Mistress Black felt Gerard’s soul leave his body and come barreling into her slumbering body. She bolted upright, gasping. It felt like someone had dumped gasoline on her insides and tossed a lit match onto her.

In other words, it hurt like hell, but she wouldn’t scream. There was no room for weakness in the Order, especially from her. She almost welcomed the agony because it made her feel something.

Oh, what it must feel like to be truly alive.

Since getting struck with the curse that had rendered her real body no more than an empty shell, she had been absorbing souls with any magical prowess with the hopes of restoring her own magical abilities so that she may return to her true form. There had been just enough magic left in her dying breath to reach out to a young, impressionable witch and convince her to give up her body so her soul could inhabit it. If she could keep her soul alive, she could restore her body. It had taken time; the witch who’d sealed her powers had been one tough bitch.

Mistress Black looked at her borrowed body in the mirror across from her bed and smirked. As if death would be the end of her. Over the millennia, she had swallowed so many souls, using this body as a conduit to her real one. The old curse was starting to crack. She could feel it; as her powers expanded, it pressed against the confines of the ancient spell.

Soon, she would be herself again. Soon, her darkness would shadow the world and they would regret ever persecuting her kind.

There was much to fear in a Black Witch. Power over death terrified people, and rightly so. But burning her husband and eldest daughter at the stake in front of her house…

People’s fears often devolved into cruelty. Watching her family burn had broken something inside of her.

The villagers of her medieval village had awoken a nightmare, and her wrath knew no bounds. She swore over their cold corpses that no other witch or warlock would ever be persecuted that way again. Sacrifices had been made along the way. The quickest way to restore her powers was to absorb the most magical beings of all, namely other witches. It had pained her to use her kind in so crude a way, but she had no other choice.

She had no other choice…

She shook her head. Now was not the time for doubt, not when she was so close to her goal.

Leaning back against the blood-red silk pillows, she turned over and stared at the painting on her nightstand of a little girl with red curls.

Tears shone in her eyes. Though the villagers had claimed her eldest daughter, she had managed to escape with her youngest. She had been a baby at the time. They’d moved from town to town, trying to keep a low profile, but her brilliant red hair had given their identities away. Sacrificing herself to save her daughter’s life had been the best thing she’d ever done.

She’d always wondered what kind of a woman she’d grown up into, if she’d found happiness.

Had she found someone to love her? Did they love her as much as her mother did?

She reached out and gently touched the painting. It could never do the real thing justice, but it kept her close.

After one last lingering glance, she’d turned over and closed her eyes when a familiar tingling went through her. She bolted upright, every sense wired.

It couldn’t be. That signature hadn’t called out to her in centuries, and yet…

Her gaze drifted to the portrait of her daughter.

Idrina.

Those green eyes, the same emerald shade as her own, shone, as if containing a valuable secret.

Throwing back the covers, Mistress Black donned her slippers and silk robe and went to her scrying room, feeling hope for the first time in ages.

There was much explaining to be done after the fight.

Elijah and Verika had ultimately decided to alter her parents’ memories of the fight. Instead of being kidnapped and held hostage by a supernatural psychopath, they thought they’d spent a quiet evening at home. Verika felt guilty for doing it, but she didn’t want them to be mentally scarred for life. They might not ever trust paranormals again, and thus might not allow her back into their home.

And she needed her family. They were the one thing she couldn’t live without.

Well, except the werewolf standing in front of her.

After bespelling her parents so they wouldn’t remember ever seeing them, Verika bid them farewell, with a knot in her throat the size of Texas. She hated manipulating people’s minds, but it was for their own good. No way was she going to risk getting the people she loved hurt again. She was too dangerous to be around.

It’s better this way. Really, it is, she told herself, as she and Elijah left. Still, it didn’t make what she’d done any easier a pill to swallow.

Elijah said nothing, only grabbing her hand and squeezing it. Understanding shone in his eyes.

