Wicked Magic (12 page)

He hadn’t and now he had a call to make, one that hurt.

Out in the hall, he paused and pressed his clammy forehead
to the wall. Vomit curled his stomach and he tried not to think about what his
sweet, innocent Sam might be suffering. As a human, she wouldn’t be able to
survive the things Brenda had most likely gone through. The skin around his
nails ached and he curled them into his palms to help push back the instinct to
shift forms.

His mate, his woman, needed him.

Phone in hand, he set about making a few calls—the sherriff
to send out a crew and his brother, who didn’t pick up. Last thing he did was
phone Brenda’s father, the local pack master.

Hayden picked up on the fourth ring.

“We got trouble,” Trent said in a low, even tone.

A whiskey deep voice responded, “Those Nevada boys still
giving you grief? Heard my daughter got mixed up with one of ’em. You send her
my way, let me deal with her.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked everywhere
except in the direction of his bedroom where Hayden’s daughter had been raped
and murdered. “Hayden, I’ve got some bad news.”

Silence.

“Brenda.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s dead,
Hayden. I’m sorry. I truly am. I’ve got the sherriff coming by to collect the
evidence they need.”

Hayden’s voice was rough with an uncurling growl Trent felt
through the line. “Who did it?”

“The Nevada boys.” His voice cracked. “They’ve got Sam.”

“Motherfuckers.” The sounds of breaking glass came across
the line. “You find these bastards, you let me deal with them. I’m calling out
the pack. Tonight we hunt for blood. I make the kill, I’ll let Brenda’s
brothers rip ’em apart.”

“I’m not making you any promises about leaving those
assholes for you to deal with. I find them—see that they’ve hurt Sam—all bets
are off. You want to send your boys out, that’d be appreciated. They want me to
find Sam, that means they’ve not gone far. Brenda was left at my house, so have
the pack head this way—probably out in the woods. I’m gonna see if I can track
the scent. Full moon’s close enough for a shift. If they’re in animal form,
that’s shifter business. You remember that, Hayden.”

Trent hung up, turned and pushed off the wall. He stormed
outside. Nose pointed to the darkening sky, he inhaled. The wolves’ stench was
pungent, a thick blanket overlaying the scent of impending rain. He scanned the
gravel driveway, narrowed his gaze on the flattened blades of grass.

He followed the path, worn down by boots, and took off after
it. The forest closed around him, a dark malevolent force. Evil lurked. Wind
whistled through the trees and the rustling of leaves sounded like whispers. A
stream trickled nearby. He moved deeper into the woods and let his senses guide
him. He’d been playing and running through these woods his entire life.

Three miles in, the whispers turned into cruel laughter. The
closer he got to the noise, the more it sharpened and honed. Flesh pounded
flesh—the noise fists made hitting flesh, followed by grunts and hollers. Glass
shattered.

“That’s what I thought, you motherfucking pussies!” someone
yelled, his words slurring as if he’d had too much to drink. The distinct sound
of a belt buckle, metal jingling as if someone was undoing it, carried through
the night. Something heavy dropped to the ground. “I’m Alpha and I’m gonna fuck
that bitch ’til she bleeds!”

A chorus of cheers rang out and it took all of Trent’s
willpower not to immediately rush forward. His heart beat faster the closer he
got, adrenaline pulling his feline closer and closer to the surface. He moved
quickly and quietly until the trees thinned and opened into a vacant patch of
trees. A dark irony that he’d lost his virginity to Tammy-Sue fifteen years ago
in that clearing. He pulled out his weapon, cupped the butt of it in his palm
and looked in.

Fury filled him and he saw nothing but a haze of red.

Terror encompassed Sam, melting away some of the numbing
cold. The victor—the burly wolf shifter known as Alpha who’d beaten each and
every one of his pack mates within an inch of their lives one brutal fist
pounding at a time—leered down at her. Blood flowed from a split over his
eyebrow and ran down his face to drip from his beard. His black eyes held
nothing but violence and lust.

