Shannon Curtis - Warrior Untamed

David pulled her away from the banister and tried to drag her back into her bedroom, but she shook her brother off, her blood chilling at the argument downstairs as she returned to the railing. An asset? That’s how her mother saw her?

Their parents were in the living room, oblivious to the listening ears upstairs.

“Why the Hawthorns?” Her father’s question was laced with frustration and exasperation.

Melissa’s eyes rounded, and she glanced up at her brother. The Hawthorns? They were known to dabble in blood magic. Hadn’t one of their ancestors given in to the blood-craze? She shook her head. No, surely not. Surely her mother wouldn’t ally the House of White Oak with the House of Hawthorn...she turned toward the head of the stairs, but Dave yanked her back, lifting his finger to his lips in caution.

“The Hawthorns are strong, Phillip, and because of their—proclivities—they count some vampire colonies among their allies.” Her mother’s answer was haughty, as though offended she had to explain herself.

“Do you hear yourself? Vampires? We don’t want to align with the bloodsuckers, Eleanor.”

“Why? Are you afraid of them?”

Melissa frowned at the blatant scorn in her mother’s tone.

“I am wary of them. I don’t trust them, and neither should you. Anyone slave to the blood thirst will always be an enemy to the humans and witches, Eleanor, and you know it.”

“Well, I’m not scared of them, Phillip. It’s done. I’ve already discussed it with Marcus Hawthorn. He is willing to formally introduce his son to Melissa at the ball tomorrow night.”

“So, you’ve gone ahead and done it without discussing it with me.” Her father’s tone brought tears to Melissa’s eyes. It was so brittle, so cold.

“I do not need, nor seek, your permission, Phillip. I am the Coven Elder, and in this my authority is absolute. Deal with it.”

“I won’t stand for this, Eleanor.”

Her mother laughed, a cold little tinkle that sounded like broken glass cascading over stone. “There is nothing you can do, Phillip. It’s already arranged.”

“I won’t stand by your side and watch this. You’ve gone too far—you should have discussed this with me. We could have come up with an alternative.”

“You’re my Consort, Phillip, not my confidant.”

Melissa flinched at the sound of breaking glass, and then her father stormed out of the living room and into the front foyer.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore, Eleanor. I’m renouncing this farce of a marriage. Do as you will—you always have.” He gave a sharp, cruel bark of laughter. “You’re so worried about your standing among the society, I’m almost interested to see the spin you’ll put on that, but I find I really couldn’t care less.”

Her father yanked his coat down from the hook behind the door. Melissa broke away from David, tears streaming down her face as she started to walk down the stairs.

“Daddy, please don’t go.”

Phillip Carter turned around, and she could see his struggle to contain his anger in front of his children. Finally, he smiled sadly and shrugged as she approached him. “Sorry, poppet. I just can’t do this anymore.”

He gave her a hug, then gazed up at David. Father and son looked at each other for a long moment, and then Phillip finally nodded, as though there was some meaningful, silent exchange.

And then her father left.

When Melissa turned away from the open front door, she saw him, a shadow in the corner of the foyer, his brown eyes watching the scene intently. He hadn’t been there at the time, but he was there, inside her memory, replaying it for her again and again. There was something predatory about his gaze that suggested his name was more than just something handed down to him at birth, but more a characteristic of his personality.

Damn pyro jerk. Just for that, she’d cast an elemental spell and had made it snow in his cell for the rest of the night. He was still shivering when she’d tossed him his sandwich at lunchtime.

Melissa looked away from the mirror and grabbed the hand towel hanging from a loop attached to the wall. She dabbed her face dry, her teeth clenched, that last image of her father storming off into the night haunting her. Neither she nor Dave had seen him since. She wasn’t going to cry. Not again. She’d wasted too many tears, remembering that night.

She fluffed her hair, pasted a fake smile on her face, then turned to the door that led out to her store. She had a client coming in to pick up a hex pouch, and another one due for an extremely diluted solution of wolfsbane. It wasn’t enough to kill a lycan, but it was enough to make the man’s abusive werewolf wife feel poorly enough to leave him alone.

Her hand rested on the doorknob. That night memories of her father weren’t the only dreams she was having. She frowned. She’d have to do something about her prisoner. She didn’t want these dreams, didn’t want these painful memories resurfacing at his whim, not hers. She didn’t think she could let him go, though. Who knew what chaos he would wreak on the unsuspecting and vulnerable if let out. He showed no real remorse for his actions, no consideration for others, but continued to push his own agenda. She wasn’t allowed to kill him, but she had wanted to teach him a lesson. Her shoulders sagged. Perhaps he was unredeemable.

Right now, though, she was too tired to care.

Straightening her shoulders, she swept into her store, a fake smile on her face as she greeted her customers.

A while later, after the two customers had left, she was almost deliriously happy to shut her front door, swinging the sign to Closed. She switched the light off over the display window and rubbed the back of her neck as she walked down the aisle toward the internal door that opened near the stairs that led to her apartment.

A furious tapping on the door at the front of the store had her turning, her brows dipping as the tapping became thumping. She walked back toward the store entrance, then started running when she caught a good look at one person propped up against her store window and another person struggling to keep him up. Melissa unlocked the door, and Lexi sobbed, nearly hysterical as she draped her brother’s arm over her shoulders.

“Please, Melissa. We need your help. Lance is hurt—bad.”

Chapter 5

Hunter hugged himself. The snow flurries had melted within his cell, but there was still a leftover chill from the witch’s retaliatory snowstorm. How apt that she took an icy approach. She probably thought he’d been replaying that particular memory out of spite, but he wasn’t.

Okay, so maybe there was a tiny bit of spite in there, but he’d really wanted to find out more about his captor. She’d been so young in that memory, not even an Initiate—untried and untested with her powers. He’d seen her hurt flare when her mother discussed her as no more than a resource for the coven, sensed her fear and anxiety at being married off, seen her blanch at the mention of the Hawthorns. The White Oak Coven... He racked his brain, trying to remember what he knew of the family. He knew of no current alliance between the Hawthorns and the White Oaks, and managing and orchestrating alliances and enmities were part of a light warrior’s toolbox, as his manipulative father had taught him. Arthur Armstrong had made it his business to understand, and even to influence, the partnerships and negotiations within Reform society.

When he saw Melissa’s dream of the ball, though, she’d been close enough to her current age—definitely an adult, and not some sixteen-year-old on her first introduction into Reform society. What had happened with the Hawthorns? He knew enough of Eleanor Carter’s reputation to know the Coven Elder was politically savvy and extremely powerful. What had happened to Melissa’s arranged marriage? It was an archaic custom, and one that couldn’t be enforced. If the Scion didn’t wish to be married off, there were opportunities to withdraw without causing insult, but he couldn’t remember hearing of anything involving the White Oak Coven. Hell. It wasn’t like Melissa was the kind of woman who could be discreet and diplomatic in that kind of situation, so surely he would have heard of some shock or scandal...?