He knew better than anyone what she was giving up. It had been ages since he’d seen his brothers. No matter how much he wanted to reconnect, he knew, ultimately, he couldn’t. For the sake of their well-being, he had to stay away.

She smiled at him. At least they had each other, two outcasts who never quite fit in anywhere else, except in each other’s arms.

They stopped by a gas station to get cheap food and a pay-by-minute phone. Then Elijah shifted, and together they ran into the woods.

Elijah ran most of the way. Even with Verika cloaking their whereabouts, they couldn’t take any chances on letting the DPI catch up to them. If her coworker had been part of the Order, there was no telling who else had been compromised. Staying behind was too great a risk.

It was nearly dusk by the time they stopped. They built a fire to keep away the evening chill, which Verika cloaked to make it invisible to everyone. She then set the area with an assortment of alarm and repulsion spells. This way, if someone stumbled upon them, they would feel an intense urge to leave, though they wouldn’t know why.

They ate their gas station food and drank water as they sat by the fire. The flames chased away the chill, but Verika still felt cold inside.

She was a Black Witch, the rarest gift of magic.

“You okay?”

She looked up to find Elijah watching her.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“You can handle it. You wouldn’t have gotten a gift that powerful if you couldn’t. And I can’t think of a better witch to have inherited so strong a gift.”

“What if it’s a curse?” she whispered.

He stared at her thoughtfully. “I think it’s what you make of it. If you dread your powers, they probably will be a curse. If you embrace them, they’ll be less of a burden. You may even come to enjoy them.”

She thought about that. Could she embrace being a Black Witch? Could she learn to overcome her fear of herself and even cherish it?

She had a long way to go before that happened. And before it could…

She glanced at the Mark, then at the sky. A few stars poked out of the darkening blue expanse. What really stood out was the large white orb. “It’s a full moon.”

He went still, looking away. “Yeah.”

“It’s the last night for us to, um, mate.”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter.

They sat in silence for a minute.

“You don’t have to—”

“Elijah—” They stopped and chuckled.

Verika took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to him. “I want to.”

Elijah’s head jerked up. He went still. “You do?”

She nodded.

He stared at her for a moment longer. Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. His mouth came down on hers with such fervor she barely had time to register what was happening. God, she could get used to being kissed like this.

She was drowning in him, could feel herself growing wetter for him. A moan slipped from her mouth as he tipped her head back and kissed her neck. “Are you sure?” he breathed against her slightly sweat-dampened skin.

She found his eyes and smiled. “I’ve never been so sure about anything.” She blinked, confused. “But I thought we needed a pack to, um, ‘witness’ the occasion.”

“Not with a rogue, you don’t, since I don’t officially have a pack. I’m a lone wolf.” He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “Besides, you’re my pack now.”

She slowly smiled at him as her eyes teared up.

His eyes softened. His kisses were different as he laid her back against the soft grass and began undressing her. His lips moved in tender gestures as clothing came off, and skin came into contact with skin.

She sighed with contentment as he kissed a path straight from her jawline to her aching breasts. Her nipples were pert; he took each of them into his mouth, one and then the other, sucking and gently nipping. She moaned and arched her back, feeling her toes curl as he cupped and squeezed her breasts.

The fire inside of her, the need to mate with him, was growing stronger.

His mouth at last traveled back up to hers, planting another breathless kiss there. She gazed up at him in wonder. How had she been so fortunate to end up with this magnificent creature? His muscles were bathed in moonlight, and his eyes faintly glowed gold. He looked like an elven king, come to claim her in his domain.

She could feel his swollen cock prodding her wet opening, seeking entrance. She instinctively opened her legs a little wider.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice ragged.

She closed her eyes and kissed him in response, without even taking another breath.

That was all the invitation he needed. He thrust. She gasped as he entered her and began pumping, slowly pushing his considerable girth inside of her. Slowly, she loosened up, her nectar coating his cock and easily allowing him to immerse himself fully.

He groaned as he finally thrust himself all the way inside. God, he was so big. He filled her up completely, and yet, it didn’t hurt. She felt… whole, like a piece of her that had been missing was finally rejoined.

