The Wardens of Terra

Chapter 5: Dark magic

Messing with Dark magic was not something he'd ever been foolish enough to attempt, but Troy knew some who'd been persuaded to try it out. Seduced by the Darkness, as it were. In Troy's experience, it always ended badly. f**k and damn. He wanted to hit something.

Why would the Fates have chosen her? It must be a mistake. He shook his head, but his Thunderbird pushed against him. Mate. Mine. There was no mistake, she was his.

He growled and paced the room. Logic and instinct were having an all-out brawl inside of him. Protect her! Troy stopped pacing and rubbed his forehead. His bird had issued the order with more power than he'd have thought was necessary. And yet he wanted to kick himself for dallying.

Any Shifter worth his salt would protect his mate first, ask questions later. For a Shifter, that instinct was pretty much gonna be on overdrive for the duration. Move already, his Thunderbird screamed. He was pretty f*****g pissed at his human half.

Troy stopped second-guessing and used his senses to seek out anything else in the attic that might be harmful to his small mate. He needed to ensure that she was safe the way he needed air to breathe. For the first time since the book had stopped wailing, Troy noticed the temperature inside the house had started warming up.

The room had lost its frigidity. Good thing too, since he'd shredded his clothes with his shift. Last thing he needed was anything vital freezing the f**k off. f**k and damn again.

He looked down at the still form of his mate. Concern marred his face. She was so small compared to him. Curvy and voluptuous, but she was still a good ten inches shorter than him. Her eyes were closed, but she breathed evenly. His heart squeezed inside his chest. She looked sweet and innocent. Like a soft summer breeze, he thought idly.

His Thunderbird bristled with unease. Was she okay? His beast sent the message to Troy that he was pissed the woman was injured loud and clear! Much as he hated it, and himself right then, Troy had a duty to perform. He needed to turn his attention to the still pulsing grimoire.

Dark magic oozed from the pages, literally. A thick, oily substance covered the tome, the stench of overripe garbage coming from it was as distinct as it was disgusting. Studying and training had nothing on actual fieldwork, that was for damn sure. He shook his head and took shallow breaths while he secured the book.

He shuddered at the thought of the damage this type of artifact in the wrong hands could do! Sort of like the kind of havoc he'd been dodging the entire trip up north in the form of erratic and increasingly dangerous road conditions due to the weather! He shook his head grimacing. Dark magic upset the balance of everything around it, not just the supernatural plane.

Crops, animal behavior, and most noticeably, the weather were all greatly affected by any disturbance caused by Dark magic. It was as unnatural as silicone and as addictive as cocaine. He growled in frustration. What was she doing here? What was her part in all this?

He glanced in his mate's direction and at the salt circle she seemed to be caught in on the floor. Probably meant to contain the grimoire. If he wasn't mistaken, the curly-haired beauty was trapped in a mess of her own making.

Fuck and damn. Regardless of the circumstances, he had no choice now. She was his prime suspect. He'd have to bring her back to the Station. Despite the unholy fit his Thunderbird was throwing inside of him, Troy would do his duty.

He clenched his jaw as he lifted the book of Dark spells by one creased corner. His Thunderbird pushed at him to get the vile thing away from his mate. The man agreed. He was careful to avoid letting the goo touch his skin, as he walked over to where remnants of his coat lay on the floor.

Fuck, he'd liked that jacket too. He found what he was looking for. After some careful maneuvering, he thrust the grimoire into the special binding bag he'd retrieved from the tattered coat pocket.

The bag was commissioned by the Wardens, bespelled by White Witches, to aid them in their work. It acted as a neutral zone and deafened the powers of the Dark artifacts, like the grimoire, till they were practically nil. After his task was complete, Troy looked over at her.

The air surrounding the unconscious woman was smoky and sweet. My caramel and whiskey mate. He bit his lip to stop the groan that fought its way to the surface. Thoughts of running his hands over her luscious body consumed him. It was all he could do to keep himself from molesting the poor unconscious woman.

All he wanted to do was taste her sweet lips and gauge her flavor. Beads of sweat broke out over his forehead as he struggled to keep himself from burying his nose in the crook of her neck. He wanted to breathe her in and keep her there inside of himself. That'd be f*****g great, her waking up to him sniffing her! She'd think he was a f*****g pervert!

He'd been alone so f*****g long; the very idea of a mate scared the s**t out of him. What if he f****d it up? What if she rejected him? What if he went f*****g apeshit afterwards and they made him leave the Wardens? He frowned even harder.

Fuck and damn again, Troy. How the f**k am I going to explain to Rex that this Witch is my mate? His bird bumped up against his subconscious. He knew the beast was mad as f**k at him for thinking ill of her. There was no way in hell his sweet mate was a Dark Witch. Her scent alone suggested otherwise.

He'd always associated a Dark Witch's scent with cough syrup, but this woman, hell, she smelled like temptation personified. Just thinking about the smoky whiskey and sweet caramel aroma imbued in her skin made him hard as f**k.

He wished he still had his jeans or at least his underwear to cover him up as he bent and lifted her still frame off the hard, plywood floor.

He walked her over to the far side of the room where an exposed pipe ran along the wall only to disappear beneath the floorboards. He actually fought with himself to release her, gently and slowly, back onto the cold floor.

His Thunderbird barked at the indignity of it. Damn beast was more than a little possessive of her already. Troy couldn't blame him. She deserved to be on silks, not some dusty and cracked floorboards. f**k.

His beast twitched and growled beneath his skin. Get a f*****g grip, bird. We need to finish our mission. His Thunderbird fought him for control, the need to protect and provide for his mate almost overwhelmed the need to claim her.

