 
### Zoe

By Sarah Doughty

Copyright 2016 Sarah Doughty

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

Excerpt from Listen copyright 2016 by Sarah Doughty

This book contains an excerpt from Listen by Sarah Doughty. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the final edition.

Cover design and art: Sarah Doughty. Cover image copyright fotoduki/Shutterstock.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Epigram

Zoe

Appendix

Thank You Message

About the Author

Connect with the Author

Acknowledgments

Preview of Listen
For my friend, Jessi. The sacrifices we make for the people we love

are a direct reflection of our souls and their purity.

You deserve a chance at happiness.

But remember:

Sometimes, it _'_ s good to be bad.
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking it makes it so."

–William Shakespeare
"A bad system will beat a good person every time."

–W. Edwards Deming
_"_ Nobody thinks that they _'_ re evil or bad, they think that they _'_ re doing the right thing."

–Andrew McCarthy
Chapter 1

October fourth, two thousand nine — Today's lesson was levitation....

I bit my tongue trying to keep myself from laughing as I watched the man pacing in front of me. He looked like a general rallying his troops.

His attire was his usual dark shirt and pants complete with boots, and it didn't detract from his look of authority. If it weren't for his long, straight brown hair falling in his face and that stubble darkening his jaw, I would think he was a part of some military establishment.

But I knew better.

The unseasonably warm early October morning in Mequon, Wisconsin meant we didn't need to wear jackets that day.

That was fine by me, because I rather enjoyed watching him move. Over the past several months since I met him, I knew that pacing was his way of processing his thoughts, trying to keep them in order, while maintaining that air of authority around him.

Connor Jennings was like no one I ever met before. He was beautiful — in a very manly way, of course. And the way his clothes clung to him only accentuated his assets. He was muscled and strong — much stronger than me, and stronger than most men, but it wasn't obvious.

Not only was he a skilled fighter, but he was a witch. A light witch, like me. That calm, contemplative purple aura undulating around him like a hazy cloud was one of the few indicators that he wasn't human, but only someone like us — supernatural creatures, or _others_ — could see them.

He was also my teacher, helping me learn the ways of the world and what it meant to be a witch. I didn't have anyone else.

It was hard to imagine a girl growing up south of Perth, Australia with a large family of strong women, only to find herself drifting around America at the age of eighteen with no family and no friends. Other than Connor and Shadow, that was.

Shadow was off to the left, dozing beneath the shade of a large maple tree, which was just beginning to change from the lush green of summer to yellow and orange in preparation for fall. Most people thought he was a dog, but Connor and I knew better.

Though the two hundred and fifty pound werewolf liked to be treated like a family pet, he was far smarter — and bigger — than any dogs or wolves. From the little research I did on the mystery of werewolves, I knew he was also one of the biggest of his kind.

Ever since I met him, despite mostly seeing purple in his aura, I didn't think the wolf trusted me. But he accepted me. Because of Connor. On top of that, I never saw him shift, so I didn't know what he looked like in his human form.

That was one of the downsides of being _other_. Most were-animals picked a preference between human or animal and stayed that way. The world was just too dangerous for all the supernaturals, witches included.

Being _other_ was lonely and dangerous. It meant a life of solitude, living in secret, and the threats weren't always the same.

I was lucky that Connor and Shadow were different.

After growing up with such a large family, my two friends still left me feeling lonely. I sometimes found myself wishing I never became a witch in the first place. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember why.

Maybe it was a whim.

"Zoe Kavanaugh, are you even listening to me?" Connor barked and I jumped, not realizing I wasn't listening to him. He even stopped pacing.

Oops.

I grinned up at him, ignoring the strange sensation in my stomach I felt all morning. "Just making sure you were paying attention to me," I drawled.

Connor stood a few inches taller than my five foot eight height and rested his hands on his hips, trying his best to look disappointed, but I knew better. Light blue filtered into his aura, replacing most of the purple and his lips twitched with humor. "Then what did I just say?"

With a sigh, I said, "You were droning on about the levitation spell and then you paused before saying, 'and you aren't listening to a word I'm saying. I'm just talking to myself and blah, blah, blah,'" I finished in my best falsetto. "That was right before you barked at me."

The corners of his perfectly rounded lips turned up into a sly smile he tried to force down as an amazed orange flamed in his aura for a moment before returning to light blue and purple. Then he narrowed his eyes at me. "Lucky guess," he said, low.

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. He knew how well I could pay attention even if it seemed like I was daydreaming. Which I was, come to think of it.

He attempted to give me a look of displeasure and failed as his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. His lips twitched again and his hair fell forward, curtaining around his face.

That perfect head of hair was just long enough to fall past his cheekbones and covered his neck in the back. Ever since I met him, I loved his hair, but I never told him. As much as I wanted otherwise, he was strictly my teacher.

He made that clear from the beginning. Even then, he could tell I wanted more from him.

Auras weren't as complicated as I thought when I first discovered them. Not only did it surround people like us — _others_ — they also surrounded magical objects. If an object was magical, it would reflect the type of magic used on it — light or dark.

But for people like us, it was a little more complex.

Depending on the emotions felt, which could be several at any given time and with varying degrees of intensity, auras reflected a person's true feelings.

The only problem was that I couldn't see my aura. No one could see their own auras. We could only see them emitted from someone or something else. Controlling our emotions was a useful defense mechanism if we happened to stumble across another supernatural creature.

But my emotions weren't under control, and I couldn't hide how I felt like Connor and Shadow could.

To spare my embarrassment, my mentor acted as though he never noticed my aura, unless something was bothering me, like sadness.

Just like that, my good mood was gone and I sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked as his aura shifted to a darker blue, mirroring my sorrow back at me.

"Nothing," I forced a smile as I hooked my straight red hair behind my ears and pushed the long locks behind my shoulders, wishing I remembered to grab a hair band from the motel before we left.

Even though I was a few inches shorter than Connor's six foot height, I still felt small and feminine in his presence. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I liked that about him.

With my rosy complexion, vivid green eyes, and thin body — but not so thin that I lacked appeal in the bust — I knew most men found me attractive. But no matter how hard I tried to catch my mentor's attention, he never saw me as anything but his student. It made me feel like a charity case — and _that_ I didn't like.

I smoothed the hem of my black and purple blouse over my dark jeans, more out of nervousness than necessity, because Connor's deep, chocolate brown eyes were still focused on me.

When I finished doing that, I was out of options. Finally, I looked up and met his gaze. Pink bled into the edges of his aura and tingles traveled down my body in response.

I knew pink. And I knew how rare it was to see it on him.

Pink meant desire.

Suddenly, I forgot what I was upset about, but just as soon as that pink entered his aura, it disappeared and shifted back to purple.

Finally, after another long moment of holding my gaze, he dropped his eyes to my grimoire, shimmering with a pale, white aura, sitting on the grass between us and nodded toward it.

"Make it levitate."

### Chapter 2

Doubts clouded my mind for a moment.

Could I do it? Could I make my grimoire float in the air like Connor wanted?

I wanted nothing more than to make him happy, but I lacked confidence in myself.

Before my train of thought could travel any further down that dark and lonely track, Connor snapped, "Focus, Zoe."

A sudden flash of anger washed over me, but it fell away as soon as it came. I knew what he was doing, and it worked.

I closed my eyes, shifting my attention to my grimoire — the book that held all my thoughts, spells, rituals, and secrets — and my mind cleared as I saw it sitting in front of me on the grass in my mind's eye.

My hand reached out, palm facing down over the book as I whispered, "Leicht wie eine Feder, hebe unter meiner Macht."

Light as a feather, lift under my power.

The hair on my arms stood on end as I felt magic leaking from me, thickening the air around us like an overheated sauna.

I opened my eyes and saw my grimoire floating about a foot off the ground, slowly twirling beneath my hand.

But then Connor's aura caught my attention. It was a mixture of orange — which I guessed indicated pride more than amazement in that moment — and pink.

I looked up and caught the smile on his face. It was so rare to see him smile like that. Without thinking, I returned the smile as the spell fell away and the book thumped onto the grass.

His aura shifted back to purple as his smile fell away as if it was never there. "Good, but you lost control."

I nodded and lowered my hand, dropping my eyes. I didn't want to see the disappointment written on my mentor's face.

"You need to work on your concentration," he went on without hesitation, "no matter what is going on around you. You obviously know how to pay attention when your mind is elsewhere."

"You're right. I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

"Well, I think that's enough for today. Besides, I think the library is open now."

My eyes flashed up to see Connor grinning at me with light blue in his aura again. He was teasing me. But beneath it, I could see he still didn't understand why I spent so much time there.

If I was being honest with myself, even I wasn't sure why I felt such a strong desire to turn to the library in search for knowledge.

Instead of letting my mind fixate on his unease, I returned his humor and my mouth lifted into a sly smile. "You know me too well," I purred, surprised at how my voice sounded.

It was almost seductive.

Who knew?

Pink flashed in my teacher's aura for an instant before it cleared to purple. He gave me a tight smile before turning toward the picnic table with his grimoire and current read, _Moby Dick_ sitting on top.

I didn't know what to say, so I decided on nothing.

With a sigh, I picked up my grimoire and headed for the library a few blocks away, letting my sadness overwhelm me as I walked.

Lake Michigan wasn't far to the East and there were lots of trees in the area, it seemed like a nice place to call home, but that wasn't something people like me — _others_ could do.

Settling down was dangerous. If we were discovered, there was nothing to protect us from the hunters that killed us for sport. We couldn't even trust other supernaturals. They were quick to make deals with hunters to save their lives. Plus there were dark witches that liked to kill other witches for power.

Connor told me a brief story about a special kind of witches that lived centuries ago, and they kept the peace, making life easier for everyone. But after they were killed, our world was in ruin.

It was hard to imagine I survived on my own for over a month before Connor found me, clueless and lost, not knowing about the dangers I faced.

Without him, I would have died. I was sure of it.

As I pushed through the doors to Mequon's library, the woman behind the desk in front of me looked up with a knowing glint in her eyes.

The librarian knew what I was, or at least that I wasn't human.

I wasn't sure how the keepers of lore and the goings-on in the supernatural world — a neutral Guardian of Information — knew that I was different, but she knew. It was a rarity to see recognition before uttering a request.

She pushed her wide framed glasses up her nose and took a closer look at me, smiling pleasantly as I greeted her.

"Hallo," I began with a smile. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I do some research in the vault today?" I asked, letting my accent thicken a little so she knew I wasn't someone that planned to stick around long.

"What are you hoping to learn, young lady?" Her tone was sharp.

I understood the magnitude of what I was asking. Protocol — the rules of neutrality — wasn't precise, but it was common to ask a Guardian for specific information, not a full access pass to a vault.

Her reaction to my request wasn't surprising, and I tried to ease her reservations with a gentle smile. "I am from Australia and my family was rather large. But over the years they started disappearing. By the time I was old enough to follow in their footsteps as a witch, they were all gone."

"You know nothing of your heritage?" the Guardian asked.

"I know some of generalities, but nothing specific about my family — like why they remained together when that's obviously not normal."

The Guardian nodded and I caught the pity in her gaze. "I understand, dear. Come with me."

Turning on her short heels, she led me through to the back of the library and headed for a door with a sign above it that said, _REFERENCE, for employees only_ , before leading me through it and down a flight of stairs to the basement. The fluorescent lights were harsh, but there were bookcases lining the walls of the large room and took up several rows in the middle of the space.

Small desks with task lights, as if the overhead lighting wasn't glaring enough, were peppered throughout the space. The vault looked like a normal part of the library. It was clever — hiding their vaults in plain sight.

"This isn't a large town," the Guardian began, "so my vault isn't as advanced as some of the larger cities. I don't have a digital vault either. Everything you see is everything I have. The card catalogue is behind you to the left. If you have any questions about specifics, let me know."

With another smile, she ascended the stairs. Since I was alone, instead of moving to the card catalogue, I decided to walk through the aisles to look over the books on the shelves.

To my surprise, there was a section devoted to were-animal etymologies and histories, a few grimoires that glowed with faint light or dark auras, and even books on the Malleus Dei Maleficarum.

Those were the hunters _others_ needed to worry about. But I knew enough about them that I didn't feel the need to brush up on the horrific details of the Inquisition they were famous for developing and continuing through the centuries.

After grabbing a few books that seemed general in terms of supernatural lore as a start, I sat down at the desk that faced the only entrance to the vault so no one could sneak up behind me.

And then I opened my grimoire to make a new entry about the levitation spell Connor taught me that morning. But as the spine cracked and opened, I saw my very first entry.

Despite remembering that day in detail, I read it anyway with a smile.

### Chapter 3

May eighth — Today, I met someone, another witch....

It was cool enough outside in Denver, Colorado to wear a jacket, but I was too stubborn to go back to the motel for it. I was sitting at a picnic table across the street, shivering and staring off into space beyond the empty playground a few dozen yards in front of me.

It was hard to imagine that I became a witch on March twenty-fourth, knowing nothing about what I was doing, or what I would find once I completed the transition.

Though I was mostly clueless about what I was and the world I lived in, I knew enough that I needed to keep moving. I needed to learn all I could about what I was if I was going to survive. It was lonely, and it was hard, but I was surviving.

That was, if drifting around not knowing if I would live to see the next day was surviving.

I missed my family so much that tears stung my eyes, but I choked them back. As much as I wanted to be with my family, I didn't leave them behind. One after the other, they all left me.

And I was alone.

It hurt even more that the following day was my birthday. Eighteen was a big rite of passage in my family — before they all disappeared, and I was dreading the thought of spending it alone.

Shaking my head to clear it, my red hair wiggled as it curtained around my face. I tucked the locks behind my ears and focused on the pen sitting on the worn tabletop in front of me.

The hair on my arms stood on end — not because I was cold, but because I was using magic. With a twirl of my finger, I tried to make the pen move, spin, anything, and I felt my magic charge the air like I was in a sauna instead of a park.

But nothing happened and then my power fell away.

I frowned.

"You know," a man's voice said from behind me and I froze, "most witches need to chant or say something for magic to work."

I swung around to look at him with adrenaline coursing through me.

But then I paused when I caught sight of him.

He was leaning against an old maple tree several yards away that towered over us at least thirty feet in the air and it was just beginning to sprout leaves for the summer. His long, brown hair glistened in the sunlight as one side fell from behind his ear to curtain around his sun kissed face.

Stubble darkened his jaw and dark brown eyes regarded me as he lifted his hands in the universal signal for surrender. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, but made no moves toward me.

His purple aura swirled around him in a faint glow. I knew enough to know that he wasn't a dark witch, or his aura would show as black. That also meant that he wasn't a hunter.

The Malleus Dei Maleficarum were human.

But that didn't mean I was safe.

He waited, and I took him in.

I gulped. He was quite a sight. His skin was flawless, and I could tell he was muscular, but not like a trained fighter or a body builder. His dark wool coat was unbuttoned and billowed in the slight breeze, revealing dark clothes beneath.

The buttons at the top of his shirt were open, revealing more of that flawless skin and some hair on his chest.

Whoever the man was, he was attractive. Very attractive. And my mouth watered at the sight of him.

I blinked, realizing I was staring at him. "What do you want?" I snapped.

"I saw you from the motel and I wanted to introduce myself. And then I saw that you were trying to use magic."

"What of it?"

"You're a witch like me, but it seems like you're a little out of practice or something." His aura shifted to light blue. "Or you're a newbie," he grinned.

Though I didn't know what all the colors of auras meant, I thought he was making fun of me. Anger washed over me, but then it was replaced with sadness. "That's none of your business," I said, trying to sound angry instead of sad, but failed.

"Look, I just wanted to introduce myself. I can take a hint." He pushed his hand through his hair, only to have it fall around his face and then tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Then he pushed away from the tree and made his way back to the motel. I watched him until he entered the first room nearest the office and closed the door behind him.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding and felt regret.

He was the first witch I met, and he was nice to me, maybe even trying to help me. Or I was just that desperate for help and companionship.

Before I realized what I was doing, I stood up, walked to the motel, and knocked on his door.

It opened a second later and I noticed a combination of purple and dark blue in his aura before it cleared to purple and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

His coat was sitting on the small table next to him and I realized his shirt was long sleeve, pushed up to his elbows.

