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  “You may want to re-think going for your weapon,” Arthur warned lightly.

  “And what are you going to do? You’d be dead before you can make a move to defend yourself,” Vance’s goon challenged.

  “That wouldn’t be too smart of you,” a woman’s voice came from the tree he just moved from. Merci stepped into view, her hands glowing with a blue green light.

  The man snarled as he whirled to face Merci. “You have given Vance a lot of trouble, bitch, and I’m about to even the score.”

  She tisked, shaking her head with disappointment. “I think Vance either has you brainwashed, or you’re just too dumb to realize you’re playing for the wrong side.”

  “I believe he’s the latter, love.” Drake chuckled as he moved into view. “I wouldn’t pull that gun out if you wish to live. My wife here is the type to shoot first and let the gods deal with your sorry ass.”

  “It’s kept me alive so far,” Merci retorted, her dark violet gaze boring into the man.

  He slowly brought his hand away, looking uncomfortable, as his gaze slid between Drake and Merci. Arthur almost laughed out loud at the hired muscle. “I believe this is where you are expected to run,” Arthur explained, wondering at the caliber of help Vance was recruiting.

  “Fuck this. I don’t get paid enough to risk my butt,” he spat out as he turned and jumped the low fence, making a hasty exit while he could.

  Arthur moved up the small path heading for the front door and the inevitable conflict with Vance. His blood pumped in readiness, and he controlled his breathing, remembering the first lesson he learned in the art of warfare. Never fight with your emotions.

  The sound of shattering glass broke the peaceful air surrounding the neighborhood. A huge shadow hurtled past him, forcing him a step back to keep from being hit. Drake and Merci moved to his side as they looked first to the broken front window and then to the old recliner now resting on its side next to the large elm tree. A curse exploded from Drake as he leapt up the steps and kicked in the door, Merci on his heels as they disappeared inside.

  Arthur followed, pulling out the long buck knife strapped to his ankle, his hand firm around the handle. He stepped into the home, ignoring the broken pieces of furniture strewn about the room. His entire focus riveted on the broad back of a tall dark-haired man impeccably dressed and pulsing with enough twisted magic it repelled him to take a step back. Gritting his teeth against the pressure building against his temples, he forced his feet to carry him further into the room, Drake and Merci at his sides, their combined magic ready to engage.

  Vance swung his head to the side, pinning Arthur with a gaze of pure malice. “I was expecting you to show up much later, Father. I assumed I would already be gone and the prize with me. Ah, well, that’s what I get for assuming, don’t you agree?”

  “You underestimated me yet again, Vance,” Arthur drawled, his southern accent becoming more pronounced. “It’s becoming a habit of yours, you know?”

  “Not this time. This time you underestimated me. Tell your guard dogs to back off, or I’ll kill the witch.”

  At his demand, he swung around, showing what his big body kept hidden. A blaze of red hair cascaded down her shoulders in a wild tumble of curls framing a heart-shaped face. Thick dark lashes framed large eyes slightly tilted up and dominated her delicate features. Full lush lips parted as she rasped in a breath. Vance’s hand tightened around her throat and lifted her up until she was forced to stand on her toes in order to keep from strangling.

  Arthur could only stare in mute silence, stunned and helpless against the pull of those glistening blue eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. Eyes he hoped he would never again gaze into, for within those sparkling eyes housed the soul of the only woman he had ever loved. And the one whose betrayal he could never forgive.

  Chapter Two

  Guinevere.

  Her name crashed through his brain with hurricane force, his chest held in a vise grip, clamping down, making it hard for him to take a breath. He wondered what it would be like to look at her again after her betrayal. Wondered if he could gaze into those startling blue eyes and not feel the seething churn of emotions her gaze evoked. Within those turbulent depths, he found heaven and hell.

  His control eroded beneath the boiling caldron of contradictions. Anger, loss, love and hate warred within him, threatening to tear him apart. The sound of his own pulse hammering in his ears made him deaf to anything else around him. A part of him wished Vance would just squeeze her throat tighter and end his torment. The other raged at the threat he posed to his woman, wanting to protect her.

