The Witch's Protector [The Protectors 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3

  “Let her go, you heard the boss.” A female voice behind her was drowned out by the snarl of the man who seemed determined to choke the life out of her, even as they moved toward the house.

  Over the rushing in her ears, she heard the deep, commanding growl coming from the inside of the house. It sent shivers down her spine, and the hold on her throat lessened. Joanne dropped to the floor, only to be thrown over the shoulder of her captor. The world spun as he ran and then there was the bang of a door, and then the world tilted again. Soft furnishings greeted her, as the white-haired man dumped her on a well-worn couch, in what looked to be the main room of the house.

  More naked people crowded in and Joanne shut her eyes. Jesus, trust her to go from never having seen a man’s appendage up close to having several shoved in her face, figuratively speaking at least.

  “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill her. The Alpha’s blood is all over her, for fuck’s sake.”

  The white-haired oaf, as she decided to call him in her head, growled the words, and Joanne shuffled upright on the couch and opened her eyes. Surely, they hadn’t brought her here to kill her. Unfortunately that move brought her face to face with his cock, and heat flooded her cheeks.

  The man was huge, and he wasn’t even happy. Joanne inwardly grimaced at her choice of words, even in her head. At least he wasn’t getting off on the thought of killing her, that would have been vomit-inducing. The thought of how much danger she was in sent a spike of adrenaline through her system and the inevitable happened.

  The lightbulb just above them shattered and bits of glass rained down on them. Books flew out of the bookcase on the opposite side of the wall, narrowly missing several men in the process of pulling up their trousers and Joanne winced. Power surged through her, hot and heavy, and all consuming, and she screwed her eyes shut again, and desperately tried to hold it in.

  By the time she could be reasonably sure she wouldn’t emit sparks from her fingertips and she opened her eyes again, a deadly silence had fallen inside the room. Everyone had moved away from her, and even Mr. Oaf had taken several steps back. Relief washed through Joanne, seeing that he had also pulled on some jeans. It meant she could take him in without embarrassment and she sucked in a breath of surprise, when the large angry red gash he was sporting across his rock-hard abs closed in front of her eyes.

  Holy moly, that part of the legend was true then. Shifters did heal faster, much faster than mere humans.

  “There now, calm down, little witch, we mean you no harm. I’m Rhonda.” That female voice she heard earlier belonged to a slender, petite woman with a friendly, heart-shaped face. Long brown hair cascaded down her back and she approached Joanne slowly.

  “The fuck we don’t. The boss is not healing. That’s got to be some sort of witch craft right there, and —”

  “It doesn’t mean she is the witch that did it.” Rhonda interrupted Mr. Oaf, and Joanne watched in fascination as the small woman stepped right into his personal space, and sunk her nails into his stubbly chin. Mr. Oaf, blinked, murmured something under his breath and bowed his head.

  “Better, Olaf, much better,” Rhonda said, and she stepped away from him. Mr. Oaf, or rather Olaf, as his name seemed to be, settled for glaring at Joanne, and finding her umph from somewhere, she glared right back at him.

  “Who isn’t healing?” she asked, and she felt the whole atmosphere in the room change, as their combined worry hit her in full force.

  “Our Alpha, Henry. He won’t stop bleeding.” Rhonda’s voice held a suspicious wobble as she said that.

  “He’s the wolf that got run over by the truck on the road? The one I followed here? Damn fool, I told him to stay put, but he wouldn’t let me help. Where is he? Take me to him, I can help him.”

  Joanne’s voice had risen to a shrill imitation of its usual cadence in her agitation, and even she winced at that. The assembled shifters with their sensitive hearing held their ears and stepped further away from her. Talk about giving the impression of a cackling witch.

  Still, worry gnawed at her, because if she concentrated hard she could feel his pain. It pierced her side as though an unknown force twisted a knife in her guts.

  “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, witch, if you think I’m going to take you to him, so that you can finish the job.” Olaf approached head down, and ignoring Rhonda’s warning to stop, yanked Joanne to her feet by grasping her shoulders. Not thinking of the consequences Joanne stepped on his bare foot with her pumps, while pushing against his chest. The flesh sizzled, leaving her hand prints behind, and Olaf, growled and let her go.

  “I’m here to help, you oaf, and don’t put your hands on me again, or so help me. I’ll do something I’ll regret.”

  Olaf clenched his hands into fists by his side, but didn’t touch her.

  “I still say we kill her. She’s a fucking witch. They’re not to be trusted. You know damn well Skye Salasino dabbles in witchcraft. Who’s to say she’s not working for him, and playing fucking dirty to kill our Alpha?”

  A murmur went through the crowd and Joanne had enough. Her temper bubbled just under the surface and she took a deep breath in and continued in a deceptively quiet tone.

  “For the last time, take me to see him now. I’m here to help.”

  Anyone who knew her, knew that tone spelled trouble, but, of course, this oaf of a man, wolf whatever he was just carried on grumbling.

  “I’m his beta and I say, no.”

  “Oh for the love of all the elements, move out of my way and take me to him, now.” Joanne stamped her foot and all the remaining lightbulbs in the house smashed, plunging them all into darkness.

