Sylvia Day - Spellbound

A ripple of desire moved through his big body. His skin heated to her touch. “Having one of those nights, sweetheart?”

Her nostrils flared, filling her senses with the scent of his lust and excitement. “Yeah . . . you could say that.”

Max hit the streets. Barnes would be sticking close by, knowing Max was vulnerable now in a way he’d never been before. This hunt had turned into a game for Barnes, one he was willing to risk capture for. Vanquishing Max wasn’t going to stop the Council from coming after him; other Hunters would follow. It wouldn’t even buy the warlock time, because Max was fairly certain the Council had already widened the hunt. They probably didn’t trust him now, and Jezebel’s susceptibility would raise further alarm.

Coming after Max was sport for Barnes, a chance to get a little piece of his own back after the years of incarceration he’d suffered.

Victoria, where are you?

He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to find her. It would be pointless while she was under the fog of blood magic. Whatever programming Barnes had given her would be impossible to break through while the warlock was living.

But he couldn’t fight the fear for her. For them, as a couple, because there had been an opening for Barnes to exploit. All this time Max had believed it was simply a matter of acclimation that caused the resistance Victoria displayed occasionally. He’d assumed that at heart she was like all Familiars. But perhaps she was unique beyond the magic Darius had given her. Perhaps she truly needed to share control rather than give it up completely.

Could he be the man she needed if that were the case?

“Westin. You look so forlorn.”

Stiffening, Max slowed and looked for his quarry. A wry smile twisted his mouth at the thought. Really, he was the one being hunted. “It’s been a rough day.”

Barnes stepped out of the shadows. He looked harmless enough on the surface, like a thirty-year-old man out for a stroll, but dark power poured off him, buffeting Max with such fury it nearly sent him stumbling back a step. “That’s too bad. It’s been a great day for me.”

Max nodded. “You wanted Powell dead.”

“He would’ve become a liability eventually,” Barnes said with a shrug. He dressed better these days. When Max first caught him, he’d been a thug. Now he wore tailored slacks and shirt, with polished oxfords and tie. “And he was stupid enough to think he was smarter than me.”

“I underestimated you, too.”

Barnes liked that. He grinned. “I was hoping you’d be more of a challenge.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Max tried to tap into Victoria, to tug at least a little of his magic back, but there was nothing on the other end of their connection. It was as if it’d been severed completely.

An old man walking his Chihuahua passed them, giving them a wide berth and suspicious eye. The dog began yipping at Barnes and tugging at its leash, baring its teeth at the warlock. Barnes crouched and smiled. The dog whined and pissed itself.

“Remy!” the old man scolded. “Bad dog. Come on.”

The warlock stood, laughing. “The world is full of pathetic creatures, isn’t it, Westin?”

“Scaring small dogs should be beneath you,” Max said, allowing the wand tucked into the sleeve of his shirt to slide out and into his palm. It was a child’s learning tool, one he hadn’t used in centuries, and only briefly then. Serving only to help focus magic in the training stage, it bore no power itself, but Max needed all the help he could get. He’d used the bulk of the magic he had left to reach out to the Transcendual Realm for help.

He wasn’t the only one who loved Victoria and would do anything to keep her safe.

“Nothing is beneath me. That’s why I’m as powerful as I am today.” Barnes scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Putting rules on magic is where the Council went wrong. Magic is alive, it breathes. Caging it is a crime.”

“You don’t give a shit about magic. It’s power you want. You’re drunk with it.”

“I don’t think you’d sound so disdainful if you still had yours,” Barnes goaded, his gaze hard.

“And I don’t think you’d sound so smug if you knew that the Council was about to hunt me Themselves, because They believe Victoria made me too powerful. If I were you, I would’ve considered that a better punishment than this. An eye for an eye. Instead, you’re doing Them a favor.”

Barnes didn’t like that. His smile faded. “You must have a death wish, Westin.”

“Maybe.” He played up his vulnerability. “I don’t want to live without Victoria and you’ve taken her away from me. So it’s either you or me, Barnes.”

“Well, I think we both know how that’s going to end.”

Max thrust out his hand, sending magic racing along the length of the wand to strike Barnes in the chest. The warlock stumbled back, spinning, but quickly righted himself and fired back.

The weight of the blow lifted Max off his feet and sent him flying several feet. Winded and in terrible pain, he curled in on himself, making as small a target as possible. The next blow of magic seized his heart and lungs, blackening his vision. His surroundings dimmed and roaring filled his ears. The next strike would kill him.

Victoria . . . His eyes squeezed shut as agony twisted his body. How would she survive losing two warlocks she loved? Be safe, kitten, he whispered to her. I love you.

“Here we are,” Steve said, stopping in front of an InterContinental hotel. Setting his hand at the small of Victoria’s back, he urged her through the revolving doors in front of him.

I didn’t leave you with Westin for this, Vicky.

She came to an abrupt halt and the door smacked into her from behind, shoving her forward. She stumbled into Steve.

Darius? she breathed, astonished to hear the beloved voice again.

You told me you loved him . . . that you wanted to be with him. If you’ve changed your mind, darling, I’ll bring you to me. Damned if I’ll leave you to someone else.

“Easy,” Steve said, taking the opportunity to run his hands down her back. “You all right?”

