Anya Bast - Witch Fury

The blond man looked her up and down and frowned. “Are you okay?” “ Marvy. ”

“We’re not the monsters here.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She spat the words.

The blond man turned his gaze back to Theo, ignoring her pointedly, and jerked his head toward her. “She’s a charmer.” “Yeah. Any sign of the air witch?”

Crooked nose man shook his head. “No luck. They’ve got her hidden away good. Not even Mira or Claire can hear a peep.” “Fuck.”

“Yeah. You can take this one back in the van. I’ll see you at the Coven.” He turned and strode back to the house, where a pretty woman with long, curly dark hair waited for him on the porch.

Theo yanked her forward and she jerked away from him and snapped, “Stop touching me. Touch me again in this lifetime, and I swear to God I’ll sear the flesh from your bones.” Not that she knew how to sear the flesh from someone’s bones, but, wow, it sounded impressive.

“Don’t run.”

“I won’t run, genius.” She looked pointedly at Grosset. “You’re holding my dog hostage.”

STILL COVERED IN DIRT THE WAY A WARLOCK SHOULD be, the woman flounced down onto a cream-colored chair in one of the Coven’s common areas, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him.

Her dog jumped into her lap and settled down, looking up at him with beady black eyes, unaware that Theo was inches away from strangling his human.

Grime streaked the woman’s long blond hair and her light blue eyes gave him the gaze of death from a filthy face. One long leg moved incessantly in her agitation. Too bad she was a warlock; she was pretty. But she definitely had the temper to go with her element.

“What’s your name?”

Her full lips compressed and she looked away.

“Tell me now or tell me later, but you’ll like it better if you tell me now.” Her gaze snapped to his face. “Don’t threaten me.” Her chin rose. “I can call fire.” “And I can call earth. You know that because you’re wearing it. Don’t play with me. Earth trumps fire. I can counter anything you throw at me. Don’t make empty threats.” He bared his teeth. “ I don’t.” Carefully and slowly, she unclenched her teeth. “My name is Sarafina Connell.” “Before I throw your warlock ass in Gribben, Sarafina Connell, tell me what you and Stefan were talking about when I came in.” She drew a breath and looked away from him. Her fingers found dog fur and stroked. “He was telling me I was his prisoner. That I owed him for showing me I was a witch and I had to stay there with them and do—” She broke off. The breath hissed between her teeth. “Whatever it is they want me to do. I don’t know. I had the feeling that if I pressed the matter my safety would be in question.” Theo considered her for a moment before drawing the obvious conclusion. “You’re going to play the part of an abductee to avoid Gribben, is that your plan? It won’t work with me. I know better than that. Stefan wouldn’t be playing footsie with a kidnapped witch.” Her head snapped around. “ I am an abductee! Twice! First Stefan Faucheux appears in my living room, then you take me from him. God, I’m so sick of this whole thing!” She stood and paced the room, leaving dirt marks on the carpet as she went. Her dog leapt from her arms and watched her. She muttered to herself as she walked back and forth. “I was minding my own business, living my life. I come home from a trip to find Stefan Faucheux has broken into my apartment. Two seconds later, I’m out cold. I wake up in a strange place, surrounded by strange people— kidnapped . They pull this. . this ball of fire out from the center of my chest and teach me how to use it.” She stopped short and the silence stretched like a piece of taffy. “They told me my mother wasn’t half as crazy everyone thought she was,” she finished softly.

Theo blinked, staring at her back. If she was acting, she should get an Oscar. And maybe that meant she wasn’t really acting. Maybe.

“The Duskoff have been taking many vulnerable witches lately,” he said finally. “Older witches, too.” She whirled. “Who are you calling old, buddy?” “For the Duskoff, over eighteen is old. Normally, they don’t try and recruit any older than that.” “Recruit me? That’s what they were trying to do?” She made a scoffing sound. “Man, they suck at it.” He sighed and rubbed his face. The fight at the farmhouse had been brutal and he was tired and drained. Either she was telling the truth and he’d mistreated her, or she was a great actress with something to hide.

Stefan Faucheux didn’t deal with just any witch. Only those highest in the hierarchy held court with him. It seemed unlikely he’d be giving this kind of specialized attention to a recent abductee. Stefan didn’t get his hands dirty, that’s what the underlings were for.

So, what to do about this woman while he decided if she was a victim or a villain?

His mind flicked through possibilities. He could hand her over to Claire and Adam for the night, or maybe Isabelle, but they were all busy with the real abductees and dealing with the warlocks at Gribben that they’d managed to round up and bring in. Anyway, he didn’t trust anyone but himself to keep an eye on her.

But did he really want to bring a possible fire warlock into his abode for the night? That was a little like volunteering to sleep with a black mamba, wasn’t it?

“Just let me go home,” Sarafina said in a low, quiet voice. Her shoulders slumped. “That’s all I want. I just need for this nightmare to end.” He sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Come with me.” He turned and walked to the door, the dog trotting at his heels.

Sarafina followed. “You’re letting me go?” He scoffed. “Hell, no.”

“Then where are we going?”

“My room. Let you take a shower, eat, then sleep. We’ll sort this out in the morning.” Silence.

He stopped and turned to see she’d halted in the middle of the corridor. Hip cocked. Toe tapping. “I’m not sleeping in your room.” “You don’t have a choice, princess. Anyway, I’m not attracted to you. Get over yourself.” He turned on his heel and continued on.

To his gratification, the dog panted along right beside him, ensuring she’d follow. Fuck, he should’ve grabbed the stupid dog first thing.

HE PUT A PLATE WITH A PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY sandwich down in front of her. Theo, apparently, wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, or any kind of chef. Her stomach growled, anyway, and she fought not to fall on it like a starving dog.

Speaking of dogs, Grosset was digging into a bowl of SPAM, the only thing Theo could find in his kitchen for him.

She’d taken a shower and dressed in his clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt about five sizes too big. Scrubbed clean, she picked at the crust of her sandwich and eyed him. He leaned against the counter, partially blocking a tangle of dirty cooking pots, bowls, and wooden spoons. All of them smelled of herbs, not of food. Spell-stirring? Did witches do that in real life just like in the movies?

He was lean, but thickly muscled. When she’d been showering, he’d changed into a pair a faded jeans and a tight long-sleeved black shirt that showed every ridge and valley to intimidating perfection. At the cuffs and neckline, black tribal tattoos writhed on his dark skin, stretching up his throat with power-filled tendrils. Sarafina could feel the pulse and beat of his magickal strength even across the room. As she watched him, he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her.

And that was his intention, of course — to bully her. If this man enjoyed anything in life — and Sarafina had her doubts on that score — it was menacing people.