  “Drake, you and Merci wait for me outside with the others.” Could that raspy voice be his?

  “No fucking way,” Merci snarled.

  “This is not open for negotiations.” Arthur snapped, his temper slipping from his tight leash of control.

  “I agree with Merci. You’re not facing off with him without us.” Drake’s tone made it clear he wouldn’t budge.

  “I believe this is what is called a stalemate, Vance, let the lady go, and I’ll let you walk away. This time,” Arthur amended.

  Vance’s lip curled up in a sneer. “I have a better idea. You and your misguided duo there move aside and let us pass.”

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” Gwen gasped out. “Cause I like the idea of all of you leaving me the hell alone.”

  “Enough out of you, witch,” Vance hissed, tightening his hold on her throat.

  “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit!” Merci growled between clenched teeth and threw her hand out, index finger pointed at Vance. A flash of blue light appeared at the tip, then shot out in a tight stream at the hand holding Gwen’s throat.

  Taking Merci’s cue, Drake pulled his power, the energy rasping over Arthur’s nerve endings. Gods he hated the prickling feeling, it reminded him of thousands of spiders crawling over his flesh. The room seemed to waver and constrict with the combined power being used. For a non-magical being like him the feeling of helplessness bit deep.

  Drake shouted a word he couldn’t even begin to guess at and the next second his world exploded in jagged shards of light and sound. A rush of wind howled around him, whipping his hair into his eyes. He saw a flash of movement as Vance was ripped away from the witch and hurled through the broken window. The wind died as quickly as it began, the magic mercifully easing off his exposed nerves.

  Anger flashed through him, burning in his veins, a flash fire as he rounded on his friends. “When I give y’all an order, I expect it to be followed, gods damn it!”

  Drake gave him a hard look. “Our first priority is you, Arthur. As long as you decide to come on these foolhardy ventures and put yourself in harm’s way.”

  Arthur stiffened, reading loud and clear what he didn’t say. “As I recall it wasn’t so long ago that your magic was bound and you had to rely on other skills to survive.”

  Drake was in his face in a second, a muscle ticking in his clenching his jaw. “Yeah, and I wasn’t the fucking leader,” he rasped out, his voice like ground glass.

  “Enough you two,” Merci snapped. “Gods the amount of testosterone you both are flinging out is enough to choke on. Back off, Drake, he has a point, and you know it.”

  Arthur’s gaze snapped to the raven haired, violet-eyed beauty. “At least you understand.”

  Drake opened his mouth to argue, but Merci cut him off before he could even utter a sentence. “And so do you, Drake. I believe you should agree to disagree if you both are childish enough to carry this further. Besides, we need to get the witch and get the hell out, now.”

  Gwen, who sat in silence watching the exchange, piped in, “This witch happens to have a name you know. If any of you bothered to ask, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Arthur turned his attention back to the redhead sitting cross-legged on the floor, her arms folded defensively across her full breasts, pushing them up to swell temptingly over her low scooped shirt. His mouth went dry at
the erotic sight, and his body tightened, his blood heading south to the bulge growing hard beneath his zipper. Forcing his gaze up, he locked on eyes the color of an approaching squall at sea. Memories once again crashed through him, his gut flip-flopped with emotions best left buried. His chest tightened painfully against the rising surge of too much too soon.

  Juliet’s voice yanked him back to the here and now with vicious force. “Her name is Gwen McAllister, guys. It’s not polite to go around calling her witch.” Juliet moved into the demolished room followed by Colin, who stood a good foot taller than her. Juliet placed a gentle arm on Arthur’s tense shoulder as she peered at Gwen on the floor. “Hi, Gwen, your aunt asked us to look after you. We aren’t here to harm you. We just want to keep you safe.”

  Gwen gave an unladylike snort. “Yeah, well that didn’t work out too hot now, did it?” She got to her feet and arched a brow, her challenging gaze fully on Arthur.

