Wicked Magic Read online

  “Damn it,” he hissed. Starting over, he poured out the foam and tried again. He wasn’t half bad, for a rookie.

  “Need a hand?” she asked, sliding over the bar.

  Jeremiah shook his head. His hair moved in front of his eyes. When he pushed the strands back, a trail of moisture lined his forehead.

  “This bartending thing, a lot harder than it looks.” He set the finished pint on a coaster. “How in the hell do you remember what goes in what? Brenda’s been asking for Blowjobs, Redhead Sluts…is she fucking with me?”

  She leaned her hip against the counter and picked up her necklace. Determined not to let her heartbreak show, she forced a smile on her face. Normally, Jeremiah’s charm would have cheered her up. Not tonight.

  “I’ve been doing it a long time, that’s how. And with Brenda, you can’t be too sure. You should go, leave this to the professionals.”

  “No, no. I got it.” He slapped her hand away when she reached for the glass he’d picked up. “I’m not sure what happened between you and Trent, but he almost took my head off. You should go talk to him before he does something stupid. He’s probably at home, drinking himself into a coma. Being a shifter, that takes quite a bit of booze.”

  Her smile faltered. “I’m the last person he wants to see. I really screwed everything up,” she said.

  “You? I doubt it.” He grinned when he poured a semi-decent pint on the first shot. A stream of ale drifted down the side of the cup and pooled onto the counter.

  His voice jarred her. “Nine out of ten times it’s Trent’s fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

  A slow, pulsing ache moved through her stomach. She sucked in a breath, stuttered on it as her lungs froze. One second she was fine, the next she couldn’t breathe. Gasping, she reached for her neck.

  Jeremiah asked her something. She saw his lips move but didn’t hear anything.

  She gripped her throat. Her lips parted and she tried to answer him. It hurt. Everything hurt. Heat flashed—her magic swelling to life in a rush so powerful she staggered. Trent. Something wasn’t right.

  Jeremiah caught her by the arm, brought her upright and smoothed the hair out of her face.

  “Trent. Trouble,” she croaked out, voice hoarse.

  A line knit between his brows. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  A bolt of fear propelled her into action and she yanked her arm free. She reached around the post Jeremiah made and wrapped her fingers around the cool metal of a gun. Its weight dropped her hand against her leg. Ignoring the look on Jeremiah’s face, she scaled the bar and navigated through the throngs of tables. ’Miah’s footsteps echoed behind her and he was close enough for his boots to nip at her heels.

  She stormed through the door, her destination unclear. Beneath her feet, a pile of clothes littered the ground. The shredded remains of Trent’s jeans and shirt. Above, clouds twisted in the sky, moved in front of the moon so the crowded parking lot was nothing but shadows. On a normal night, she’d hear crickets, birds, maybe a brush of wind. Tonight, even the bugs were afraid to let their presence be known.

  Jeremiah stopped beside her and tensed. He pointed his noise in the air, sniffed. His jaw twitched when it tightened.

  “Trouble. I smell blood and wolf. I don’t think the pack went far.” With a growl, he sprinted out in front of her and jumped into the air.

  Mid-leap, his body morphed. Clothes ripped, falling to the ground in a shredded puddle. Fur emerged through skin—bones popped. When it was done, all four of his paws hit the dirt running. Even in their animal form, he and Trent were opposites. Where Trent was completely black except for the barely visible gray rosettes, Jeremiah was a beautiful tawny yellow. Orange and black spots ran across his back and down stocky legs that were built of solid muscle. The yellow shade of his fur faded around his neck, melting into white along his belly.

  As he ran, all four paws met in the front, scrambling through the loose gravel, and into the surrounding forest. He disappeared into the darkness. A pitiful cry pierced the air and tore her heart in half. She took off in the direction Jeremiah had gone and tried to slow her racing pulse. The forest closed in around her. Twigs and leaves crunched under her boots. Branches whipped her cheeks and brought tears to her eyes. The sinking feeling in her chest grew worse.

