Logan: Her Warlock Protector Book 3 (10 page)

“Just not Knights who spray paint my home with death threats.”

He reminded himself not to tighten his grip on her hand then. Not only would too much force cause her pain but it would key her into how nervous he was for her as well. Caitlin deserved better.
 

“That part isn’t all of it.”

“Your boss wants me as a weapon.”

“It would be best to be able to tell the potential moves of our enemies before they’re made, but you wouldn’t be frontline. You’re too valuable. We’ll do everything we can to protect you.
I’ll
do everything in my power to save your life.”

“I know, but I just… Do you know I can see you?”

He quirked his lips upwards at her. “I’ve always thought of myself as a pleasant view.”

“Clearly, and it was appreciated that you came back out of the shower and into the room au natural,” she quipped. Her voice was throaty and purred back at him, instantly making him hard. It was going to be a long night before he could ravish her again. “No, what I meant was, I can see your, well, lifeline I think might be the best way to phrase it.”

He blinked, but forced his tone to remain light and his eyes to focus on the road. Inside, his heart was speeding up, and he felt the sweat begin to bead again at his temples. Logan hadn’t felt anxiety this bad since the fight against Darren that had cost his dearest lieutenant his life.
A seer
. Caitlin wasn’t just any precognizant witch. There were a few others he’d met over the years who could divine with tea leaves or crystal balls, augur with bird guts or cow’s blood. However, what she was describing was the very Eyes of Fate.

Her gift, if she wasn’t confused, was the very inheritance of the first great seer, Cassandra.

It couldn’t be possible.

There hadn’t been a witch with a gift for prophecy and foresight that extensive since Rome fell. If she were right, Caitlin would be the first in almost fifteen hundred years.

And then Jonathan really won’t let her just be a protected civilian outside of the war, no matter what I beg from him.

“It’s not like you’re the uber-loquacious type,” she said. “But you’re being dark and mysterious has not always been the best sign from you.”

He shook his head. “Just considering the information. What do you mean by ‘lifeline?’”

“So other witches don't do that?”

“Just explain it.”

She shrugged and started playing with the ruffles of her emerald flamenco skirt. The high hem of the slit there revealed an expanse of perfect white thigh, and Logan shifted in his seat again.
 

“It’s like a long golden cord that extends from your chest. I saw it from everyone. If I let it slide to the background, it does go away, but when I concentrate I see different cords—golds, grays, reds—coming from people’s chests. I don’t think it’s an aura exactly.”

He wanted to scream then, to pound against the steering wheel. Fate was a cruel, bitch goddess. Here was the most generous, beautiful woman he’d ever met, and she really was gifted with an ability that would make sure that both the Corps and the Knights Templar would never stop hunting for her, one side needing to use her and the other to obliterate her forever.

“No, it’s not an aura. It’s called the Eyes of Fate and it’s a very advanced gift for a seer.”

“How advanced?” she asked, leaning forward toward him.

So rare even my commandant has never seen it
was the answer he should have given.

What he said instead was, “It’s rare.”

“I’m not even initiated yet.”

“True and if you choose to become initiated, your ability will hit its final peak.”

She balled her hands up at her side and looked out the window and into the night. “I just want some of this to stop. It’s getting to be too much.”

He reached down and stroked her soft hair, so much like the color of spun fire. “You have me and you have an amazing gift. That’s what you need to focus on. After all, aren’t we going to the party tonight to help take care of people?”

“Yes, and I do like a free flute of champagne.”

He laughed genuinely and flashed her a toothy grin. “Well, darling, who doesn’t?”

EVEN IF SHE could see people’s probable deaths now, Caitlin didn’t want to focus on reading that way. The crystal ball in front of her was familiar and she needed to cling to that, to give herself some stability in a life that was changing faster than a boat buffeted about by a typhoon. Instead, she sat at the round oak table set aside for her and grinned at the woman sitting across from her. It was a blessing that she could make the lines and the visions of probable death fade, that by concentrating her vision was normal. Maybe she could keep her sanity that way.

