Jacqueline stood outside the female hunter’s apartment door, her pale face lit with amusement. She could see the beautiful green spiderweb wards coating every inch of the apartment’s structure. She was surprised at the strength of the magic used to create the wards. They were like steel walls against her powers. It would be impossible to break into the place without setting off magical warning bells. It would be like striking a gong or pulling a fire alarm. The tracker inside would know immediately that she’d broken through his protections—not that she couldn’t handle him.
Her curiosity was piqued. The wards had clearly been created by a powerful magic user, someone born with natural magic, not someone like her who had been initiated into it. Even though this man had helped kill her lover, she would afford him a certain level of respect.
Yes, these wards were built like a masterpiece. A pity their maker would soon be eliminated.
“Best to do this the old-fashioned way,” she muttered, and pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and fished in her pocket for a paperclip.
Brotherhood trackers tended to forget about little things like lock picking, and set up their wards only to prevent entry by the use of magic. They never expected supernatural creatures or witches to act like mortals, and tonight it would cost these two their lives.
The door’s lock clinked as the deadbolt sank back into the door, and Jacqueline twisted the knob, grinning with smug satisfaction. She slipped into the apartment undetected by the wards, which could only sense her magic if she used it to break through. There were no spells or wards inside this hunter’s house. Probably because the tracker used his magic inside all the time.
Jacqueline took her time examining the little world around her. It was a quaint home that had been created with love and devotion. Photo albums decorated the coffee table, and prints of painted water lilies decorated the walls. This was not a typical dwelling for a hunter and tracker. And she had the sense that it wasn’t just because they were a rare opposite-sex pairing.
“Oh my.” Jacqueline could practically taste the sweet smell of their innocent affection for each other as it emanated from every object in the apartment.
Strong emotions often left their mark on people and locations, and the apartment she stood in was full of emotional residue. It was visible to her, much like magic was. Love blossomed in a purple aura-like cloud around the man and woman who were in most of the photos. They were in love. A hunter and a tracker. Even she knew that such a thing wasn’t allowed. Their feelings for each other were a wonderful weakness for her to exploit.
She smiled widely as a plan started to form. She passed the female hunter’s room, layering it with a silence spell so that the hunter would hear nothing while Jacqueline got a chance to look at this powerful tracker. Curiosity drew her to him, this man who was one of the strongest male magic users she’d seen in half a century.
He was lying on his bed, still fully clothed, his face troubled and his brows knit together as he slept. He was nothing compared to Antonio in looks, of course, but still a fine male specimen. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a straight nose. Jacqueline was reminded of her time spent in the company of handsome young American GIs during WWII. This young tracker had the same clean-cut features and boyish charm. He would make a fine lover—and a welcome change from Antonio’s dark hair and tan Italian skin.
Jacqueline licked her lips as she cast a spell over his form so he would not wake while she was there. She sat down on the bed next to him and tilted his chin toward her, studying his features as she would an animal. She couldn’t help but wonder, would he be more like an obedient dog or a rebellious slave she’d enjoy dominating?
“So you are the one who robbed me of my poor Antonio. Perhaps I shall have you take his place. You would bed me well enough.” She eyed his body with delight.
His magical powers glowed faintly. A gold gleam shone in the very cells of his skin, humming with power. He was strong, incredibly strong. She would certainly have use for a man like that. But not as competition. A man like this had to be tamed, controlled. She’d never be able to take his magic; it was too deeply buried inside him. But if she could harness him, she’d harness his magic. She knew a thousand spells, but none was so fitting as the one she was going to use—a lust spell. One strong enough to kill.
She slid over him, straddling his helpless form, and put her hands on his chest. Pressing her center against the zipper of his pants, she rubbed against the thick bulge beneath her.
“You will definitely make a good lover.” Her lips curved in a wicked smile as she leaned over. When her lips were inches from his, she whispered, “When you wake, you will take your pleasure of your precious hunter. Consume her life force until it kills her. Once she’s dead, you will come to me.” Jacqueline summoned the spell to her lips and kissed the sleeping tracker. He moaned in his sleep, responding to her lips on his. Her tongue invaded his mouth, leaving the deadly spell as she withdrew.
“Tamara,” he sighed softly.