"I'm sorry I was rude to you," I began.

He nodded and dropped his arms, but didn't make any moves to allow me to enter his room. I was fine with that.

"You were right. I am new. And I have no one to help me. You're the first witch I've met since I turned."

I waited, but he didn't say anything.

"Okay," I breathed as sadness washed over me. "I get it. Thanks for the tip on the magic. I'll figure it out."

Without waiting for him to respond, I headed toward my room. Just as I reached it, he called out, "I'm sorry, alright? How about we start over?"

I turned around to face him as he walked toward me, but stopped with enough distance between us that it wouldn't make me feel uncomfortable.

"My name is Connor Jennings," he held out his hand with a small grin.

My eyes met his. They were the most intense brown I ever saw. Butterflies churned in my stomach for an instant before I reached out and took his hand. Power rushed up my arm, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

And, despite my best efforts, I grinned back. "I'm Zoe Kavanaugh. It's nice to meet you."

He grinned. "That's an interesting accent. Australian, perhaps?"

I smiled back at him.

In that moment, I knew I would end up falling for him.

### Chapter 4

A moment later, Connor dropped my hand and his grin faded as pink dotted into his aura for a moment before it cleared back to purple.

"What do you say we go back to the picnic table to talk?" he asked. His grin returned and it was just shy of a full smile.

I nodded, unsure of what to say since a lump formed in my throat at the sight of that grin combined with his big, warm hand holding mine.

Though I barely knew him, he affected me in ways I never thought possible. And despite understanding that pink meant the beginnings of desire, I was unsure of what he was thinking.

That was a mystery I wouldn't mind discovering over time.

Instead of turning to head back toward the small park across from the motel, he turned and went back to his room, calling out, "I'll be right behind you," before disappearing into his room.

I shook my head to clear it as the wind picked up. My red hair fell forward and I remembered I needed a hair band as I shivered.

"Give me a moment," I called, despite the fact that he disappeared into his room and the door was already closed behind him. Without waiting, I turned and stepped into mine, letting the door close behind me as I moved to the tiny bathroom.

Flipping on the light, I glanced at myself in the mirror and paused, taking in the features of the woman staring back at me.

Her green eyes and red air were vivid, and the freckles on her cheeks and forehead seemed to stand out even more than normal as the cool May morning air made her look flushed, as if she was blushing.

Maybe it wasn't the cool wind. Maybe I _was_ blushing.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my face darkened a shade and my mouth fell open an instant before it was replaced with a small grin.

There I was, a day away from eighteen, clueless about the world around me and needing to know how to use my power, while at the same time, trying to figure out what happened to my family. And yet, I was grinning and blushing at myself in the mirror after meeting someone.

Someone that would steal my heart.

Using my fingers, I pushed through my hair and smoothed it back while pulling a hair band around it to keep it in place. It wasn't perfect, as a small lock fell forward and a few other places showed signs of my careless effort.

But for some reason, I found it appealing. It wasn't often I was able to talk to someone, let alone someone that looked as mouthwatering as Connor. Plus, he already showed signs of enjoying my appearance, otherwise that pink wouldn't have popped up in his aura.

I shook my head. That wasn't the point. I needed help and he was willing to listen. That was what mattered. Learning magic and finding my family was what I needed.

My heart hurt from their loss.

A memory flashed across my mind when I was a child on the beach with all nine of them.

My grandmother sat watching us, her fair skin burning, despite the sunscreen she used. Then my mother and her three sisters each read and enjoyed the laughter of their children combined with the call of the gulls overhead.

My four cousins, sister, and I fought over what to do. They wanted to swim, but I was the youngest and was afraid to swim in the ocean, so I wanted to build a sand castle.

They stayed on the beach for me.

We loved each other.

But they were all gone.

Without taking another look in the mirror, I turned off the light and grabbed my sweater before walking to the picnic table where Connor was waiting.

His hair whipped around in the wind, blowing over his face as he grinned at me, making no effort to control it.

As I sat across from him, I smiled back.

"I want to make one thing clear," he began.

"What's that?"

"I'm going to help you because you need it, but that's all. Understand?"

A brief pang of sadness washed over me but I forced it down. "Yes."

That was when I noticed a leather book, a journal, I thought, sitting on the table's worn surface.

A faint white glow surrounded it and my eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Don't worry, it's not going to bite," he grinned again. But without waiting for me to muster up some kind of response, he went on. "This is my grimoire. Do you know what that is?"

I heard that word before, though it was only spoken in whispers from the older members of my family. I didn't know what they were talking about at the time, but it made sense after I became a witch. "It's a spell book, right?"

"Correct. But it's not just any spell book. This one is mine. It's unique only to me. Do you know why?"

No, I didn't.

I shook my head.

"Alright, lesson one. There's no universal guide book or collection of spells that you can use — you either inherit them, or you make your own."

"I don't understand what that means."

"Every witch either comes from a line of witches, or they become a witch on their own. Sometimes families will pass down a grimoire unique to the family — that's the inheritance part. Or, I'm guessing like me, you don't have that."

Though I knew he didn't mean harm by his statement, my defenses still shot up. He knew, in just the short amount of time we knew each other, just how clueless I was.

What if it was a dark witch that stumbled across me instead of Connor? I wouldn't have been able to protect myself.

"Listen to me, Zoe," Connor said, reaching forward and covering my hand with his. It was warm and sent more power up my arm, while at the same time sending those butterflies in my stomach into a flurry again.

My inner turmoil cut off, but before I could say anything, he went on. "There's nothing wrong with being new, it just means you have to be careful."

I nodded, and stared at the book sitting in front of him for a moment before my gaze flickered back up to his. I ignored the quick flash of pink in his aura and said, "It's kind of a long story, but I do come from a family. The only problem is that I'm the youngest, and by the time I turned, they were all gone, including any books they might have kept. I don't know what happened to them or why. That's one of the things I'm trying to find out."

The expression on Connor's face softened and he squeezed my hand a little before letting me go. "Alright, that means a grimoire was passed down through your family. But since you don't have access to it, you need to start one of your own. Understand?"

"I guess so. I just don't know what to do with one."

"You take notes. If you learn or create something new — a spell or ritual — you need to write down what you did in specific detail. That way if you ever need to use it again, you'll have a record of it. In time, you'll refer to it less and less, but at least it's there if you need it."

I nodded. That made a lot of sense. "Okay, but why is yours spelled?" I asked, eyeing the faint white that surrounded his grimoire.

"That's a protection spell — one that's easy to cast. It protects it from damage, and also keeps out unwanted eyes."

"Okay, you've lost me again. Unwanted eyes?"

"See for yourself," he nodded toward his book with a knowing grin.

I didn't know what to make of that, but I reached out and picked up the book, which still looked like a journal. An expensive journal, but a journal nonetheless. And then I tried to open it.

No matter how hard I tried to pry it open, it wouldn't budge. It was like it was cemented shut.

"I get it," I said, pushing the book back toward him. It would have been nice to glimpse some of what he was talking about, but I understood how something like that — a witch's journal — was personal. Very personal.

Without saying anything, he picked up his grimoire and light blue bled into his aura as he grinned again. I wasn't sure what was humorous about what was happening, but then he handed it to me. "Try again."

I narrowed my eyes at him, not wanting to look like an idiot.

"Seriously, try again," he repeated.

With a sigh, I touched the cover of Connor's grimoire and lifted it. To my surprise and shock, it opened without resistance.

My jaw dropped and he laughed. I forgot about the grimoire in front of me and watched him toss his head back and guffaw with his aura blazing light blue like the sky above us.

"So," I said, interrupting his sudden outburst. He quieted and leveled his gaze on me. I closed the cover without reading anything inside and handed it back to him. "You needed to offer it to me for me to open it, right?"

He frowned. "Correct again. Why did you give it back? I figured you'd want to read it."

I shrugged. "It's personal. And if what you said was right, I doubt any of your spells would work for me."

"You were paying attention," he said with a grin.

"Why wouldn't I?"

He chuckled for a moment and then said, "No reason. You could read this thing from cover to cover and try every spell and ritual in it if you wanted, but unless _I_ showed you _how_ to cast them, you wouldn't be successful. It's one of the perks of creating your own spells. It can help you understand how to create them for yourself, especially if you have nothing to start with. And no one can steal them from you."

My head was swimming. We were minutes into our first conversation and I was already overwhelmed with the enormity of the world I unwittingly entered without knowing what the hell I was doing.

Connor's hand reached out and hooked the lock of hair that was still in my face behind my ear and smiled. It didn't escape my notice that nothing but pink undulated in his aura. "I know how you're feeling right now. And I promise you will figure this out. It just takes time."

Before I could figure out what to say to him, he went on. "Your task for today is to find a journal of your own, and then I'll show you how to spell it, alright?"

I nodded and then froze as a massive white dog stepped into my peripheral vision without a sound and looked from Connor to me. Ice slid down my spine as I noticed the faint purple aura swirling around him.

That wasn't a dog.

It was a werewolf.

### Chapter 5

Fear overpowered my emotions until it was replaced with outright terror. I knew enough about werewolves to know how fast and dangerous they were.

Oddly enough, the huge animal beside me sat down and thumped his tail on the grass, looking at me with intelligent brown eyes.

"Easy now," Connor said, reaching out for my hand again. "He's not going to hurt you. But if you run, he'll chase you. That's a natural instinct."

I relaxed a fraction at his words, but mostly it was the contact with his warm hand that pulled me away from the fear. I might not have known much about werewolves, but I did know the rule about running.

When my mind cleared enough to process what was happening, the werewolf wasn't doing anything that resembled aggression. He was just sitting there, looking back and forth between us.

To say the werewolf was large was an understatement. He looked bigger than any dog or wolf I ever heard of, and I guessed he was somewhere around two hundred and fifty pounds, if not bigger.

His fur was all white, and it looked soft.

But I wasn't about to reach out and pet him.

"Uh, hello there," I said, my accent growing thicker. And then I realized I was gripping Connor's hand with white knuckles.

As I struggled to relax, Connor reached out with his other hand and scratched the top of the werewolf's head.

A grumble of pleasure escaped him and he leaned into Connor's hand, letting me relax.

They knew each other, and they were friends. And it appeared the wolf enjoyed being treated like a pet.

I tore my gaze away from their small exchange and my eyes landed on Connor's hand, entwined with mine, before looking up at the face that was burned into my mind like a brand.

Connor's brown eyes flickered to mine "Shadow, meet Zoe. She's new to this life and I'm going to help her. Zoe, meet my friend, Shadow."

#

Continuing October fourth — When my good day went wrong....

"Well, well, well," a baritone voice said, pulling me away from my grimoire's first entry and the memory that came with it — the day I met Connor and Shadow.

As I felt that odd sensation in my stomach I felt most of the morning increase tenfold, I looked up and froze as the blood drained from my face.

Though I didn't know the man, I realized three things at once.

First, he wasn't just any normal man dropping in the vault at Mequon, Wisconsin's public library.

He was a witch.

A dark witch. And his black aura swirled around him like snakes.

Second, I didn't know who he was, but I felt an odd sense of familiarity, like I knew him in a different life.

The man stood at the base of the stairs with pale, ashen skin, black hair, and eyes so dark they looked black. All the clothes he wore were black, even his leather trench coat and boots.

Third, beneath it all, he was more attractive than Connor, but in a much different way. It was almost primal. And that was disturbing to me.

But then I realized who he was.

In the five months since I met Connor and researched about the histories of the supernatural world, I only read descriptions of it.

The strange pull in my stomach was pointed directly at him. And that meant only one thing.

My mate, the supernatural equivalent of a soul mate, was a dark witch.

And that was a very bad thing for me.

Dark witches were evil. Dangerous. And they wanted one thing.

Power.

They siphoned magic, and often, they killed to take souls, or essences — the most potent source of power — from their victims.

Witches.

"I know you don't remember me," the man said as he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest, blocking my exit, "but we knew each other once."

We did?

I didn't say anything. We were on neutral territory, which meant he wasn't allowed to attack me while we were in the building. But I wasn't about to trust that he would honor it.

After all, one of Connor's basic rules was to not trust anyone. Even though we trusted each other, that trust was built over time.

It didn't matter that the man standing in front of me was both my mate and we were on neutral ground. I wasn't safe.

If anything, I was in more danger than ever, because he could find me based on that pull. That meant I would always be in danger. No matter where I was.

Attempting to reign in my terror was futile. But I tried to stay calm. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again, despite not remembering a damn thing about you?"

Dammit.

My accent was thicker, betraying my feelings even more than my aura probably was. In times like that, I wished I could control my emotions. I needed to work on that.

But it was too late to worry about my aura. I needed to figure out what he wanted and hope he wouldn't kill me before he left.

A small smile crept into his lips and he waved his hand slowly, reminding me of _Star Wars_ as Jedi used their influence on people.

That was when I realized what he was doing.

Compulsion.

Oh, shit.

Ice slid down my spine and by the time his hand stopped moving, images played across my mind.

In the first one, I held his face and kissed him like I was rabid with desire.

The next image flashed and we weren't making love — no — we were fucking with the same primal intensity as that kiss.

His name was Graham. Graham Abernathy.

Another flash as I arrived at home to find my apartment ransacked and my sister gone. Then the sinister look on Graham's face as he grinned and spoke to me without emotion in his voice.

"I have your sister and if you want to keep her alive, you need to do everything I say...."

### Chapter 6

Air whooshed out of my lungs as the images stopped. Memories. "Graham," I breathed as a renewed sense of terror washed over me.

It wasn't that I was scared for my life. It was the knowledge that he took my sister, Emily.

Then, just as quickly as it arrived, the fear fell away and was replaced by anger, a rage so deep and vast that I overflowed with it. It felt like my veins were on fire — and not in a good way.

I glared at Graham Abernathy, not caring that he was both a dark witch and my mate. Not caring that my history was tainted by him. And not just from what he did to my sister — kidnapped her and used her against me for his benefit.

"I trust you've been working hard to find the solution to our little problem?" he asked, ignoring the rush of anger boiling over in my system.

" _Our little problem?_ " I growled. "It's not _our_ problem, Graham. It's yours. I'm only helping you to save my sister's life."

He clucked his tongue at me in mock disappointment. Through the black of his aura, I couldn't read any emotions from him.

Maybe the auras of dark witches were black, revealing no other emotion beneath all that evil and darkness?

After all, he was the first dark witch I encountered since I became a witch, and even with my returning memories — as if a veil was removed from my mind — I couldn't recall seeing anything but black in his aura after I turned.

But I couldn't think about that. I needed to save my sister.

"Now, Zoe, you know the deal. The cure for my curse in exchange for your sister."

"That wasn't a deal, Graham," I said, my accent growing thicker. "That was your ransom."

"Regardless," he said, straightening away from the wall to glare at me.

Pleasantries were over.

I sighed. "I didn't remember what you wanted until just now. I've been looking, but I didn't know what to look for. Even then, you didn't tell me much, so it's like finding a needle in a very large haystack while blindfolded."

"Allow me to be clearer," Graham said, and I caught the tiniest lilt of Australian as he spoke those words. "A curse was placed on my family forty years ago. My family was much like yours — we were a family, a coven."

I waited, knowing he wasn't finished.

"Your _grandmother_ ," he spat the word but then continued, "cursed my family, forcing us to darken. Any new witches to turn would immediately darken."

I blinked. Was that possible? Dark witches were extremely dangerous. Why would my grandmother curse an entire family to become the very thing light witches wanted to avoid — and prevent?

Not only that, but I didn't know how such a curse was possible, let alone how to remove it. In all the lore I ever read in the many different libraries I visited since I became a witch, I never heard of any instance where a dark witch was restored to light.

I sighed, "Well, at least that's better than nothing. I'm going to need more time."

"You see, there's my problem. You spent the last six months drifting around doing stupid trivial things like levitation spells. I gave you plenty of time."

The blood drained from my face as I saw a bit of green bleed into the edges of his black aura.

That answers that question about auras of dark witches.

I took a deep breath. The last thing I needed to do was piss him off.

"First of all," I began, "I was new, with no guidance, and no knowledge. You have to give me time to develop, to figure out what my grandmother did, so I can take it away."

A devilish grin flashed on Graham's features. "I have a better idea. How about I remove your distraction?"

