Читать книгу Warrior Untamed - Shannon Curtis - Страница 8

Chapter 1

Melissa Carter tried to be patient. Really. But it wasn’t her strongest personality trait. Actually, most would argue she didn’t possess it at all. And she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in so long. “Anytime this century, Lexi.”

Lexi glanced up and frowned. “If I have to wear this day in, day out, then I need to make sure it’s right.”

Melissa pursed her lips but refrained from comment as she let the young woman scan her rings for the fourth time. It was fine. She could handle this without screaming. She could prove her mother wrong and be patient.

“And it has to be a ring? Not a necklace?” Lexi asked wistfully, eyeing an intricately woven Celtic knot pendant on a stand behind the counter.

Melissa kept her expression neutral as she heard that same question for the third time. She shook her head. “No. You’re likely to change a necklace depending on the outfit. Or it might get snagged—or yanked. A ring is more likely to stay on, and that’s what we want for you, Lexi. Something to stay with you.” Her irritation died as she remembered the reason for this, and she kept the sympathy out of her eyes, out of her voice. Lexi didn’t need sympathy. There were times when she thought Lexi needed a smack upside the head, but she’d leave that to Lexi’s older brother, Lance. For now, she just wanted to make Lexi safe, and if Lexi had come to her, it meant the young woman had come to the same realization—she was out of her depth and needed help. The fact she’d come to Melissa, well, perhaps that required some sympathy, but Melissa preferred action to the warm and fuzzies.

She leaned over the tray, and scanned through the silver jewelry. Usually she let the stones in the jewelry speak to her clients, and attract them on their own. But her bookstore was filling with customers, and Lexi suffered a lack of confidence—hence her current situation. She still couldn’t quite understand that one. Lexi was beautiful. Blonde, petite, the kind of woman guys wanted to do things for, like open doors and carry bags. She sighed. She couldn’t remember the last time someone offered to carry something for her. Oh, wait. Lexi’s brother, Lance, had—but he’d been carrying her supplies, and it had been his job, so that didn’t really count.

“How’s Lance doing?” She hadn’t seen him for a few weeks. She didn’t get along with a lot of people, but Lance was an exception. He was the only set of fangs she allowed in her zone, with a special dispensation built within her wards to give him access. He’d worked hard, never complained—a trait she admired in her staff—and had always been punctual. Not too chatty, but decent, in a rough kind of way. She didn’t make a habit of hiring ex-cons, but he’d been her exception. He’d needed a job, she’d needed someone to haul supplies—and his fangs were actually the good kind. Perfect. The fact they’d formed a strong friendship surprised them both—and probably everyone who knew her, considering her personality didn’t really lend itself to making a lot of friends. After what had happened with Theo, though...she blinked. Lance had gone above and beyond the duties of a friend, then.

“Haven’t heard from him in a while,” Lexi said, shrugging.

Melissa frowned. She knew the kind of trouble Lance chased. Admired him for it. “You’re not worried?”

Lexi looked up and blinked, her eyes taking on a blank glaze. “What? No. Everything is fine,” she said in a flat voice.

Melissa’s eyes narrowed. Ri-ight. Lexi definitely needed to get away from the compelling effects of her current boyfriend.

“What about this one?” She tapped at a delicate ring. Its band was intertwined silver strands, and the stone was speckled with green and black. “Green snakeskin jasper. It’s a protective stone, perfectly suited to what you need, and it matches your...” She flicked her gaze up to Lexi’s eyes. Oh. They were a deep blue. Melissa’s eyebrows dipped briefly. She’d never noticed that. Lexi’s brother had worked as a stock boy—okay, stock man—for her a few years ago, and his eyes were the darkest green, almost black. She’d never noticed the siblings didn’t share the same eye color. Her gaze drifted downward. “Scarf. They match your scarf.”

Lexi wore a bottle green-and-black scarf to go with the rest of her outfit. She frowned. “But that’s just today.”

