Love Bewitched (Gargoyle Night Guardians Book 3) Read online

  At the far end of the alley, bits of paper, a candy wrapper, and an old Dr. Pepper can swirled into a mini dust storm. Alongside it, another one formed.

  Two fae. Great, just great.

  The need to battle his enemy burned along Damian’s nerves. He pressed his back against the wall and shifted, blending his clothing and skin to match the mottled hue of the building’s brick exterior. Tension built, and he tightened his fingers around his dagger.

  The whirlwinds ceased, and two fae strode down the alley. One had blond hair and wore a long overcoat, the glint of a cane’s handle tucked in the crook of his elbow—Marco Valentelli.

  Damian had run into this elusive fae a time or two over the past few months but hadn’t succeeded in taking him down. Tonight, that would change.

  At Marco’s side strode a tall fae with a long, dark braid, diamond studs in his earlobes and alongside his nose, and a “take no prisoners” snarl on his face. Damian had never seen the guy before, but an intense hatred churned in his gut.

  To bag two at once, he’d have to lie in wait until the right moment. His finger twitched as the pair moved closer.

  “You must have nine lives, Zain. I thought Gwawl planned to string you up by your fingertips. Pity, I would’ve like to have seen that.” Marco chuckled, proceeding the other fae down the alley.

  So, Zain was the new guy’s name. Damian filed that bit of information away.

  Zain raised his chin, and the diamond stud in his nose reflected the streetlamp’s glow. “Keep in mind, we’re on this mission together. If we don’t succeed tonight, we’ll both be strung up by the fingertips.”

  Damian’s interest piqued. What mission would their god put in these two fae’s hands? He studied the newcomer. Dressed in black jeans and a dark leather jacket, the fae exuded confidence Damian had rarely seen in his enemy. To complicate matters, his scent lacked the bitter telltale sign of fae, yet there was no doubt he was the enemy.

  Marco tsked. “How do you plan to capture the witch? From what I’ve heard, Wynne is extremely powerful.”

  Wynne? Damian’s blood froze.

  A cunning smile tugged at Zain’s lip, and he pulled something from his pocket.

  Damian struggled to catch a glimpse of the object, but the fae shoved it back in its hiding spot.

  Marco whistled. “How did you get that?”

  “I have my ways.” Zain smiled.

  The fae strode within striking distance.

  Damian launched toward his foes, his skin and clothing resuming their normal dark coloring and exposing himself in the process. He plowed into Marco’s shoulder, knocking the fae into Zain. Both slammed against the brick wall and sprawled to the ground.

  Marco’s crumpled form lay motionless.

  Zain growled and, quick as a cat, rose to his feet.

  Damian sliced his blade at the fae. The tip ripped across Zain’s chest. Blood seeped through the gash in his dark shirt.

  Zain hissed. “Not cool, man, this was my favorite shirt.”

  He leapt at Damian, the tips of his nails sharp as knives.

  Damian hardened his skin, turning his flesh as solid as stone.

  Zain’s nails shredded Damian’s T-shirt. Unable to get purchase, they skittered over his shoulder.

  With a quickness provided by his goddess, Damian gripped Zain by the neck and pinned him against the wall. The brick shuddered from the impact.

  “What do you want with Wynne?” he growled.

  Zain clawed at Damian’s face, but he couldn’t penetrate the hardened flesh.

  “Answer me.” Damian squeezed tighter. The urge to finish off the fae called to him on a visceral level, but he had to know why Gwawl wanted his Wynne.

  Pebbles crunching underfoot echoed from behind.

  “Let him go, Damian, or you’ll die here, tonight.” The sound of Marco’s spit rumbled at the back of his throat.

  Damian tensed but didn’t release his hold on his enemy.

  Each fae contained a limited supply of acid in a sac at the back of their throat. The debilitating acerbic liquid could penetrate a gargoyle’s skin even through the hardened stone surface.

  With his extrasensory hearing, Damian calibrated Marco’s exact location. Dagger still in his palm, he flicked the blade over his shoulder.