"Distraction?"

"That witch and his wolf."

Heat flashed across my body at his threat. "They are helping me learn magic."

"Are they?" he drawled. "From what I've seen from your aura, he's not just a mentor helping his student. Perhaps I underestimated your care for your sister...," he trailed off with a wave of his hand.

But then his dark eyes met mine and the grin on his lips faded. "I think I'll kill the wolf and then the witch. I'll take his power while you watch. That would be motivating wouldn't it?" He smiled.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was dark, I would have found his smile captivating. But not only did the smile not reach his eyes, it felt like a show of teeth, rather than a genuine smile.

"That way," he went on, "you won't have distractions." His smile faded. "Time is running short. I will kill your sister if you don't find a way to remove my curse. But first, I'll take care of those two."

He turned and I stood up so fast my chair flew out behind me and crashed into a bookshelf. "Stop," I said, with more determination in my voice than I ever heard before. I was surprised it didn't sound like a wail. Either way, it didn't matter, because Graham paused and turned around with the corners of his mouth turned up into a sly smile.

"Why? What could you possibly offer me that could save their lives?"

"Name your price," I said, with my Australian accent thicker than ever.

"Hmm," he mused, raising his hand to his chin in contemplation. The sound of his fingers running over the stubble on his jaw sounded like gravel and it grated against my ears.

Revulsion washed over me. Despite that pull in my stomach that pointed directly at him and that primal attraction I felt for him, everything about him felt _wrong_.

With Connor, everything felt right. Nothing was distasteful about him. Not even the stubble on his face. If anything, it was the exact opposite. I _wanted_ to feel the scruff on _his_ face, taste _his_ lips, run my fingers through _his_ hair, and so much more.

I didn't want any of those things with Graham, despite my body's warring response.

Red replaced the green at the edges of his aura as his hand dropped and his grin widened.

Suddenly, I knew, whatever he was about to offer me in exchange for saving my friend's lives wasn't going to be an easy price to pay.

The pit in my stomach grew as Graham let his gaze travel over me, lingering on my chest before his vision was interrupted by the desk between us.

In that instant, I knew his price, and my stomach fell.

His grin widened as he saw the look on my face. "I'm going to be lenient this time, Zoe. Take my offer or they die."

I steeled my shoulders as best I could and tried to suppress the trembling that ran through my body. "What's your offer?" I breathed.

"Your body for their lives."

### Chapter 7

A combination of revulsion, fear, and anger washed over me.

Though I hated the idea, if I agreed, it would save Connor and Shadow. But no matter how I tried to justify it, Graham wanted to rape me. And that was exactly what he wanted. Consent or not, it was still rape.

The last thing I wanted was my friends hurt or killed because of my refusal.

My head was swimming with thoughts. But one of them stood out.

This is all my fault.

Despite not remembering Graham, what he did to my sister, and using her as leverage to force me to become a witch, it was my fault for the danger Connor and Shadow faced.

But what was worse, Graham was forcing me to do something in order to save them.

Again.

He already hurt and betrayed me on a level I never realized until he restored my memories.

I wasn't sure which ransom was worse — becoming a witch to save the last member of my family, or agreeing to rape.

If I agreed, it might ruin the only good part of my life since I became _other_. Connor and Shadow might turn their backs on me and leave me behind.

Dark witches were dangerous. They weren't afraid to kill. It was even worse that Graham was my mate. He could find us wherever we went. And we would always be in danger.

But it didn't matter. I wasn't strong enough to fight him, and I couldn't take the chance that Connor and Shadow would be able to stop him.

If he was offering me a chance to save my friends, I would take it.

"Fine," I gritted and the grin on Graham's face widened.

At first, I tried to be compliant, but that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted me to feel pain. And he took his time inflicting it.

Though I was aware of every moment, I shut down.

I wasn't having some kind of mental breakdown or lost in my head. I was numb. The last thing I wanted was to show him how much he was hurting me. Both physically and emotionally.

Despite all the pain, my body still betrayed me. And that made me feel worse.

Graham Abernathy might have been my mate, but loving someone like him — someone capable of causing so much pain — was impossible.

True mates, in a world free from danger and adversity, would never hurt one another.

More memories surfaced and I stayed as silent as possible, despite the pain. As the list of my injuries grew, my resolve started to falter.

I was sure I made the right decision to save my sister. And I was sure that protecting Connor and Shadow was the right thing to do. But after a while, I started to think I wouldn't survive what Graham Abernathy was doing to me.

He was a monster, ravaging me in a way that I would never forget — in a way that would haunt me the rest of my life.

It didn't matter that we were on neutral territory.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I started to yearn for death.

When his hands closed over my throat to choke me as he neared his completion, it forced my body to betray me once more. That was when I welcomed it.

I welcomed death.

That was exactly what I thought was happening when everything went black.

### Chapter 8

Memories: March twenty-fourth — My worst mistake, Graham....

School.

I hated school. Only a few weeks remained until my birthday and graduation. And it couldn't come soon enough. I lost count of the number of schools I attended over the last several years.

Remembering what it was like to have my family whole, back in my hometown of Bunbury, Australia, was all I could hold on to.

We never found out what happened to the ones that left. One day, they were there, and the next, they were gone. There were no traces of where they went. After a while, the women that remained deduced that they didn't leave. They were taken.

When I was sixteen, what remained of my family — my mother, my sister, and I — moved to America, hoping to escape whatever it was that was hunting us, and ever since, we didn't have a stable home.

Moving from town to town every few months was exhausting — especially for me. Because I was always the new student. And because of my thin physique, red hair, and green eyes, I was usually the target of unwanted attention from my classmates.

I knew I couldn't trust anyone, but after my mother disappeared the summer before, I felt lost.

After the last semester of my senior year began, I met someone.

Graham.

He was twenty-seven, and he was kind. But he seemed to understand my frustration with life, and he didn't have any family.

Though he didn't talk about them, I knew their loss hurt him as much as mine did. I needed a friend. Despite my sister's increased erratic behavior and constant warnings about danger, there was something about him that I couldn't ignore. So I chose to see him in secret.

He didn't ask questions, and he didn't pry. And though we knew each other just under two months, I was already in love with him.

Perhaps I was broken.

I never told him how I felt, but I still suspected he knew. It wasn't as though I could hide it. He always knew what to do or say. And I couldn't define the way he made me feel. It was passion, but on a level I never thought possible.

Maybe that was why I fell for him so fast.

Even though my experience with guys was limited, I didn't think that was something that was normal.

But on March twenty-fourth, I walked through the door of the little apartment I shared with my sister and didn't expect what I found.

It didn't look like a robbery. It looked like a struggle.

The blood drained from my face as I moved through the apartment, trying to find Emily.

There was no sign of her, and I didn't know what to do. Of the nine other women in my family to disappear, there were no signs of trouble. They were just gone.

I was frantic and didn't know what to do. If Emily was gone, that meant I was alone. And I didn't know how protect myself.

But then a sudden knock sounded at the door through the deafening silence, making me jump. I moved toward it and looked through the peep hole, seeing Graham at the other side. He was dressed as he always was, with his dark clothes and leather trench coat, black wavy hair that fell over his forehead and covered his ears, pale skin, and eyes so dark they looked black.

I swung the door open and threw my arms around him as I cried. "She's gone."

His arms wrapped around me and his head dipped toward my shoulder. Then he pulled me into the apartment and shut the door behind him. "What happened?"

Pulling back, I wiped at the tears on my cheeks and glanced around the ruin that was my home. "I came home to find this. Emily's gone, Graham."

I was shaking like a leaf and hysterical.

What was I going to do?

When I looked back up at Graham, his expression was different, unlike anything I ever saw from him before. I blinked, confused.

"This was too easy," he grinned.

"What?" I breathed.

"It was me this whole time. Don't you get it? You were so easy to fool, it's almost comical. I've been picking your family off for years, and no one ever figured it out." He laughed, like he just told a joke.

I blinked. Confusion didn't begin to cover what I felt. But beneath it, I felt the menace in Graham's gaze and my fear started to spread. "What are you talking about?"

"They kept you in the dark all this time and left you defenseless. But today's your lucky day," his grin widened. "I have Emily."

The blood drained from my face.

Was it true?

Without waiting for me to speak, he went on. "My family is cursed. If you can figure out how to remove it, I'll return your sister."

"How?" I cried, not having any idea what he was talking about, let alone how I might be able to help him.

"Your family, all those women you've lost over the years — they were all witches. You are too. Well," he grinned, "as soon as you bind yourself to the moon, that is."

Bind myself to the moon?

He must have noticed my confusion. "Oh, poor, ignorant Zoe." He took a step forward and grabbed my face. His fingers dug into my skin and I knew bruises would show from the strength of his grip. "I have your sister and if you want to keep her alive, you need to do everything I say."

I forced myself to breathe and pushed out the pain of his hands. Of all the warnings Mum and Emily told me about trusting people, I ignored them and trusted the man that hunted us. I fell in love with him, for god's sake.

How could I be such a fool?

I could berate myself later. But first, I needed to save my sister. "Tell me what to do."

#

By midnight, I was a witch. I didn't understand what that meant, but I followed Graham's instructions and bound myself to the moon. The power washed over me and it was done.

That was when I saw the inky black glow that surrounded the man I thought I loved.

Who was I kidding?

I did love him, I was infatuated with him. And he was my enemy all along.

But I felt something else. My stomach pointed toward him. Like a gentle tug that wanted to be closer to him. I didn't know what to make of it, but I stayed quiet.

Sadness overwhelmed me, but I listened to his instructions and believed him when he promised my sister's life was safe as long as I helped him.

I would do anything to help my sister.

But then he touched a ring on his finger I didn't notice until that moment and my mind went blank as he spoke.

"You will forget everything that happened here tonight, except for the knowledge that you turned into a witch. You're going to forget me. You're going to research power to develop yours. Grow stronger. And when it's time, I'll find you again."

I stared blankly at the wall for a few moments before blinking tears from my eyes. Then I glanced around the ruin that was my apartment. I was alone. I was a witch, and though I still didn't know what that meant, I knew it could help Emily.

Nothing else mattered.

### Chapter 9

Continuing October fourth — After Graham left....

I was dimly aware that I was alone, naked on the cool floor of Mequon, Wisconsin's vault beneath the library. It was eerily silent and that pull in my stomach was lessening with every passing moment.

Graham Abernathy was gone. But that time, he made sure I wouldn't forget what happened. I felt pain everywhere, some areas more than others, and as I drifted further toward consciousness, that pain only worsened.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard a gasp and then felt something cover me before silence surrounded me once more.

Then I started to hear whimpering. I noticed, too late, that it was coming from me. But I couldn't do much about it.

Time wasn't something I could fathom as I hovered somewhere between nothingness and consciousness. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it felt like hours passed since Graham finished with me.

I wasn't sure I wanted to know the extent of the damage, but I knew I would find out soon enough.

As if on cue, I heard the rushed voice of the librarian. "I came down here to close up, thinking she left hours ago and found her there like that."

" _Sonofabitch_ ," Connor muttered and my heart sank.

No. Don't see me like this.

I heard the distinct sound of footsteps before Connor knelt down next to me. I felt warm, gentle fingers on my face as he assessed me. Another whimper escaped me as I tried to move away from him.

He hissed as he saw something he didn't like. "Zoe, wake up." His voice was strong and commanding, not the gentle tone I knew so well.

As if following his command, my eyes fluttered open and more pain flashed across my senses. I cried out from the sudden onslaught of agony.

But it wasn't just the physical pain that hurt.

I didn't want Connor to see me like that.

Before my mind could continue to spiral, Connor grabbed my face and held me still, forcing me to either close my eyes, or look up at him.

I elected for the former and closed my eyes. I didn't want to see the disappointment on his face.

"Zoe, look at me."

Steeling myself, I forced my eyes to open and met his gaze. But as soon as I saw the concern on his features combined with the dark blue in his aura, I couldn't take it any longer.

My vision blurred and a single sob escaped me before his hands shot to my shoulders and pulled me up into a sitting position. It hurt, but I didn't protest.

Confusion filled me as he moved to support me and then pulled me into his arms, wrapping a blanket around me. He rarely touched me.

Grim sadness washed over me at the realization that it took a brutal rape for him to hold me. That was the first time Connor held me in his arms. And though I needed it more than I cared to admit, it still hurt.

In the nearly six months since we met, desire for him only grew. I wanted him as more than my mentor. I wanted to confide in him, I wanted to know what it felt like to be in his arms, to feel his skin and lips against mine, his hair between my fingers.

There I was, broken on the floor, and he was holding me. At some point, I started sobbing and I held on to him as much I could, despite my muscles and injuries screaming in protest.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Connor asked, but I realized as the librarian answered him that he wasn't talking to me.

"I have no idea."

"Who came down here today?"

She sucked in a breath. "He didn't give me his name."

"Was he human?"

"No, but I don't know what he was," she responded. Based on her tone of voice, I thought I heard regret and sadness, but I couldn't be sure.

"I-It was a dark witch," I cried between sobs, and I wondered if either of them could make out what I said.

"Jesus, Zoe," Connor said as his arms tightened. "You're lucky you're alive."

I wasn't sure I wanted to be, but I was and I sucked in a breath, trying to stop the sobs. "I'm sorry," I breathed.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"He compelled me to forget him, but he took my sister and forced me to turn. He came back to let me remember. I don't know why," I lied, hoping he wouldn't notice. "Then he threatened to kill you."

Connor's arms tightened again as he dipped his head toward my shoulder. "You let him do this to you?"

"It was the only way to protect you."

" _Sonofabitch_ ," he breathed. "He could have killed you."

That was true. But Graham wasn't finished with me. Not until I could break his curse.

I knew that. But Connor didn't.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "He didn't seem interested in killing me. But I couldn't let him go after you. I would do anything to keep you safe."

Pink and orange started to bleed into the edges of Connor's dark blue aura. As much as it hurt him to see me like that, the pink told me enough.

He did care about me. At least on some level, he wanted me. The knowledge that I would endure something so terrible to protect him left him feeling amazed or proud at my sacrifice. I didn't feel like I deserved it.

Even though I did it to protect Connor and Shadow, I still thought it would ruin my chance to be more than just mentor and student with the witch that held me tight against him.

I loved him, and I would do it again if it meant saving his life. But I was terrified of admitting it.

If nothing else, I hoped he understood how much I needed to care for him to be willing to pay that price.

I would do anything to keep him safe. Just like I would do anything to save my sister.

I just hoped I could do what Graham needed me to do so I could save her.

And hope he wouldn't come back with another ultimatum.

### Chapter 10

November third — The start of our arrangement....

Almost a month went by, and I tried to reconcile the memories that Graham restored. I also tried to overcome what he did to me in exchange for not hurting my only friends.

Though he didn't find out until later that I was also trying to protect Shadow, Connor insisted I shouldn't have risked my life for them. But what was done was done.

I believed I did the right thing, and if given a chance to go back, I would do it again. I loved Connor that much. And I cared for Shadow, the werewolf that seemed more like a family dog than anything else.

Though Connor never said it, I knew the last month of moving throughout the United States was an effort to keep us safe from Graham.

I didn't tell him that it was useless. No matter where we went, Graham could find me just by the pull that meant we were mates.

So while we traveled from Mequon, Wisconsin to Portland — both Maine and Oregon — through Roswell, New Mexico, and finally, Salem, Massachusetts, I pondered everything as my injuries healed.

My mentor was taking care of me, which surprised me on many levels. Not only was he trying to keep us hidden from the dark witch that threatened us, but he kept me safe, and helped me through the aftermath of what happened.

It didn't come as a surprise that I suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder.

When I woke up screaming in the night, Connor was there to calm me and hold me together as I tried to relax and catch my bearings. He and Shadow were both considerate of my skittishness and made sure I could hear them as they moved around.

I appreciated that. And it only made me love them more.

It took a month for my physical injuries to heal and to convince myself that I needed to tell Connor how I felt. Not that I loved him — I was too much of a coward for that — but that I wanted _more_ with him.

And I wanted so much more.

I lost count of the times I gathered the courage only to falter at the last second as I tried to speak. There was something about the way he looked at me that made the breath catch in my throat.

