Rescued (Book One of the Silver Wood Coven Series): A Witch and Warlock Romance Novel (2 page)

Now he had looked into her eyes, and he had even more to brood on. Until today he had never been close enough to see their color. It was unsettling to find they were a jewel-like blue flecked with gold and green and violet, like dark opals.

A woman like that, with eyes so rare and magnificent that they made the heart clench, could enrapture a man with a glance. Perhaps her loveliness was the only magic Beauty possessed.

Michael felt an aching heat spread through his lower belly, and glanced down to see the heavy bulge of his erection distorting the front of his trousers. He’d been plagued by lust all his life, a particular embarrassment that even taking his vow of chastity had been unable to dispel. Over the centuries he had wrestled with his unruly needs, which no amount of prayer or self-denial could curb. He’d regularly fallen from grace by slipping away from the temple, secretly seeking out women to relieve his hunger for the delights of the flesh. For until he did, nothing else could give him ease.
 

Beauty could,
Michael thought, leaning back against the rock as he allowed himself a moment to imagine it. The woman had been blessed with a ripe, strong body, as if the Almighty had fashioned her for his pleasure. Her breasts would fit sweetly into his big hands, and her strong thighs would cradle him easily when he mounted her. As thin and delicate as her skin was, Beauty would be quick to arouse, and once he played with her pretty body he could ease his thick cock inside her sweet pussy, and let her soft, wet heat envelope him as he stroked into her, over and over, until she writhed under him and begged for her release.

Michael closed his eyes as he silently repeated the avouchment Nathaniel had taught him.
In the fight chastity is security. My body belongs to the order. I am a Templar warrior, pure of heart, mind, flesh and spirit.
 

Reminding himself of the reasons he was supposed to live a celibate life cleared the unchaste thoughts from his head, and shame over his inability to do so finally tamed his rebellious cock. When he opened his eyes the sun had begun its final descent behind the city’s skyscrapers, and twilight crept across the park.

The sound of a woman’s cry, cut off almost as soon as it rang out, made Michael straighten and peer down at the cottage. He saw two people struggling: one large hooded figure dragging a smaller form backward into the brush.

Using the darkness and the trees as cover, Michael ran down toward the cottage, taking care not to make any noise as he approached the now-thrashing shrubs. He heard fabric tearing, and then a man’s grunt of pain. Michael pulled out his dagger as he plunged in after the pair.

“Let go of me,” a frantic female voice cried out in the shadows just ahead of Michael. “No, stop it. I won’t let you–”

“Stupid whore,” a vicious male voice hissed. “Bite me again and I’ll cut off your nose.”

Michael saw the rapist drop down atop his victim, laughing as he ripped her clothes, and felt his blood boil. He threw his dagger, and it grazed the rapist’s arm. With a high-pitched shriek the man stumbled to his feet and fled. Michael started to go after him and then stopped when he saw who lay cringing on the ground.

Beauty.

He knelt down beside her, reaching for her at the same time she clutched at him. In moments she was in his arms and gasping into his chest.
 

“Don’t be afraid. He’s gone now.” Awkwardly he stroked her hair, which felt as rich and heavy as a silk shawl. “Are you injured?”

Beauty shook her head, and then raised her wobbling chin to gaze at him.
 

“No. He didn’t have time. Thank you. I couldn’t–”

She burst into tears.
 

Michael cradled her close, tucking her head under his chin and making soothing sounds as she sobbed. Throughout the centuries he had seen women after they had been raped, too many times, and knew how it violated their gentle spirits as much as their bodies. She shuddered against his chest like a frightened and captive bird. Fury welled for her attacker, even as her sobs pierced his own heart. Finally, her weeping calmed.

“Do you want me to take you to the emergency room? Or should I call for the police?”

“No, please, don’t do that. I’m all right.” She moved away from him, a separation he felt keenly. “I didn’t see his face, so I couldn’t describe him.”

That wasn’t why she’d refused, but Michael wasn’t going to press her for the truth when she still seemed so shaken.