Get the book away from her. The evil inside of it is tainting the very air. Troy narrowed his eyes at the grimoire. He shook off the mating instinct and focused on his job. He needed to bring the book down to the secure box in the trunk of his SUV, but he couldn't leave the luscious female unattended for long.

His Thunderbird barked and clawed beneath his skin. Troy wanted to kick his own ass for having to do it, but he had no choice. From the second he'd lifted his sweet-smelling mate off the floor, he knew he was f****d.

He'd noted the pentagram had been drawn on the floor with salt, chalk, and ash. She'd trapped herself. Hmm. She must not be a seasoned Witch to have gotten herself stuck like this.

That could be a good thing. He shook his head as he took a moment to savor the feel of her in his arms. Not wanting to be inappropriate in the least, he placed her gently near the pipe before taking her wrists in his hands.

Fuck. f**k. f**k. She turned her head, burrowing her nose into the rough skin and smattering of hair covering his chest. A soft moan escaped her pretty lips and she exhaled, calm once more. His mate sought comfort in his nearness, a fact that made his chest swell with pride. He looked down at her perfect face, tracing every line with his eyes. He froze as his gaze met her emerald eyes, now wide open.

"Who are you?" She murmured just as he clicked the cuffs in place.

The woman screamed and struggled, and Troy stood up. His lips made a thin line as he waited for her to cease her movements.

"What the f**k are you doing, mister? And why are you naked?"

"Stop screaming."

"Stop screaming. Are you insane? Who the f**k are you, buddy?"

"Relax. You are in my custody now."

"What? Why? Are you some kind of naked neighborhood police?"

He frowned and lifted the grimoire in his hand, noting her shocked eyes. She struggled against the pipe where he'd cuffed her. The scent of her fear and anxiety filled the air.

Not good. He didn't want her afraid. It agitated him. A low growl erupted from his throat.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but first, you need to drop that book inside the circle with the star in it that's on the floor over there. Then you might want to get some clothes on, okay?" Her wide green eyes flitted from the book, to him, and to the floor.

She bit her lips nervously, her eyes unable to remain downcast, she lifted them only to peak at him. Troy bit back his grin. So, his little mate liked his body. That was pretty f*****g okay with him. He stood taller.

"The grimoire has been contained. What is your name?" He kept his voice even as he spoke.

The last thing he wanted was to cause her anymore anxiety or grief. His mate was fierce, he'd give her that, she continued to struggle against the reinforced handcuffs when she remembered to stop ogling him. So damn cute, he thought.

"Please, sit still. You will injure yourself."

"What do you mean contained? Seriously, don't you have underwear at least?"

A deep frown marred her otherwise perfect face and Troy stopped breathing as he finally got a good look at her. Oh damn. She was beautiful.

At five and a half feet tall, he'd guessed her height when he'd held her in his arms, she was short compared to him. Not that he minded at all. He liked her height.

Not to mention, her body. She was deliciously curvy, with tempting dips and valleys her clothing failed to conceal. He couldn't wait to explore every single inch of her.

Her skin was fair, the palest ivory he'd ever seen. Blemish free and smooth as silk. He wondered how it would look up against his much darker, coppery skin tone. The mental image made his mouth water.

It burned in his mind as he took in the rest of her. Her hair was thick and glossy, a riot of dark girls hanging past her shoulders. He wanted to tug on a lock just to watch it spring back up again. But it was her eyes that truly captivated him. They were like emeralds. A true deep, green that sparkled in the dim light. f**k and damn. She was absolutely gorgeous.

"I said, what the f**k are you staring at? Uncuff me!" She narrowed her eyebrows and he wanted to grin as her lower lip jutted out slightly from the top one. He practically drooled, wanting to test their softness.

"What is your name?"

"I'm not telling you shit."

"Your name?" He used his sternest voice and almost grinned when it looked like she'd curse at him again.

Instead, she rolled her eyes like a bratty teenager and held her head up high when she answered, despite her position handcuffed to a pipe amidst the remnants of whatever Dark spell she'd been trying to perform. Troy sobered at the thought.

"Andrea. Andrea Kristos," she murmured, clearly disgruntled at the entire situation.

"Sit still, Andrea Kristos. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Troy tried to ignore her voice as she called him any number of names. It was deep and sexy. He needed to hear her scream his name in that husky little voice. What would she look like in the throes of passion? Oh great, now I'm hard again.

He grabbed an old afghan off the couch and draped it around his hips as he walked into the cold night air to his car.

He hated that he left her handcuffed to that rusty old pipe in the attic. f**k and damn, he growled as he stomped over to his SUV. He used the key fob to unlock the vehicle and opened the trunk.

First, he placed the contained grimoire into the magically enhanced lock box that was hidden under the carpet in said trunk. Rex had made sure each Warden had one installed in their vehicles. Just in case they needed to transport magical items or artifacts. As Wardens of Terra, they were trained to handle most any event.

Except meeting your mate, he thought wryly. He grabbed his duffle bag and an extra pair of boots. He slammed the trunk closed. The SUV barely moved under his strength. Damn thing was a tank in disguise. Lucky for him, it had an extra passenger row. He'd need it since he was bringing someone back to his station.

My mate. No, a prisoner. f**k and damn again.

Troy cursed and stomped back to the house. As he dressed, he pictured her upstairs. What kind of mess was she involved in? What were the Fates thinking?

The woman inside, Andrea Kristos, drew him like a moth to a flame. He'd never felt anything like it. The mating pull was a f*****g force and a half.

Sure, he'd had several casual encounters with the opposite s*x before, but they were forgotten the second he scented her. She was everything.

The need to claim her was all-consuming. From the top of her curly head to the bottom of her tiny feet he wanted to hold her, touch her. He needed to, like he needed air to breathe.

Fuck, but she's my enemy, he wanted to scream in frustration.

You don't know that, his beast argued.