The last week with him was the worst, because I couldn't tell him. I wasn't sure, but I thought he noticed my hesitation, but he never prompted me.

But there we were, on a cool early November night, sitting in front of a fire in the woods near Salem, Massachusetts, where the witch craze resulted in the deaths of more than twenty people.

During the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, Heinrich Kramer developed quite the following and the hunters _others_ feared were born. Kramer's teachings were what caused the witch hunts. And it was there in Salem's library vault that I learned about Earthen witches and their decline not long after.

I scribbled furiously in my grimoire about the day's findings.

Though I still wasn't any closer to figuring out what I could do to save my sister, I read a few lines about Earthens and their relationships with powerful people that weren't considered supernatural. I intended to learn all I could about them.

"What are you writing about?" Connor asked, low.

I looked up and the flickering orange lights of the flame illuminated him. The light made his dark eyes sparkle and his hair look as soft as I imagined. His aura was purple, and I couldn't be sure, but it looked like little bits of pink were playing at the edges as he watched me.

Faint snores were coming from the sleeping white werewolf to my right, so it didn't come as a surprise that he spoke so low.

"Um," I coughed under my breath to clear the rasp in my throat, "I'm just trying to make sense of things, I guess."

"You use that more like a journal than a grimoire."

Though his aura and his expression didn't change, I was a little confused about his comment. "Is that a bad thing?"

He smiled and my breath caught in my throat again. It was so rare for him to smile, that when it actually happened, I would forget everything else around us as I tried to memorize it.

My mentor was the most handsome man I ever met.

Fate did a shitty job of choosing Graham Abernathy to be my mate. I wished it was Connor. It should have been Connor.

"No, Zoe. It's not a bad thing." His smile faded, "You can do whatever you want with your grimoire. That's why it's yours. I was just making an observation."

Though I knew what he was saying, I still felt a small wave of exhilaration that he didn't dislike what I was doing.

"I like to do this so I know I won't forget ... and it helps me. Especially after...," I trailed off and looked down.

Connor knew what I meant and dark blue replaced the purple and bits of pink in his aura.

There was so much I wanted to tell him about what I remembered after Graham restored my memories, but I was afraid at what he would say, so I stayed quiet as more sadness washed over me.

He stood up and moved closer, giving me time to respond. When I didn't, he sat down next to me and put his arm over my shoulder. I closed my grimoire and put it on the log next to me.

I wanted nothing more than to confide in him. Tell him everything. But I was afraid. "Can I ask you something?" I breathed without realizing I wanted to speak.

Oh, shit.

"Of course."

I debated for a moment what I should say. It was entirely possible he wouldn't help me save my sister.

But instead, I found myself saying something else, something more terrifying.

"I want more, Connor."

A combination of gray, dark blue, and pink exploded into his aura but he stayed quiet as he stiffened and stared at the fire for a moment before turning to look at me.

"I know it's crazy," I said in a rush, "and I know what you said when we met." My accent was sharp, but I didn't stop. "It's just that we've been traveling together for six months, and you've done so much to help me. I've wanted you since we met, and after what happened last month, I want something good to replace that memory."

He didn't move and he didn't speak.

Renewed sadness washed over me. I sighed and forced myself to look away and stare into the fire. "Just forget what I said." The aroma of wood smoke filled the air around us and I breathed it in. It was his scent. And that was as close as I would come to finding comfort with him.

"Zoe, look at me," he said, low.

I didn't want to, because I was too afraid of what he was about to say, since his aura was still unchanged. "Just forget about it, okay?"

His free hand reached up and touched my face, coaxing me to look at him.

I was too confused to resist, but the look on his face made me pause.

"I can't deny that I want more too. But only physically. It's too dangerous for anything _more_ than that. Do you understand?"

Thoughts escaped me as I tried to process his words. He didn't want a relationship. He wanted something different. No feelings. Just sex.

After what happened with Graham, I wasn't sure if I could agree to that.

But I wanted Connor so bad my mouth watered every time I looked at him. My hope was that when we were finally together, he might change his mind. Yet, as I replayed his words in my mind, I thought he wanted more, too.

Maybe there was hope, after all.

My heart was hammering in my chest and my stomach flipped as I nodded my understanding.

He moved his arm from around my shoulder and held my face gently in his warm, strong hands. His dark eyes searched mine.

I saw the pink starting to overflow in his aura, but I didn't have a chance to revel in it before I threw propriety to the wind and kissed him with abandon.

It's only physical.

Though I repeated those words in my mind like a mantra, I would take what I could get.

### Chapter 11

There was a part of my mind that warned me I was pushing Connor too fast, but he responded without hesitation when I kissed him, so I kept going.

And I never wanted to stop kissing him.

Eventually, I couldn't stay on that log any longer with Shadow snoring not more than a few yards from us. So, reluctantly, I slowed the kiss and pulled back.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't expecting what I saw. Connor's aura wasn't pink any longer.

Orange and red swirled around him like a blazing sunset and when his deep brown eyes met mine a wave of exhilaration washed over me.

I wanted to drag him into my tent, but we couldn't leave the fire to burn.

The last thing I wanted to do was to wait for Connor to douse the flames. The moment was too intense and I didn't want him to stop looking at me like that.

So I decided to try something I figured out the day before. Something that was dark magic if done to another witch, but since it was the fire, it wasn't bad at all.

It was a double benefit. I could show my mentor that I learned about something that was dark, but then modified it so it was light.

Over the past six months, I learned more German than I ever thought possible — the language most witches used. And it was about time I started to use it to create my own spells.

Though I still wasn't sure why German was the preferred language for witches when it came to casting spells, I adopted that practice because it was what Connor wanted.

It was my chance to show my mentor that I was learning.

Holding out my hand toward the fire, I felt the hair on my arms stand on end as magic leaked from me and I said, "Lasst die Flammen mich antreiben."

Let the flames fuel me.

At first, Connor looked confused as he listened to my words, but then he watched the flames move toward my hand.

I absorbed them into my body without burning my skin. By the time my magic dropped, nothing remained that indicated a fire crackled in that pit moments before. Not even smoke billowed up from the charred remains.

The power of the flames filled me and my eyes slid closed as I adjusted to the sensation of its power. Everything was heightened for a moment, like every nerve ending on my body was on fire.

That feeling was empowering, and I intended to use that to my advantage with Connor that night.

I lowered my hand and opened my eyes, smiling.

But then my smile fell as I saw the look on Connor's face and his stiffened posture.

"What the hell did you just do?" he asked.

"I pulled the flames inside me, so you wouldn't have to put out the fire."

His eyebrows shot up as gray engulfed his aura, replacing the orange and the red I saw from him only moments before. "You _siphoned_ the fire?"

I grabbed his hands and he flinched, but didn't pull away.

"Look at my aura, Connor," I rushed and noticed my accent was sharper. "I'm not dark, okay? I learned about siphoning and how it was considered dark if it was done to other witches. Fire is not a living thing. What I did was _not_ dark."

The full moon peeked through the canopy of the trees above us and the shadows played on Connor's face, making him look ethereal. I could still see the gray undulating around him as his eyes searched mine.

He let my words sink in as he studied my features. When he was satisfied, he squeezed my hands for emphasis.

"Listen to me, Zoe, I appreciate that you took initiative to learn something new. But this is too close to darkness. Siphoning is dark for a reason. You might not have taken from the living, but you still took. Do you understand?"

Sadness overwhelmed me. I thought he would be pleased with my initiative, possibly even proud. But all I saw from him was fear.

That was when I realized he cared for me more than I thought. He didn't want me flirting with darkness. And even though I was careful, he was right. I took something that wasn't mine to take.

I didn't see the wrong in it before. It hurt that I did something that Connor didn't approve. I sighed and tried to hide the sadness that I felt for disappointing him. "I'm sorry," I said and dropped my eyes.

His warm fingers touched my chin and lifted me so I would look at him again. "Talk to me. Don't shut down."

"I didn't realize this was wrong." I sighed and shook my head. "I'm weak, Connor. After what happened last month, I don't want to feel like I can't defend myself or protect you and Shadow if I need to."

A small smile crept into his lips as the fearful gray was replaced by a sad, dark blue. "Shadow and I have been together for three years, and I've been a witch for almost six. We know how to take care of ourselves. It should be _us_ protecting _you_. You tried something new, you took initiative. That's a good thing, even if it was wrong."

He hooked a lock of my red hair behind my ear. A tear slipped from my eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. "We don't have to do anything tonight. There's no reason to rush."

"No," I said, a little sharper than I meant to. I gripped the collar of his dark wool coat like it was a lifeline. "I need this, Connor. Please."

He must have picked up on the desperation in my tone as I leaned forward to kiss him again, but he stopped me. "Take it easy," he said, low.

I understood what he was doing. He thought I was rushing too fast. Though it wasn't untrue, I wanted him since the day we met. But I couldn't bring myself to care.

Steeling my shoulders, I stood up, pulling him with me. "In the tent, now," I demanded with a low growl.

I caught the red seeping into his aura right before I turned and walked to my tent.

And though I didn't want to admit it, I heard him hesitate for an instant before he followed after me.

### Chapter 12

Memories: February eighth — The day I met Graham....

I remembered the day I met Graham Abernathy like it was the day before. I was a few months away from graduation and I wasn't looking forward to it.

Growing up with a large family, only to see them leave without a word one after the other over the years was devastating enough. I heard the warnings of my mother and sister, but I didn't understand why we couldn't trust people. I didn't know why anyone would slowly take my family away.

They drifted apart. That was it.

Right?

After my mother left, I stopped believing that anyone in our family would return to us. That was also when I realized that there was truth in what my mother and sister told me.

It wasn't just the warnings I didn't understand. There was always so much talk that turning eighteen and graduating from school was some major rite of passage for the women in our family.

I was dreading my impending birthday and graduation, because no one was left to celebrate it with me but my sister. And Emily wasn't the best company.

Bags were under her eyes and she jumped at the slightest sounds, always watching outside the windows of our apartment. It was like she was waiting for someone. I hated seeing her like that.

That was why I decided to go to the local hangout my high school liked to call _The Boathouse_ despite the fact that it was just a small restaurant just off the Great Salt Lake beach in Syracuse, Utah — I needed to get away, if only for a short while.

It was a small town with little to do in the winter, so that was my only option. I sat at a table by myself.

I never made friends because we never stayed in one place long enough. But after my mother disappeared, I begged Emily for us to stay, to finish my senior year. She looked too distraught to argue.

In terms of my social life, the damage was already done. I was the outsider, and spurned anyone that tried to befriend me when we arrived. So I sat, and pretended to read Jane Eyre and tried not to look depressed.

That was when he walked in.

There was something about him that caught my attention. His black, wavy hair was long enough to look sexy without being shaggy. His skin was flawless, despite the fact that he was so pale. His brown eyes were so dark they looked black from my vantage point.

Everything else kept my attention.

Beneath his open leather trench coat were black clothes that clung to an athletic body like a second skin. I could see the muscles of his chest and abdomen through the material and my mouth watered.

His gaze flickered to me and my stomach flipped as I forced myself to look away and return to my book with renewed interest.

I saw out of the corner of my eye as a few of the popular girls in my class converged on him like a guided missile. They flirted and asked him to join them at their table.

Even though I was halfway across the restaurant, I could almost hear the desperation in their voices and I fought a smile as I pretended to read.

He remained quiet, and his full lips lifted into a small smile as I looked back up at him and realized he was still watching me.

One of the girls noticed his attention was elsewhere and turned to look. After realizing I held his attention, she turned back to him, "I wouldn't bother with her. She's damaged goods."

That caught his attention. For the first time, he looked at her with a questioning look in his gaze. "What do you mean?"

I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "First of all, she's anti-social. From what I understand her mother abandoned her and only her crazy sister is left. She's not far off." She giggled and once again asked him to sit with her.

Forcing myself to close my book — I was holding it so tight with white knuckles that the spine was in danger of splitting — I shoved it into my backpack and closed the zipper as I dropped a five on the table to cover the coffee I never drank.

When I made it to my feet and pulled my bag over my shoulder, he was standing in front of me and I flinched. "Jesus," I said with my accent in full force.

"Sorry to disappoint, but my name is Graham. I think Jesus went to Starbucks up the road."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. But then I caught the glares coming from the girls he spurned by approaching me despite their advances. "My mistake, I should go to there, then." My accent was still stronger, but that was the least of my worries.

Those dark eyes watched me, and he didn't move to let me pass. "You really are beautiful, you know that?" he said, low.

Tingles shot down my spine and my knees wobbled at his words. Not only did I know he was older — at least not a senior in high school, but I couldn't tell if his words were genuine or if he was after an easy score.

In the years since puberty struck, I heard my share of commentary about my looks. I was thin, a little on the tall side, and my hourglass figure combined with my ample chest seemed to catch every guy's attention.

I heard plenty of horror stories from my cousins about the seemingly genuine and innocent compliments. Those guys angled to lure us in and then take what they wanted from us. I didn't doubt my cousins.

But there was something about the way Graham looked at me. His eyes stayed on my face and didn't linger, which earned him a few points.

I cleared my throat, "Thanks, but Jesus is waiting for me, so I better go."

He smiled and I even caught the faintest chuckle from him and my breath caught in my throat.

I could look at that smile all day and never grow tired of it.

"Please, sit with me. You can find Jesus later." A devilish grin replaced his smile.

He filled his role of dark and mysterious well.

And I liked that.

Come to think of it, there wasn't anything about him I didn't like.

The warnings of my family time and time again repeated in my mind.

Never trust anyone.

But in that moment, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"I suppose he can wait a little," I relented, a faint grin playing at the edges my mouth.

His eyes dropped to watch and I couldn't help myself. My grin widened.

Despite the warning bells sounding off in the back of my mind, I sat down.

By that point, I knew I was doomed.

### Chapter 13

Memories: February sixteenth — The night Graham took my virginity....

Eight days after I met Graham, everything was different. My entire body thrummed with a nervous anticipation. Colors were more vivid than ever before. And every sensation was heightened in his presence.

We were walking down the beach of the Great Salt Lake with our fingers laced together and he turned to me as the sun faded across the horizon, casting an explosion of colors across the sky.

Though it was still early February, I wore a sundress with a thick sweater. The cozy warmth combined with the chill of the air only seemed to entice my senses. Graham said he loved that sundress. So I wore it for him.

The way he looked at me in that moment left me breathless. I knew I loved him the first night we met, but there he was, with his dark eyes searching mine.

"Zoe Kavanaugh, you're gorgeous," he breathed and bent down to kiss me.

I wasn't a novice when it came to kissing. But when Graham kissed me, it was like nothing I ever imagined.

My body forgot that it needed to breathe. His mouth was like ambrosia as his taste exploded across my tongue and I knew I never wanted to stop.

Pulling back before I wanted him to, I pouted and then froze, realizing I held the collar of his leather trench coat with white knuckles as I tried to pull him closer to me.

Whoops.

I chuckled as my mind came back to me. Graham grinned devilishly and pulled me toward the pier ahead of us. There was just enough clearance to walk beneath it on the beach, and most pedestrians preferred to walk around it rather than under it.

As soon as we were covered by shadow, offering us privacy, Graham pulled me up to the driest part of the beach and pushed me against one of the support columns before kissing me again.

I clawed at his chest first. Then I pulled at his jacket, before finally reaching up to his face to let my fingers slide over the ruggedness of his jaw. But when that offered no relief, I slid my fingers into his hair at the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Something that sounded like a mixture of a growl and groan escaped him as he deepened the kiss and I moaned breathlessly into his mouth.

But then he pulled back and held my face in his warm hands, searching my eyes. When my mind finally returned, I understood what was happening.

"I think I loved you the second I saw you," I breathed, and froze, realizing what I said.

A grin flashed across his pale face before he kissed me again, hard, and pushed the thick material of my sweater away.

His hands captured my breasts and teased my nipples while his tongue moved in a rhythm that only amplified the sensation to the point that it made my toes curl in my boots.

"I'm going to take you, Zoe" he breathed, dark eyes so intense it felt like he saw right through me. His voice sounded sultry and filled with promise.

Instead of waiting for me to respond, he continued to look at me, and his hands worked until his jeans were open. Then he moved my hands to touch him.

