Warrior Untamed Page 12

  “You dreamwalked,” he told her. He put his hands on his hips. “Tell me how.”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way. He was determined to figure this out—and prevent it from happening again.

  “Try again,” he growled.

  She tilted her chin to meet his gaze, and he couldn’t help but recognize the challenge inherent in the movement. “What bugs you more? The fact that I ‘dreamwalked,’” she said, wiggling her fingers to parenthesize the word, “or that I busted you dreaming about me?”

  He fixed his gaze on the door behind her, clenching his jaw, and she swept past him.

  “I don’t know how your party trick works,” she said over her shoulder, and then she held up her hand. “Although, if I can do it in my sleep, well that kind of implies it’s not so tricky.”

  She laughed, a sound that came out part husky tinkle, part unladylike snort. He thumped his fist against the doorjamb. Damn it.

  She’d tiptoed through his dreams. Actually, no, she’d swept through it in a lustful haze, leaving him horny, frustrated and shaken. She wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. The only other person he knew capable of dreamwalking was locked up in a Reform cell. Although his father hadn’t been able to intrude in Hunter’s dreams; his own shields were too strong for that.

  But apparently not strong enough to withstand a bitchy witch.

  He ducked his head. Fine. This had been fun, but it was time to wrap things up. He didn’t quite understand her, or why she was so hell-bent on annihilating shadow breeds in general. Lance was a dhampir, and she considered him a friend—and would go to considerable trouble for him. His lips pursed. That was nice. Sure, he could admit that. What she’d done for Lance, that was nice. Of course, he had to reconcile that with being chained up and locked away in a cell for five months. Not so nice.

  He straightened and turned in the hallway. He had that knack for pulling the not-so-nice out of people. His mother had left him—well, okay, she’d died, but his brother had walked away from him, and this witch had imprisoned him. Even Debbie had chosen Ryder over him. There was something wrong with him. He was not-so-nice.

  And she was tiptoeing through his dreams. The woman who had made his life a living hell now had access to his hidden secrets. Definitely time to leave. He shouldn’t be messing around with the witch, anyway. He should be getting back to work. At least there he was—different. There, there was a little glimmer of light to rail against his darkness. He needed his light. It was the only thing he had going for him. He sauntered down the hallway. Time to wake up his patient.

  * * *

  Melissa sat in the chair in the corner as Hunter did his work. He’d told her that he thought Lance could wake up, and then hadn’t spoken a word since. He stood at the foot of the bed, hands clasping Lance’s ankles, and Melissa could see the tendrils of light worming their way through Lance’s body. She never got tired of watching; it was beautiful.

  She glanced briefly at Hunter’s back. Who would have thought a man so capable of violence could also be capable of such beauty? He’d taken such care with Lance, so cautious with his treatment. So gentle. It was hard to reconcile this man with the healing light with the warrior who had turned her apothecary into a Roman candle.

  Her gaze dropped, and it took her a moment to realize she was staring at his butt. This time it was covered in denim, though.

  She blinked and looked away. He did have a great butt, though. She peered at him briefly. At his butt. She still couldn’t believe she’d walked through his dream. That dream. She puffed her cheeks out on an exhalation of breath. That had been one hell of a dream.

  But she hadn’t tried to fight him off. Hadn’t tried to blast him, sear him, or otherwise make it painful for him. What was up with that? She hadn’t been with anyone since Theo... She realized she hadn’t even thought of her fiancé during or since that dream. That guilt weighed heavily on her. It felt like such a betrayal. She still didn’t quite understand what had happened, though. Did they do the horizontal tango because he wanted it, or she wanted it, or they both wanted it? No, damn it. She didn’t want it. Not with him. After everything that had happened between them, that would make her pathetic.

  Damn, this was giving her a headache. She straightened in her chair. Maybe the dream wasn’t supposed to be literal. Some dreams meant something vastly different than the experience they actually portrayed. She sighed. The problem was, she was a witch, and she had a better idea than some when it came to dream interpretation. If a client had come in with that story, her analysis would be...that one or both of them were as horny as a...well, something really horny.