A cold sweat dampened her skin. Leaves, dirt and broken
twigs stuck to her skin. She squirmed on the ground, dug her heel into the
forest floor and shoved back. Pain burned in her shoulders from being bound,
from the weight of her body pressing on her numb arms. After they’d dragged her
through the woods, they’d thrown her on the ground and set about throwing a
party in her honor.

The gag in her mouth left a foul, dirty taste and she looked
at her would-be rapist with hated.

“I’m gonna enjoy ripping into that sweet little body of yours.
You gonna scream for me?” He unzipped his leathers and his cock sprang free.
His meaty palm eclipsed his shaft when he gripped his prick and stroked.
“Wolves mate for life—did you know that, little one? I guess it’s a good thing
for me you won’t live long.”

Vomit stung the back of her throat and she whimpered despite
her best attempts to be brave. She’d been grateful that they’d barely touched
her, more intent on proving to themselves whose dick was bigger. Now her time
was up.

He gripped her knees, fingers digging painfully into skin,
and stopped her retreat. With a cruel, vicious yank, he spread her thighs and
licked his lips.

“You see this pretty pink pussy, boys?” he called out behind
him, spreading her wider for all to see. “Someone light the fucking candles and
get those pansy-ass ribbons.” He grinned at her, showing his yellowed teeth.
“I’m gonna make you mine, little girl.”

Humiliation burned deep and tears filled her eyes. Eager
grunts sounded, erasing the faint trickle of the stream off in the distance.
The pack ripped at their belts and fumbled with their zippers. All getting
ready to take their turn or jack off while this bastard took her against her
will.

Dread sank in. She closed her eyes and prayed to the goddess
to help her. Evil blanketed the air, drawing nothing but negative energy.

Trent’s voice came out of the darkness. “Touch her and I’ll
shoot your dick off.”

She snapped her eyes opened, looked to her left, afraid
she’d imagined the sound of his voice.

A series of growls rang out around her but she didn’t dare
remove her gaze from Trent. He held his gun out, unwavering and steady. In that
moment he’d never looked more like a cop. His gaze was fierce and superior. His
stance was broad and sturdy, commanding authority.

The man between her thighs let go of his erection and turned
his entire body to glare at Trent. “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy. I see
you got my message, you’re just in time for the show.”

His hand was hot and sweaty where he glided it up her thigh.
She whimpered and kicked her legs in a desperate attempt to keep him away from
her most intimate parts.

The gun went off with a flash and an explosion of sound. In
what felt like the same instant, the bullet thudded into her attacker. Blood
sprayed out, coating her thighs in a blanket of hot liquid.

She screamed, scrambling away as the alpha howled in pain
and dropped to the ground, cupping his crotch. Trent had shot him in the dick.
Holy shit. He rolled one way, then the other, a fountain of blood bubbling up
through his fingers.

Two more shots rang out and she kept scooting until her
shoulder hit a tree. Rough bark scraped her skin. Using the hard surface, she
pushed and managed to get up on her feet. The pack converged as one unit,
electric, neck-ruffling energy rippling out as their skin ripped apart and
their canine counterparts emerged.

Fear gripped her. Why wasn’t Trent shifting?

Howls pierced the night, followed by the pounding of paws
that seemed to come from all directions around her. Trent stood still, looking
on in absolute rage as wolves streamed through the trees and met with the
snarling pack.

Brenda’s brothers and cousins. Hayden, the pack master.
Trent had arranged for backup.

All around her chaos reigned. Yelps and nips. The awful
sound of snarling and flesh tearing. Through it, Trent crossed the distance
between them. Tears tracked down her cheeks and she pushed off the tree,
running for him. He caught her in the middle and pulled her against his chest,
holding her so tight it hurt in the best way possible.

Heat radiated from his body and his scent filled her with
every gasping breath. He was clean and fresh and hers.