  “Oh damn, it.” Joanne swore and stretched out her hands to make sure she wouldn’t bump into anything. Naturally, that would happen. Damn her powers. So much for not showing them in front of paranormals. Then again, they already knew she was a witch, and seemed to have her pegged as a black witch at that. Ridiculous things, and dang, she couldn’t see a thing in this gloom.

  “Where are you, for pity’s sake,” she murmured, a question that earned her a few chuckles from the rest of the room. Of course, they would all be able to see her with their superior night vision, which left only her blind as a bat in the room.

  “Fix the blooming light, so I can see, and take me to Henry.” The name rolled off her tongue with ease and her heart beat faster. When there was no response bar a stony silence, she took a few cautious steps into the room, only to bump into a wall of muscle. Goose bumps broke out on her skin, as she explored the smooth skin in front of her, and found the large bleeding gash on his side. Her fingers trailed lower, until they encountered the edge of his jeans, and lower still, until she found the prominent bulge there. Hot minty breath ghosted across her face, and brought with it the most intoxicating scent that wrapped itself around her in a comforting cocoon, and made her want to press herself against this man in most inappropriate ways.

  Really, what was wrong with her? He was in pain and needed her help, not for her to imagine them both in a tangled heap of sweaty limbs. Her nipples beaded, and her underwear grew damp, as completely inappropriate arousal swamped her system. She took small comfort in his sharp intake of breath, as he curled his hand around her questing fingers and took it away from his groin. Not before she’d felt the flare of heat though, and the way his cock had started to harden.

  He wrapped his other hand in her hair, which had long escaped its chignon, and pulling her head back to expose her throat inhaled against her skin. For some reason that was the most erotic thing ever, and Joanne went limp against his long frame. Releasing her hand he supported her with one arm round his waist, and the bristles of his beard, created delicious friction against her neck.

  “Little red.” Two words, uttered in that deep growl of his right in her ear, and Joanne’s scrambled brain gave up any pretense of knowing what was going on here. She simply curled her fingers into his biceps, and allowed these newfound feelings to surge t
hrough her.

  It felt like an eternity that they stood, drinking each other in in the darkness surrounding them, but could only have been seconds in reality.

  “Boss, you should lie down again. You’re still bleeding.” Rhonda’s soft voice broke the moment, and Joanne gasped as she realized what the warm sticky feeling coating her midriff was. He was indeed bleeding heavily, and now pulled away with a deep, pain-filled sigh. A pang of regret went through Joanne at the loss of his body next to her.

  “I still can’t see. Dammit, someone fix the lights, so I can see what the damage is.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be much point, if you’re just going to break them all again, little red.” There it was again, the endearment that made a spike of joy shoot through her. Joanne was well used to being called all sorts of names due to her long red mane of hair, and it normally annoyed the hell out of her, but when he said it, it just made her dissolve into a big puddle of feminine drool. Which was utterly ridiculous, considering she hadn’t even seen him yet. He could be ugly as sin, for all she knew, though she doubted it. She was also uncomfortably aware of the fact that it wouldn’t matter what he looked like. This was the one sent to her by the fates, and she might want to fight it, but inevitably there was no point.

  “I don’t mean to. It just happens, and, please, I need to see you, please. Let me help.” Joanne knew she was almost pleading—another thing she didn’t usually do, but she just had to get him better.

  “Fetch some candles, Rhonda. I’m assuming they will not be blown to smithereens by our little witch here.”

  Amusement laced his pain-filled voice and the couch creaked as he presumably lowered himself down. The small grunt he made as he did so, tore at Joanne’s insides.

  “Very funny, and no they won’t,” she said, and a low chuckle was her response. Movement behind her made her look round, and then finally there was the strike of a match and first one and then several more candles filled the space with their soft glow. Joanne realized with a start that all his assembled pack, gang, whatever the heck you called them had formed a watchful semicircle around the couch, and her breath caught in her lungs when she turned round and saw him.

  Arms flung across the back of the settee, long denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him, the man who regarded her through piercing blue eyes had to be over six foot of muscled perfection. Thick brown hair hung round his proud face down to his shoulders, and the beard she’d felt earlier, covered his jaw and framed full, sensuous lips, set under a strong prominent nose. Powerful shoulders, wide biceps, and a chest covered in a dusting of brown hair that trailed down over pectorals to die for, and narrowed into an enticing happy trail that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, and acted like a beacon for the huge bulge those jeans lovingly caressed.

  “Like what you see, little red?”

  His amused words meant she wrenched her gaze upward, until she was snared in the sheer power of his eyes. A woman could lose herself in that mesmerizing gaze, and Joanne cleared her throat to dislodge the growing lump of awareness there.

  He is hurt. You need to fix him. Stop ogling the man.

  Having given herself that little mental pep talk, she sunk to her knees, and the flare of heat in his gaze at her actions scorched her skin with its intensity.

  “May I?” she asked, holding her hands out flat in the air.

  An annoyed growl came from Olaf, and Henry held up a hand to silence his beta, while nodding at Joanne.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I trust you.”