“And you look fantastic, so it obviously agrees with you. With your coloring, this ring will either complement or present a tasteful contrast with any of your other outfits,” Melissa lied quickly.

Lexi looked at it doubtfully. “Really?”

Melissa nodded as she plucked the ring from the tray. “Yep. Trust me. Let me go enhance it for you.” She stepped into the back room behind the shop’s counter—it was basically the size of a broom closet. She placed the ring on the midnight blue swath of velvet that lay on a low shelf. She closed the door and pulled on the cord. Warm light bathed the tiny space, and she stood there for a moment. Shelves lined the space, and a sporadic collection of small bottles, vials and bowls were placed in order of need around the working space. These were only her more commonly used ingredients. Her lips pursed. Not as many as there should be, thanks to the pyro jerk who had torched her hidden apothecary below her bookstore.

She was slowly renovating the space, though. It was no secret she was a witch—a witch who sold spells, incantations and laced trinkets. Those customers who wanted more than books usually stepped below stairs...but she’d learned a hard lesson five months ago. Never trust a soul—no matter how innocent and tempting he looked. She’d lost so much...it was taking a lot longer to rebuild her valuable stock, damn it.

As tiny and as bare as this space was, it was fast becoming a haven for her. There were no requests from customers, no pleading and no demands for attention in here, just her and her magic. She eyed the ring briefly. Green snakeskin jasper guarded against negativity and could act as a shield against psychic attack, protecting the wearer against harmful or destructive temptations. Lexi had a vampire boyfriend, and Melissa could sense the compulsions at work on the young woman. The fact Lexi was still wearing a scarf inside her store didn’t escape her, either. It was cold outside, and dirty snow lined the gutters and sidewalks of Irondell as winter descended on the city, but inside the Better Read Than Dead Bookstore it was warm and cozy. Consciously or unconsciously, Lexi was hiding the bite marks and she needed a little help to withstand the mesmerizing coercions this man was exerting over her. If she didn’t resist soon, she’d end up a vamp slave... Melissa shuddered. It was one thing she couldn’t quite comprehend, those people who willingly surrendered their blood and actively sought to be bitten by the vamps, chasing one bite after another, after another. The life span of a vamp slave wasn’t long, for obvious reasons. Why Lexi was with a bloodsucker in the first place, Melissa couldn’t understand. But she could help.

She held both her hands over the ring, closed her eyes and drew on her magic. She could feel it rising to her fingertips like a warm bath of light, and she focused, chanting a protection spell to further imbue the natural qualities of the stone. She added in a little layer of confidence, as well. Lexi had to stop hanging out with the Mr. Wrongs, and start believing she was worthy of a Mr. Right—not that Melissa would ever have that kind of conversation with the woman. She soooo didn’t do warm and fuzzies.

Melissa opened her eyes, and the stone in the ring glowed briefly as the spell anchored, and then the magical light slowly banked. Melissa lifted the ring, feeling the warmth and weight of its new power. She smiled with satisfaction. The ring was constructed of silver—she’d like to see Mr. Wrong try to take this off his little blood bag.

She left the broom closet—no, Power Room. She frowned. She had to come up with a better name for it. Maybe the Dark Well of Influence? She wrinkled her nose. She’d keep working on it.

She smiled brightly at Lexi and handed her the ring. “Here you go.”

Lexi reached for it timidly, eyeing it before sliding it onto the middle finger of her right hand. She tilted her head, then her gaze flicked to Melissa across the counter.

“I don’t feel anything. Are you sure it’s working?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “These things don’t come with a built-in electric shock, Lexi. Give it time. It will grow on you.”

Lexi sighed, then nodded. “Okay. I hope this works.” She dug her wallet out of her handbag. “How much?”

Melissa named her price, and Lexi’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, cool, I thought it would be more.”

Normally it would, but Lexi was Lance’s sister. This was the least she could do for a friend. She didn’t have many friends.