He felt even better than I expected, and it was like steel wrapped in silk. He was big, and it made me shudder with anticipation as my mouth watered.

A groan escaped him and then he kissed me again, with more fervor than before. I could feel the support column digging into my back from the force of Graham's body, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Instead of moving his hands back to my breasts, which were throbbing with every beat of my heart, anxiously awaiting his touch, he did something I didn't expect. He gripped the material of my sundress and pulled it up. Then he shoved my panties aside.

The feel of his fingers moving inside me was like nothing I ever imaged and my knees wobbled from the intensity of the sensation. I gasped into his mouth as my passion grew tenfold.

When his fingers slipped out and swirled around my clitoris, I nearly lost myself, but I was only able to hold on because Graham bit my lower lip, distracting me enough to keep me from crashing over the edge.

I was mindless, and when his strong arms lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his hips without thinking. With one thrust, he pushed all the way inside me and an alarm went off somewhere in the back of my mind.

But then it fell away as Graham started moving with perfect timing to my gasps for breath.

Before I even realized I was close, I came with the force of a freight train and bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming.

He groaned, but kept going. He increased his pace until he followed after me with his own release.

As my mind finally came back to me, I realized my mistake.

Oh, shit.

I froze and tried to keep calm as he pulled away from me, setting himself to rights.

It wasn't that I only knew Graham for eight days. It wasn't that I loved him, had sex with him for the first time — for the first time ever. It wasn't that he was ten years older than me.

It was that we fucked. Outside. Beneath the pier. And Graham wasn't wearing protection.

"Oh my god," I breathed with wide eyes and pulled my sweater around me.

Tears stung my eyes as he grinned at me in triumph. Then I turned and ran away as fast as my weak legs could carry me.

Behind me, I could hear him chuckling.

### Chapter 14

November fourth — After the night with Connor....

The sound of faint rain drops on my tent's nylon surface roused me from my sleep and my bleary eyes opened. The faintest hint of morning light was filtering through the beige material and I smiled.

I wasn't alone in my tent.

Memories of what happened during the night filled me as my mind jump started with wakefulness. And that was when I realized Connor was still sleeping next to me. Behind me, to be exact.

His arm was over my side, hand resting against my stomach and I could feel his soft breathing against the back of my neck through my hair.

Though he wasn't pressed against me, I could still feel his body heat and it just made my smile widen.

Despite knowing that Graham was fated to be my mate, what I felt for him before I changed into a witch didn't compare to what I felt for Connor.

At the time, my seventeen year old mind thought I was in love with the mysterious stranger. But there were signs all along that I failed to notice through my infatuation.

That night under the pier with Graham was unlike any I experienced in my life. That was both a good and bad thing. There was something about him that set me on fire.

But that didn't excuse the way he treated me. Even if I enjoyed it up until my mind returned and I realized what happened.

The overwhelming emotions in the immediate aftermath forced me to run from him, and he let me while he chuckled.

And yet, I still listened to him when he found me the next day. The concern in his features didn't reach his dark eyes, but there I stood. He told me he was infertile and didn't have any diseases, which was why he didn't bother with protection.

The more Graham talked, the more questions flashed across my mind. Like, why did he assume I was free of diseases? I was, but that wasn't the point. Or, why didn't he ask if we could have sex? Or why in the hell did he let me run away and then laugh behind my back as I ran?

Those questions stayed in my mind but I didn't voice them. I should have. I knew it, but I couldn't speak them.

Eventually, as he looked at me with those dark eyes, I ignored the warning bells in the back of my mind that said I needed to break free from him, no matter how alluring he was.

I was seventeen years old and Emily was all that remained of my family. But she was different, rarely sleeping, always on edge. Like she was haunted by something I couldn't see or fathom.

Loneliness and the need to feel loved was overwhelming, I wanted to belong to something. Even if I knew it wasn't right.

And Graham was my answer.

Just over a month later, with countless more red flags that I refused to acknowledge and even more encounters of insatiable sex, he took my sister from me and forced me to become a witch.

After all of that, there was Connor. He helped me, despite the state of the supernatural world and the dangers that came with it.

He was gentle. And he was kind.

Being with him that previous night was no different. Not only did he ask me several times if I was sure, his hands never roamed over me until I granted him access. Then there was what happened after.

There was no blank look in his eyes, no cold detachment that left me feeling worthless.

That was leaps and bounds over what I experienced with Graham.

And it did nothing but make me love my mentor more.

The smile faded from my lips and sadness washed over me as I realized the enormity of what happened with Connor. I was in love with him. Far above and beyond anything I ever felt for Graham.

But the dark witch still kept my sister hostage and he already threatened Connor and Shadow once.

How long until he would threaten me again?

Saving my sister was going to require doing exactly what Connor warned me not to do. I needed more power. With luck, I could figure out how to siphon that curse away from Graham, without taking anything else.

The key was doing it without darkening me. After discovering power sources that weren't supernatural, I was closer than ever to finding the solution to that problem.

I needed to find out more about those strange allies of the Earthen witches, and based on the entry I found from the late fifteenth century, their talents could be used in tandem with witchcraft to accomplish things witches couldn't on their own.

It was a lead. And that was better than nothing.

But either way, it would be going against what Connor told me. If he found out that I didn't plan to stop siphoning power from non-living things, he would never forgive me. I was hurting him just by lying to him.

I sighed and then I turned over to kiss the man I loved. Even though he was still half asleep, he still responded with a pleased groan.

As much as I loved Connor, Emily was my flesh and blood. The last living member of my family. I couldn't turn my back on her.

It was going to cost me everything to save her.

### Chapter 15

November eighteenth — The power of lightning....

Two weeks later — and just as many memorable nights with Connor — I woke to the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore from our room overlooking the beach of Palm Harbor, Florida. Off to the South, I could hear the rumbling thunder of an approaching tropical storm nearing the Gulf of Mexico. It was a slow moving storm and wouldn't arrive until the next day.

Light was beginning to filter through the windows and Connor was beside me. He was on his stomach facing away from me, but judging by his breathing and the contented purple aura that surrounded him, I knew he was still asleep.

I glanced around, but didn't see Shadow. The two hundred and fifty pound white werewolf left us alone more than ever before and I couldn't figure out why.

Maybe my relationship with Connor — or _arrangement_ as he liked to call it — was pushing him away.

A pang of sadness washed over me at the thought that I might be the reason Connor's best friend was pulling away. I didn't want that to happen.

I missed him too.

So I resolved that if the weather reports were right, we would play fetch on the beach with him before dinner that day.

I slipped out of bed and pulled on a fresh pair of matching bra and panties, jeans, and a blue shirt before pulling my long red hair into a pony tail at the back of my head. Then I stepped out of the room as silently as I could.

Before the door closed behind me, I took a quick glance at Connor's sleeping form. His perfect, lightly tanned skin was uninterrupted until the sheets covered him from his waist down. Even in his sleep, his long brown hair didn't look out of place.

With a click of the door, he disappeared from my sight. I turned around and headed toward the beach to run.

As the sounds of another roll of thunder passed overhead, I caught sight of Shadow's white fur, curled up on the sand. His aura was purple, as it always was, but he wasn't facing me, so I couldn't tell if he knew I was there.

That evening, after that game of fetch on the beach as the tropical storm rumbled in the distance, the three of us were in the motel room eating Chinese when Connor asked me a question I didn't expect.

"Are you going to tell me why you're researching things that have nothing to do with _others_?" He worked his chopsticks with ease and took another bite of Lo Mein, watching me. His aura was purple, so I couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

Shadow's gaze lingered on me for a moment before he started eating the pile of sweet and sour chicken in front of him again. Though his aura was unchanged, I caught the flash of distrust in his features before they cleared.

I sighed, "I didn't know those things were real. I find them interesting. That's all."

"Alright, tell me about it. I'm interested too."

I wasn't sure where he was going, and trying to hide my research would only make him more suspicious, so I shrugged. "Since those things aren't considered supernatural, there's not much in the vaults about it. But I've learned that they were sometimes used along with magic to amplify power."

Connor nodded and took another bite. When he swallowed, he asked, "So power is your topic of choice?"

"It's not what you think. You've always said anything is possible and I don't want to be blindsided by anything."

That much was true. One of the first lessons Connor ever told me was to never assume something wasn't real. Having an open mind was crucial to survival.

His chocolate eyes watched me for another moment and he nodded. "That's true, I did say that. But I didn't mean you needed to know everything. I only meant that you should anticipate anything."

I pushed my plate away and crossed my arms. "You're more powerful than I am, Connor. I'm so weak I can barely keep up with your lessons. How do you expect me to go along with _anticipate anything_? I can't defend myself or protect either of you — " I glanced at Shadow and then back to Connor, sighed, and gave up.

"Your power will grow over time. You haven't even been a witch for long. I've been one since I was fourteen. You can't keep searching for power that isn't yours."

I knew Connor turned when he was fourteen. Six years was a long time for a witch to survive, especially when he traveled with a werewolf for the latter half of it.

In the six months since we met, I learned enough to know that even when he was young, he was powerful.

Frustrating wasn't a powerful enough word to emphasize how it felt to only be able to cast small spells — like levitation, as he showed me a month before — and then being depleted of magic for hours.

I was useless the way I was, and I couldn't help my sister. But I couldn't tell Connor and Shadow. My eyes stung as I looked out the window and saw a small wave crest before washing up on the beach.

"Let's stop lying to each other, Connor. You know I'm not powerful enough to stay alive like this. It's only a matter of time before I get killed."

Without waiting for a reply, I stood up and walked out of the motel room. I relaxed a fraction when my feet sank into the warm sand and I turned left down the beach.

I wiped the tears that fell down my cheeks and started walking, watching the lightning in the distance. Connor didn't come after me. Neither did Shadow. And that just added to the sadness that overwhelmed me.

Once I walked long enough that I knew they wouldn't see me from the motel window, I sat down on the sand to cry.

Then I dug my hands into the sand and siphoned the warmth from it before walking back to our room.

When I stepped inside, Connor was sitting at the edge of the bed and Shadow was gone. The sad, dark blue of his aura undulated around him. "You were right and I was wrong."

I froze and waited. He stood up and took my hands. My eyes locked on his mouth as he spoke. "I can't change who you are. It's in your nature to want to protect us and I hate what you had to do because you lacked the ability to do anything else."

Tears filled my eyes at the memory of Graham and the price I paid to keep Connor and Shadow safe. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to keep the memory from overwhelming me.

Before I realized he let me go, Connor's hands wiped the tears from my cheeks. Then he grasped my face. A small smile lifted at the corners of his mouth. "We will make you stronger, but you need to trust me so we can do it the right way. Alright?"

A grim chuckle escaped from me. I trusted him with my life. And I loved him. But he didn't know. I wasn't about to tell him and jeopardize our arrangement.

I knew, deep down, that his efforts wouldn't help me like siphoning energy could, but I was willing to let him try.

Instead of responding, I nodded. Then I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to kiss me.

#

"You're in room three, right?" someone called from behind me as I closed the door to start my morning run. I paused, turning around. It was the motel manager — the Shelterer, one of the neutrals.

I smiled and nodded, noticing that Shadow was sleeping on the sand again. The woman approached me and handed me a small box.

"I'm glad I caught you. This was delivered a few minutes ago. Have a nice day," she smiled and turned to head back to the main office.

I looked down and read the delivery note. _Zoe Kavanaugh, c/o Palm Harbor Beach Motel_. Then the blood drained from my face as I saw the name of the sender.

Graham Abernathy.

I steeled myself and took another glance at Shadow, still facing away from me and opened the box.

My stomach churned as I saw what was inside. The tattooed symbol of the crescent moon I would recognize from anywhere was the first thing I saw.

The blood drained from my face as I realized what it was.

An image of my sister writing in her journal before our mother disappeared flashed across my mind. I saw the fresh tattoo of the crescent moon on her right index finger.

I rushed toward the office and tossed the box with Emily's pale finger into the trash before I ducked behind the building and threw up what little amount of food remained in my stomach from the night before.

Instead of running along the beach, I hid from sight at the other side of the motel and watched as the tropical storm reached Palm Harbor.

When it started to rain in torrents, I walked until the water of the gulf splashed over my feet. I flinched as a massive bolt of lightning struck the water a few hundred yards away and a loud crack of thunder sounded with it. I whispered, "Lasst den Blitz mich antreiben."

Let the lightning fuel me.

I stood there, feeling electricity crawl up my legs.

Before I realized what happened, I opened my eyes and saw Connor standing over me. I was laying on the wet sand with the water crashing over my legs.

"Jesus, Zoe, are you alright?"

Thoughts escaped me as I tried to remember what I was doing and then another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

Without hesitation, Connor bent down and picked me up. With one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees, he moved with ease away from the water and the wet sand into the motel room we shared.

I shivered against him, feeling colder than I ever thought possible and gripped the material of his shirt in my icy fingers. Before I answered, I saw an angry green mixed with fearful gray in his aura before pink started to seep into the edges.

In that moment, I knew he cared for me more than he ever admitted before, and I smiled as much as my weak muscles would allow. Every cell in my body screamed at me to tell him how I felt.

I love you, Connor.

Instead, I whispered, "I've never s-seen a storm over w-water before. It's b-beautiful. Like you."

Then everything went black.

### Chapter 16

December third — The awful truth of training....

We stayed in Palm Harbor for a few more days because Connor insisted I rest after being electrocuted by the storm. He didn't know what really happened, and I wasn't about to tell him.

I wasn't electrocuted. The power of the lightning that hit the water absorbed into my body. But outwardly, it looked the same.

After I took that much power, my body was overwhelmed with it. It was sweet and I reveled in Connor taking care of me. He checked my pulse every few hours to make sure I was fine, and I was.

When he was satisfied I was no worse for the wear, he suggested we make our way to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I didn't protest. It was a chance for us to find a secluded place in the mountains to do more training.

Along the way, I noticed something I didn't expect.

All that electricity I siphoned through the water was wearing off, and I never tried to use any magic after Connor carried me off the beach to safety.

That wasn't a good sign.

If the power wasn't used, it shouldn't wear off. At least, that was what the lore said about dark witches. Their power grew as they took more power. It never waned over time.

So why was the power I siphoned wearing off?

I pondered that as the three of us traveled north to Gatlinburg. And at the same time, I worked on strengthening my friendship with Shadow.

In my efforts, I talked to him, scratched in his favorite places, and even tossed around the red ball that Connor spelled to travel further distances — just for the werewolf, because he loved to play. But no matter what I tried, Shadow still didn't seem to care for my presence.

When we finally made it to the cabin in the mountains fifteen days after we left Palm Harbor, I asked Connor about it when Shadow left for a run in the woods.

"What am I doing wrong?" I asked with my accent stronger than I wanted, which I knew betrayed the depth of my emotion more than my aura. I stared out the window into the small clearing that surrounded the cabin.

"Did I ever tell you the story of how I met him?" Connor asked from behind me.

I shook my head, but I didn't turn around.

"He rescued me from some rogue werewolves looking for dinner, Instead of joining them, he scared them off and then shifted long enough to tell me his name, and I've never seen him in his human form since."

That caught my attention. I turned around and crossed my arms in front of me. "Did he say anything else?"

"Nope," he said. "I didn't think he would stay with me, and it took me a year to realize he wasn't going to leave. Then it took another few months to figure out he liked to be treated like a dog and not a person. We took care of each other."

He took a step forward and reached for my upper arms. With a light squeeze, he said, "Give him time. It's not easy to trust in this world."

I nodded and he grinned.

"Ready to work on your magic?" he asked.

I nodded again and followed him out of the cabin.

He turned around and handed me a sheathed knife. "This is for protection. You need to practice with it, eat with it, shower with it, and sleep with it — "

I cut him off, "So basically it needs to replace you?" I fought a grin as I tucked it inside my boot.

His eyes narrowed at the same time his aura exploded with light blue. Instead of responding, he threw me over his shoulder. I squealed as he carried me back inside the cabin.

After an enjoyable and insatiable hour inside, we spent three more hours training outside. My hands were on my knees and I was panting like I ran a marathon — instead of learning some basic self-defense moves combined with a few German incantations to protect myself against magical attacks.

The magic failed every time, because I couldn't cast spells without complete concentration. That meant if I was in the middle of a fight, I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing.