Jacqueline trailed one hand down his chest to his pants and cupped his crotch.
“See you soon.” She left the tracker alone in bed with his forbidden, wicked dreams.
Nicholas was dreaming, caught in a favorite memory from years ago. The night sky was a pale purple from the warm glow of the city lights below. He and Tamara were free. The physical trials were over, and they had passed. Their trial had consisted of killing their first were-creature together. They’d broken a new record at the school, which had last been done eight years before by Damien MacQueen, the current leader of the Brotherhood of the Blood Moon.
For their success, Tamara and Nicholas were allowed an unsupervised night off from their training. Before that night, Nicholas would have made the decisions as to where they would go and what they would do. But tonight, it was Tamara’s choice. She’d earned his respect the moment she’d plunged the silver knife into the heart of the grizzly bear, just before it would have swiped Nicholas’s head off with its massive paw.
“Come on, Nicholas, let’s go to the top floor!” Tamara tugged on his arm, batting her long, dark lashes. How could he say no to that? Rather than escape their training building, they snuck up to the top floor.
The Brotherhood used the old train depot ruins of Michigan Central Station as their training school. Magical wards were in place so that outsiders saw only the crumbling, burned-out remains of a once magnificent building. But in truth, it had been fully restored to its former glory, updated with the height of modern technology, security, magic, and manpower. The very top floor was untouched. There was something sadly charming and haunting about the tall arched windows and the shattered glass like crystal tears fallen from the stars. Tamara loved it and was always going up there when she could get away.
They watched the sky darken above the glittering skyscrapers and listened to the distant sounds of cars on the roadways. Neither of them said a word. Finally, Tamara started to shake. Her little body trembled like the last red leaf on an autumn tree, clinging to the branch, but fighting a battle it was sure to lose.
“Nick . . .” She shivered, turning to him, her sweet little lips quivering. “I killed him—that bear. But it was a man too. I killed a man.” Her gray eyes shimmered like the flickering stars above her.
Seeing her so hurt by what she’d had to do shattered his heart. Nicholas had to be strong for her. She was the one who would be taking lives, and he had to ease her pain. He tilted her chin up with his finger so that he could view her face as he moved closer.
“What we did tonight was our duty. We have to learn to be tough. The shifter you killed had murdered seven campers—you know that. He wasn’t innocent.” The words were heavy on his tongue, and he didn’t like that they’d had to kill a man either. But in his bear form, the man had wanted to rip them apart. It was kill or be killed. When the Brotherhood captured a supernatural creature who had killed mortals, the creature faced a tribunal and was judged. If malicious intent was determined, then the creature was sentenced to die at the hands of Brotherhood trainees ready to face their first trial.
Tamara shook her head, her dark hair swishing around her chin as she struggled to get a hold of herself. He knew her too well. For the last three years they’d trained together daily, spent every waking minute together. Nicholas knew her better than she knew herself.
“You’re right. You’re always right. But why do I feel like the man’s blood is still on my hands?” Tamara lifted her slender fingers up for inspection.
Nicholas caught her hands and raised them up, peering at them in the moonlight.
“See? No blood,” he murmured and did something he knew he shouldn’t. He kissed her calloused palms, willing away all the pain and heartache she felt for taking a life. His magic sparked from his fingers and lips, sinking into her skin, warming her with the heat and comfort he could provide.
She shut her eyes at the touch of his lips on her skin, and then he gently pulled her into his arms. She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, and they watched the stars move over the sky together. From that moment, he knew he loved her and no other.
His magic was inside her, twisting its tiny tendrils of power into her heart, connecting him to her in a way that could never be undone. She was free to leave him, free to love someone else, but he bound himself to her, sealing her with a protection only the deepest, purest magic could give. And love is the strongest magic there is.
The dream of that long-ago night faded beneath the light rap of someone’s knuckles on the apartment door. Nicholas jerked awake, glancing at his watch. It was almost three in the morning. He jumped off his bed, defensive magic glowing at the edges of his fingertips as he approached the door and peered through the peephole. It was the last person on earth he expected to see. He slid back the deadbolt and opened the door.
“Damien.” He acknowledged the tall blond-haired man who swept in as silently as a panther. It was Damien MacQueen, the current leader of the Brotherhood. He was thirty-two years old and the best hunter in the Brotherhood since its creation.