  Warmth spread through Joanne at those few words. His approval dripped into her conscience and heated her soul.

  “This is such a fucking bad idea, Boss. What if she causes you more harm? Damn witch can’t control her powers, it seems.” Olaf voiced his concerns with considerable force, and Joanne sat back down on her haunches, and glared at him.

  “I am in full control of my healing ability, you oaf. Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

  Olaf looked ready to tear her to shreds at her outburst, but one shake of the head from Henry stopped him. Rhonda smiled and cuffed the big man upside the head, and he crossed his arms and glared at her. If looks could kill…

  Joanne cleared her mind, took a deep breath in, and concentrated on the waves of pain that radiated from Henry. The obvious one was the deep gash on his side, but there was more, so much more. The dark odor of black magic overlaid everything else. Joanne wasn’t quite sure how she’d missed it before, but as she opened her mind to the healing powers to flow though her hands she could almost see it. A black veil of sludge surrounded Henry’s injuries. He was bleeding internally, too, and as she mapped his body in her head, she counted one broken, and three cracked ribs, and more breaks in his legs. Thanks to his shifter blood the bone had set, but was trying to re set itself all the time. Heavens above, he had to be in agony. How he was even conscious right now was beyond Joanne, and a sliver of fear snaked up her spine. This was the work of some powerful and evil magic. How was she, not even in her full powers yet, meant to counteract that?

  Her hands faltered and she blinked back tears only to see Henry watching her. Lips pinched in a tight line against the pain, he silently willed her on to continue, and Joanne shut her eyes. She had to try. She had to fix him.

  Murmuring an ancient healing spell under her breath, she let her hands guide her. The familiar heat travelled through her and out of her fingertips as she traced his injuries. A gasp went through the crowd watching as they healed under the path of her hands. Seconds later Olaf’s curses rung in her ears, as the wound reopened much bigger than before. Bile rose in Joanne’s mouth, and she swallowed convulsively to stop herself from being sick. The wound had opened to such a degree that Henry’s hip bone was visible in the glow of the candles. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and perspiration dotted his ash-gray skin.

  “I’m going to fucking kill her. I knew she was in on this, damn it.” Olaf’s shout rung in her ears and his heavy hand descended on her shoulder. Acting purely on instinct Joanne held out her hand and watched in stunned fascination as sparks of light shot from her fingertips, the force of which send the huge man off his feet and flying several feet through the air. He landed in an inelegant heap against the wall. Shaking himself, he half shifted and charged toward her, but Rhonda stepped in his way, and he skidded to a halt.

  “Stay out my way, oaf.” Joanne hissed he words at him through gritted teeth, and turned her attention back to Henry. He was dying in front of her, dammit. There was only one thing to do.

  “This will hurt, Henry, okay?”

  A curt nod was her answer and, steeling herself against the waves of nausea assaulting her, Joanne plunged both her hands into the open wound. In her mind she closed them around the sludge of evil and yanked.

  All hell broke loose, as Henry shouted and slumped sideways and Joanne opened her mind to the full force of a power she had never used before. Heat consumed her until her whole body felt on fire, and she lifted off the floor. Pain shot through her, taking away her breath, as her hands were flung away from Henry and the world went black.

  Chapter Four

  One minute Henry was in a fuck load of pain, and then his whole body felt on fire and then… nothing. Out of the corners of his dimmed vision he was aware of his pack going wild, and the eerie light that surrounded them all. His little witch flew in the air and fell heavily to the ground and lay there unmoving. Fuck!

  With agonizing slowness Henry finally got his limbs to follow the demands of his brain and his wolf awoke with a fierce growl. The need to check on his mate consumed him, and he didn’t question his beast’s absolute certainty of that notion. His little red was just that—his. Not that he would act on that. Not with Salasino out to cause trouble. He was one of the Protectors, dammit, and he would protect them all from that wolf’s misguided notions of purebred shifters, and his alliance with the dark forces of the paranormal underworld.

  This fight didn’t leave room for
his mate. It would only place her in more danger, and he would never risk her like that. Marking her as his was out of the question. Besides, he had smelled her innocence. She was far too pure to be perverted by him to his kinky ways. No doubt they would send her screaming for the hills anyway.

  Rhonda bent low over Joanne’s still form and Henry blew out a breath of relief, when she smiled.

  “She has a strong pulse. I think she just knocked herself out. She’s going to have one hell of a headache when she wakes up, boss. I’ll go and—“

  Rhonda never got to finish that sentence, as Henry’s wolf took over. With one giant leap Henry crossed the distance, shoved Rhonda off and away from Joanne, and picked up his precious bundle. A whimper escaped Joanne, as he stood up with her cradled against his chest, and his wolf growled long and hard. It was a warning to any of his pack to not even think to question him, and Rhonda put her hands up and stepped away from him.

  “Bring me some warm water, and light, and some clothes. LaVida looks to be about her size.” He glanced across at the wide-eyed rabbit shifter and she hastily nodded her agreement. “I need to get her out of this mess.”

  He turned sharply, only to feel Rhonda’s soft hand on his shoulder.

  “Is that wise? I can take care of her for you, boss. Maybe you should stay…”