  The thunk of metal sinking into flesh echoed down the alley.

  Marco’s spit-gargled noise abruptly stopped followed by the crash of a dumpster.

  Damian risked a glance toward the commotion.

  Marco lay sprawled at the base of a large trash bin, Damian’s trusty blade protruding from the dark fae’s neck.

  He returned his attention to Zain. The fae fisted his hand and bashed Damian’s face with a hard uppercut. Pain rippled up Damian’s jaw. Thank the goddess, he’d hardened his features or the damage could’ve knocked him out.

  The fae lashed out at lightning speed and scraped Damian’s chest with his claws. One nail caught on the edge of Damian’s spark stone. Pain flared along his nerves all the way to his fingertips. His left arm and hand numbed.

  Zain broke free from Damian’s grasp. The fae sucked in a ragged breath and leaned against the wall.

  Damian’s vision wavered, the dizziness threatening to take him down. He staggered, but through sheer force of will remained on his feet. As he fought to gather his senses and go after Zain, a bitter taste coated his tongue. I should’ve listened to Wynne and left the bandage alone.

  Zain stumbled toward Marco and yanked the blade from his companion. The metal clattered against the rough pavement. He placed one hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Damn it, a trip to the infirmary wasn’t in the plan. I’ll have to leave you there.”

  He raised his finger and pointed at Damian. A yellow hue surrounded his eyes. “We will meet again, and next time, I’ll finish you.”

  A swirl of dust rose, surrounding the two fae.

  “No!” Damian had to stop these fae. They wanted Wynne and that wasn’t acceptable. He pushed through the dizziness and raced toward his enemies.

  As he dove for the pair, they disappeared in the churn.

  Damian’s gloved fingers slid through empty air.

  A cry of pure frustration erupted from him. The sound ricocheted off the buildings and into the night. He rubbed his hand over the tender spot along his spark stone.

  With a hard shove, he snatched his blade from the pavement and rose to his feet. He needed to warn Wynne and protect her.

  “Dame. Where are you? Get your ass over here. There’s more fae than Grayson and I can handle alone.” Drake’s low voice echoed through the mind link.

  Damian curled his gloved hand into a fist. His mind raced. He was torn between his duty and his heart.

  “Damn it, Damian. Get here now!” Drake’s tone held a hint of fear.

  In the end, Damian had no choice. Bred into him from the moment Rhiannon had claimed his soul, the need to fight alongside his brethren and battle his enemy called to him on a level so deep, he couldn’t refuse.

  His consolation that Zain and Marco had returned to the Otherworld bought him some time. He’d meet up with his squad, kill some fae, and then warn Wynne.

  Determined to complete his mission, he dematerialized, eager to spill fae blood.

  CHAPTER 4

  A shiver rippled across Wynne’s shoulders, and she tightened her fingers around her coat collar. Although early April brought spring rain and beautiful flowers, the wind’s bitter cold still lingered. The familiar ding and clack-clack of the “L” train leaving the station rebounded down the road as if encouraging Wynne along. She picked up her pace and crossed the street.

  “How do you handle conflict?”

  “What’s your opinion on the latest potions for treating fae acid?”

  “Which elder witch do you idolize and why?”

  The council’s numerous questions reverberated through Wynne’s mind. She’d answered them with clarity and confidence, but after two hours of non-stop grilling, her mind as well
as her body needed a good long nap. How had she done? Would the council offer her the position?

  As Wynne passed a large townhouse, light from the front window glowed like a beacon. At almost nine p.m., most of the residents in this neighborhood hid inside their well-insulated and alarmed homes to avoid being victimized. Although it was safe during the day, not many roamed around after dark. Good thing most humans remained oblivious to the larger threat—dark fae and their promise of death.

  Wynne didn’t typically go out after dark because she wanted to remain home in case the gargoyles needed her and to avoid the fae. Occasionally, though, she’d pushed it a bit on her return trips from the grocery store, arriving home after nightfall. Fortunately, she’d never encountered any of the enemy.