She shook her head. No, she was far from all right. A sick feeling of dread permeated her senses. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d changed her mind—

Pain sliced through her, causing her to arch her back and to press herself tight against Steve.

Be safe, kitten. I love you.

Terror filled her. Max!

For an instant she could see clearly, as if thick fog had momentarily blown aside, affording her a clear view.

Max was dying. And her heart was breaking.

Barnes screamed, a sound of fury and pain. Glass shattered nearby. Max felt magic coil tightly around them, then explode with resonating force. A woman cried out, a man cursed. Footsteps pounded by Max’s head.

Power surged into Max with the force of a tornado, shoving out the pain and kick-starting his organs. He pushed upright, catching sight of Masters crouched beside him and firing volleys so quickly Max couldn’t register them all. But Barnes was shielded by black magic, shrouded by undulating shadows that protected him from the relentless attack. Impressed and deeply grateful that the other Hunter had responded to the message Max left him, Max gathered the magic flowing through him and prepared to join the fray.

Victoria’s aura pulsed through him. Power cycled from her, a raging circle that gathered strength with every pass. It was dark and smoky, more black than white, and its potency was so fierce it felt as if his skin was burning in an effort to contain it. Wind swirled around him, only him, his hair whipping with its fury. Power swelled inside him.

He saw her. She stood behind Barnes, her eyes glowing in the night, her arms lifted and extended, waiting for Max to strike so she could augment his power. Her legs were widespread and anchored to the cement, her beautiful features as cold and determined as he’d ever seen them. Ready to kill.

Barnes fired at Max with such force the hit rattled his bones, but he stayed upright and unharmed, fortified by his fury. Victoria had come for him, but she wasn’t the same. He didn’t know if she ever would be now that she’d been so thoroughly tainted. He didn’t know if she had come back to him forever or just for now.

All he knew was that Barnes had to die.

Masters shouted as a hit knocked him back, rolling him end over end. Max fired. The ball of magic penetrated the shroud around Barnes and sent him back a shaky step . . . straight into an arc of lightning from Victoria that had him howling in angered pain. Pivoting, the warlock lurched toward her. Max moved, running forward and attacking. Masters appeared to his left, firing at the warlock’s flank. The triple blow was irrecoverable.

Barnes exploded in a burst of black light, rattling the buildings around them and exploding the streetlights. Inky darkness descended, blocking out all light.

Victoria screamed his name and Max shouted in reply. He lunged toward the sound of her voice, moving by instinct, grunting when her slender body collided with his.

He whisked them away, leaving everything behind.

Victoria stared out the massive windows at the endless miles of snow that stretched out before her. The house sat high atop a mountain in one of the remotest parts of the world, hidden from the view of human eyes and satellite monitoring.

A week had passed since the night she’d helped Max and Gabriel vanquish Xander Barnes. She’d had no contact with anyone, not even the warlock who shared the home with her. He was there, so close. So gorgeous. So silent. He waited like the crafty Hunter he was. Waited and watched, his silver eyes following nearly every move she made. At night, he slept in a different room. A different bed.

As the hours crawled by, she felt more and more like herself. Her craving for Max grew by the day until it became a gnawing hunger she had trouble resisting.

His tendency to walk around wearing nothing but low-slung pajama bottoms didn’t help.

But things were different now. She was different now. While the compulsion Barnes had programmed her with was gone, the taint of black magic remained and it freed a desire of a different sort. When she and Max made love, she lost herself in his touch . . . his hunger. At least once, she wanted to take him on her terms. To show him the depth of her love in some way other than through her submission.

But he wasn’t a switch and the ease they’d once felt together was gone, leaving behind a wariness that made it difficult for her to reach out to him.

At least in her human form.

Shifting, she dropped to the floor and extricated herself from the folds of her maxi dress. She searched for him, allowing her animal instincts to guide her. There had to be a way for them to find a comfortable middle ground. If they could just work it out together . . .

She padded down the hallway, passing her room and finding his empty. She hurried on, exploring, her curiosity piqued for the first time in several days. The house remained a mystery to her after she’d spent so long just trying to get her head on straight. She’d slept, ate when Max cooked, and lay on the sofa watching television without really paying attention. It was like waking up after a long nap, fighting the grogginess that came with rejoining reality.

Reaching the end of the hall, Victoria spotted a half-opened door. She slowed and sniffed, purring when she smelled the darkly seductive scent of her warlock’s skin. She pushed the door open with an uplifted paw, sitting as it swung silently open.

Max stood near the far wall, his back flexing as he reached up and placed a crop in its holder above the fireplace, his inky hair brushing his shoulder blades.

“Hello, kitten,” he said in that deep, rough voice she loved and had missed hearing.

He turned to face her and she drank him in, her gaze sliding over his powerful shoulders, firm pecs, and deeply ridged abdomen. Below the tie of his drawstring, his cock hung thick and heavy between his muscled thighs. Her purrs increased in volume. Her tail swished with anticipation.

A massive bed waited to the right, while the opposite wall displayed a vast collection of floggers, crops, and implements of bondage above the mantel. Two chests waited at the foot of the wide bed—one white, the other black. The white one had her name inscribed across the lid, while the other bore his. A Saint Andrew’s cross was affixed to the wall, near a bondage chair and swing suspended from one of the wide beams in the ceiling. Light poured in from skylights above, as well as the wall of curtainless windows behind the bed.