, is a lioness.”