  The trees opened onto a grisly scene. It felt like her heart stopped. Trent. Three wolves tackled him, tossed him to the ground like a giant ragdoll. He tried to lash out. They were quicker. Even from a distance, the blood dripping from his fur was as unmistakable as the dead woman lying in the dirt. Jeremiah rushed to Trent’s defense, a flash of yellow blurring her vision.

  Snarling wolves lunged for his throat and three animals collided in midair. She gasped and tightened her fingers around the stock of metal in her hand. As Trent tried to get up, a large brown and white wolf circled him. It lunged, teeth fitting around his neck. They rolled through leaves and dirt.

  Tearing, ripping, the sound of growls…it all touched something deep inside her. She absorbed the emotion in the air, and adrenaline tightened her skin. Fear paralyzed her. Trent mewled in pain, scratched with claws the size of her fingers, but the wolf didn’t back down. The instinct to protect took over. He was hers, damn it. If anyone was going to kill him, she’d be the one to do it. She cupped the base of the gun and lined up her shot. The metal trigger cut against her finger. She pulled. The gun kicked back with a bang as a scalding hot shell pinged back and struck her arm.

  The wolf at Trent’s neck howled, released its hold and jerked its head in her direction. It growled, blood dripping from its yellowed teeth. Jeremiah was there, lunging with powerful jaws, picking off the beast that had jumped on his brother’s back.

  The same green eyes she’d noticed earlier that night locked with hers. It was the biker who’d decided he wanted to make her a prize. The poor woman whose life was no more had paid that price. Gray, shaggy fur ran down the wolf’s chest until the shade became brown. Its lips lifted, exposing a sharp set of teeth. The energy swirling in the night air tasted every bit as black as it had earlier in the bar.

  When she took a step back, the wolf took one closer. It pawed at the earth and wrinkled its nose. Her stomach clenched with fear. Wavering with her terror, her hand shook and she fired again. The wolf staggered, shoulder pushing back when the bullet penetrated. It didn’t stop advancing.

  Her heel caught on a branch. The gun fell from her hand and clunked to the ground. Her ass hit the forest floor, a flash of pain radiating up her spine. The wolf rushed at her. This was it. She’d never even told Trent she loved him.

  A guttural roar sounded. Trent pounced out of thin air, a black mist rushing from the side, his stocky legs barely touching the ground. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Head over tails, they rolled to the ground. Powerful jaws opened, exposing intimidating sets of canine teeth. Trent struck the wolf at the base of the skull and bit down. He crushed through bone in one powerful motion.

  Blood rushed in a gushing sound that forced her eyes closed. Her stomach lurched, and she gripped at the soft soil under her hands. Silence. One eye at a time, she opened them. Trent moved to her, dragging his hind leg, his stride uneven. The deep-blue of his irises glowed in the night. His eyes were the one recognizable trait he carried over from his human form. When he looked at her as he was now, it was easy to picture him standing above her.

  She didn’t know if she should run away or to him. His eyes closed and all three hundred pounds of his feline teetered. Three feet separated them. He didn’t make it the distance. When he dropped to the ground, the forest floor trembled.

  Blood ran from his neck, his legs and from the wounds that split open the fur along his muscular back. She crawled to him on her hands and knees, moist earth seeping through her pants. A hiccupping sob started in her chest and bubbled out. Pain cut through her chest, numbed her fingers.

  When she picked up his head and cradled it in her lap, it was large, heavier tha
n she would have expected. Using a light stroke, she curved her fingers around his ears, down to the puncture wounds at his neck.

  “Trent.” Her vision blurred and a hot trail of tears ran down her face.

  She bent her head and pressed her forehead against the space between his eyes. She gripped him, hands clutching his hide. Hot, short pants came from his mouth. He twitched but didn’t make a sound. She sobbed, her body vibrating with gut-wrenching pain.

  “I can’t lose you. Please, Trent, shift.” Her words turned into a babbling, incoherent string of words. “Please, hang on. Come back to me.”