  Hunter stood back and rolled his shoulders. He slowly turned to her.

  “He’s going to be fine. We’ll just let him wake up naturally, and then he’ll be good to go.” He folded his arms. “Which means I’ll be good to go.”

  “When Lance is awake,” she clarified. She didn’t want Hunter skipping out until she was certain Lance was well and truly fine.

  “When Lance is awake,” Hunter repeated, nodding.

  Melissa looked away. When her friend woke, Hunter’s part of the deal would be delivered. Then it would be her turn. A promise was a promise. Hunter would be free to go.

  And she would be alone.

  She rose from the chair. “I, uh, have to catch up on some paperwork.”

  Hunter nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

  She left the room and strolled down the hall to her living room. Hunter would be leaving. She frowned. Good grief, she wasn’t getting morose about it, was she? She should be happy he was going, and good riddance to him. She may not feel like she’d truly delivered vengeance against the man who’d destroyed her business, her craft, and had tried to kill her in the process—but at least something positive had come out of it. Lance survived what would otherwise have been a fatal attack. She should focus on the positives.

  She wouldn’t have to make Hunter any more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or take down a dinner that even the rats preferred to leave alone. No more being on alert every time she ventured down to the basement. No more having to watch her back, or second-guessing what her prisoner would do.

  No more bacon and coffee for breakfast. The thought came out of nowhere, surprising her. No more Hunter and his light. No more fires. No more breath-stealing, resistance-draining, knee-weakening kisses...

  She took a deep breath. She wasn’t going there. No. If she was distracted or tempted, she’d just have to remember what Hunter had done to her on their first meeting. If that didn’t work, she’d think about Theo.

  As usual, the guilt flared up, and she almost cried in relief at the familiar emotion. The guilt and the sadness were still there. She couldn’t entertain any thoughts about Hunter—about any man. Theo had been her love, and he’d forever hold her heart. This craze with Hunter was just that—a craze. A temporary period of insanity. And then things would finally return to normal when Hunter was gone, back wielding whatever dark power he liked to use in his family’s medical clinic.

  It was so quiet. She rubbed her arms. So quiet and so cold. She crossed to the hearth and started a fire, then grabbed her shoe box full of receipts, dockets, invoices—a tissue?—and started to sort her paperwork. This was one part of owning a store she did not like. She grabbed the remote and turned the television on, just to have some background noise.

  That was one thing she couldn’t quite get used to. Her store was generally busy, but ever since Theo had gone, her apartment felt like a crypt when there was only her in it. She couldn’t hear Hunter or Lance down the hall. She could have been all by herself. She turned the volume to low. Just having those voices in the background gave the illusion that she wasn’t alone in the world.

  She’d been working for over an hour when she realized she wasn’t alone
anymore. Hunter was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her.

  “Oh, I didn’t see you there.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want to intrude. How are you feeling?”

  He levered away from the door frame and sauntered close.

  She frowned. “Fine.”

  He lifted his chin toward her shoulder. “How is your arm?”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she answered honestly. She didn’t know how he did it, but it worked.

  “Do you need me to—” Hunter hesitated, then tried again. “Will you be safe when I leave?”

  She frowned, surprised by the question. “Yes, Hunter, I’ll be fine. I can look after myself.” She’d been doing it for some time, now.

  “Those werewolves...” he began, and she waved a hand casually.

  “Oh, that’s nothing.”

  Hunter arched his eyebrow, and she made a face. “Okay, maybe they came close this time, but I’ll be more careful next time. It wasn’t my first wolf attack, and won’t be my last, I’m sure.”

  Hunter dropped onto the sofa facing the fire, and frowned. “Do these attacks happen a lot?”