“You’ve been living in the park for some time now, haven’t you?”

Beauty stared at him before she slowly nodded.

“And you’re the one who’s been watching over me.”

Michael stood up, bringing her with him. For a moment he could only stare. The young woman he’d seen from afar was as enchanting as he’d imagined. It took every ounce of will he possessed not to wrap his arms around her again. But when she swayed unsteadily, he took hold of her shoulders.

“The man who attacked you may return to try again.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I want you to come with me so I can keep you safe, until I can arrange a place for you to stay.”

Her lower lip trembled, as she stared up into his face. He could only imagine how that must sound. But she’d already guessed that he’d been watching her. They’d nearly met earlier in the day.

“You would do that?” she whispered.

“I think you know I would.”

“I do.” Like a trusting child she put her hand in his. “Somehow I do. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He took a moment to brush away some of the dead leaves clinging to her jacket. “I’m Michael Charbon.”

“I call myself Summer,” she said, “but I don’t know what my real name is. I can’t remember anything about my life, or what happened to me before I woke up here in the park three months ago. It’s all just one big blank.”

RIDING IN MICHAEL Charbon’s sports car as he deftly made his way through Manhattan made Summer wonder just how wealthy her savior was. She didn’t know a great deal about cars, but the sinfully comfortable leather upholstery and polished chrome and mahogany dash had to be custom-made. Michael didn’t wear any jewelry, but his clothes were made too well to be off the rack. Then there was the dagger he’d slipped into the glove box before they’d left the park. Aside from the blade, which appeared to be razor-sharp, a blue jewel as big as her thumbnail had sparkled from the center of the artfully carved golden hilt.

He can’t be a cop. So why would a rich man even bother watching a homeless woman?
 

Summer wanted to ask him, but she had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t tell her the truth––a certainty that also made her feel annoyed with herself.

So besides making people generous and bringing gardens back to life in the fall, I’m also psychic. But if I am, then why didn’t I sense that maniac was going to jump me?

Michael gave her a sideways glance.

“Why did you choose the name Summer for yourself?”

“I took the name one day when a man saw me picking up some trash in the park. I guess he assumed that I worked for the Conservatory.” The memory of that day made her smile. “He said he’d never seen the park look so good in summer. I thought it made a good name.”

 
“Did you realize you’d lost your memory right away, when you first woke up in the park?” When she nodded, Michael asked, “Why didn’t you get some help?”

“I was afraid.” Summer thought of the blood-stained clothes in the bottom of her backpack. “I didn’t know what had happened to me, and when I tried to remember it gave me an awful headache. I wasn’t sure who I could trust, either.”

Michael drove into the entrance of the parking garage of a towering private building, and parked in a numbered slot by the elevator. Once he shut off the engine he turned to her.
 

“Why are you trusting me?”

“You saved my life.” Summer wanted to tell him about the strange wave of pleasure she’d felt sweep through her from the first moment she’d seen him, but then he would think she was crazy. “Why are you protecting me?”

 
He gave her a narrow look. “Perhaps I’m like all the others who have been drawn to you.”

“So you know about that.” Of course he did. He’d been watching her for weeks. “You’re not like them, you know. If you were, you would have walked away after saving me.”

“Indeed.” His mouth flattened. “Is that part of the enchantment?”

“Trust me, Mr. Charbon, this thing that makes people give me stuff is not enchanting. It’s scary, and strange, and no matter what I do, I can’t stop it,” she said, and then immediately regretted her sharp tone. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I wouldn’t have survived this long without the generosity I’ve been shown. It’s just…”
 

She lifted her shoulders.

“Unnatural?” he suggested, but before she could reply he climbed out of the car and came around to open her door. “Come.” He held out his hand. “You must be exhausted.”

Summer had never felt more alert or energetic, and when she placed her hand in his the warmth and strength of him seeped into her, racing up her arm and into her breasts. She watched his face, and saw the grim line of his mouth soften as he helped her out of the car. He released her hand almost immediately, making her wonder if she was reading too much into his reactions, and then she saw him surreptitiously open and close his hand by his side, as if he was trying to shake off something.