  A warm hand pressed against her shoulder. In human form, Jeremiah leaned against her and buried his nose in her hair. Her eyes stung with tears. She turned, cheek still against Trent’s head, and looked at the man beside her. ’Miah was bleeding and naked, a wake of bloody claw marks curving around his bicep. Under the blood, the marks had already started to knit together in raised, pink lines.

  “He can’t shift. He’s too weak, injured too badly. You have to make him, like you did earlier. Use your magic,” Jeremiah told her.

  She shook her head. She didn’t know how.

  “He’ll die if he doesn’t shift back. One of the wolves got away, we gotta go after him. Make him human, Sam, and he’ll heal this. If you don’t, he’s not going…” His voice cracked.

  Shit.

  “I…” she stuttered.

  “Do it,” he screamed at her. Tears clouded his eyes and strained his voice. He trembled against her and he looked so much younger than twenty-one. “Sam, please. He’s all I have.”

  She closed her eyes and searched with her heart, tried to find the spark inside Trent that connected her with him. She clutched him tight and forced her magic to the surface. Even though Trent was right in front of her, she couldn’t feel him like she normally did. They’d done this only in human form.

  Searching, digging through layers of emotions and pain, she grasped onto the faint spark of life. He was there. Everything became chaotic. The smells around her amplified, so strong she could taste the gunpowder on her hands, taste the fear that radiated off Jeremiah. Death hovered around her. The heat of the day had created a moist press of air that churned the clouds above her. It was about to rain—the earthy taste of it lingered on her tongue.

  A drop of moisture pinged off her arm. Another on her shoulder. As it began to drizzle, the ground speckled under the drops. She tried to focus, to channel her energy on Trent, on the slowing beat of his heart.

  “Shift. Human. Come back to me,” she whispered against him.

  Magic hummed, chilled her skin. Nothing happened.

  She shoved her magic inside him more forcibly, cried out and collapsed against the warmth of Trent’s back. Come back to me, Trent. I need you. Jeremiah needs you. Please.

  Under her touch, the fur melted. Trent jerked in her arms. She lifted her hands up and marveled at the transformation. Skin pulled taut—bones shifted. Something popped. When it was over, the slick, curling locks of his hair were under the hands she’d lowered to touch him. Trent curled his naked, shivering body into a ball until his knees touched his chest and his head was in her lap. He gripped her thigh and hugged her closer to him.

  Jeremiah choked on tears, smiled and rubbed a hand through Trent’s hair. Trent lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open and his unfocused gaze met hers. She smiled, sniffling, cupped his head and brought her forehead down against his, as she’d done with his jaguar. Beside her, Jeremiah fussed over his brother by hovering his hand over the healing wounds on his body. The skin had knitted together but the damage underneath was still mending. He’d walk away, be healed after another shift, but some of his marks wouldn’t fade. She’d almost lost him. They’d been given another chance and she wasn’t going to screw it up. She knew what she needed to do.

  “You came back to me,” she whispered, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

  “Like you gave me a choice,” he rasped.

  Beaten, dirty and naked, he shot her the slow grin that made the panic and fear fade away. Trent stared into her eyes and her heart skipped a beat. Animal or man, the twinkle in his eyes was always the same.

  She loved him too much to bind him to something he didn’t want. Her magic meant nothing, not after what she’d seen tonight. Her gaze dipped to the ground. Through the darkness and the slanting rain, all she could see were the smudges of blood that painted the forest floor. She didn’t even want to focus on the shadows of lumps she could barely make out. Bodies. People, animals, had died tonight.

  The rain fell harder, pelting the leaves on the ground, and the earth soaked it up. The pounding sound reached her ears. Her shirt stuck to her back, chilled her skin. She shivered.

  “We have to get out of here. ’Miah, you know what to do.” His voice was bruised, pathetic. She loved it.

  Jeremiah stood and took her attention with it. He was as naked as Trent. She couldn’t help but let her gaze wander up the length of his thin, muscular legs. Well, at least everything was proportioned to his frame. She glanced back to the ground.

  ’Miah, completely oblivious of his lack of clothing or the fact that they’d barely seen this fight out, jogged over to the shreds of Trent’s clothes littering the area in front of the bar. He bundled Trent’s weapon and badge into the tattered fabric. He came back and handed it over to his brother.

