Trent: Her Warlock Protector Book 7 (6 page)

Norine nodded and stroked her shoulder.
 

“But you want to know if you’re wrong, if you shouldn’t dabble in those teachings as well?”

“Well should I? What if, let’s just say, what if those potions and rites work? What if it unleashes something I can’t control?”

Norine sighed and shoved her ponytail over her shoulder. “The old testament says ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’”

Elaine’s throat constricted and it felt impossible to breathe. “I know.”

“But that’s before the covenant. There are ways to meditate and feel closer to that other side of yourself. It’s not wrong to find your past.”

“But what if the past is secretly horrifying?”

Norine chuckled. “I doubt your grandmother was a serial killer.”

Maybe I am if those weren’t just chickens.

“We all have to decide who we are. So either you’re comfortable exploring your grandmother’s journals or you’re not. If it distresses you, you can stop. You can even bring them here for safe keeping if you don’t want to be tempted.”

Elaine blinked and something feral growled in her head. That scared her almost enough to jump out of her seat. She’d left the necklace behind. There should be no risk of her actually changing shapes so why was something deep in her bones and skull howling at her to run?

“I…maybe that’s not the right idea.”

“Oh,” Norine said, shoulders hunching a little. “I was merely offering.”

“I can always give them to Dad if he wants them back. I just…what if I feel like is a monster.”

“Many people feel confused about themselves. It’s pretty normal at your age.”

“And what if I’m not a good person?”

Norine snorted. “I’m not supposed to show favoritism, but you’re more than a parishioner. I consider you a friend. I’ve seen the good you do volunteering with the youth class and how hard you work at the free clinic giving out sliding scale counseling with your mentor. Elaine, you can be many things, but the last thing I’d ever suspect would be a monster.”

“I hope you’re right.”

THE FIRST INKLING that something was still wrong happened when she drove up to the farm. Usually, the stables were her biggest source of comfort. No matter what drama was plaguing her at school, no matter how snotty Stephen and his crew were on the rez, no matter
anything
, Elaine could return to the barn and feel whole and safe. Pulling up though, she felt her stomach recoil at the overwhelming combination of senses assaulting her nose. She could smell everything––the acrid stench of ammonia wafting from the stalls, the oil for the saddles, so cloying and thick, the stink of the sweat from each horse––all of it was choking her throat and making it hard not to vomit.

Hopping out of the car was worse, not just because of the smells but because of the sounds. She couldn’t block anything out. The pounding of dozens of strong horse hearts felt like gongs going off by her head, and the clomping of hooves trotting in the ring were like railroad spikes pounding into her skull.

Doubled over, Elaine made it as far as she could, glad that Floyd and everyone else were at the main ring. The second she passed a stall, the horse in it would rear and started to whinny. That noise added to the cacophony in her brain. Beside her, as she made her way to Rainstone’s quarters, a giant quarter horse circled and kicked against the wood of the door, causing it to splinter. Elaine shuddered and screamed at all the pain assaulting her. Desperate, she rushed into Rainstone’s stall.

Rainstone was the only horse among the dozen or so not going nuts.

Maybe he had no fear instinct.

Who could even tell the rules anymore?

Sighing, Elaine leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. The hay was soft and curling up in it and trying to sleep after the day from hell was all she wanted to do. Nothing else had helped, not denial, not talking with Priest Norine. Not even stroking the side of Rainstone’s leg, feeling her patient steed’s warm body under her palm.
 

“Oh Rainstone, what’s happening to me?”

“You’re a witch,” a familiar voice chimed in. “A novice Wiccan to be exact.”

“Trent!” she gasped.
 

He stood at the stall door, as gorgeous as she’d remembered him.
 

Elaine didn’t want to come off as so pathetically desperate, but after the freak show of last night, she’d never expected to see those haunting tawny eyes looking back at her. It would have been better if they weren’t regarding her with such pity, but at least it wasn’t with hate or revulsion.

Trent sat down next to her and took her hand.

“I should have been more honest with you. I did this wrong.”

She blinked, not understanding.
 