  She turned back to her paperwork. “I’m a witch, Hunter. It comes with the territory. I give humans some measure of defense against the shadow breeds. My job is to try to even out the balance of power, or possibly tip it in our favor.” She shrugged. “That means occasionally the shadow breeds try to take me out. Vampires, werewolves...you.”

  She lifted her gaze to his briefly, and noticed a flare of something...regret? Remorse? Just as quickly he schooled his features, and she couldn’t be sure she’d seen anything.

  “Those lycans, Melissa... I hit them first with a flare. It didn’t stop them. Didn’t even give them pause.”

  She shrugged again. “Maybe you’re losing your touch?”

  Touch. She remembered the dream, the way he’d touched her breasts, her thighs... Warmth flared in her cheeks. Okay. Stop thinking about that.

  “Or maybe there was something else driving them,” Hunter suggested. “I know I hurt them, but they kept at it. Almost like they were compelled.”

  Melissa lowered the dockets she held to the shoe box. “Lycans are supernatural. They can be compelled, but it would take a strong being to get past their natural defenses. I think you’re reading too much into it.”

  It was Hunter’s turn to shrug. “Maybe. All I know is I had to kill them to stop them. Just...bear that in mind.”

  She kept her gaze on the beaten shoe box on the coffee table. “I will.”

  The fact that she still lived due to Hunter’s interference didn’t escape her. She opened her mouth, then hesitated. She’d lowered the ward that trapped him. He could have escaped, could have left her to the wolves, but he hadn’t. She didn’t understand why he’d stayed, or why he’d acted to save her life. She wanted to understand, but was afraid where that conversation might lead, especially in light of their shared dream. Asking Hunter why he’d stayed, when he had every reason to leave, would only lead to an uncomfortable discussion.

  For the first time, Melissa backed down from a conversation, and shut her mouth. Leave it alone. As soon as Lance woke up, Hunter would leave, and they could both go on with their separate lives, ignoring each other’s presence and pretending this had been but a minor episode in their lives. It didn’t have to be more than that.

  The buzzer rang, and Melissa looked up in surprise.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Hunter inquired as he rose.

  “No.”

  Hunter nodded, and she didn’t know what was more disturbing, that on her one day off she didn’t expect visitors, or that Hunter thought that was a normal state of affairs for her.

  “I mean, my brother drops by occasionally, but I’m not expecting anyone,” she clarified, just so she didn’t seem like a complete loser.

  Hunter strode to the living room window and peered down into the street. “It’s Lexi.”

  Melissa smacked her palm to her forehead. “Of course. She broke up with that bloodsucking boyfriend of hers last night.” She rose from her seat and hurried down the hallway to press the button that would unlock the main door briefly to allow Lexi up.

  She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten all about Lexi, and the fact she was leaving her manipulative boyfriend. She lifted her finger off the buzzer and opened the apartment door for Lexi. She started toward the kitchen. “I’m going to put the coffee on,” she called out to Hunter. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  * * *

  Hunter glanced over at the TV as Melissa puttered in the kitchen. He reached for the remote, turning the volume up slowly. It looked like the price of iron was up, he noted, due to some arrangement between Marchetta Enterprises and the Alpine Pack. Hunter arched an eyebrow. Vamps and werewolves in business together? What the hell had happened while he’d been chained to a wall?

  He continued to watch the news report as he heard the footsteps in the hall behind him. Some prisoner killed a security guard and had escaped a Reform maximum security prison. He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Lexi.”

  Lexi halted briefly, scanning the room. “Where is Melissa?”

  Hunter’s eyebrows rose at her brusque tone, lack of greeting and the determined set of her jaw. “She’s getting her domestic vibe on in the kitchen.” Thankfully she was only making coffee. He didn’t think he could stomach one of Melissa’s attempts at a meal.

  Lexi left the doorway, and Hunter frowned. He’d come to think of Lexi as something approaching a friend, but this morning she’d barely acknowledged him. Had something bad happened with the boyfriend?