  “You said you’d do it next time.” Despite the protest, there was relief in Jeremiah’s voice that his brother was still alive to issue commands.

  She looked back and forth between them. “Do what?”

  “Bury the bodies.” Her gaze shot straight to Trent’s face. He didn’t even so much as crack a grin. He couldn’t be serious.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  Trent placed a hand on her shoulder and used it as a crutch. Sam rose to her feet and, taking the hint, helped him stand. She wrapped her arm around his back before she moved under it. Hugging his torso to her, she decided to ignore how it felt to have him pressed against her. All hard, lean muscle. From head to toe, she drank all of him in at once. The trail of hair that began below his navel was dark. It invited her gaze lower. Okay, so he and his brother had something in common. She’d felt it, seen it…but still. Wow. She jumped when Trent cleared his throat. She looked straight ahead to where the rain, a trickle at first, had morphed into sheets of water too thick to see through.

  “Come on, Sam.” Trent groaned in pain as he limped closer. He pressed his weight into her side, dipping her body. “What did you think happened? In this day and age, no one goes looking for a missing shifter. ’Miah will take the girl back to the station and I’ll go in later to fill out the paperwork. We’re on the bottom of the rung, sweetheart. They’re too afraid they’ll catch it. Assholes.”

  It was a sad fact. Her father had gone missing almost fifteen years ago. She still recalled the shattered look on her mother’s face when the realization that something had happened hit her. The glass in her mother’s hand had slipped, shattered across the floor. At the time, Sam had been six, sitting at the bar playing a game of cards with one of the regulars.

  Tears had curved over her mother’s high cheeks, dripping to the floor with the first strangled sob. Her aunt had been there, clutching her and whispering into her ear. It had all been so confusing. She hadn’t understood how her mother had known the worst. It wasn’t until she heard Trent inside her head, felt his pain, that she finally realized. The bond was deeper than she understood.

  After that day, her mother was never the same. Distant. Lonely. The light in her eyes extinguished. Every day that went on killed her a little bit more. Was that what she had to look forward to? She’d been nineteen when her mother threw the keys to the bar at her feet and walked out the door. The last image she had of her was the long, curling locks of her auburn hair bouncing against a delicate white macramé sundress.

  Jeremiah’s voice brought her out of the memory. “I’ll do it this time but only because yo
u can barely stand. You owe me one.”

  “I can stand just fine.” Trent pushed away from her.

  While he spun in an upright circle, she and Jeremiah watched. He propelled one foot forward. A deep, guttural groan of pain followed. Shifters healed fast. Not that fast though. She took a step to his side, catching him before his knees went out. His weight almost sent them both to the ground.

  “Stand up, my ass,” she muttered under her breath and directed them to her pick-up. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She looked to the side, caught his eyes. Emotion danced in their depths. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something. Things were different now. Her current life wasn’t so bad. She had her friends, the bar. If she could keep Trent in her life, somehow, she’d be okay. How could she miss what she’d never had to begin with?

  “You know…” she tried to force a light, airy quality into her voice she didn’t feel. The longer she stood there with him, the more her heart broke. “You didn’t have to go out and get yourself killed to get away from me.”

  Not even a chuckle.

  He stopped moving, and even injured, it didn’t take much strength on his part to pull her to a halt.

  “You think I hated the idea that much?” he asked.

  Yes, she did and that fact stung almost as much as it had when he’d told her to go play with her dolls. She might be fine to screw here or there, but he didn’t want a commitment. Not with her. “Well, you did practically run from the room. We don’t need to talk about this now. You need rest. One thing at a time, okay?”

  He hesitated. It took a few seconds of her attempting to move forward for him to follow.

  “Thank you,” he said after a minute.

  “For what?” She gave him a half smile. “Carrying you to my truck? Lazy ass.”

  His laugh was rich, deep and tainted with a cough followed by a gasp of pain. They came to a stop at her Chevy. She rolled her shoulder, used it to push him against the door. The black shade of the paint made his skin look pale.