Her Lycan Lover (16 page)

“I’m pleased you’ve come away with me. My home is your home.”

“I don’t remember anyone saying that to me since I was small.”

“On holidays? When you visited family.”
      

“No. I’m an orphan. My mother died when I was a child. I was raised by my
grand-mère
but sent away to school when I was twelve. She passed away, too.”

“Ah, I always suspected a French side to you.” The torment in her voice set off his guardian urge and the need in him to shift forms, protect her from all sides. For hours, he’d barely kept his Lycan control in place. He desired to join with her, so he could consummate their bond.

“You won’t be alone for much longer. Do you understand all that our joining entails?”

The look of innocent surprise in her eyes made his breath catch. “I’ve never actually been with a man.”

“Come again? You don’t mean that in the Biblical sense?”

Color suffused her cheeks. She looked down, then flashed her gaze back to him, lifting her chin. “Don’t be dense. Yes. I do. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you during the whole godforsaken car trip.”

“I thought you meant, you didn’t have a whole lot of experience. Don’t you know what a turn on this is to discover? I’m the first.” It was the ultimate temptation that she was going to be his completely. The idea wrecked him. She was an untouchable. That made her all the more
touchable
in his wolf crazed mind. A spellcaster who’d never—
Whoa!
He’d gotten this mixed up. Having spent the last two years at the Den, Sherry had been in the midst of charismatic male and female shifters where sex was as commonplace as eating or sleeping, the idea of a female…

“As in virgin?” His voice hiked way up.

She gazed back at him as though stricken. “You’re acting daft, Quinn. I don’t have some bizarre form of leprosy.”

Forget it. His wolf did not care about the science of DNA or Dark Fae. The wolf was a sensory creature that sought to appease hunger first. And his was off the freaking charts with this bombshell’s admission. And at that moment, he craved her like he was an addict and she was his personnel drug.

The shifter perused the nerve endings of his body, stepped gingerly as though spring loaded traps were everywhere. He watched Sherry intently, gauging his next move. The wolf desired fast action to solve the dilemma. Make her his. Completely. She’d carry only his scent.

His phone rang. It was Edgar, the property manager. He almost crushed the phone in his bare hand. “Edgar, everything looks good.”

“Just checking. I saw you’d entered.”

Speaking into the phone, Quinn searched Sherry’s face for the solution to this puzzling predicament of what to do first. “I’m pulling into the property. No surprises?”

“None. I had a guard swing by not ten minutes ago. All security codes were reset and they’ll be a sweep every fifteen minutes. Several on foot stationed along the perimeter. I can’t believe you’re with a guest that requires this type of security. But it’s his coinage.”

He kept the identity of who he’d brought with him a secret. He trusted no one. “Cameras? And what about security lights?”

“Yes. All in working order. Though…” The property manager inhaled. “I don’t believe it’s necessary.”

The wolf in him tensed, hairs bristling over his body. If this had been a pack, a Lycan was at the top was never countermanded. A muscle twitched along his jaw, his eyelids half dropped, not in sleepiness, but rather the effort to maintain a relaxed state. “That’s not what I asked.” He spoke in a low voice. “Is everything in place?”

Edgar immediately stammered. “I only meant, the alloy filters will be in place within a few hours. They are being flown in from San Antonio. We located a shop that caters to high tech surveillance. The latest will be tomorrow morning. We’ll get it done.”

“Good to hear. Let me know when the workers are about to arrive and I’ll give them access.”

“Got it,” Edgar said and Quinn hung up.

He turned to Sherry. “We’ll be safe here. Remember, no one gets in. There will be a few workers installing safeguards.” He parked the car. “I need to get some proper clothes on.”

“You’re cut is almost healed.” She pointed to his leg.

“Lycans recover faster than other creatures.” He looked down at the shredded remnants of his trousers. He opened his door. The air was cool, not freezing as it had been downtown. “Weather’s better here. We’d should go inside.”

“I’ve special talents as well. Like with safeguards. I can do more in less time. But you must allow me to put up shields. These wards will keep the Fae beyond us.
Do you trust me
… truly?”

“I’ve no choice. And it wouldn’t matter in the end. I’ll be bound to you.”

“It won’t take long. I’ll need a few things and a place where the ground is smooth unless you don’t mind us doing this inside. This involves marking the ground.”

“Look, I’d rather we do this indoors. So consider the wood floors at your disposal.”

Sherry swung her gaze away from him. “Some large rocks. Like those over there.” She pointed toward the walkway where river rocks had been used as ground cover. “You could help me with the circle. We’ll have to hurry. The weather looks like it will start pouring any second.”

His wolf nature stilled, senses alert. He wasn’t completely ignorant of spellcasters. Their powers were strong enough to change the laws of physics. Their hearts pure enough not to do so unless prompted by only god knew what. The rest of their existence was shrouded in mystery. No one was privy to the details. As part of the human race, spellcasters blended in, preferring to remain under the radar as far as he could tell. Some, like the healer Jeremy had hooked him up years ago, were hard pressed to treating ailments and didn’t conjure out in the open. That heeler had lived up in the mountains and it had taken days to reach her solitary encampment. Since that time, he’d not had any contact with real casters. It was still shocking to find out that Sherry was one.

If she desired, she could put up quite a few buffers between them. To the point of locking him inside his own home. Sure, he could sway her volition as he previously done, yet it was nothing more than simple seduction. In the end, she removed the magical armor she’d conjured as a result of her own desire. The shattering of personal buffers only a spellcaster could do herself. The magick was that potent.

If he failed, and his mate fled and succumbed to these Dark Fae intruders, he’d never escape a life of anguish on Earth. He would follow her to the other side of hell if he had to without a question.

“Can I ask you something?” He toyed with how to frame his question.