“I don’t get any of this. I know I’m at least in line to potentially be a tribe Medicine Woman one day because of my grandmother, but I’m not a Wiccan. It’s not even a religion I’m familiar with. And why would you be responsible?”

“Because, I’m not who you think I am. I’m part of the Magus Corps, and I was assigned a couple of months ago to surveil your case and bring you into our fold. I’ve been watching you every day for weeks.”

Elaine’s head swam and it had nothing to do with her senses going crazy. Instead, she felt emotions warring with in her, both anger that he’d stalked her but also nausea that she’d been so vulnerable and not even known it. She decided to have the best of both worlds. First, Elaine leaned over and vomited in the hay. Then, as Trent leaned over to help hold her hair back, she regained her composure and slapped him.

• • • • •

Trent rubbed his cheek and stared back at Elaine, not sure what had just happened. He’d fought Knights to the bloody end, cast spells that had left him exhausted and drained for days, but he’d never been slapped by a woman until now. He wasn’t sure what to do.

“I can explain,” he said.

“Explain?” Elaine demanded, dark eyes stormy as she jumped up and rushed out of the stall.
 

He followed after and locked the gate behind them. She rounded on him and his wolf side made him bare his teeth a bit. He knew a challenge when he saw it.
 

“Explain what?” she said. “You’re some creepy stalker? That you think
you’re okay because you work for some Corps or group? That you’re a goddamned liar?”

“I had to get close to you. It was the mission.”

Lying was second nature to maintaining cover so why was it hard with her. Why was everything so hard with her?

“Tell me more about this mission,” she snarled.

His wolf half was torn between arousal and matching anger. He was the alpha here and not for her to question.

“You’re magical, but you know that,” he said. “You know you have better senses than others and we both know after last night you can shapeshift.”

“Apparently I’m some werewolf freak!”

He shook his head and tried to put his hands on her shoulders, but she backed away from his touch. That tore into him deeper than any Knight’s blade ever had. Ignoring the slight as best he could, he began to pace. It gave his wild half something to do.
 

“You’re a shapeshifting witch. It’s very different. Real werewolves are crueler and have to fight off craving human flesh.”

“Oh Goddess,” she said, bending down and taking in deep gulps of air. “I couldn’t.”

He shook his head and steadied her, grateful she at least accepted that much comfort.
 

“I said that’s actual lycanthropes. We’re different. We have to use a spell mixed with a totem in order to shift to our animal forms. It’s controlled. You might not remember all of the night before, but you wouldn’t hurt a human. Witches and warlocks who change are above that.”

“Says you! I did devour some chickens. I just…why would you be watching me?” she continued, squatting low and taking in deep breaths.

He crouched down beside her and rubbed slow circles on her back.
 

“You won’t hurt people, promise. Second, our kind––Wiccans––have been around for millennia but we have our enemies.”

“Enemies?”

He nodded and continued.
 

“The Knights Templar are dedicated to eliminating every last warlock and witch. The Magus Corps fights them, but we also find Wiccans out there who don’t know who they really are. At least you knew there was power in your family, that it was inherited in your line. That’s often far more than most witches.”

“I knew my grandmother had powers or was reputed too, and I knew I was a freak.”

Trent shook his head and stroked her hair back from her face. Those gorgeous doe eyes looked back at him, so full of trust and desperation. He hated himself for botching all of this so badly and causing her pain.
 

“Gifted, like me. Humans are scared of us. The Knights think we’re demonic, and they want us eliminated. The best thing we can do is find the ones born to this, initiate them, and keep them safe and trained in their abilities.”

“And how do you initiate? Is there some handbook? Do I go to a school? Maybe all I need is a sorting hat.”

Chuckling, Trent kept rubbing her back.
 

“You’re not Hermione Granger. Each of us is born to this life, and we draw our energy from nature in all its forms.”

“I can tell, hence my ability to become furry.”

“Not all of us. We can cast the most powerful of our spells communing with the Goddess and nature. If we’re drained from a huge incantation, going to spend time in the wild refuels us.”