  And then realization hit home with a one-two punch to the gut. Gwen had no recollection of him at all, not even a glimmer. Worse, he didn’t know how he felt about that fact.

  * * * *

  Gwen didn’t know what tall-blond-and-sexy-as-hell’s damage could be, and frankly, she really didn’t care. But it obviously had a lot to do with her. Why? She had no clue and tried not to feel a small prickle of disappointment at the thought. The man was gorgeous. Mouthwatering, rip-the-clothes-off–him-do-him-now hunk-o-licious. Nevertheless, the odd looks he kept giving her—as if she should know him—were downright unnerving.

  Still, she couldn’t help but admire his tall, lean body dressed in a dark-blue shirt, tucked into jeans showing a narrow waist and long legs. His hair streaked in shades of gold and light brown curled over his collar and swept back from a chiseled face, firm jaw and prominent cheekbones. Dark blond brows showcased warm dark-brown eyes. His black lashes were a perfect contrast to all the golden skin she could see at his throat and arms. And Goddess above, his mouth!

  Full and so sensual she felt the uncontrollable urge to trace her finger over them. Truly, this male was made for sin. The man could be a model, in fact, all the men she met so far could be. The same could be said of the woman, too, making her feel downright dowdy. One with brown hair looked high society in a tailored pant suit of dove gray, while the other black haired woman stood about five-foot-three in a casual jeans and shirt.

  Standing five foot six she knew she could stand to lose thirty pounds, having much more curves than was considered acceptable in this day and age. So she wasn’t a size zero, instead, the reality she would forever be a size twelve suited her just fine. That is until she looked at the two females in her destroyed room.

  “It will be much safer for you with us, Miss Gwen. Get the things you need quickly, we don’t know how much time we have. Vance could return with his hired muscle at any time.” The hunky blond’s words pulled her thoughts back to her present predicament. The soft twang of a southern accent swept against her skin like satin.

  Yep, the man was way too sexy for his own good and way out of her league. She needed to keep reminding herself that he was not interested in her. He was just being polite. His kind never looked twice at her, and that was all right with her.

  Really.

  “I was handling him quite well until you barged in. Had him right where I wanted him actually.” Gwen tried for bravado and instead got more of a raspy croak out of her sore throat.

  Being nearly choked to death had a way of doing that to a girl.

  The man they called Arthur barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, sure you did. You purposely backed yourself against that there wall and let him choke you.”

  “Ha, ha, you’re a real riot. Let me make this clear to all of you. Until I know what happened to my aunt, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Salt chose that moment to make his entrance, moving around the debris scattered throughout the room, and sat blinking at the newcomers before yowling in ear splitting decibels his outrage.

  Ms. Society chuckled as she bent to pick up the irate feline. “I know and I agree it really was quite horrifying, but you and Gwen are among friends now, and we promise nothing will happen to either of you.”

  A twinge of possessiveness tightened her chest. “You can understand my cat? Who are you people?”

  Another large male chose that moment to make an appearance, his dark hair in a skull cut. Dark navy blue eyes took in the scene and arched an eyebrow at Arthur. “Problem?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle, Drake,” Arthur snapped.

  Drake chuckled, giving his friend a pointed look. “Then I suggest you handle it and soon or else she may turn you into a newt, right, Merci?”

  The black haired woman rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Oh please, that’s just too cliché. No one turns people into newts these days.”

  Gwen’s irritation tipped over the precarious balance of calm she so far worked hard to maintain. Perhaps the near strangulation at the hands of—what was his name? Oh yes— Vance caused her sudden ire, or the shocking news about her aunt. Whatever the reasons, her vision hazed red as she saw her unwanted saviors filling the space within what used to be her safe haven.

  “I want you all out of here, now. Or Hecate help me I won’t be held responsible for my next actions. And you there,” Gwen waved a hand toward the woman holding Salt . “Leave my cat alone.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but she quickly set the white fur ball on the floor and took a few steps back, watching her warily.