“So?” she said, gently caressing the smooth surface of the clear orb. “How can Madame Monroe help you, my dear?”

The young woman cracked her knuckles and leaned in. Her hair was a beautiful color, blond like honeysuckle although cut short in an uneven bob that didn’t flatter her prominent chin as well as it could have. “Just between the two of us, this is all bullshit, right?”

Caitlin froze but kept her smile plastered on her face.
 

If only.

“Let’s just see what I can do for you,” she said, scooting the crystal ball to a place equidistant between them.

“Sure, it’s free right?”

“Your hostess has paid me for the night, but tips are always a bonus,” she said, gesturing to the glass bowl that doubled as her makeshift bank. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

Sea green eyes rolled back at her. “It beats being hit on by some of the drunker guys here. So go ahead.”

“Okay,” Caitlin said. She’d barely gazed into the ball before a vision assaulted her.
 

This wasn’t like the movies she’d seen in the past. At least those, while strong, at least allowed her some distance and ability to remain an impartial observer. This vision was so strong and imminent that Caitlin was
living
the events yet to come. It was her chest heaving against the rope binding her, her wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, and her left eye that throbbed and felt swollen shut. If it wasn’t, then it was barely letting any light in. Before her, she could make out the sign for a bar over by Fell’s Point, but it was all she saw before a fist caught her jaw and she passed out. Before the darkness overtook her, Caitlin noted the odd symbol tattooed on her attacker’s hand, something like a blood red cross with equal length arms on all sides.

Then just darkness.

Doubling over and rocking herself, Caitlin gasped for air. It wasn’t until Logan came and started stroking her back that she felt some connection with reality again. Looking up, she realized she’d spilled the table over and her crystal ball and tips were all over the floor. The other woman was standing up and shaking her head.
 

“You’re nuts!”

“You’re in danger. I saw it. You need to be careful. I… You have to stay away from Fell’s Point tomorrow night.”

“You’re deranged. I can’t believe Olivia hired you!” the blonde said, shaking her head and stomping off into the crowd.

Caitlin fought back tears. No one had ever accused her of being insane before, but she clearly had gifts that, as hard as he tried to comfort her about them, even Logan didn’t understand. He might believe that she hadn’t noticed his hesitation, but she had. Maybe this was why she’d never told Sheila about her abilities either. It bit into her heart like barbed wire, but at least she could deal with that much from a stranger. She could never survive the rending of her heart if the only family she had left cast her aside because of her powers.

Reaching up, she rubbed the scar over her eyebrow and hesitated. Something about that night, about the maniac who’d butchered her family was playing at her mind, but she couldn’t quite grasp that thread, not with the panoramic promise of the death that awaited that other girl playing through her mind.

Strong hands were on her shoulders as Logan kneaded them. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he leaned into her ear and added, “We need to get going, darling. I’ll explain everything.”

Caitlin rankled against being weak right then, against needing him to take care of her, but she was too scared of her own powers and what she’d seen to speak herself. Maybe just once she could rely on someone else.

Except whenever she’d done that before, it had ended up crushing her.

“I COULDN’T SEE everything I wanted,” Caitlin said.

Logan wanted to point out she’d seen too damn bloody much if it had left her shrieking like that. However, he had to be the rational one here, use his centuries of practice as a Corps soldier and make sure emotion didn’t usurp logic. She needed him to do that; he
owed
her that much.
 

Instead, he nodded as they drove back towards his hotel and looked back at her. “What did happen?”

“Most of the readings were normal. It’s the same as usual, if I see a present for a birthday early or a promotion at work, no big deal. However, this girl is going to die. I was
living
it. Usually my visions if they’re triggered are vivid, but this was me being bound and hurt. All I know is she’s going to hang out in Fell’s Point tomorrow and some thug with a weird tattoo is going to hurt her. I saw some but not enough. I need to know all the details so I can stop this.”

“Stop it? You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Your powers are growing in ways you can’t understand and are
hurting
you. The Knights, led by Darren, are hunting you down so you can’t go home. The last thing you need to do is track down a killer.”