“What’s up, Damien? You don’t do house calls.” Nicholas regretted the flippant remark instantly, because his boss arched one golden brow in silent question.
“Where’s Tamara?” Damien asked, his eyes surveying the dimly lit apartment.
“She’s sleeping off a healing.” Nicholas flicked his head in the direction of Tamara’s room.
“Rough night, then?” Damien asked as he walked over to the kitchen and leaned back against the island countertop.
“You could say that. The leader of that bad werewolf pack we were tracking tore up her leg pretty bad. She’ll be fine, but it’s taking a lot of energy to heal.”
“That’s a relief. We can’t afford to lose you or Tamara.” Damien’s truth hit Nicholas hard. It was almost as though his boss knew he’d been contemplating leaving the Brotherhood. Now more than ever, he and Tamara had to stay and continue to fight. Frustration heated Nicholas’s body inside, his magic instinctively rising up in a cloud of nebulous energy somewhere in his breastbone, ready to unleash itself.
“Are you okay?” Damien asked, his eyes fixed on Nicholas’s fingertips, which were glowing bright blue.
Nicholas sucked in a breath and blew it out, focusing on the magic, forcing it back down into the deep well inside. The magical essence didn’t want to be bottled up, but he cleared his mind, restored his calm, and the need to unleash the magic eased.
“Sorry, I’m still a little on edge after the attack.”
“Nicholas, I got a report from the tracker clean-up crew. They found that after you two left the bar, there was another visitor before the crew got there. I had Robert do a read on the magical essence residue left at the scene.” Robert Cross was Damien’s tracker and closest friend. He was also a powerful magic wielder, one of the strongest in the Brotherhood.
“What did he find out?” Nicholas’s stomach pitched straight down to his feet.
Damien’s hazel-green eyes narrowed in concern as his voice got even lower.
“The werewolf you killed was Antonio Favaloro. He was the last known lover of a powerful French sorceress, Jacqueline Allaire.” Damien put one hand on the counter as though he needed support to hold a heavy weight on his strong, broad shoulders.
“Damien, what is it?” Nicholas asked, his eyes flickering to Tamara’s bedroom again. If she was in any danger, he had to know. He’d do anything to protect her.
“I ran across her when I was in Paris about five years ago. She likes to collect lovers who make her feel powerful and in control. She thought it would be amusing to add me to her collection. Naturally, I refused, and she took it personally. She’s been trying to draw me out for the last five years, thinking she could best me in battle. I’m not stupid and never took the bait.” Damien stroked his chin as his gaze turned distant. “I think she was trying to use Antonio to get my attention. Those murders were a little too out in the open, even for rogue werewolves. Usually, they at least try to hide their kills to avoid us finding out about them. This series of attacks was too obvious.”
Nicholas sighed heavily as he put together what his boss was saying. “She’s after you, but she might come after us now too?”
His boss nodded. “Most definitely. She’ll add you to her list of people she wants to kill.”
“Great,” Nicholas muttered. “Does this mean we have to go to a safehouse or something? Tamara hates being cooped up.”
“I would advise it. I can have the safehouse in Toronto ready by the time you get there. Jacqueline Allaire is not the type of woman to let her lover’s murder go unavenged. She’ll come for you. Be ready, be vigilant. Mark my words, she will strike in a way you won’t expect. Please—be careful.” Damien’s words, while cautious, were delivered with brotherly affection.
“I’d really rather take the fight to her.” Nicholas clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the pulse of magic beneath his skin.
“I know, but she might be too much, even for you. I refuse to let Robert go near her, she’s that dangerous. I won’t put my tracker in danger even to catch her. If you want to keep Tamara safe, stay away from the witch.”
“Point taken,” Nicholas sighed. “I think we’ll lie low, but if she comes for us, I’m not backing down.”
A flash of concern washed over Damien’s features, but he said nothing. Hunters didn’t lecture other hunters, or even their trackers, on how to handle dangerous situations. Nicholas observed this inner conflict flicker over Damien’s face before he spoke.
“Nicholas, if you change your mind on how you want to handle this, I can have a protection detail here in five minutes. We could relocate you to that safehouse within a few hours.”