  Well, well, good they should be cautious, even if she didn’t have any intention of doing anything to them. All she wanted was to be left alone to pick up the devastation left behind from Vance’s attack. And maybe curl into a ball on her bed and cry. She really didn’t want anyone around when she broke down.

  Hey, Wen, rude much? They are here to protect us and what they say does make sense. I personally don’t want a repeat engagement with that Vance character. Besides, I like them, especially the one they called Juliet, the one who held me, there’s energy about her which I find extremely appealing. Salt’s soothing tone had the opposite effect on her, filling her with a jealous rage.

  Fine, why don’t you just go ahead a leave with her then? She knew it was childish, even mean spirited of her. She just couldn’t seem to care at the moment. It all was too much. Adding the sudden attraction she felt toward the blond hunk in front of her didn’t help much either.

  Wen, you aren’t acting like yourself right now so I’ll ignore what you just said. Salt’s beautiful blue eyes narrowed on her for only a moment before he turned and started weaving around Juliet’s legs with a deep satisfying purr.

  And just like that, her anger drained out of her, leaving behind the feeling of inevitability in its wake. “You really won’t just leave me in peace, will you?” she asked, her gaze lifted and caught in a pair of warm brown eyes.

  Damn, they were so pretty. All brown with gold flecks catching the light. She could lose herself in those eyes.

  “Not that I can’t sympathize with you, Miss Gwen, but that would not be the wisest thing to do.” Arthur gave her a small smile, only a slight lifting of those full lips of his.

  Her breath caught at the beauty of that smile and knew if he were to give her a full-on grin, she would be lost. As it stood she firmly quelled the urge to find a way to make him smile for her again. The reaction he had on her irritated her like rubbing fur the wrong way.

  “I was afraid you would say that,” Gwen huffed out, pulling a crystal out of the back pocket of her jeans and raised her hands, calling on her power. It jolted through her body like jumping beans a brief moment, seconds really before it settled into a growing surge of power infusing her hands with a bright golden light.

  The small dark-haired woman shouted a warning a split second before her golden light blasted out of her hands, spreading out to surround all five of her would-be rescuers. She heard the angry yowl of Salt, but raised her shields so she wouldn’t be diverted from the spell s
he weaved.

  A deep green light erupted from Merci’s hands, meeting the incoming spell with one of her own. She gasped at so much power and knew she was no match for the petite woman. She never had time to reinforce her shield against the onslaught of power as it hit her hard in the solar plexus, lifting her off the floor and back to crash into the wall with bruising force. As her body met plaster, cracking the dry wall, she felt the pain radiating from her spine and out to her limbs. She slid down the wall, too weak to do anything but lay in a pain-filled stupor on the floor as her world spun out of control around her. The sensation brought back memories of being on a tilt-a-whirl as a young child. She didn’t like it then, and she sure as hell didn’t like the horrid feeling now.

  Now that was a smart move, she thought as a wall of darkness rose over her. Then she remembered nothing.

  Chapter Three

  Bodies swayed to the driving beat piped in and pushed out with blaring intensity, aided by the speakers bolted to the walls. Blue and red lights flashed dimly through the thick haze of cigarette smoke. The stench of it coalesced with the odor of sweat and heavy perfumes in a clash of scents as disharmonious as the music.

  Darius Roark leaned his elbows on the bar and basked in the press of humanity intent on living in the moment, without a thought of what repercussions inevitably dished out tomorrow. He almost envied them their recklessness. He scanned the room, his eyes lingering on the velveteen rope blocking the staircase, which lead to the VIP lounge. He could always rely on the nightclub aptly called Fore Play to soothe the tensions in his life.

  The memories of ages long past which lingered, haunting him, waking or sleeping. Humans should never remember their past lives, but then he wasn’t human, not entirely.

  He twisted around, reaching for his beer, and felt the press of a soft body at his back. The light caress of warm breath circled his ear and neck and a voice husky and low whispered to him. A sirens call his body responded to instinctively.

  “Hey there, care for some company?”