He reached around her and untied first her wrists then the
gag at her mouth, throwing the cloth to the ground before cupping her cheeks
and pressing his lips softly against hers. Her tears fell harder, stronger,
bubbling over his fingers.

Trent gathered her close and guided her nose to his throat.
She wrapped her arms around him and inhaled, tried to burrow closer.

“My sweet, sweet Sam,” he said into her hair, his voice
broken.

He stroked her arms and back, his soothing and familiar
touch erasing the filth from her skin.

“Is Brenda okay?” she asked through a hiccup.

His body drew tight and stiff against her. His words when he
spoke were measured. “I’m sorry, baby. So sorry…”

She understood what he meant. Pain blossomed in her chest,
spread out in waves of grief that made it hard to suck in a breath. Oh Brenda…

“Let’s get you out of here.” He pulled away and removed his
shirt before pulling it over her head. His very presence engulfed and wrapped
around her. The magic that had eluded her all night sparked to life and chilled
her already freezing limbs.

Stillness settled over the night and she turned to the
fight, finding it over. Outmatched a dozen to four, the outsiders hadn’t stood
a chance against a pack of bloodthirsty wolves out for vengeance.

Before she could take another step, Trent scooped her up in
his arms and carried her out of the clearing, away from the violence. She
wrapped her arms around his neck and settled her ear against his drumming
chest.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“No.”

The long walk back to his house was silent. Not even
crickets dared chirp. Flashing lights drew her attention as they emerged from the
woods. Alternating red and blue strobes illuminated the night from the various
patrol cars parked around Trent’s house. The coroner’s white van sped away from
the chaos, the loose gravel kicking up a plume of dust in its wake.

Brenda.

A flurry of movement surrounded them as they got close and
Trent pushed past a group of uniformed officers and brought her straight to his
SUV. He opened the door and set her inside on the passenger seat. Like before,
he clicked her seat belt. She cast her gaze to the ground and fought the new
bout of tears filling her eyes. Trent used his finger to notch her chin up. She
met his concerned gaze.

“You okay with us going back to your house so I can take
care of you?”

A house that, because Brenda was gone, would never be decorated
in Halloween garb again—a house that would never again hear her friend’s
laugher, or feel her sorrow when she inevitably got her heart broken for the
umpteenth time.

A voice sounded from behind Trent. “We need her statement
and she should go to the hospital,” one of the officers said.

Trent curled his upper lip and turned. A low, rolling growl
bubbled from his chest and the thin man with too much starch in his blue
uniform took an immediate step back, almost falling in his haste to remove
himself from danger.

“I’m taking my woman home and seeing to her. Fuck everything
else.” Trent looked to her and his entire demeanor softened. “You need to go to
the doc’s, babe? You don’t have to tell me what happened…”

The tears she fought won. She shook her head. “Really, I’m
okay. You got there in time.”

Jeremiah’s truck flew down the drive and came to a
screeching halt in a plume of dust. He exited and ran over to them, his face
pale, his big brown eyes wide and terrified.

“What the fuck happened? It’s complete pandemonium out
there. Word got out the wolves were moving in for a kill, that you were missing
and Brenda was dead. All of the shifters in town are rallying, ready to rip
apart whoever messed with you. I got here as quick as I could.”

New tears filled Sam’s eyes.

“Shit,” Trent said and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s
true, but the kill’s over. Hayden got his pound of flesh.”

“Brenda…” ’Miah said softly.

Trent shook his head.

Jeremiah balled his hands into fists at his side. Muscles in
his jaw clenched. “I should have never let that shifter get away.”

Trent cupped his brother’s shoulder, squeezed.

She found her voice. “This isn’t anyone’s fault, ’Miah.
Don’t blame yourself, please.”

Even though ’Miah nodded, Sam had a feeling his guilt wasn’t
so easily assuaged. “You takin’ her home?” he asked Trent.

“Yeah. I’ll get her cleaned up, stay with her. You got
somewhere you can go? Our house is a crime scene.”