  Lexi had always treated him with respect, and despite Melissa’s warning, she’d been friendly and trusting. That had been rare for him, and he appreciated it more than she or Melissa would ever know. He rose from his seat. If Lexi needed help, he’d be happy to fry a vamp for her.

  “Hey, Lexi, how did it go?”

  Melissa’s voice was soft, caring, and he halted for a moment, intrigued by the tone. He’d never heard her speak like that before. It was like a warm embrace, something that curled around, attentive and supportive.

  “Melissa.”

  “Lexi? Are you okay?”

  So Melissa had noticed their friend’s mood. He started to walk toward the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, Melissa.”

  “Lexi? What’s going—where is your ring?” Melissa’s voice sharpened, and Hunter frowned.

  “Put the knife down, Lexi,” Melissa warned, and then Hunter heard a clatter of dishes, the sound of glass breaking and then a shriek. Hunter ran.

  “Stop it, Lexi,” Melissa yelled, and there was another crash.

  He skidded to a stop at the kitchen door. Melissa had raised a chair, both as a shield and as a weapon, its legs pointed toward Lexi.

  Lexi stood close, a knife from Melissa’s butcher block clasped in one hand. The coffeepot lay in jagged pieces on the floor, and brown liquid dripped from Lexi’s arm, leaving a blooming scald mark behind.

  “Lexi,” Hunter called softly, his arm out, but Lexi ignored him, her attention on Melissa. The woman shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Melissa,” she repeated. She pushed the chair legs aside with considerable force and her arm flashed out, the wicked blade slicing through the air.

  Melissa dropped the chair and dodged, but Hunter heard her hiss, saw the red mark bloom on her sleeve. She hadn’t avoided the blade entirely.

  “Stop, Lexi,” Melissa cried, her expression a combination of shock, fear and anger.

  Hunter stepped in, and Lexi whirled. He jumped back to avoid being slashed across his middle.

  “Stay back!” Lexi yelled, her features harsh as she glared at him briefly. His eyes widened.


  “Lexi, it’s me, Hunter.” He’d never done anything to hurt this woman, yet here she stood in the kitchen, trying to kill them both. The woman before him stared at him with wild eyes. There was recognition, but it was like a wall was erected between them.

  “Put the knife down,” Melissa told her, trying to back away, but Lexi was slowly advancing on her. Hunter watched in horror as the woman he’d decided was a friend went after the witch who had freed him. Torn didn’t begin to describe his emotions. Saving one would mean betraying the other. He couldn’t get close enough to touch Lexi, to render her unconscious, but if he didn’t do something, she was going to hurt Melissa, possibly kill her.

  Lexi darted forward, and Melissa jerked out of the way, sending more dishes from the counter spilling to the ground, breaking and scattering across the floor. She managed to deflect the knife, catching and clutching Lexi’s wrist.

  “Hold her,” Hunter called, and stepped forward, his arms raised. He summoned his light force. Large arms wrapped around him from behind, forcing his arms down and lifting him off his feet.

  Hunter’s eyes rounded as the arms clasped around him tightened, squeezing so hard his lungs couldn’t expand fully.

  “Do not even think about hurting my sister,” a deep voice rumbled against his ear. Hunter didn’t have time to let his disbelief take control. He kicked, trying to land against the cupboard door to give him some resistance, some way of shoving against the man mountain that embraced him, but his patient—back to full strength, apparently—shifted, and Hunter’s feet kicked at the air.

  “Lance,” Melissa screeched as Lexi continued to struggle. “Help.”

  Lexi raised her hand, the blade gleaming in the sunlight streaming into the cheery kitchen, the whites of her eyes visible, and she swung.

  Hunter curled his fingers, summoning a small flame in his hands and pushing it at Lexi. The giant holding him roared, flinging him out into the hallway, and his flame caught at the kitchen table instead. Hunter bounced with considerable force against the plastered wall of the hallway and crashed to the floor. He grimaced at the pain, and coughed as his lungs filled with air.