And that did nothing but make me angry. At everything. Including Connor.

I wasn't sure why, but I was. And I lifted my head to glare at him. Confusion flashed across his features and he stepped out of his defensive position. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" I snapped the words back at him. "What's wrong is that I can't do anything with magic while I'm fighting. And I'm not strong enough to fight you, which means just about anyone else can overpower me, too."

"It takes time — " he began, but I cut him off.

"If I'm attacked, no matter how you look at it, I'm going to die because I'm too fucking weak." As I shouted the words, I realized my accent was the strongest I heard in years, and it just seemed to add fuel to my anger. I turned around and tried to fight the tears that stung my eyes.

Before I registered he moved, Connor turned me around and gripped my shoulders. His dark eyes searched mine. "This isn't going to happen overnight, Zoe. You have to trust me on this. You will learn to defend yourself, both physically and with your magic."

I wanted to believe his words. I really did. But I caught the colors in his aura before they cleared to purple. I saw the gray, dark blue, and green. That told me he was lying to me. Or at least that he doubted his words.

He was a combination of scared, sad, and either angry or undecided about something. But either way, it told me he didn't think I could protect myself.

Without responding, I left him in the small clearing and went inside the cabin. If I had any chance of surviving long enough to save my sister and protect myself from Graham Abernathy, I was going to need more than what Connor hoped to provide.

That meant I needed more power and I needed to find the solution that would win my sister back, even though I knew it would mean losing Connor.

Or I was going to die trying.

### Chapter 17

As much as I didn't want him to, Connor followed me inside the cabin and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, hugging me from behind. I was overwhelmed with grief that I would fail my sister, and I would ruin the life I built with Connor and Shadow.

But he didn't say a word as I tried and failed to keep the tears from falling down my face.

After about five minutes, he said, low, "I know how hard this is for you, and I'm sorry that it's not something we can fix overnight. But you need to trust me."

"Don't you get it?" I snapped and spun around to face him. My red hair flung into my face with the momentum of my turn, but I didn't stop. "I grew up with a large family, Connor," I cried.

"I know," he said, with more concern on his face than before. And I hated the sad, dark blue that filled his aura.

I sucked in a breath and forced myself to calm down before speaking again. "I didn't know they were witches. And I don't know how powerful they were. But one by one, they were all taken from me. Now I have no one."

Without realizing what I was doing, I sat down on the threadbare couch that looked like it was placed in that cabin in the seventies and then forgotten. Dust particles exploded around me as I landed and the light streaming through the window illuminated them, making them look like hundreds of fireflies.

I sniffed, looked back up at Connor, and spoke without thinking. "I haven't been completely honest with you."

Oh, shit.

"So tell me," he said and sat down next to me, pulling up his leg to face me.

Instead of turning toward him, I stared into the stream of sunlight and tried to figure out what to say. "I knew nothing of what this world was like because my family kept me from it."

That much was true. I learned enough to know that after the loss of the Earthen witches — the royal protectors — the world crumbled. Most _others_ were forced to spend their days alone.

"Despite the dangers, my family stayed together. But then they started disappearing. It began with my grandmother. No one talked about it, but after a while, I noticed a pattern."

"Go on," Connor said, resting his hand on my knee.

"They were disappearing in order," I sighed. "My sister is only two years older than I am, and she was the last to go."

"So you think the man that," he paused and started again, "you think he's behind it?"

"The day he showed up at the vault," I paused and started again, "he restored my memory of the day he took my sister. He forced me to turn, and told me the only way to help her was if I removed a curse set on him."

I sighed. I wanted nothing more than to tell Connor that Graham was my mate, but I couldn't do it, and that hurt me more than anything.

Connor shifted a little closer and his leg pressed against my thigh as he reached for my hand. "What kind of curse?"

Five minutes later, Connor's shoulders were hunched in grim resignation. When his brown eyes met mine, I understood what he was thinking.

I froze.

How could I be so stupid?

"Oh, no," I breathed, but Connor stayed quiet.

Graham was testing me, forcing me to develop my magic so I would be more powerful. If I was strong, it would give him more of a power boost when he took my magic and my soul, my essence along with it.

In that moment, I realized his curse was a lie.

"The curse isn't real."

Connor nodded. "I'm so sorry, Zoe," he said, low, but my mind kept going at full speed and I didn't register his words. Finally, he said, "He's been using your sister against you."

A grim chuckle escaped me as more tears started to fall. "So you knew?"

"About the finger? Yes. Shadow found it and showed it to me. I didn't know what it meant until now. He was using your family against you. That explains the research and the need to grow your power. He played your ignorance about our world and magic against you."

I nodded.

"He's been motivating you this entire time. To save your sister, you needed a lot of magic. Then he threatened me...," he trailed off. "It was meant to motivate you."

A small sob escaped me and he squeezed my hand. "I think the only reason he didn't kill me that day was because I wasn't powerful enough. He knew I would do anything to protect you." I dropped my head as a wave of sadness washed over me. "I hoped Emily was still alive. Now, I'm not so sure," I ended in a whisper.

"That's the answer then," Connor said and pulled me around to face him.

"What?"

"If he thinks you aren't strong enough, he won't try to take your power."

If only.

"I don't think so. He threatened you, Connor. He knows you're powerful and eventually he's going to come for us."

He smoothed my red hair back away from my face and his dark brown eyes searched mine. "Then let me protect you."

My eyes were swimming with tears. "You would do that for me?"

"You risked your life to protect me. It's my turn to do that for you. I'm strong enough. If he finds us, let him think you're weak. He'll focus his attention on me."

"But he can't think that we know. I have to at least keep up the pretenses that I'm growing my power."

His gaze dropped to our hands for a moment as he thought about my words. "You're right. We'll keep training, and you keep doing research." He sighed and took my face in his hands. "Can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Promise me you'll stop siphoning power."

Another grim chuckle escaped me as I realized what he was talking about. "You knew about that too, huh?"

"Of course I did. I'm not an idiot. I saw you walk out into the water right after Shadow showed me the finger. That's when I realized how desperate you were. Taking on that much power can kill you."

I blinked. Not only did I not know that siphoning lightning could kill me, but that just told me how much he cared for me. He didn't want me hurt, or killed. That made my heart hurt even more.

"But I did notice something strange afterward," he mused.

"What did you notice?"

Five minutes and an experiment later, I was speechless. The words that Connor spoke were the last I expected to hear, but it was useful information.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," I said at last. "I didn't want you to get caught in the middle of it."

"But we're in this together. It's not just you against him. It's you and me and Shadow against him. Promise me you'll stop siphoning power and let us protect you?"

It was hard to fathom just how much I loved the man sitting in front of me. Especially in that moment. He was willing to fight for me, and so was Shadow. That meant more to me than either of them knew.

And as much as I wanted to believe Connor could stand against a dark witch that took magic from so many, I couldn't take that chance. I couldn't let them die for me. If my sister was dead, they were all I had left.

Searching Connor's eyes, I wished, as I wished a thousand times before, that he was my mate and not Graham. But fate could be cruel.

Instead, I embraced the love I felt for him and what he was willing to do for me, and I pushed out the guilt that threatened to overwhelm me, hoping my aura responded in kind. Then, I forced a smile.

"I promise," I lied.

### Chapter 18

December fifth — Rifts and motivations....

All it took was two days. Two days before those care packages started to arrive again. I was certain that the box sitting on the porch railing contained another body part belonging to my sister.

Hugging my arms, as I looked at it in horror through the filmy window of the cabin's living room, I stepped outside without bothering to grab my coat and moved to the edge of the porch.

I couldn't figure out how Graham knew where we were. Was it based on the pull we felt as mates? Or was he was using a spell to find us? The strangest thing was, I never felt him move closer.

The breath I didn't realize I was holding left me in a rush and I forced myself to think about something else. I refused to give up hope that my sister was alive. It was a long shot, but until I knew for sure she was dead, I wouldn't stop trying to help her.

Graham wanted to be dark and powerful. Power, after all, was his ultimate goal. Restoring him to light wasn't something he wanted. I was shocked it took me so long to figure that out.

It was only a matter of time before he arrived to collect on the power Connor and I could offer him. As much as I wanted to trust that Connor and Shadow were capable of defeating him when that happened, I couldn't sit back and watch. I could never forgive myself if they died.

If they died, it would be my fault.

It was a no win situation.

And that left me no choice.

Despite the warning bells that told me not to open the box, I did anyway. I needed to know what was inside.

I stood there on the porch, staring at the cold, blue finger I knew belonged to my sister as the bitter wind picked up and heavy snow began to fall.

Grim resignation washed over me.

Connor and Shadow were collecting fire wood in preparation for the storm, and there I was, standing in the freezing cold with snow and frigid air whipping into my face as I stared at my sister's finger and tried not to cry.

I put the lid back on the box and put it back on the railing before I stepped off the porch and stood underneath the torrent of the snowstorm.

Shivering, I looked up into the sky as the first of my tears began to fall.

I hated that everyone I ever loved was taken from me. I hated that I couldn't trust that my friends could protect me. I hated that I lied and promised something I couldn't do.

I loved Connor too much to risk his life.

Graham was coming, sooner, rather than later.

And I needed to be ready.

As nothing more than a whisper on the bitter wind, I breathed, "Die Kraft des Windes, treibe mich an."

Power of the wind, fuel me.

From all around, the wind hit me from all sides, and instead of blustering and blowing around me, it blew into my body, chilling me to the bone.

When it was done, the snow fell like thick cotton balls and it was hard to see beyond the clearing into the woods, but the wind was calm. It wouldn't take long before it would return again, but I took enough.

That was when I heard the twig snap off to my right and I turned to look with more tears falling from my eyes, threatening to freeze on my cheeks.

Connor and Shadow stood there, barely visible through the snow. But I saw the look on their faces. I saw the deep, dark blue that undulated around them as they realized what I did before their auras cleared to purple.

Then I watched as Connor's face hardened.

They knew what happened. I broke my promise.

I knew they would never forgive me, and in that one moment, I knew I lost their trust.

If I didn't already hurt enough over everything that was happening, my betrayal hurt them.

And that hurt more than anything else.

### Chapter 19

December twelfth — Crafting a plan....

A week went by in silence.

The more I tried to talk to Connor, the less he spoke. And Shadow was more aloof than before. If I couldn't see the mistrust in his sharp brown eyes before, I could see them in those days after they saw me siphon the wind of the snowstorm.

No matter how I tried to explain why I felt like I needed to do it — I didn't want them to be killed because of me, I wanted to protect them and have a fighting chance to stand against the dark witch — they didn't listen.

When I walked up to Connor after seeing the look on his face, he cut me off as anger flared in his aura with a pulsing green.

"You made a promise, Zoe. Did that mean nothing to you? What you're doing is wrong, don't you see that?"

Without waiting for me to reply, he went inside the cabin and loaded up the firewood beside the hearth in the open living space.

Then he moved his bags out of the bedroom and said he'd sleep on the couch.

Trust wasn't easy to come by, especially in the world we lived in. Graham Abernathy was coming for my power, and Connor's too. But there were other dangers out there.

It was a miracle Connor and Shadow accepted me like they did. And I was doing everything to alienate myself from them when all I wanted to do was protect them.

I was tired of being helpless. Helpless to save my family. To stop Graham. To cut off that pull or stop whatever he was doing to find us.

All I wanted was to be able to stand on my feet with confidence.

Not just to protect myself with magic, but to protect Connor and Shadow. They didn't deserve the wrath of Graham, but since they were helping me, I was certain he wouldn't let them live once he came for me.

And though I knew Connor still cared for me, he was tired of trying to outrun Graham. And, as much as I hated to admit it, he was growing tired of me.

When he suggested we make our way to Mount Vernon, Illinois for a few days before heading south, I didn't protest. I considered myself lucky they weren't leaving me behind. At least they weren't giving up on me yet.

On one hand, I wanted to stop Graham and protect my only friends, but on the other, I wanted to do as Connor asked and leave the power alone. To trust that he could handle a dark witch that killed and took the power of an untold amount of other witches.

When Connor showed me how powerful he was back in the Gatlinburg cabin, I didn't know if he could compare to the level of Graham's dark magic.

If he couldn't, then he would die.

I couldn't take that chance. No matter how much I loved or trusted him.

Based on Connor's behavior the last several days, and my increased time spent contemplating alternatives for power and consulting Guardians of Information and their vaults, I wasn't finding anything I didn't already know.

Other than siphoning elemental power, which proved to be effective on a temporary basis — and didn't result in me darkening — I found something promising.

With an idea in mind, I crafted a plan. I only hoped Connor would agree.

So, that night, I asked him to take a walk with me. He agreed, but still looked at me with caution. But what was worse, I could see the hurt beneath it.

He pulled on his wool coat and I followed him out of the motel.

After we walked in silence for a few minutes, I stopped and faced the man I loved. Before I spoke, I snuggled further into my parka as the snow began to fall and the sun started dancing across the horizon behind me.

"I know you don't want me to siphon magic, and I'm sorry I broke my promise to you." I raised my hand for him to let me finish. "That doesn't change the fact that I can't just sit back and let you fight this battle for me. Can you at least understand that?"

His deep brown eyes searched mine and after several long moments, he spoke. "Why can't you trust that I can protect you?"

"He killed people, Connor. Nine witches — ten if Emily is dead — that's just my family. That's a lot of magic. And I doubt they're the only ones he's killed over the years."

Taking a small step toward him, I went on. "I trust that you want to protect me, but I don't know if you're strong enough to fight against that kind of power." I felt the sting of tears as they started to threaten in my eyes, but I forced them down. "I think I've already proved that I would do anything to keep you safe."

"Why?"

Pink started to bleed into the edges of the purple in his aura as a wave of exhilaration and hope flared within me.

"Because I'm in love with you," I breathed.

He watched me for a few long moments as his aura shifted from pink, to orange mixed with red, and then to gray. I understood why. From the beginning, it was clear he didn't want us to be anything more than physical, but his aura gave him away.

If he cared for me as much as I did for him, he wouldn't admit it.

But beneath it all, he was afraid. I would die to protect him. I would even darken if it meant keeping him alive. He knew it.

And that scared him.

His hand lifted toward me and his thumb brushed across my cheek before he leaned down to kiss me. It was slow and gentle, telling me what he refused to speak.

For me, that was enough.

When he pulled back and dropped his hand, I smiled at him.

I could see he was uncomfortable with my words, but I wasn't going to let it stop me from telling him what I planned.

"Does it make more sense now?" I asked.

"Yeah," he sighed. "So tell me, what's your plan?"

"I know that siphoning elemental energy is only temporary, and I understand that it's wrong, but it's _something_ , an advantage he won't expect. And we don't know when he'll show up."

That was a lie. I could feel Graham because of that pull that meant we were mates, but I wasn't going to tell Connor about that. It was obvious that Graham was tracking us and knew where we were.

He signed, "I can deal with it. But I'd like to find an alternative sooner rather than later."

I nodded. "I found something," I said with my accent growing sharper. "I don't know if it'll work, but I think it's worth a try."

"What is it?"

"Well...," I hedged. "It's not supernatural, so if it works, it's not something that would darken me."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, but the problem is that there's not much information about it in the vaults _because_ it's not supernatural. That also means it might be a little difficult to learn and utilize. But I think it's worth a try."

"Alright."

"You said you wanted to go south, right?"

He nodded.

"How do you feel about New Orleans?"

### Chapter 20

December seventeenth — Sacrifices....

Like most nights since our relationship began — if sex was even considered a relationship — Connor and I didn't sleep much that night. And as much as I tried not to think about him, Graham kept popping into my thoughts.

After the first night with Graham beneath the pier, when he took my virginity, the nights that followed weren't much different. Though I never denied him, there was a part of me that felt used.

Though my body responded to Graham on a primal level, he never focused on me. Being with Connor was different.

Where Graham took, Connor savored. And that was enough to make me see how wrong Graham was for me, even while I was a clueless human.

Though Connor was clear from the beginning that our arrangement was physical only, he still took his time, making sure I was thoroughly satisfied. While we were together, it didn't feel physical. And more than my body that responded to him.

