Sylvia Day - Spellbound

“Come on, Vicky.” He caught her hand before it fell to her side and linked their fingers together. “I’ve got a room around the corner.”

Westin’s got you under his spell, Victoria. Whitacre never controlled you like that.

She frowned as she allowed Steve to lead her through the crush to the exit. Listening to her conscience had never been more difficult. And Steve’s use of the nickname “Vicky” only made things worse. Only Darius had ever called her that.

Max’s voice echoed in her mind. This isn’t you talking.

Her hand tightened on Steve’s. The warlock had twisted her mind . . . made her confused. She’d never been more conflicted.

“Do you live in the city?” Steve asked when they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Yes.” She’d moved in after Darius died, closer to the central hub of magic in the country, so that she would have greater opportunities to provoke the Council.

“I like it here,” he went on, filling the void left by her short answer. “First-time trip for me. I’ll have to thank my boss for suggesting this conference.”

Forcing herself to focus on the man she was with, she said, “Maybe I’ll have to thank him, too.”

His eyes sparkled in the light of the streetlamps. “Do I have to ask if you’ll be gentle with me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.”

She smiled genuinely. “Good. I’m not sure I can be gentle tonight.”

A ripple of desire moved through his big body. His skin heated to her touch. “Having one of those nights, sweetheart?”

Her nostrils flared, filling her senses with the scent of his lust and excitement. “Yeah . . . you could say that.”

M ax hit the streets. Barnes would be sticking close by, knowing Max was vulnerable now in a way he’d never been before. This hunt had turned into a game for Barnes, one he was willing to risk capture for. Vanquishing Max wasn’t going to stop the Council from coming after him; other Hunters would follow. It wouldn’t even buy the warlock time, because Max was fairly certain the Council had already widened the hunt. They probably didn’t trust him now, and Jezebel’s susceptibility would raise further alarm.

Coming after Max was sport for Barnes, a chance to get a little piece of his own back after the years of incarceration he’d suffered.

Victoria, where are you?

He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to find her. It would be pointless while she was under the fog of blood magic. Whatever programming Barnes had given her would be impossible to break through while the warlock was living.

But he couldn’t fight the fear for her. For them, as a couple, because there had been an opening for Barnes to exploit. All this time Max had believed it was simply a matter of acclimation that caused the resistance Victoria displayed occasionally. He’d assumed that at heart she was like all Familiars. But perhaps she was unique beyond the magic Darius had given her. Perhaps she truly needed to share control rather than give it up completely.

Could he be the man she needed if that were the case?

“Westin. You look so forlorn.”

Stiffening, Max slowed and looked for his quarry. A wry smile twisted his mouth at the thought. Really, he was the one being hunted. “It’s been a rough day.”

Barnes stepped out of the shadows. He looked harmless enough on the surface, like a thirty-year-old man out for a stroll, but dark power poured off him, buffeting Max with such fury it nearly sent him stumbling back a step. “That’s too bad. It’s been a great day for me.”

Max nodded. “You wanted Powell dead.”

“He would’ve become a liability eventually,” Barnes said with a shrug. He dressed better these days. When Max first caught him, he’d been a thug. Now he wore tailored slacks and shirt, with polished oxfords and tie. “And he was stupid enough to think he was smarter than me.”

“I underestimated you, too.”

Barnes liked that. He grinned. “I was hoping you’d be more of a challenge.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Max tried to tap into Victoria, to tug at least a little of his magic back, but there was nothing on the other end of their connection. It was as if it’d been severed completely.

An old man walking his Chihuahua passed them, giving them a wide berth and suspicious eye. The dog began yipping at Barnes and tugging at its leash, baring its teeth at the warlock. Barnes crouched and smiled. The dog whined and pissed itself.

“Remy!” the old man scolded. “Bad dog. Come on.”

The warlock stood, laughing. “The world is full of pathetic creatures, isn’t it, Westin?”

“Scaring small dogs should be beneath you,” Max said, allowing the wand tucked into the sleeve of his shirt to slide out and into his palm. It was a child’s learning tool, one he hadn’t used in centuries, and only briefly then. Serving only to help focus magic in the training stage, it bore no power itself, but Max needed all the help he could get. He’d used the bulk of the magic he had left to reach out to the Transcendual Realm for help.

He wasn’t the only one who loved Victoria and would do anything to keep her safe.

“Nothing is beneath me. That’s why I’m as powerful as I am today.” Barnes scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Putting rules on magic is where the Council went wrong. Magic is alive, it breathes. Caging it is a crime.”

“You don’t give a shit about magic. It’s power you want. You’re drunk with it.”

“I don’t think you’d sound so disdainful if you still had yours,” Barnes goaded, his gaze hard.

“And I don’t think you’d sound so smug if you knew that the Council was about to hunt me Themselves, because They believe Victoria made me too powerful. If I were you, I would’ve considered that a better punishment than this. An eye for an eye. Instead, you’re doing Them a favor.”

Barnes didn’t like that. His smile faded. “You must have a death wish, Westin.”

“Maybe.” He played up his vulnerability. “I don’t want to live without Victoria and you’ve taken her away from me. So it’s either you or me, Barnes.”

“Well, I think we both know how that’s going to end.”

Max thrust out his hand, sending magic racing along the length of the wand to strike Barnes in the chest. The warlock stumbled back, spinning, but quickly righted himself and fired back.

The weight of the blow lifted Max off his feet and sent him flying several feet. Winded and in terrible pain, he curled in on himself, making as small a target as possible. The next blow of magic seized his heart and lungs, blackening his vision. His surroundings dimmed and roaring filled his ears. The next strike would kill him.

Victoria . . . His eyes squeezed shut as agony twisted his body. How would she survive losing two warlocks she loved? Be safe, kitten, he whispered to her. I love you.

“Here we are,” Steve said, stopping in front of an InterContinental hotel. Setting his hand at the small of Victoria’s back, he urged her through the revolving doors in front of him.

I didn’t leave you with Westin for this, Vicky.

She came to an abrupt halt and the door smacked into her from behind, shoving her forward. She stumbled into Steve.

Darius? she breathed, astonished to hear the beloved voice again.

You told me you loved him . . . that you wanted to be with him. If you’ve changed your mind, darling, I’ll bring you to me. Damned if I’ll leave you to someone else.

“Easy,” Steve said, taking the opportunity to run his hands down her back. “You all right?”

She shook her head. No, she was far from all right. A sick feeling of dread permeated her senses. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d changed her mind—