Green eyes blazed back up at him, and she shook her head.
 

“I don’t run. Yeah, everything’s throwing me, but I help people. It’s what I did before you showed up and catapulted my gift. I can do this.”

“I won’t let you.”

She snorted. “You won’t let me? Sorry to tell you this, but it’s not the 1700s. The whole women’s lib thing happened, and I’m not going to stay home baking cookies.”

He sighed but didn’t rise to the bait. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re too valuable to let get hurt.”

“To your war?”

“No, to me,” he said, his voice quiet. “You’re too important to me. Believe it when I say this. When I talk about saving you, it’s not because I give a damn about your abilities or the war, not about how they pair together. I just want to protect you. I can’t do that if you run off half-cocked.”

“I don’t need protection every second of every day.”

“Maybe not forever, but you’re not trained and you’ve got people gunning for you, lass. Let me help you.”

“How?”

“I’m going to cast a ritual.”

CAITLIN HAD WATCHED Logan prepare the “ritual ground” in the center of the hotel room. Five black candles were set in the shape of a pentagram to their left. Circling the candles was one ring of rosemary enwreathing a second thinner line of mulberry and white ash. They were naked and she was sitting in front of him, not entirely sure what Logan was planning, and scared to see what power
ritual magic
could wield. Logan had a condom on, already erect. He smeared blackberry juice over his fingers. Leaning forward, he anointed her head with three circles concentrically linked

“Mother Gaia, hear us now,” he said.

Nodding, she repeated the incantation as she put the blackberry mixture on her own hand and traced the three circles as he instructed on Logan’s forehead.
 

“Mother Gaia, hear us now.”

Logan leaned forward and kissed her lips, while smearing the dust of dandelions across her chest and below the curves of her breasts. “We beseech thee for guidance in our darkest hour, much as the candles here send their light to the heavens.”

She followed the action again and spread the pollen on him, marveling even now at the taught ridge of muscles that made up his eight-pack, and repeated the line.

“Now,” he said, helping her to her feet. He gently turned her around, his hard chest against her back. “We bring together power, love and magic for your glory. Help us be your instrument!”

She echoed him and then hissed as his erection slid up between her thighs. He eased into her from behind. The angle was different and for a second it took longer to get the right adjustment for them to move. She hissed at the bite of pain as she stretched around his hard length. He cupped a cheek of her ass with one hand and cupped her right breast with his other hand. Leaning forward, he nibbled at her ear lobes and then at her pulse point.
 

Whispering, he added, “Make love with me, darling.”

EVERYTHING ABOUT CAITLIN was amazing, but now all Logan could do was marvel at the tightness of her channel, as he pounded into her. With every motion, his balls slapped against her ass. He felt her match his rhythm, arching her back up to give him a better angle to play first with her ass, and then to fondle a very different set of lips. The juices of her pussy, warm and intoxicating, sluiced over his left hand, and he worked forward to find the golden button of her clit.

Sweat dripped down her neck and her back, and the curve of her breasts bounced. His young witch was biting her lip to keep from shouting his name from the roof tops.

So controlled.

Everything he’d ever damn wanted.

But he felt her climax, her sex pulsing with its crescendo. It clamped him ferociously, silently, as she quivered in his gasp.

Now he was rushing, feeling the need pulling through him. The scent of rosemary was tingling in his nostrils, the scent of her—so female, so raw—hung in his throat. His balls quivered and then he hoisted up against her, slamming into her G-spot with all the force he could muster. He came then, and she reeled back and tossed flaming red hair into his eyes.

“Goddess that was amazing,” she said, as he pulled out and she eased into his arms, her back to his chest. “I feel like I’m connected to everything.”

“Yes, you’ll feel that buzz for at least an hour,” he added. “So now you just need to breathe and concentrate. Focus on the tattoo you saw, on the red of it like crimson, like blood. Think of the shape and the strength of its lines. Tell me what you see.”