It took us five days to make it to New Orleans, and each night was the same. The closer we made it to our destination the more I could see the hope beginning to show in Connor's features. The white that sometimes bled into the contented purple in his aura gave him away.

I knew how he felt. He didn't want me to siphon power. Yet he seemed to understand that I couldn't sit back and do nothing.

He _needed_ our destination to be our salvation.

The only problem was that Graham followed us.

That pull in my stomach never faded, and it never increased. So I knew he wasn't far behind. I wasn't sure if he was trying to stay close to find out what I was doing, or if he planned to confront me again.

On the last day of our travels, I pondered the viability of my plan.

Accessing a different kind of power wasn't going to be easy. But if I was going to learn anything useful about it, I needed to go where they lived. If there was going to be information about accessing it, I would find it there.

That Thursday morning when the French Quarter started to come to life with music and tourists, I found a Voodoo practitioner in one of her shops and asked for help.

Two hours later, I left her shop feeling deflated and lost. I walked to the motel where Connor and Shadow waited just outside the busy part of the city and hope flared in their auras for a moment before they took in my features.

Before I said the first words, they knew our plan wasn't going to work.

After ten minutes of explaining what happened, I finished with, "Basically, she told me it would take years to learn it, if I could even access it at all. When I asked her for help, even offering money, she refused."

"We can ask someone else, then," Connor said.

I shook my head. "We can try, but I think she spoke on behalf of all of them."

A deep, dark blue undulated in his aura as his shoulders fell in defeat. "Alright," he mumbled, staring at the ground.

"Alright," he repeated, looking up at me. "I know how much you don't like it, but you need to trust that we can protect you. We _can_ protect you."

He glanced down at Shadow. The two hundred and fifty pound werewolf lifted his head in agreement, with determination in his features and intelligence in his light brown eyes.

"Can you trust us?"

I wanted nothing more than to trust the man and his werewolf. But I couldn't take the chance. I didn't want them to die trying to protect me when all of it — all the danger that followed us — was because of me.

When I didn't answer, Shadow ambled off toward the tree that stood off to my right and circled before he dropped to the ground and sighed.

"Why don't we go inside, and I'll distract you for a while?" Connor wriggled his eyebrows at me.

I couldn't help myself. I giggled, "Do you always think about sex?"

Something in Connor's expression changed. I couldn't place what it was. But before I could think about it any further, he countered, "Do you always think about power?"

My smile faded from my lips and I squared my shoulders. "That's not fair, Connor. I'm not strong enough and you know it," I snapped.

Without another word, I turned around and walked toward the library that was only minutes away. There had to be something there that could help me. I couldn't let Connor risk his life for mine.

I would rather die.

In that moment, I realized, I probably would.

### Chapter 21

While I was in the Library's back room and the expanse that was the vault of information, I lost track of time. I wasn't studying. I was grieving.

I didn't know if Emily was still alive. But I didn't think Graham was the kind of man to leave a light witch sitting around when he was toying with me.

It hurt to acknowledge that in my mind.

Emily is probably dead.

But until I found out for sure, I wasn't going to stop trying to protect myself and the last two souls that mattered to me.

It hurt worse thinking that my refusal to stop my quest for more power was pushing them away. I already lost my entire family. The last thing I wanted was to lose Connor and Shadow in the process.

They were all I had left in the world, and I was doing a fine job of making sure I would end up alone, or dead, with their lives on my hands as well.

Voodoo was the only alternative that could help us. With that hope crushed, we were out of options. Time wasn't a luxury. It was only a matter of time before Graham found me, and when that happened, I would have to fight him.

And I knew I would fail.

How could I stand against him and survive in the process? How could Connor defeat him?

The odds were stacked against us and I didn't know what else to do.

I took a deep breath, lifted my hand, I whispered, "Lasst die Elektrizität mich antreiben."

Let the electricity fuel me.

The fluorescent lights in the vault flickered as power rushed up my arm and I absorbed the electricity that flowed through the library. It wasn't as potent as lightning, but it also wasn't enough to knock me out. I considered that a win on my part.

By the time the magic in the room fell away, my eyes were closed and I felt it rushing through my body, making me feel feverish, like adrenaline was rushing through my veins instead of blood.

I reveled in the sensation.

Then I sat down and started writing in my grimoire.

"Well, well, well," a familiar masculine Australian voice said from the entrance to the vault and my eyes snapped up.

Ice slid down my spine as I realized that nothing about the pull in my stomach changed.

That terrified me.

How could I not notice him?

With my pen frozen over the page of my grimoire, I lifted my head and looked up at the dark witch that was my mate.

Black undulated around Graham like a dark shroud and I could see the hatred in his nearly black eyes as he glared at me.

"Zoe, I've come for the remedy to my little problem. I've been generous in giving you the time to find it."

Keeping my face as clear as possible, I put down my pen and stood up so he wasn't looking down at me. Somewhere, deep down, it felt like if I stayed sitting, he was going to be the one in charge.

And I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Light blue flashed at the edges of Graham's aura as I saw the glint of humor in his eye before it cleared. I wasn't sure what that meant, but that was the least of my worries.

"I take it you've been close this entire time?" I asked, amazed at how my voice stayed strong and steady.

Graham smiled. "It was too easy cloaking this little connection of ours. Though I'll admit, it did make it easier to track you."

I knew as much, but he was gloating. I was going to let him bask in his brilliance for as long possible while I tried to figure out what to do.

"Let me ask you something," I mused, but didn't wait for him to respond. "You killed my sister the night you forced me to turn, didn't you?"

A small, sly smile spread on his lips but he didn't answer.

My heart sank. That was answer enough. Connor and Shadow were all I had left to protect. "And there was no curse?"

His smile widened.

"You wanted me to develop my power so you could take from me."

"Why did you try to hide from me? You knew I could find you."

"I was trying to figure out how to stop you."

"How is that working for you?" he sneered.

I refused to answer him, which only made his smile widen.

My time was up. Graham was done waiting.

"Well, I've got bad news for you," I began with my accent growing sharper. "I don't have much power, even after all this time, so whatever you gain from me will be weak."

"Ah, but another witch is waiting a few minutes away, Zoe. And _he_ is quite powerful. That will make up for your failure."

Shit.

"So you plan to take my power, my soul, and do the same to Connor?"

Instead of answering me, he tilted his head to the side.

I nodded, realizing that asking Connor to help me was the worst decision I ever made. I unwittingly made him a target. And if he died because of me, I would never forgive myself.

That was when I realized I wouldn't have the opportunity to forgive myself. I took a deep breath and let it out.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Zoe," Graham began. "I kill you now, or I take the witch and his pet first. Either way, I'm not leaving until the three of you are dead."

The blood drained from my face. That was an impossible choice. Did I want to watch Graham kill Connor and Shadow, or did I want to die trying to stop him?

It wasn't a choice at all.

Graham's grin widened. "So which is it going to be?"

### Chapter 22

I smiled back at the man that was supposed to be my mate. But it wasn't just a smile. It was a show of teeth.

Graham's grin faded as confusion flashed across his features. My bravado wasn't something he expected. And to be honest, I didn't know where it came from either. But it was working.

Purple flared in Graham's aura as he tried to assess my power level, and I returned it, searching his.

It wasn't difficult for a witch to gauge the power level of other witches, but that came to my advantage. When Graham searched my power, he never felt the electricity I siphoned.

Because I wasn't dark.

That was the ace up my sleeve.

When Connor told me he knew I siphoned the lightning from Palm Harbor, he revealed that he never detected a change in my power level, despite knowing it was there. As much as I knew he didn't like my flirtation with the darkness, I could tell that he saw it as an advantage.

Then he taught me how to assess the power level of other witches.

Connor was more powerful than I ever imagined.

At the time, I didn't know how powerful Graham was.

But when I searched him, I was shocked at what I found.

Even though he was dark, and amassed power from every witch he killed, he didn't feel as powerful as Connor.

I wasn't sure how that was possible, or if he was tricking me, but I wasn't going to take the chance that Connor could stop him.

So, I took a deep breath and dropped my magic. Then I closed my grimoire, trying my best to act as nonchalant as possible.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw anger flash into Graham's aura and I fought back a grin.

Then I looked up at him.

"If you want them, you'll have to go through me."

Magic filled the room and it felt oily and hot against my skin as Graham waved his hand. The table that stood between us flew into the wall and broke into pieces while my grimoire thumped to the floor beneath it.

I forced myself to stay where I was, despite every alarm bell in my body telling me to run for my life. Then he closed the distance between us and his hands wrapped around my neck, cutting off my airway before I could react.

He kept moving, pushing me backward.

I collided with a bookshelf with a loud crash and felt books falling to the floor as Graham's strong hands tightened further.

My nails clawed at his hands as I struggled to breathe. Off in the distance I thought I heard a howl, but I wasn't sure.

I was out of time. Out of options.

There was only one thing I could do.

My neck felt cold as magic poured out of my body. I reacted on instinct, shoving the heels of my palms into his chest.

With a grunt, Graham's grip on my throat loosened, just enough for me to let out a whisper.

"Einfrieren des Geistes."

Freeze your mind.

Graham froze with his hands still around my neck, and his magic stopped. I could see him fighting against the spell, and I needed to act.

Squirming in his grip, I reached for my boot and the knife tucked inside, but I was pinned to the bookshelf and couldn't lift my leg. As sweet air filled my lungs, grim resignation washed over me. I was on my own and Graham was going to kill me if I didn't kill him first.

Finish it!

Graham's face contorted into a combination of disgust and contempt.

My time was up.

Without thinking, I grabbed Graham's face with my hands and breathed, "Nimm alles."

Take it all.

Power rushed up my arms and I broke out into a sweat as Graham's magic filled me.

Before I realized it was over, Graham's grip slipped away from my neck and he fell to the floor, revealing Connor at the entrance to the vault. Sadness and fear overpowered his aura, and shock was written on his face.

I was still breathing heavy, amazed I survived.

And then I realized what I did as I looked down and saw Graham's lifeless body and realized his black aura was gone.

I killed him?

Oh, god, I killed him!

Nonononononono.

Shudders wracked through me as I felt the foreign power fill me. It made me feel powerful for the first time since I became a witch. But that was all I felt. My head fell forward and my hair curtained around my face.

I lifted my hands and watched as my rosy complexion paled so much, I looked like I was dead.

Then, I watched as my red hair darkened to black.

What have I done?

My eyes locked with Connor's and the horror on his face shifted to pain before it hardened as he accepted what I did.

I was dark.

But I didn't feel dark.

I felt the same as I always felt.

Connor looked at me one last time before he turned and left.

Tears stung my eyes as I ran after him.

### Chapter 23

No matter how much I tried to tell him I was the same person and I still loved him, Connor stayed quiet. Seeing me darken was the last thing he wanted and it broke my heart to see all the pain he tried to hide as he made his way to our motel room.

After he stepped inside, he grabbed his bags and turned around. I was standing in the doorway, pleading with my eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you," I said, holding out my hands in the universal signal for surrender. "I still love you, Connor."

"You refused to trust me and look what happened to you. You're dark, Zoe. If you love me, then let me go."

Defeated, I stepped to the side as he walked out without another word. He walked away with Shadow by his side as the sun crossed the horizon.

Then I crumpled to the floor.

An hour later, I went back to the library. Even though I was still crying, I informed the Guardian of what happened, and she agreed to call a Cleanser on my behalf to take care of Graham's body.

The gentle old woman could see that I turned, and instead of looking at me with a warm smile as she did earlier that day, she looked sad with a hint of fear in her eyes. That hurt me on a deep level. Anyone that knew of _others_ would never look at me the same again.

I walked back to the vault and saw Graham's body on the floor among the debris of wood and books.

Once upon a time, I was infatuated with him, even though it was all a lie and I could feel that it was wrong. Fate even made him my mate. Being dark made him evil, and he never treated me the way Connor did.

After I searched his pockets and the contents of his wallet, I left the cash and kept two items.

A receipt and a key.

The ink on the receipt was faded, but it was for a temperature controlled storage unit in Salt Lake City, Utah. The emblem on the receipt matched the key's engraving, along with a number, 234. That was my first lead to my sister.

I knew the chances that she was still alive were slim, but I needed to know for sure. With one last look at Graham's body, I picked up my grimoire and left the library. A few minutes later, I packed my bag, checked out of the motel, and took a cab to the airport.

The plane landed at three in the morning, but I wasn't ready for sleep. I took a cab to the twenty-four hour storage facility and found Graham's unit among the maze.

When I opened the door, I found chest freezers lining the walls and in rows in the middle of the space. Each one hummed as they worked to keep their contents frozen.

One by one, I opened them.

I found people I didn't recognize.

And every woman in my family.

Including Emily.

Her face was frozen in fear and her mutilated body made me sick to my stomach.

I counted over thirty dead witches.

Everyone I ever loved as a child was dead, entombed in chest freezers in a storage unit rented by a dark witch.

Like frozen trophies.

I grieved them all. Especially Emily. I tried to save her, but she was dead before I knew she was in danger.

One man was responsible for the loss of everyone I ever loved.

My family. Shadow. Connor. I risked everything for them.

Though I saved my friends, they would never forgive me. I was dark. I killed the man I thought I loved before he forced me to become a witch. The man that was supposed to be my mate.

Killing someone was the hardest thing I ever did. But I did it out of love, not for power.

The strangest thing was — I still didn't feel dark. I felt like me.

I felt like someone forced to sacrifice everything for the people she cared about.

Even though I failed my family, and despite the fact that Connor probably hated me, I needed something to live for.

#

This is my last entry in this grimoire, and I'm leaving it atop the freezer that holds my sister. And though I know no one will read these pages until after my death, this is my legacy.

For my sister, Emily. I tried to save you.

I'll leave the door to the storage unit for someone to discover. I'll walk out into the cool morning and fight the sting of tears in my eyes.

Playing my part as a dark witch, I'll gather power — without taking lives.

My life will be about keeping Connor and Shadow safe. I'm finally strong enough to protect myself. Strong enough to protect them. Even from themselves.

After all, dark is better than dead.

At least I can use it for good for as long as I can.

Connor is worth it.

The End
Appendix

(Please note: This is not a comprehensive listing. Only areas relevant to this book are covered.)

Auras

Colors and Emotions

Pink to Red – intensity of love and/or desire

Orange – pride, amazement

Green – indecision or anger

Light Blue to Dark Blue – ranges from humor to sadness

Purple – contentment

White – hope

Gray – fear

Black – evil

Others

**Witches** – confined by moon magic which requires the use of traditional spell casting, which commonly includes: chanting (most commonly in German due to the long history of its use with spell casting); elements such as blood, which acts as a binding agent, connecting something to the caster. Defined as either light (good) or dark (evil). In rare cases, witches may possess Earthen traits.

**Dark Witches** – emit black auras, and they are the only _others_ that exhibit that color. They are often after power and will do anything they can to obtain it. The preferred method is through siphoning magic from other witches, including the soul, or essence, which holds the most magic. This results in killing the witch. They typically utilize the types of spells that will assist them in obtaining more power, something they desire, or simply to cause general havoc.

**Earthens** – ruled over the supernatural community and kept the peace before their eradication in the seventeenth century by the human hunters called Malleus Dei Maleficarum. They were not confined by moon magic, and could use will to use magic. Other traits include, but not limited to: _shield_ (automatic protection against magic meant to harm or kill), drawing _others_.

**All** _Others_ – not fertile unless they want to be, which means utilizing some kind of ritual or spell to become fertile. Or, as is the case with Earthens, or witches that possess will, they need to _want_ it. Often, _others_ have a mate – a supernatural soul mate – and will feel a pull toward that person. That pull will never fade. Due to the nature of the world, most mates stay apart either to protect each other or out of the danger the other presents. In rare cases, they will remain together despite the odds.

Neutrals

**Guardians of Information** – librarians maintain the lore on all _others_ in vaults of information. These vaults are often incomplete, but the librarians will update information as necessary. They also keep track of current events in the supernatural world. If someone asks them about the lore or for information they have, they are required to share it.

**Shelterers** – innkeepers, motel, hotel and other lodging managers offer safe places to stay with anonymity. Typically this means that anyone staying in these locations are protected from attack (from both the Malleus Dei Maleficarum and _others_ such as dark witches), but this is not always honored.

