The Silverwing's Sorceress: THe Shadow Slayers, Book 2.5 Read online

  When he got to the kitchen, there she was at the stainless-steel cooktop, smiling at him quizzically. The thin white shirt she wore barely concealed the bloom of her dusky-rose nipples.

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t sure where you were.”

  “I’m right here, cooking you breakfast.”

  After his pathetic stunt last night, he was glad she was speaking to him. He approached her with caution and peered into the sauté pan. It appeared to be meat of some sort, though he was sure the refrigerator had been empty last night. “What is it?”

  She selected an herb from the collection she’d gathered and sprinkled it over the meat. “Spam.”

  “Ham?”

  “Well, sort of. Here, try it.” She speared a bite onto a fork and brought it to his lips.

  It was hot against his tongue, but coming from her hand, he’d never tasted anything so delicious. “I like it.”

  “Sit down at the table, Jaxy. You’re going to be surprised what kind of breakfast I can come up with in a pinch.”

  “You don’t have to cook for me.”

  “I know. That’s what makes it fun.” When her slender hand took his shoulder and pushed him towards the chair, it might as well have been the hand of the Maker himself. He sat and followed her with his eyes back to her position at the stove.

  His shirt on her was long, but then so were Abbey’s legs. It fell to the tops of her thighs, revealing far too much creamy white skin. What was wrong with him? He’d desired her from the moment they’d met, but he’d never felt out of control like this. Had their episode on the sofa really done so much damage that all he could think of was whether or not the thatch of hair between her legs was as red as the long locks falling across her forehead?

  “After you’re done eating and put some clothes on, I thought we could start on the library. I’m hoping there’s something there that can help with the mountain’s ward.”

  “Of course. How are you doing this morning with…all this?” His gesture encompassed the house.

  “I’m all right. But I have a hundred questions—and no one to ask at the moment.”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “Okay…I know the cabin was legally mine after I turned twenty-five, so I’m assuming this house is mine, too. But then I start thinking about the fact that Claude couldn’t have gotten the money to build it from the estate. And if he got it from the Northwestern Coven, is it still mine? I have no idea. And furthermore, why was the cabin not good enough for him? And where is my parents’ stuff? From the look of this place, I think Claude planned for guests, like maybe a coven retreat for his inner circle or something.”

  “Why would the Northwestern Coven of Witches fund your uncle’s personal projects?”

  “Uhhg…” The sound turned into a groan. “I’ll tell you if you swear not to get mad at me.”

  “What could you possibly have to say that would make me mad at you?”

  “I’m not going to answer that unless you swear.”

  He put down his fork, rose from the table and came to stand before her. Taking her hand in his, he met her eyes, his lips drawn in a half smile. “Abigail Sellers, I solemnly swear that whatever you are about to tell me, I will not hold it against you in any way. If I break this vow, may I hand-wash your dirty laundry and give you sole control of the television remote for the next thousand years.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, nice. That’s easy to promise when you know I won’t be around that long.”

  He sighed and squeezed her hand tighter. “And the secret?”

  “Claudius Sellers, my uncle, is…sort of…the high priest of the northwestern hemisphere. And he’s standing in for me until I’m ready to take charge.”

  Jaxon nodded, his face a mask of serenity. “I have a secret, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Kara told me.”

  “What?” she almost shouted. “Kara doesn’t know.”

  “Apparently, she does.”

  “Is she mad at me?”

  “Disappointed, perhaps, that you didn’t tell her sooner.”

  “I thought about telling her when we were younger, but it was awkward. Since she couldn’t mix a spell, the coven leaders wouldn’t allow her into the fold. I didn’t want to make her feel worse. And besides, since I was never actually planning to take over the coven, I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

  “Do you really think so little of your own people?”

  “Of course not. You wouldn’t understand…” She shook her head, seemingly annoyed with him. “How did Kara find out?”