Melissa met her gaze squarely. “Stay safe, Lexi.”

Lexi nodded, then fidgeted with her scarf. “You do like to crank the heat up in here, don’t you, Melissa?” She loosened the scarf, and Melissa could see the edge of a dark bruise, and the open, angry bite mark.

She reached beneath the counter. “Hey, try this.” She handed over a small tub of lotion. Lexi tilted her head as she read the label.

“What is it?”

“An all-over body moisturizer with a new scent I’ve been working on. This is a sample bottle. Let me know what you think.”

Lexi flipped the cap and sniffed the contents, then smiled. “Okay, thanks.” The young woman eyed her for a moment, and her brow dipped. “You look tired.”

Melissa winced. “Thanks.”

“No, seriously. You look tired, and you never look tired. What gives? Is your mom giving you grief?”

Melissa’s smile was brittle. It was no secret her mother always gave her grief. “I’m not sleeping well,” she admitted. She wasn’t in the habit of confiding with Lexi—with anyone, really, but maybe it was an indication of just how tired she was that she relaxed her usual guard with the petite blonde.

Lexi raised her eyebrows. “Is something troubling you? Bad dreams?”

That was an understatement. It was as though all her awful life moments were on auto-replay whenever she closed her eyes. Especially the day her mother told her she’d never let her daughter step in as Elder Prime... And the night her father walked out... She blinked. Yeah. Those weren’t dreams. They were nightmares. And she most definitely didn’t want to “share” those. Not with Lexi, not with anyone.

“I’m fine. I’ll just drink some chamomile tea tonight.”

Lexi shrugged, then placed her items in her tote bag. “Whatever. I have to hustle. I have a hot date tonight.”

Melissa smiled, mentally batting away a tiny green flame of envy that flared within her. One, she wasn’t interested in any dates, hot or otherwise, and two, Lexi was dating a shadow breed, for Pete’s sake. There was nothing worthy of envy there.

“Well, that moisturizer is guaranteed to make the night interesting,” she murmured, and Lexi laughed as she left the store. Melissa watched her briefly in the street. The young woman eyed up and down the street, then loosened the scarf some more so it fell open. A smile twitched at Melissa’s lips as Lexi strode down the street, a confident sway to her hips catching the eye of males passing by. The ring was working. Good.

She hoped Lexi would try that “moisturizer” as soon as she got home. It was a mix laced with lavender, chamomile and a heavy dose of verbena. No vampire would want to get near her if she slathered that toxic herb all over her.

Her watch beeped, and her smile fell. Great. Time to feed the pyro jerk. She beckoned Jenna, her assistant, over.

“Can you man the cash for me? I’m going to take a quick lunch break.”

Jenna nodded, stepping behind the counter.

Melissa grabbed the brown paper bag and a plastic bottle of water from the bottom shelf of the counter, and strode toward the door behind a stack of books at the back of her store. When she reached that last stack, she pulled her heavy keyring from the front pocket of her jeans, and sifted through them until she found the two keys for the double-lock system she’d asked her brother, Dave, to install on the door, and then pulled on the cord that lit the stairwell. She could use her magic to open the doors, but loved to hear the click and snick of the locks. She skipped lightly down the stairs and stopped to key in the code to unlock the next intricate lock system she’d installed on the second door.

The heavy steel door swung inward and muted lighting automatically switched on, illuminating the work areas, but leaving the rest of the area in soft shadows. She stepped inside the large room. Now it bore little resemblance to the scarred and ashen remains of five months before. They’d installed fire-retardant hardwood and plastic composite to limit the possibility of a fire occurring again. Like anything below surface, this place was off the plans, off-the-record—and not insured. She’d have her apothecary back soon, and then she’d be able to do more than just bespell jewelry and mix herbs into lotions and drinking drafts. She’d be able to do some considerable damage to the damned shadow breeds. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped farther into her secret space.