She whimpered and clung to him as he began slowly rocking inside her. He didn’t pull all the way out, for which she was glad. Considering his size, it probably would have hurt. No, he was a gentle lover.

He kissed her tenderly as he made love to her, each thrust of his powerful hips carefully controlled so as not to hurt her. He was so sweet. She eagerly brought her hips up to meet him as he pumped, the embers of pleasure inside of her threatening to turn into an inferno at any second.

The sensations spilled over her body in one powerful burst, and she cried out.

He kissed her cheek, still pumping. “Are you okay?” he breathed.

“Yes,” she whispered back, her voice ragged. She laughed a little and hugged him, placing her mouth beside his ear. “Why don’t you roll over onto your back so I can help you?”

His rhythm stumbled a bit as his brow arched. He stared at her and then blinked before complying. “Yes, ma’am.”

In an instant, he’d grabbed her and swung them so he was on his back. She yelped and giggled, then sighed at the feeling of straddling him. It was a totally new sensation, but a damned good one.

Sitting straight up, she began riding him, sliding herself over his shaft in desperate movements. He groaned, holding onto her hips and squeezing. She reached down and grabbed his hands, guiding them to her bouncing breasts.

He eagerly complied and began playing with them. He held onto them, squeezing and kneading and teasing her nipples with his forefingers and thumbs.

She tossed her head back, breathing in the crisp night air and feeling freer than she had in a long time.

He let her work him, which she was definitely enjoying. A deep groan that was almost a growl came up his throat, right before she felt his hot seed pour into her. He groaned again, thrusting his hips a few times before lying still at last, panting.

She was breathing much harder herself. Climbing off him, she curled up beside him.

He was right—the mating had worked. Their tattoos were complete. She admired the elegant indigo swirls crisscrossing on their chests, shoulders, and backs. The pattern shimmered in the moonlight, as if they were made from stardust. She’d been so caught up in the intense pleasure of the moment that she’d barely registered the slight tingling sensation across her skin as the tattoo spread.

Intense happiness swelled in her chest, and she found herself almost in tears again. For a long while, neither of them spoke, content to let the enormity of what they’d just shared sink in.

They stared at the growing number of stars dotting the darkening sky. “Have you looked at the journal yet?” Elijah asked softly.

Verika shook her head, cuddling closer to him. “No. I’m not… ready. Satine, my mother… they must have had a good reason to bind my powers. It’s because they’re evil.”

“What if it was because she didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by them? I still think it’s the witch who makes the magic, not the other way around.”

Verika was silent as she thought. She wanted so desperately to believe her mate. Could she learn to control her powers? Would she ever not fear them?

“Being afraid of yourself sucks,” she grumbled against his chest.

He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through her. “I know the feeling.”

She swallowed hard, her thoughts switching topics. “Are you ready to see your brothers?”

Elijah grew silent. “Yes,” he finally said. His voice was a fearful whisper, so full of hope, yet so weighed down by the fear of disappointment. He took a deep breath and let it out in one long gush. “What if they don’t want to hear what I have to say, about why I’ve been absent for so long without any contact?”

“I’m sure they’ll be a little mad,” she admitted calmly. “But I’m also sure they still love you and want you back in their lives. They’d rather face Mistress Black with you than abandon you. Sure, you’ve made mistakes, but so have they. We all have.”

He squeezed her shoulders in a brief hug and sat up. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “What should I do? I don’t have a clue how to go about this.”

Verika sat up and dug through her bag. Smiling, she held up her pay-by-minute phone.

“How about we start with letting them know you’re alive?”

The conversation with Gage was stilted, as Verika had expected it to be. How on earth did you tell someone their brother, whom they believed to be dead, was alive and sitting right in front of you? Not to mention he’d sounded annoyed when he’d first barked into the phone.

“Well?” Elijah said, waiting nearby. He looked tense.

Her lips spread into a grin. “It’s a start. Now let’s go find your brothers.”

 

END OF BOOK 4