  “Your uncle discovered a way she could heal your wound.” Kara hadn’t wanted him to tell Abbey of the summons she’d received from the Northwestern Coven, but then Kara wasn’t his mistress any longer. For the first time in a hundred and thirty-three years, Jaxon was a completely free man. “It involves the blood of a black-wing.”

  “The Aniliáre? No way. I wouldn’t accept a cup of water from those fallen miscreants, much less their blood. And furthermore, I don’t want Kare-bear anywhere near my uncle, especially now that I know he’s been keeping things from me.” She paused, her brows bunching together, then she hauled back and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey! You knew about me, and you weren’t gonna say anything?”

  Jaxon retreated a step. “Wait a moment. I’m confused. Are you really gnashing your teeth at me because I kept from you that I knew the secret you were keeping from me?”

  Her lips twitched. “I think so. Can you repeat that?”

  He stepped forward and squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to the flame-colored locks of her hair. “Let it go, dove. Your uncle is the one who’s been keeping secrets, and I’m starting to believe that getting my wings working again is more urgent than ever.”

  Instead of looking through each book one by one, Abbey grabbed a stack and laid them out on the floor. She quickly sifted through their pages, scanning the contents for words that would signal spells.

  “I’m not seeing anything in these,” she said to Jaxon, “unless it’s hidden or encoded. Can you bring me that stack over there?” She pointed to another bookshelf along the far wall.

  “Would you explain to me one more time why you believe you’ll find a spell in these books that can fix my wings?” he asked.

  “Because the only problem with your wings is the ward.” She snapped another book shut and set it aside. “When you come across strong passive magic like this…meaning witch energy where there aren’t any witches around actively initiating it, usually a spell book was charmed and left nearby. It’s called a focal point, and it only works with spell books that have some pretty intense energy of their own.”

  “Hmm…” Jaxon didn’t seem excited. “So not only are we looking for a spell book—we’re looking for a powerful one.”

  “I can’t promise you the book is here,” Abbey admitted, “but it’s the only thing I know that would explain this level of magic.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but all the witches’ tomes I’ve seen were much older than these. These books look almost new.”

  “You never told me you’d been around witches. I thought you spent most of your time with Lace.”

  Jaxon stacked the books Abbey had already looked through, then reached for the first row from the shelf and spread them out beside her. “Many Demiáre on the surface employ witches. The sorceress who gives counsel on Mercury Island’s wards is a powerful woman. She’s also very old. She looked well over a hundred when I met her twenty-something years ago.”

  “You have a real sorceress living on the island? Wow. How old could she be? I’ve never known a witch who lived past a hundred and twenty.”

  “I never asked her. The Lords don’t allow the men to fraternize much with the other species on the island.” He laughed. “Well, the human camp companions excluded, of course.”

  Abbey gave him a look. He’d described to her in detail just what kind o
f “fraternization” took place with those ladies. “But I’m assuming you didn’t fraternize much, right? I thought Lace was the insanely jealous type of mistress—emphasis on the insane.”

  “No, she didn’t like to share. Not even with the sorceress.”

  Abbey dropped a book, and it hit the carpet with a soft thud. “Eww! You hooked up with the old lady?”

  Jaxon chuckled and shook his head. “Abigail, you have a filthy mind under all that beautiful hair.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who won’t tell me everything that goes on in a harem. How would I know?”

  He cocked a brow. “I’ve told you enough. I had my fun—but you were no innocent yourself. If your house hadn’t burned down, I’m sure half the broken-hearted male population of San Diego would still be leaving love notes on your doorstep.” He held her gaze for several beats of her heart. “And now look at us…”

  She picked the book up again. “Yeah…look at you, Jaxon. I remember the early days. I remember when we had to force you to eat…when you didn’t give a damn about anything. You’ve come so far from the man you were six months ago. But I still don’t understand why you let Lace do that to you.”