“Shoot.”

“All this time working at the Den. Shifters are known to be highly charming creatures. Not once. Ever?”

Her bright topaz eyes watched him without blinking. “My mother had a side to her nature that made it difficult to stay focused. A flaw. She allowed
need
for connection to get in the way of the Sisterhood vow she’d pledged. She died. Sad and broken. Ousted from casting and her lover gone. I don’t even know who my father is. My mother claimed she didn’t know which man sired me. I’m a bastard, Quinn. That’s how pervasive my mother’s tendency for the sensual ran.”

“A child isn’t responsible for her parent’s life. You’re perfect to me,” he whispered, stepping closer to her. He inhaled her scent, the pitter-patter of her heart, and his chest squeezed. He desired to heal his her wounds. If he could wipe out Sher’s sorrow, he would in that instant.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Can you understand my choices? This is a hard step considering your nature.”

He took hold of her, unable to squelch the need to help her mend. Touching Sherry’s shoulder, he felt a jolt tickle his skin. An undeniable electrical current ran between them, prompting him to dispel her life choice. “And you believe it’s safer to live an ascetic type of life?”

“It just happened.” She looked away from him, her eyes liquid fire.

“I’m going to watch over you and never, ever abandon you. Or our children. No matter where you go, I’m your shadow. Your heartbeat is mine. We’ll be that close. Understand?”

Sherry stared at him for a sec, then nodded slowly, her lips curving ever so slightly. He wanted to think it was because she was still as tempted as before. A little confused, but interested. The wolf in him was captivated by her, all the more each time she employed this push and pull magnetism on his senses.

“And you? Never had the urge to settle down like Shawn? Start a family?”

“Never. Settling down just for the sake of a family. That is a long conversation. Come. Let’s go inside and find what you need. Afterwards, over dinner I promise to share what life as a Lycan has been like.” He peered down at her, craving her with every fiber of his being. God, the ache she caused in him thundered in his blood. If he didn’t let go, he’d carry her straight to his bed.

She whispered, “I’ll need my blade.”

“You have a blade? As in knife?” He unhinged his grasp on her.

“It’s in the back. Do you have any salt?”

“I don’t know what’s in the kitchen.”

“Let me grab my bag and then we can begin.”

She opened her bag, lifting the leather flap, and peered inside. “My old friend,” she murmured alone in the kitchen, and staring down at a roll of buckskin. Quinn had showered and changed into regular clothes. The first time she’d witnessed him wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Warning sirens had blared inside her head the way he stretched an ordinary piece of cloth into a work of art. Yikes, he made her forget about everything with one sexy smile and a wink.

He had gone outside with a list of items they’d need. There was no time to waste on reminiscing when it came to one man’s fashion habits.

Taking hold of the buckskin package, Sherry lifted it out of the confines of her bag and unwrapped the butter soft material that held her knife. An eight-inch curved blade with her personal caster notches, this little number easily garnered attention. The gleaming blade was made from hardened steel and coated with layers of alloy and incantations. It shone even without a direct source of light.

She wrapped her fingers around the white handle, and automatically the black leather bindings encircled her hand, rapidly moving up her wrist and stopping mid forearm. The knife had been made for her and reacted to her touch alone. She wove it into the air, forming a couple of arcs to test the feel. Perfectly balanced. It was as though her hand and the knife were one.

Quinn appeared in the doorway. “Holy hell.” He took hold of her wrist, his brow drawn up tight. “You’d better be careful.”

“This isn’t just any knife.”

“Doll, I can plainly see that.” He studied the blade, moving her hand back and forth. “It’s lightweight. Wicked. How do those straps work?”

“When a caster comes of age, she’s provided with a
bag of tricks
,” Sherry said, half joking. “The blade is mine by virtue of the Lord of the Watchtowers’ blessings. I’ve not used it except to cast circles and during my shield maintenance.”

“Let’s hope that’s all you’ll need it for. I brought the stones that you asked for. Here.” Quinn held out a box of salt. “That’s all I could find.”

“Not enough. Is there a water softener here?”

Quinn smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Just had it replaced. It’s in the garage.” He walked down the hallway into the mudroom.

A couple seconds later she heard him say, “Bingo.” He returned carrying a bag of rock salt.

“This is perfect. It’s mined from the Earth and has the most conductive properties,” she said.

“What else?” he asked.

“Did you set the stones up just as I asked?”

“Micromanage much?”

“This is important.”

“I rolled the area rug back in the living room. The rocks are piled as you mentioned. I swept the area with the birch branches as instructed. Next?”

“That’s it. You’ll act as a Guardian. Not Lycan but spellcaster fill in. Your first official role. Do as I do. You can take two of the four cardinal directions when we invoke the Four Elements. You can do East and West…or air and water. Just a sec.” She picked up her bag, and slid her hand through the contents. “First, you must be anointed.”

“Have at it,” Quinn said, watching her with the intensity of a wolf ready to leap.

Unscrewing the cap from the small blue bottle of consecrated oil, she dabbed a drop on his forehead, her attention tracing the dark arch of each of his brows. The act made her stomach knot when their eyes met.

“Smells like flowers,” he whispered.

“Roses, actually.” Her fingers shook as she replaced the cap. “Shall I explain what we’re doing or do you prefer we work in silence?”

“Share with me. Casters aren’t ones to blast their secrets. I’d like to know more about the woman I am about to swear an allegiance to for all of eternity.”

She thought Quinn was mocking her, but the seriousness of his expression and the heat from his eyes devoured the flippant rebuttal she’d planned.

“Come with me.” She led him out to the living room where he’d placed the stones. Softly she began, “We’ll start with the purification of the ritual space. And then I’ll mark the circle. Some casters use athames similar to my dagger to cast a circle.”