He feels it, too,
she thought as he ushered her into the elevator, and pressed the button for the penthouse level.
But he doesn’t want to.

Once the elevator stopped, Michael escorted her down a strange hallway with white, unadorned walls and a flat, black carpet to the only door, where he entered a code on a keypad. She heard the door unlock itself and watched it swing inward.
 

“That’s pretty neat.”

“It saves time, and discourages thieves.”

He gestured for her to walk ahead of him, and then followed and closed the door, which locked itself. As he switched on the lights Summer took a moment to look around.
 

The apartment was enormous, with high vaulted ceilings and a large, open living space. His furnishings were simple and minimalistic, and the art hanging on his walls was modern and graphic. What amazed her was that everything was either black, white or gray––not a single spot of color appeared anywhere––and there were no books or pictures or any form of entertainment.

“If you’d like to wash up,” Michael said as he crossed the room to open the white blinds. “The bath is down the hall, to the right.”

“A shower would be great.” Summer had been sponge-bathing and washing her clothes in the cottage bathroom at night, using the sink and some hand soap. “Do you have a washer and dryer?”

He glanced back at her.
 

“In the utility room, next to the bath. Use the robe hanging on the door while you’re laundering your clothes. I have to make some calls, and I’ll order some food for us as well. What do you like to eat?” He saw her expression and the corner of his mouth hitched. “Of course. You can’t remember. Perhaps some Italian––I’ve never met anyone who dislikes it.”

He took out his mobile and began scrolling through a contact list.
 

Summer resisted the urge to tiptoe as she went back to the bathroom, which had been done in gray and white and was so clean she could have eaten off any surface. The oversize shower with its multiple spray heads made sense––Michael was a very large man––but his cake of white soap looked handmade, and the shampoo in the unmarked bottle on the shower shelf smelled of lemon because it had actual bits of lemon peel in it.

“Maybe he has sensitive skin,” she murmured as she turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and began to strip out of her clothes. She paused only to glance at the door, which she hadn’t locked, before she finished undressing. “Okay. If he comes in here, he can scrub my back.”

Summer knew she was being reckless, and now that Michael had her alone he could do whatever he liked to her. She also knew that he wouldn’t. He was big and strong, and a little scary. She knew he’d used that jeweled knife to stop the rapist. Yet from the moment he’d saved her Michael had been incredibly gentle with her. She had no illusions about herself; she was homeless and blank-brained and living like a wild thing in a public park. Her amnesia might even be a symptom of a serious mental illness.
 

With one phone call he could have handed her off to the police. Instead he was out there ordering Italian food for her, and making arrangements for her safe-keeping.

Summer slipped on the luxurious, black silk robe, found the utility room and started her clothes in washer. Michael was still on the phone when she slipped back into the bathroom. She hung up the robe. As she stepped inside the shower, she moaned a little as the warm water cascaded over her from all sides. After three months of bathing from a sink, being able to shower felt like pure luxury, but she only allowed herself a minute to indulge in the bliss before she reached for the shampoo and went to work on her hair. With the cold weather moving in she’d only been washing her hair once a week, so now she took care to lather and rinse her head several times before using the bar soap on her body.

Her hands and jaw and legs felt sore, probably from her struggles with the rapist, and Summer was certain she’d have some bruises on her upper arms and back from him grabbing her and throwing her to the ground. The thought of how close she’d come to being badly beaten as well as violated made her hands shake, and then without warning a flash of something loud and bright red exploded in her mind.

You fucking bitch.

The soap slipped from her fingers as she tried desperately to hold onto the fragment of memory, but pain blossomed and consumed it as it hammered inside her temples.
 

As Summer bent over to retrieve the soap her knees wobbled and her throat tightened, and a fearful despair swamped her. Everything around her blurred. She knelt down and hunched over, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle the sobs she could no longer hold back.