  He turned away and ran his hand along the spines of the books lining the shelves. “Bonding with a Demiáre female is like an addiction. But with Lace, it was more like a slow poison. I’d been with her since I was nineteen. I didn’t know anything else. Over the years, I began to excel at interpretation of ancient languages. When we came to live on Mercury Island, I was called on by our sorceress to help on occasion…and Lace grew resentful of me.”

  Abbey realized she was holding her breath. Jaxon had never told her why Lace had publicly humiliated him and cast him from her harem. “She dumped you over helping the island’s sorceress with some old books?”

  He nodded, then began lifting leather-bound editions from the highest shelf. “She would’ve released me sooner, but by that time, she needed me to lead her security team. I was her only warrior who used his head instead of his—well, you know—to serve her. And as wild as the females are, they do need protection.”

  “Over a wrinkly old witch…” Abbey muttered, still shocked. Lace was probably one of the most beautiful women who walked the earth. If a woman like her could be so ridiculously insecure, what hope was there for the rest of womankind?

  “If it would be of interest to you, I’m sure I can get permission for you to visit with her.”

  “Lace?” Her face twisted in disgust. “No, thank you. If I ever come face to face with that bitch I’m gonna gouge her eyes out!”

  Jaxon cast her a get-serious glance. “Her eyes would grow back. And I was speaking of the sorceress.”

  Abbey grinned. “Oh.”

  “Sarah isn’t a soft woman, but I believe she has a soft spot for me. Once you find the spell to get my wings working, I’ll take you to the island and we can ask Lord Aiden—” He paused, and it got Abbey’s attention. “What is this?”

  “Where?” She pushed the books from her lap and hurried to Jaxon.

  “Here. This book is stuck, though I don’t see what’s holding it down.”

  Abbey rose to her tiptoes. “Wiggle it and see what happens.”

  “What if it triggers something, like…a bomb?”

  “A bomb? Are you serious? Remind me again why I ever introduced you to TV.” She frowned, and she wasn’t sure if it was because Jaxon’s bomb idea was silly or because, with the way things were going, it wasn’t impossible. “Out of all the books, why would that one have an explosive device? Here, let me try it.”

  After a moment of indecision, Jaxon stepped away. “Be careful.”

  Abbey used the lower shelf like the bottom rung of a ladder and ran her fingers along the oxblood-red spine of the book. “I know movies and TV are still new to you, so you don’t understand what we’re looking at here, but this is clearly a secret passageway.” When the book didn’t move, she jostled it harder.

  “I may be new to television, but I’ve lost track of how many books I’ve read in the last hundred and fifty-two years. I’ve read the complete canon of Sherlock Holmes a dozen times—and that includes all fifty-six short stories—and everything ever written by Agatha Christie. I know about secret passageways.”

  Abbey chuckled. Jaxon didn’t look a day over thirty, so it was easy to forget he was six times her age. “Then you’ll know, Detective, that if we pull the book out, like this…”

  She tugged hard on the spine and the book finally gave way, the pages tearing like it had been placed in a glue spill. She toppled into Jaxon’s outstretched hands, and he caught her easily, surrounding her in bands of thick muscle. She relaxed in the curve of his arms, not surprised in the least that he’d caught her. Jaxon was good like that.

  She waited for the book to do something spectacular, but after a few seconds, nothing happened. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

  His warm burst of laughter ruffled her hair. “Not as disappointing as if it had been a bomb.”

  “Yeah, good point.” When he set her on her feet, his fingers grazing her bare thighs sent lightning arcing across her skin. Her breath froze on a quick inhale.

  He swallowed and stepped back. “Would you like to take a break? I’ll check on your clothes in the dryer.”

  She smoothed down her shirt and shook off the lightheadedness that always accompanied his touch. “No. Let’s finish looking through the last stack.” When he frowned in response, she matched his expression with a scowl of her own. “Laundry? Right now? I didn’t know you needed this old T-shirt back in the next few minutes.”