**Cleaners** – dry cleaning service managers and other cleaning business managers will assist when an accidental (or intentional) death occurs that should be kept from humans. If asked, will create a scene to assist in allowing an _other_ to flee, or will clean clothing without question (as is the case with blood).

**All Neutrals** – are only the managers or librarians. No assistants or lower level employees are aware of the supernatural world. Payment is not required, but donations are appreciated when cost is incurred.

###
Thank You

Zoe's descent into darkness was always a story I wanted to tell, and fans agreed. She's the one we love to hate, but one question that plagued everyone — even me — was this:

What could have happened to make her so bad?

I wasn't expecting what I discovered. There's much more than meets the eye when it comes to Zoe, and I very much enjoyed learning more about her.

Sometimes people are faced with impossible circumstances and they have to make the best of what they have available to them. In the end, all is lost anyway. No one should have to pay the ultimate price.

As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review with your retailer or Goodreads. And read on for an excerpt from _Listen_ , the third book of the Earthen Witch Novels, which continues Aisling's journey.

Always,

Sarah Doughty
About the Author

Sarah Doughty writes with thematic undercurrents involving love, life, hope, and often, PTSD. Her books are a way for her to escape her mind and enter another, to experience something amazing and healing at the same time. She's shared them freely online for anyone who wants to read them, so that maybe they can give someone else hope, or the same, temporary escape as they did for her.

Her books are successful and have landed her on Smashwords' Most Downloaded Author list. She lives in Indiana with her husband and young son. Visit her website at www.sarahdoughty.com.
Connect with Me

Website: http://www.sarahdoughty.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/TheSarahDoughty

Twitter: http://twitter.com/thesarahdoughty

Instagram: https://instagram.com/thesarahdoughty/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/thesarahdoughty
Acknowledgments

The lives of my characters often feel more real to me than the people I know in life. I wanted to tell the stories of people in Aisling's world. This was no exception. If not for the unwavering support of my friends, family, and fans, this novella wouldn't be possible. I was not the only one that wanted to learn more. To my husband for being willing to help me when I could not make a decision, for listening when I was grieving over something I knew would hurt my characters. But most of all, for his willingness to be my rock, constant support, and my rescuer. I love you. To my biggest fans, beta readers, and friends, for their unwavering guidance and support: Márcia "Mah" Lima of emotionally.inconstant, and May Timani. To the ever amazing and talented writer-artist extraordinaire, sheswideawake for her tireless work on my covers, her selfless willingness to help me learn from her and offer guidance when I ventured out to create the cover for this novella, and for being a great friend. Special thanks to my friend Sonny Spencer for her continued support throughout this entire process and her impeccable German translations for this novella. To my mother for just being Mom and an amazing grandmother to my son. Finally, but certainly not least, YOU, my readers. Thank you for loving every second of this journey with me. There are still more of Connor and Aisling's story to tell, and more characters that deserve their own piece of happiness. I cannot wait to share it all with you.
Excerpt from Listen - Earthen Witch Novels Book Three

### Chapter 1

I took a deep breath, choking back the whimper from the sudden intense pain in my jaw as I tasted blood on my tongue.

Despite how it looked, I didn't like violence. I never did.

Maybe that was because of my environment growing up. Maybe it just wasn't in me. But either way, I didn't like it.

My first instinct was always to calm the situation, to diffuse it before escalation. But not everyone shared the same sentiment. And I learned to adapt to my environment. But that didn't mean I needed to like it.

As much as I wanted to say otherwise, we were at war. The supernatural world was in a constant battle against opposition. But the enemy was never the same. It could be humans one day, and then _others_ — those like us, the supernatural beings — the next. Or it could be something different.

The war itself boiled down to the right to live. Some believed that we didn't have that right. That we — _others_ — should die. Some were after power and would kill anything that stood in their way. Or, some preferred to kill and take power.

My entire life and especially since I turned twenty-one, I saw how much hatred and greed for power ran through people. I lost count of the amount of times attempts were taken to kill me. And yet, there I was, deep in the underbelly of a centuries old vampire's opulent home, sparring with a vampire.

All in an effort to protect myself against my real enemies.

And it went against everything I was to willingly inflict damage on another living thing. Even while sparring, I couldn't hold back. Because my enemies wouldn't offer me the same courtesy.

"Come on, Greenie," Tobias grinned with his fangs in full view as he hopped back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting for me to make the next move.

God, but I took the bait anyway.

"Stop calling me that," I gritted, but smirked, despite myself.

Chuckling, he said, "Oh, come on. You're not going to be Aisling Green much longer. So I need to use this time to my advantage."

His fist shot out in a blinding speed, but I was faster and blocked it with my forearm before he could connect with my eye. But it still hurt like a bitch. And I hissed as pain reverberated through my arm.

I was so tired of the war. As a victim of abuse, countless attempts to steal my magic by more than one person, and poisoned with unspelled vampire blood in the name of revenge on someone else, I was a popular target.

But that list didn't end there.

I was knocked out, kidnapped, tortured, poisoned with a drug no one knew existed. A drug that shouldn't have affected _others_. My dreams were hijacked and my body was controlled by a demon while I slept. Sure, I might have killed him and saved the world, but that didn't stop people from wanting to take my power.

_Others_ were powerful. But they weren't the only ones.

Less than three months before, I was a typical college graduate. I didn't know supernaturals existed outside of fiction.

All of that brought me to that point. Yet I didn't regret a second of it. Despite all the bad, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Why?

Before I turned twenty-one, my only family was my grandmother and my best friend, but then, my grandmother died. She never explained anything to me about supernaturals beyond our witch heritage and how a faint glow surrounding certain things and people meant they were _other_. I didn't know it at the time. But those were auras.

Not long after, I met Zoe Kavanaugh, someone I knew was _other_ because of the black glow that surrounded her. She was beautiful, nice, and intriguing with that Australian accent, but there were things that weren't right about her. I didn't understand that the black in her aura meant she was a dark witch. Dangerous. I didn't know what kind of creature she was.

By the time I realized I was in danger, it was too late.

I would have died if it wasn't for Connor Jennings, a light witch. The man that came to my rescue and saved my life. In addition to saving me, the color of his aura was completely different than Zoe's, and I felt something, deep down, that told me I could trust him.

He agreed to help me, because I was clueless. I thought I was just a witch, like my grandmother said. But we quickly realized that wasn't the case. I was Earthen.

Earthens were once royalty in the supernatural community. Because they were the most powerful of all _others_. Powerful enough to protect their world against humans and anyone that would disrupt the peace.

They were killed in the seventeenth century and the community collapsed into chaos. _Others_ made deals with humans to save themselves from annihilation, or they left a trail of dead in an effort to be the most powerful.

Earthens were thought to be extinct, but I was living proof that wasn't true.

It didn't take long for Connor and me to fall in love and meet people that we could trust. We found allies in unlikely places. One of which was a very old vampire. And it was in the basement of that vampire's home that we trained for battle.

The world was still unstable for _others_ , but we were determined to set it right.

I was determined.

No one deserved to live in fear, away from their families and their own kind out of fear of discovery and death.

For a while, I was the only one that could give that to them.

Connor wasn't just my fiancé. He was my supernatural equivalent of a soulmate — my mate. And he was _supposed_ to be an Earthen, but as fate would have it, he became a witch before he could transition.

When we bound together — a very intense supernatural marriage that permanently connects two souls together — in preparation to fight the demon set on destroying the world, it triggered him to turn.

He was Earthen too.

Yet he was still trying to learn how to utilize his new powers. Though he learned more every day, he was still limited, and I could see the frustration on his face as he watched me from the edge of the mat with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

I knew why he was upset.

There were two ways Connor and I could spar the way we could. First, Liam, the master vampire of the house was the only vampire that could heal an Earthen with his blood, since his blood was spelled centuries before. Or an Earthen could use magic.

I could heal my mate, or anyone else.

But I couldn't heal myself.

"Where the hell is Liam?" I asked for the third time. "I haven't seen him since Sunday."

It was Wednesday.

Without Liam, Connor was my only hope to heal from sparring. Which meant accessing his magic. And since he still couldn't accomplish that, I could guess what he was thinking with his sulking posture and that angry green and sad, dark blue aura shimmering around him.

Not only were auras useful in determining someone was _other_ , but the color also indicates the current emotion of the creature it surrounds, or the type of magic used on an object — light or dark. Humans didn't see them. And they didn't emit them.

But they weren't the only ones that didn't have auras. Undead — vampires and ghouls — never cast auras, since they weren't technically alive, but they could see them. A very select few supernaturals outside of the undead didn't have them, either. We didn't know why.

With my growing list of injuries while sparring against a vampire, and without Liam waiting to heal me with his spelled blood, it meant I would have to heal on my own. And Connor didn't like that at all.

Tobias stopped bouncing on his feet and stood at his full six foot three height. His grin faded as his fangs receded. His hair was sticking out in random places, and his goatee was fading in with the rest of the stubble on his face. He wore the same matching black tank top and loose fitting pants the rest of the men wore during training.

Unfortunately for me, I wasn't provided the same outfit. With my athletic, yet curvy five and a half foot frame, I wore matching black volleyball shorts that were too short for my taste and a tank top with a built in sport bra. My long, curly brunette hair was unruly even in the loose bun at the back of my head, while my peaches and cream complexion probably looked more red and splotchy from all the fighting.

The vampire standing in front of me was Liam's third in command. But since Jon, Liam's second, was gone as well, it left Tobias in charge of the nest, a group of undead living in the same compound. "I don't know, Aisling," the vampire sighed and glanced at my mate. "It's time to stop training for today, since we don't know if Connor can heal you."

"No. I want to keep going," I said with a quick punch to the vampire's jaw.

### Chapter 2

Tobias's head snapped to the side with the force of my fist colliding with his jaw and he turned his head toward me slowly. He glared at me and his brilliant blue eyes flashed like a cat's — one of the few indicators he was undead.

Though Liam was a very old master vampire that ruled over his nest and held more knowledge than a vault of information filled with supernatural lore, everyone knew who was really in charge.

Me.

It was part of the package of being an Earthen.

I didn't necessarily enjoy it, but sometimes it came to my advantage.

Training was essential for survival. It helped to prepare us, and saved our lives more than once. I wasn't about to back down from it just because I couldn't heal a few bruises or cuts.

They might not agree, but when I pulled rank, they listened.

As Tobias's jaw clenched, his eyes searching mine, I felt Connor approaching me from behind.

That was one of the perks of being fated to be together. Of being mates. From the first day Connor came to town, we felt each other like magnets. And that pull would never fade.

"Aisling," Connor said, low. Tobias looked away and I turned around to face my fiancé. "I know how important training is, but you could get hurt fighting against them and you know it."

Green swirled in his aura, which meant he was angry. But I didn't think his anger was directed at me. If I knew him as well as I thought, he was angrier with himself that he couldn't heal me. But he also knew the necessity of sparring.

I watched him for a moment, taking him in. Deep brown eyes searched mine, sending shivers down my spine. His long, straight brown hair curtained around his face and covered the back of his neck.

He stood six inches taller than me at six feet tall and my eyes dropped from his, glided over the stubble on his jaw and finally settled on his rounded lower lip. I licked mine reflexively. Pink bled into the edges of his aura, indicating his desire, and he crossed his strong arms in front of his chest again.

The muscles beneath his velvet skin were visible, since he was wearing the same matching black tank top and loose pants all the men used for training.

God, but he was mouthwatering.

There was nothing about him I didn't like.

Everything about him called to me in a way nothing ever could.

And he was mine.

I grinned devilishly at him and the corners of his mouth lifted in response. But then I let my grin fade. "Shouldn't we prepare for all situations?"

"We've been in this situation before. When we were tortured in Germany. You spent two days in pain while we waited for Liam."

"I know, but here, the worst that could happen is some bruises and scrapes. The Kramer Scholars did much worse than that."

The Kramer Scholars were the first and most devout group of supernatural hunters known as Malleus Dei Maleficarum — the Hammer of God Against Witches. They were headquartered in Germany, where Heinrich Kramer started his crusade against supernaturals in the mid-fifteenth century.

Initially, he operated under the direction of the Catholic Church. He was tasked with writing a book to help them fight against witches, which the Church considered to be demons. But his recommended method of the inquisition wasn't something they expected. And it forced the Church to denounce him.

Kramer anticipated the Church's action and wrote a second book of the same title, _Malleus Maleficarum_. It was filled with information about how to discover and destroy more than just witches. It covered all _others_. And there were plenty of humans that still followed him, with that book at hand as their bible.

While other sects of the MDM evolved with time, the KS did not. They still tortured, and they killed without question. They didn't bother to verify if someone was _other_ before they struck. Though we were at a stalemate with the MDM — Kramer Scholars included — the war with them wasn't over.

"I know that. But I didn't fight while I was injured." Technically that was true. It was the demon that played my body like a puppet, despite my injuries, and forced me to fight and kill six Scholars in a Berlin alley. Based on the pain I felt from that alone, I wouldn't have been capable of fighting at all. "And it's not as though I don't already know how to deal with this kind of pain."

Connor's jaw clenched as he regarded me, remembering what I told him about my childhood.

I sighed. "How about this? You and I fight together against them, and if I'm hurt, we'll see how well I can fight through the pain. Test my limits. If I'm hurt enough, we'll stop. Deal?"

"Only if they agree to fight us," he said and his eyes flickered over my head to Tobias.

I turned to look at the vampire in question.

He grinned at me and raised his hands in surrender. "Oh no, I'm not doing that. Connor looks like he's about to murder me with his eyes."

I snorted and looked back at my mate. "Oh, so we're going to play it like that are we?"

Two can play at this game, mister.

Connor grinned back at me and his aura shifted to light blue with his humor, but he didn't respond.

"Alright then," I said louder, despite knowing everyone could already hear us. "So who has the _balls_ to step up and fight us, huh? Are you going to bow out like a coward?" I bit my cheek to keep from laughing as my lips twitched. Though I was still looking into my mate's eyes, the last comment was directed at the vampire that refused to continue fighting.

"Hey now! That hurts me," Tobias said from the bench to my right, and I caught him clutching his chest with a pale hand as if he was wounded, but he made no move to return to his place on the mat.

Connor's lips twitched in response as his eyebrow lifted.

"I'll do it," Jorge's baritone southern drawl sounded from the knife throwing section of the training room.

The whole room was like a massive arena, nearly three stories tall and lit by fluorescents. There were sparring sections, weight training, weapons training, and even a moving obstacle course in the middle of the room.

As Jorge approached, Connor turned slowly to glare at him and the ghoul's deep brown eyes flashed as he grinned back in response.

He was the same height as Connor, but built completely different. Most of the undead in Liam's nest were highly trained and skilled warriors while they were alive. Jorge was no different.

While he was all muscle that rippled with every move he made, he was graceful. Transitioning from vampire to ghoul didn't change him. Except his required nourishment shifted from blood to meat. And his fangs were gone.

Connor wasn't built the same way. He was strong, and could carry my weight with ease, but his muscles weren't obvious like they were on Jorge. They were there, beneath his velvet skin, and he was far sexier than anything I ever saw before.

The ghoul stepped onto the mat, scrubbing his hand over his bearded jaw. "Ready to play?"

Connor took a quick, heated glance at me that traveled down my body in a shiver. A glance that promised retribution later as he turned to Jorge and moved into position, pink still playing at the edges of his aura.

Heat erupted across my body and my mouth went dry as I forced myself to look away from my mate and face our opponent.

Jorge nodded toward me and said, "Aisling," just like he did the first time we met. As if we were saying hello while out for the morning paper.

I moved into position and the ghoul was a blur of motion, his dark head speeding to the right toward Connor and landing a punch to his stomach before moving toward me.

Ducking, I heard a whoosh of air as the ghoul's fist sailed above me, right where my face was an instant before. I spun, kicking my leg out and knocked the feet out from beneath him.

He was on his feet in a flash, but Connor was already there and landed a punch to his jaw, followed by an immediate knee to the side.

Jorge grunted but didn't slow down and his fist connected with my mate's side in response, forcing Connor to step back.

Just as I was about to lunge forward with a feigned attack to his face to land a blow to his midsection instead, a wave of nausea washed over me.

And then I realized I wasn't seeing out of my eyes any longer.

###