  Still, she didn’t understand why the coven usually held their big meetings at night, but that was just another routine she’d change if she made it onto the council. She glanced up at the night sky beyond the glow of the streetlamps. During moments like this, she often wished she’d taken the time to study the inter-dimensional transportation spell. If she had, she would be safely at home instead of walking the dark streets. She made a mental note to learn that spell before any others.

  “It’s foretold that you’re a once-in-ten-generations witch. How will you use your powers to help the council?”

  The council’s questions had stirred old wounds from Wynne’s past. Those witches knew darn well Wynne had no idea what her special powers were or how to use them. Over the past few months, she’d accidentally created several tremors in the house when she’d become too emotional. One time she’d watched the classic movie Ghost starring Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, she’d bawled uncontrollably and all the dishes from the cupboards had crashed to the floor.

  Worry niggled at the back of her mind. In one week, a solar eclipse would occur. In her lifetime, she’d lived through two. One had occurred the day she was born and the other on the day her mother had disappeared, which was also when she’d started her period and needed her mother.

  A soul-deep ache burned inside, and she blinked back the tears swelling in her eyes. With the determination she’d honed under her aunt’s tutelage, she forced herself to focus on the here and now, but that only brought back the reality of the upcoming solar eclipse. What would happen this time?

  Dread clawed at her spirit, threatening to shred her courage. She clamped down on her fear and kept moving. The last thing she wanted was to cause a mini earthquake.

  An old Toyota Corolla, similar to the one her mother had owned, rumbled down the road. A memory of riding in the backseat while her mother drove and hummed, “I Will Survive” washed over Wynne. Her chest tightened, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

  “Mom, I wish you were here,” she whispered.

  How many times had she said those words over the years? Countless.

  The memories assaulted her. Helping mom stir a potion, learning how to bandage wounds with Mom’s help, sitting in Mom’s lap while she read from a spell book. Wynne picked up her pace, eager to outrun the memories before the tears started to flow.

  As she rounded the corner, the tall spires of her Victorian stretched high above the other homes. She stopped, and her breath caught. Wynne had spent so much time with her mother here. How she loved the old place.

  She shook her head. Why was she so sentimental tonight?

  A gust of wind blew strands of her hair over her eyes. She wiped them away, along with a tear.

  “Nice night for a walk, isn’t it?” The deep rumble of a male voice slid along the breeze, and Wynne tensed.

  A man blocked her path at the edge of the sidewalk. He leaned against a large oak tree, his feet crossed at the ankles. Dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black biker jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders and firm biceps, he exuded an easy confidence. Features partially hidden by the branches’ shadows, she caught the barest glimpse of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

  She took a step back. “W…what did you say?”

  He pushed away from the tree, his body moving with the fluid grace of a large, predatory cat, and stepped into the light. Wavy, dark hair cascaded over his shoulders in a braid. With a long, elegant nose, full lips, and penetrating eyes, he was absolutely gorgeous, a fine male specimen.

  She tensed up. Was he fae?

  Wynne inhaled, but instead of the metallic smell she’d expected, the deep, rich scent of fresh tilled soil and hot spices wafted into her senses. Maybe he’d covered his scent with cologne. Still, with his nonchalance and good looks, he could easily be a fae. All dark fae were handsome creatures until they pounced. That’s when their eyes turned yellow, their claws extended from their fingers, and their teeth elongated into sharp points ready to rip you to shreds.

  “I said it was a nice night for a walk.” He approached and extended his palm, the jacket pulling taut over his muscular chest. “Forgive me. I’ve startled you. My name is Zain.”

  A car drove by, the headlights lighting up his features. A diamond stud in each earlobe and one on the side of his nose glittered, but what really captured her attention was the mixture of green and brown striations in his eyes dusted with a slight yellow tinge. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Yet, he was definitely a fae.

  A strange combination of excitement, fear, and unbridled attraction swirled deep inside, no doubt in response to his animal magnetism and fae allure. She would not become his victim tonight. Perhaps he didn’t know he had a witch by the tail. Well, he’d learn fast.