  “No, it’s just that when you stretch up to get a book…it doesn’t quite cover your…”

  Abbey gaped at him, pierced through the heart. “My bandages?”

  “No! God no, Abbey. I was going to say your panties.”

  Her knees felt wobbly, as if shame had gnawed her to the bone. Jaxon could try to hide his disgust, but she wasn’t stupid. He’d seen her in panties and a T-shirt a dozen times before, and now he was suddenly concerned with modesty? “Whatever.”

  She tugged at the shirt again, trying to pull it lower, then walked to the desk. After taking a moment to test the leather chair’s swivel, she plopped down and scooted in. Judging by the scorching heat in her cheeks, her face and hair were probably one big scarlet mess.

  Jaxon came to sit on the edge of the desk, and the way he reclined made his shirt pull tight over his beautiful, perfect, not-carved-up abs. “What is this about, dove?”

  She shook her head. There was nothing she could do about the wound. That stuff about Kara getting black-wing blood to heal her was a bunch of crap. “It’s about wanting a little privacy. Does the whole world really need to be concerned with my stomach?”

  His brow bunched. “I swear I wasn’t speaking of your bandages. But Abbey…I’ve already seen the wound. I thought you trusted me.”

  “That was before…”

  Before she realized her body would never heal. Before Jaxon’s touch made her heart hammer. Before she couldn’t imagine life without him.

  At the end of the day, Jaxon was immortal. And her wound was a constant reminder that she was as mortal as they came. What she and Jaxon had would come to an end. It had to. And the deeper she let her feelings go for him, the worse it would be. That kind of loss was how women ended up crazy and alone, their stiff, dead toes gnawed off by a houseful of hungry stray cats.

  She knew this. She knew it! But she couldn’t stop feeling when he touched her. She couldn’t stop wanting more. Even if she could put aside his friendship and use him for a good fuck, her broken body made a mockery of her.

  “Before what?” he demanded. “What have I done? Was it the kiss?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Was it last night? I was an idiot, and I had no right to put your hand on me. I never would have done it if I’d known it would make you feel differently about us. You believe that, don’t you?”

  She thrust her
face into her hands and closed her eyes. This man was driving her over the edge, and remembering the sumptuous feel of his engorged length under her fingers wasn’t helping. She had so many conflicted feelings ricocheting around her head, sometimes it felt like her skull might shatter. “Please, Jaxon. Please don’t make me talk about this. I’m not ready.”

  “Very well.”

  When he stood, she could tell she’d hurt him, and suddenly, she was fighting the urge to spill her guts and give him the answers he wanted.

  “See, this is why we would never work,” she muttered under her breath. One grumpy look from him and her heart stuttered, wanting to make it better. She was too invested, and if she let herself fall for him, what would happen when she was the old, wrinkly witch and he left her for something hotter and younger? In her heyday, she could dump a lover on his ass without a second thought, and she took their dismissals just as easily. But being betrayed by a true friend…how would she ever recover?

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” His narrowed eyes told her he’d heard her perfectly.

  “I said I knew that stupid book would never work. Let’s keep looking. My lower half is safely tucked under the desk, so offending panties or belly, we’re covered either way.” His responding growl made her lips quirk. She didn’t get to hear Jaxon growl very often.

  “What would you like to do next?” he asked, admittedly showing a lot of restraint when what he probably wanted to do next was smack her.

  Abbey shook her head and ran a hand over the desk, trying to imagine what Claudius would have been thinking as he sat here last. When she pulled her hand away, her fingertips were perfectly clean and the surface of the desk was unmarred. “Hmm… Either a cleaning person visits regularly, or someone’s taken the time to do a suspend particles spell.”

  “Is that important?”

  Relived to be on a different subject, she shrugged and sank deeper into the cushy office chair. “I’m not sure, but from what I’ve heard about those higher-level spells, it’s easier to get out a rag and dust. Between the generator and spells like these, I’d say someone’s invested a lot of time and energy into making this place more than just a mountain getaway.”