“So just go and swim in a spring or hike a mountain and ready to go all Sabrina?” she countered and he noticed that at least her breathing had returned to normal. Perking up his hearing, Trent noted also that her heart was steady again, like a metronome. “That makes sense but…” She blushed then, went as red as a fire hydrant. “My grandmother…older Medicine People used to have other rituals to harness energy.”

He nodded. “Sexual union is the highest form of communing with nature. It’s why you started to inherit your abilities after your first boyfriend.”

“I never said that.”

“The dossier did.”

She shook her head and glared up at him with a fury he’d seen rarely before and often only in Templar eyes.
 

“Spying. What kind of perverts are you?”

“We’re not,” he said, standing and pacing again, taking long languid steps in order to burn off his energy. “This is who we are. The ultimate way to celebrate nature is sexual.”

“Are you here to have sex with me?”

“I’m here to tutor you. Each of us has our own affinities and spells that work. You didn’t even realize it, but you’ve even collected a familiar for yourself, an animal who serves only you.”

She grinned despite that and walked back toward Rainstone’s stall. Holding out her hand flat, Elaine widened her smile and let the horse snuffle at her palm.
 

“It’s Rainstone. I felt drawn to him the moment I saw him.”

“Yeah and mine, my husky Timber, is the best ally I’ve ever had. He’s back in D.C., where I was based before this.”

“I thought you were from New York?”

“I was. Anyway we can shift, but some can see the future, or manipulate luck. Others of us can control elements or read minds. There’s so much variety, but I wouldn’t trade what we are for anyone else’s powers.”

“But we’re–”

“Different, but still us and not alone anymore,” he replied, walking over to her. “Yes, helping train you…helping you learn the full extent of your powers, that will take calling on nature and sometimes, yes, intercourse. Magus Corps officers only do it with consent, but it’s part of your craft.”

“I’m sure it is. How convenient for you.” She ignored him to stroke Rainstone’s nose.

“It’s not convenient. It’s the most beautiful expression of togetherness that there is. Some of the Magus Corps have been at this for centuries, and those unions, the fully initiated ones, are the stuff of legends.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he cocked his head, amused at the way she showed shock so easily.

“
Centuries?
”

“If you have unprotected sex with a Magus Corps member, truly have that intimate a joining, that will make you immortal.”

“You can’t be more than twenty-five.”

“The immortality keeps me looking that way, but I’m young compared to the others, just fifty.”

“That’s close to Dad’s age.”

He shrugged.

“I know this is a lot to take in, and I meant to do better and find a way to prepare you, to help start your training. But even I wasn’t sure how to say ‘so you’re in line to be an immortal witch.’”

“I’m sure you do it all the time,” she said, but not sounding as sure of herself.

“No, actually,” he said, finally coming to stand inches from her.
 

She shuddered and he smelled her arousal even then, the sweet tang of juices flowing to her pussy. Animals calling to each other, shifter calling to shifter. Reaching down, he stroked her cheek.
 

“I’ve been on the front line in the battle,” he said quietly. “I’ve never initiated anyone else.”

“I’m a job,” she said flatly.

“You’re more than that, and that’s why I messed this up. I wasn’t supposed to, but I’m falling hard for you, my country gal.”

“I can’t know anything is real,” she said through clenched jaws, but she didn’t move, just regarded him with an intensity that matched her wolf form.

“Then watch,” he said, kissing her cheek and then stepping back. Unbuckling his jean jacket, he let her get a good look at the item around his waist. She reached out and stroked it and most of him wished she’d stroked an area farther south. “Do you know what this is?”

She nodded. “It’s a fur belt. That’s the most popular totem for skinwalkers.”

“Yes,” he said, reaching into his pocket and tossing her the tooth. “You left this at your place. You weren’t there when I was looking for you today. It’s how I guessed to come here. You’ll need the totem to change.”

“That’s the last thing I want to do!”

“This,” he repeated even as the fur spread over his body and his ears elongated, “is a gift. So accept it, Elaine, and run with me.”