  Wynne glanced at his open palm then met his gaze without accepting his offer. “It is a nice night for a walk, Zain. Not many do so in this neighborhood.”

  Amusement flashed in his eyes, adding to his charm, and he placed his hand in his pocket. “Indeed, but here you are.”

  The corner of his mouth curled into a sexy grin, one that could melt panties. Between his parted lips, one of his front teeth had a chip on the edge, but that only enhanced his mystique. Despite his good looks and charm, Wynne didn’t trust him.

  She flexed her fingers, preparing to cast a spell. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you?” He arched a brow, glanced around with more fanfare than necessary, and extended his elbow in invitation. “Please, allow me to escort you home. You never know what might lurk in the dark.”

  His tactics were the ways of the fae. Death wrapped up in beauty and seduction.

  “No thanks. I don’t associate with fae.”

  A twitch flared along his upper lip.

  She brought forth her innate power and circled her fingers in the air. “Tor non sepulcha. Anon a tarue.”

  A flurry of butterflies burst from her fingertips and fluttered over Zain, drowning him in the swarm. The special variety Wynne concocted sparked energy with their wings like a hundred small tasers.

  Wynne turned to flee, but Zain grabbed her by the coat.

  She slipped from the confining garment and dashed across the street. Her legs and arms pumping, she bolted for her yard and the protection of the wards. As she closed the distance, she glanced over her shoulder.

  The fae was gone.

  A relieved breath escaped her lips. She faced forward and collided with something warm and firm. It took her a millisecond to register what it was, and her eyes widened as terror seized her. A scream lodged in her throat.

  Zain slapped something cold and hard around her wrist, flipped her around, and wrapped her in his embrace. Her back to his front, she struggled to break free, but his strong, hard muscles kept her in place.

  “Thank you for the treat. Your little fluttering warriors gave me a nice power boost.”

  Zain’s warm breath tickled the back of her ear, sending a shiver all the way to her bottom. Despite his firm grip, he hadn’t hurt her. On the contrary, he held her close as if she were a lover, and a traitorous part of her enjoyed his gentle strength.

  Irritation flared at her temple as much for her irrational thoughts as for getting caught. Her spell
should’ve immobilized him. Anger ignited and drew into a towering flame.

  The mailbox on the sidewalk shuddered on its post. She focused on it, willing the metal container from its base so she could bash him on the head, but it remained in place. Frustrated, she stomped her foot on top of his.

  He didn’t flinch.

  “How did you get past my spell?” she snarled.

  “Well, now, that’s my little secret, but I’ll share it with you. Some of us have learned how to manipulate the energy from well-used spells.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest.

  The vibration traveled through her on an electrical current charged with sexual energy. Everywhere their skin met burned like sensual fire. A part of her longed for more, and she cursed herself for being susceptible to his fae nature.

  She pulled on her energy to launch another spell at him.

  “Como san aro fae.” Her words came out on a whisper, void of any substance, and the skin on her arm warmed to the point of pain. Dumbfounded, she stared at the gold bracelet that Zain had clamped around her left wrist. About three inches thick with unusual runes and scrollwork etched in the smooth surface, the band was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

  An inkling of fear crept up her spine. “What did you do to me? My magic, it’s gone.”

  “Muted, not gone.” He tightened his grip around her waist with one hand and trailed his fingers down her arm with the other until he reached the bracelet. He brushed one fingertip along the edge, teasing her with his touch. “This is my insurance that you won’t escape me. Gwawl personally infused the bracelet with his power. With it, I’ll transport you to him. He is in need of your services.”

  The earth dropped out from under Wynne’s feet. What would the god Gwawl, creator of the fae army and Rhiannon’s biggest enemy, want with her?

  Zain turned her to face him. As his pupils dilated, the hazel in his eyes seemed to swirl.

  Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away.

  “If you have any ideas about taking the cuff off, don’t bother.” He withdrew a tiny key from his pocket and held it up to her. “The bracelet can only be removed with this key.”