It was the door she’d cleverly painted as an intricately carved tree trunk that she now made her way over to. This one had a series of locks, but was also warded, so she waved her hand to lift the spelled lock, then opened the door. She grabbed the large torch that she hung off a hook just behind the door, flicked it on and stepped carefully down into the dark void, her sneakers squeaking softly on the steep narrow metal steps that led down into the darkness. The light emitted was blue—something she knew her prisoner couldn’t draw on.

The air down here was dank and musty. She took a deep breath. Metal. Rust. Concrete. Stone. It wasn’t exactly a forgiving place, all hard surfaces and cold darkness. She thought of her prisoner, and her mouth firmed. A fitting place for the pyro jerk. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she located the trapdoor. That trapdoor was about three stories below street level, and she’d never ventured beyond it. She’d opened it once, hauled it up with the help of a crowbar. She’d been curious...but when she’d crouched at the lip of the hole, she’d paused. Listened.

Something had slithered in the darkness, something that breathed, and...waited. She’d leaned forward, and the shuffling noise sped up, grew louder, and she just managed to replace the lid—but not before she caught the glimpse of that pale hand with the elongated gray fingernails.

Even now, she shuddered at the memory. Creepy. She’d heard tales of Old Irondell—hell, every parent seemed to enjoy bouncing their child on their knee and freaking the crap out of them with the old stories—hers included.

But that’s what they were to most people—stories. Wicked, cautionary tales to make kids toe the line and not wander off.

Only, she knew they weren’t just stories. Old Irondell may be just a pale memory that was passed down, less and less, from one generation to the next. But there were some folks who still knew of the origins of the Reformation, of the time of The Troubles, when humanity discovered the existence of the shadow breeds: the vampires, werewolves, shifters and other creatures that were just plain weird, but who seemed to be on a mission to eat, or kill, or eat and kill any human they encountered. It had started a war that had lasted generations, until the time of Resolution, when all breeds gathered to negotiate a truce, which led to the Reformation, the redefining of territories and laws, and society itself. The homeless, the outcasts, those who didn’t “fit” into the normal, new Reform society had migrated to dwell below Irondell, away from the light. Away from Reform law. Nobody went into Old Irondell and came out unchanged.

If they ever returned. Most didn’t.

She didn’t need to go into Old Irondell. She had enough problems dealing with the shadow breeds above surface.

She turned back to the door, slid the peephole open and peered through the slot. There he was. Pyro jerk. That mean, homicidal son of a—oh. Wow. She swallowed.

He was doing a handstand. Correction, he was doing push-ups in a handstand position. He was shirtless and the jeans he wore were smeared with dirt, rust and grime. His chest glistened, his muscles rippling with each dip and raise, from the corded strength of his broad shoulders down to the ridged abdomen that showed the control and power of each move. His hair was long, touching the floor when he moved, and the beard that covered his jaw gave him a wild, untamed look. She’d made a point of providing her prisoner with a bucket of water every other day so he could wash, but she’d never seen him actually bathe, or sweat—or glisten. She swallowed again.

He pushed himself up, exhaling in a gust, then slowly lowered his feet to the ground with the grace of a gymnast. He rose from his position, his back to her, and he rolled his shoulders. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Sure, he’d been on a prison diet for the last five months, but still, he didn’t look like he was wasting away. No. He looked....healthy. Very...healthy. The chains that connected his wrists to the bolt in the wall clanked with his movements. She stared at that glorious wall of muscle, his figure an enticing V that narrowed into lean hips and a tight, tantalizing butt. He turned his head from side to side, as though stretching out some kinks, shook out those massive arms and then paused.

His head turned slowly to his right. He didn’t face her, but she could see the corner of his mouth lift up in a sexy little curl.

“Why, hello, Red.”

A sneaky, traitorous warmth flared inside her at his familiarity, quickly squashed by a wave of annoyance. No warmth for him, damn it.