His words sent a shudder through Nicholas. “This sorceress, she’s really that powerful? That dangerous?” He couldn’t imagine anyone being dangerous enough for him and Tamara to actually leave Detroit.
Damien sighed, the sound heavy and rough as it passed across his lips. “Jacqueline is another force of nature entirely. She’s wild, unpredictable, and vindictive. When I didn’t give in to her advances, she had her brother murder Serena Meyers.”
Nicholas’s fists clenched at his sides.
Serena?
The Brotherhood was full of legends, but also cautionary tales of tragedy. Serena was one of those. She and Damien had been the same age, and they had left training together as lovers. It was one of the damn loopholes that pissed Nicholas off. Trackers could date trackers and hunters could date hunters. But trackers and hunters couldn’t date each other, even if they weren’t paired up. There was always a chance they might end up working together, if their first partner died in battle. Some trackers and hunters who lost their partners couldn’t stand to work with someone new, and they sometimes turned solo, but those were rare cases. Most needed companionship to survive such a harsh job. Nicholas knew that if Tamara were to die and he survived, he’d never take on another hunter. He’d work alone. Some bonds were too deep and, once broken, could never be reforged with someone new.
“I always thought Serena was just killed by a random vampire because she was a hunter…” Nicholas said.
Damien’s eyes were ancient. “No, it was personal. Everything that witch does is personal. That’s why she’s so dangerous.”
“I’m sorry about Serena. I didn’t know that her death was a revenge killing.” He hated that the words were of little comfort to his boss.
“I didn’t tell you that to make you pity her, or me.” Damien’s eyes burned with intensity as he focused on Nicholas. “I want you to be careful. Don’t ever underestimate Jacqueline. Even if she doesn’t come after you herself, she might send someone like her brother to do it for her.”
“I’ll be careful. She won’t get to us. Tamara is . . .” He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the words that would have condemned him in front of his boss. “She’s too important to the cause. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
His boss studied him for a long second, his eyes sharp with a falcon-like glint, as though he’d seen something and was still debating what to do about it. Nicholas tamped down his rising magic, which always surged to the surface when his emotions ran high. He couldn’t expose his feelings for Tamara, not in front of the man who was supposed to enforce the rule that kept him and the woman he loved apart.
“Well, take care, Nicholas. Call me immediately if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Nicholas shook Damien’s hand and saw him to the door.
When Nicholas turned back around, he saw Tamara in the doorway, wearing a red tank top and flannel pajama pants.
“Was that Damien? What did he want?” She lifted a balled fist to her mouth, stifling a yawn.
“Apparently, we killed a sorceress’s lover, and she’s probably going to try to take us out. Damien just dropped by to give us a heads-up.” Nicholas leaned back against the bar as Tamara approached him.
“So what’s our plan?” She joined him at the counter. Tamara didn’t seem to be even remotely anxious. She acted like it was just another day at the office.
If only you knew the danger we’re facing. Her left arm touched his right, the meeting of their skin warm. His magic reached for her instinctively, like a devoted hound wanting to protect her. Why couldn’t they have more than this? Damn the risks, damn the consequences. Why couldn’t he be with the woman he loved? His head started throbbing, and his mouth felt a little numb. It was probably just stress.
“We’re going to be careful, not make ourselves easy targets.”
“We hide,” Tamara summarized with a wry smile.
“Yes, because the alternative is not desirable.” Nicholas could almost hear her thoughts. She didn’t like hiding. She would want to take the fight to the sorceress. But it was his call, because he was in charge of keeping her alive. If she didn’t like it, well, she’d just have to deal with it.
“You should get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he spun her around and planted his hands on her lower back, propelling her toward the hallway with a gentle shove. It broke his heart that he couldn’t follow her to her bedroom. In that moment, he would have given anything to join her between the sheets, to curl his body protectively around hers and feel their hearts beating so close together.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” His voice came out low and rough.
She paused at the threshold of her doorway, looking over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were soft, but that awful haunted look formed shadows in their depths. A thousand words unsaid hung heavy in the air, and he wasn’t brave enough to say any of them. Not yet. But they warmed his heart and filled him with sadness all the same.
“Goodnight . . . Nicholas.”
Every time she said it, it felt like goodbye.