’Miah closed his eyes. “I do.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Without another word, Jeremiah got back in his truck.
Through the window, she saw him lean forward and press his forehead to the
steering wheel. Trent stepped back and shut her door, sealing her inside. The
noise from outside faded and she closed her eyes. Brenda’s face mocked her.

The SUV rocked when Trent got inside and slammed the door
behind him. On the way home, she stared out the window into the darkness. Her
skin itched and she felt dirty from the inside out. After a few minutes, she
shut down and felt nothing. Not the cold. Not the sorrow. Not the grief. Not
the fear that had gripped her for so many hours.

It wasn’t until Trent pulled the t-shirt she wore over her
head that she realized they’d arrived at her home. She was in the bathroom and
the sound of rushing water hit her ears. She sucked in a breath, as if she’d
gone long minutes without taking one.

She looked up, into Trent’s concerned eyes.

“You checked out for a while on me. I figured you’d want a
bath.”

“I do,” she croaked. “I feel dirty.”

Trent held her hand and helped support her weight when she
stepped into the foaming water. The hot temperature stung her skin and she
welcomed the sensation. She eased beneath the bubbles and inhaled lavender. The
scent soothed her tight muscles and she relaxed under the water.

Washcloth in hand, Trent dunked the cloth under the water
before wringing it out. She bent forward and gripped her knees, slick with
soap, as he drew the cloth over her back.

“You’ve got some scratches here, do they hurt?”

She shook her head and buried her face between her knees. Slow
and tender, Trent patiently washed her from head to toe with a gentleness that
had her broken heart aching. When she was clean she turned to him, her vision
blurred with tears.

“Can we go to bed now?”

“We can.” He scraped a hand through his hair as if he was
hesitating over something. “I know you’ve had a really crappy night, but
Samhain will be over in a few hours…”

She shook her head, couldn’t think beyond the grief. She
knew what he was asking—if she still wanted to go through with the ritual. How
could she when she’d almost been raped? When Brenda had been murdered?

“I can’t, Trent.”

He cupped her cheek and brushed her tears away. “I
understand, baby, I do. But this is it for you. No seconds chances to inherit
your magic—your birthright. Brenda wouldn’t have wanted you to give up on this.
Don’t let those pricks steal this from you, from us. If you’d been a
full-fledged witch, you could have protected yourself. Whatever you decide to
do I’ll respect your choice, I’m not going to force you, but I need you to push
the grief aside for a second and think about it.”

His words, heartfelt and honest, sank in. Love swelled,
displacing some of the sorrow and lingering fear. “I love you, Trent.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “I should have never left
you. I won’t do that again, I swear to you.”

“Make love to me?” she asked softly, knowing that he was
right. Brenda never would have wanted her to give up her magic, not for
anything in the world.

“Every day for the rest of our lives.”

Trent carefully guided her out of the tub and into a large
blue towel. He wrapped it around her shoulders and used the front to pull her
close. He settled his lips against hers in a soft kiss that promised so much
more.

In her room, she dropped her towel and crawled under the
covers. Her bedroom window was open and a cool breeze wafted into the room.
Moonlight bled in and danced with the gossamer curtains whipping in the wind.

The shivers started from within and worked out. Her teeth
chattered. Her knees knocked.

“I’m so cold,” she managed.

Trent stripped off his weapon, shirt and boots and crawled
under the covers. The second he was close, she threw herself into his warmth
and burrowed in. He wrapped his arms around her and threaded their legs
together under the covers. His denim jeans were scratchy against her skin, a
texture she rubbed against to create more friction.

Heat leeched from his skin and melted some of the ice
flowing through her veins. Despite the bath and the scented bubbles, she still
felt the wolves touching her. Could still smell them on her skin.

With her face buried in his neck and his hand moving
steadily up and down her back, she admitted, “I still feel them, smell them.”
She drew her head up so she could meet his eyes.

“After I’m done, you’ll only ever smell of me. I love you.”