Witch Darkness Follows (Maeren Series Book 3) Read online

  Wind was whipping her hair and shirt, despite her magic’s manipulation, ripping away her counter currents as quickly as she formed them using air.

  They were going to have to fix this without verbal or telepathic communication.

  Daemon saw her difficulty and reached out to grab her hand, pulling her towards him.

  He stood up from where he’d been kneeling at the centre of the circle.

  The electrifying connection between their hands fed her the circle’s magic faster than she could possibly use it.

  The power was going to burn her!

  She yanked her hand away to fall back on her knees and pant.

  How did Daemon contain it?

  She felt like Victoria must have felt when Elizabeth made the princess literally glow with lightning power that she’d sent through their blood-bond.

  The glyphs Daemon had decorating his chest glowed white hot, radiating power she could feel even from her precarious position on her hands and knees, looking up at him like a supplicant.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Daemon was also completely naked.

  Her second shocked yell pierced the silence.

  Everything else had died with one last bang, the earth cracking underneath her.

  She quickly swallowed the rest of her ninny scream and opened her eyes.

  George’s blue gaze was darkened to indigo. It narrowed on her. He was breathing heavily from the exertion spent splitting the earth under their circle.

  The crack wasn’t that wide, but a few inches were all that had been needed to interrupt the flow of the glyph lines and their magic.

  Daemon collapsed, hitting the ground with a thud.

  Earthly Appetites

  She looked away from George and crawled over to Daemon’s unnaturally still form. Grabbing Daemon’s shoulder, she flipped him over.

  His chest rose with a deep, slow breath that ended in a tiny snore as he was repositioned.

  Safe and sound.

  George snatched her from behind.

  “Let go,” Elizabeth grumbled.

  She tried to shrug off George’s demanding hands.

  He was in the way of her assessing Daemon for injury!

  Even if Daemon appeared to only be sleeping, he’d transported across realms in a circle not originally meant for the task.

  Something could have gone wrong!

  “He’s fine,” George dismissed.

  George had her in an earth grip that was inescapable. He tugged her, so her head had no choice but to fall back, cradled between his shoulder and neck.

  A lick along one of George’s bites followed, despite how sweaty and dirty she was from the maelstrom of Daemon’s arrival.

  It was a timely reminder that she had a hungry, horny vampire to satisfy.

  George had helped her amplify her magic to reach Jill, then accidentally, Phillip, and lastly, the manipulations of the circle to bring Daemon across dimensions.

  George was going to need more than a snack.

  She had other things on her mind first.

  “Now is not the time,” she protested.

  George’s fingers tightened almost painfully on her body.

  She wiggled against him.

  “I’m not even primed anymore for a feeding,” she told him.

  Fangs slid along the edge of one of her ears, giving her fleshy lobe a punishing nip.

  “You have two males with you and no claim,” George succinctly informed her.

  Daemon’s claiming tattoo must have finally drained with the last spell to bring him over.

  She wiggled the leg it had decorated, feeling its loss. Her skin was her own, once more.

  It left her feeling strangely as naked as Daemon.

  Now was not the time to tell George there were more than two males—four potential mates, actually—vying for her blood.

  She elbowed George in the ribs harder. The earth prince hardly felt it.

  “I’m wearing your bites. I thought you said they marked me as yours, even if I think that is archaic,” she said to try to reassure him for the moment.

  “Let me claim you before he wakes,” George requested.

  His hands were wandering, sliding over her shoulders and flanks. Her clothes felt too thin and accessible to be much of a deterrent to a determined, hungry vampire.

  One of his hands slid down her chest to rest, nearly over her heart. The warm strength gently cupped the top of her breasts, making her nipples stick out in response.

  The other hand, he wrapped around her waist, his fingers finding their way under her shirt. He pressed his calloused palm against her sweaty abdomen.

  George sucked the skin over his biggest bite.

  She had lied about not being primed. Damn George. It was like sparking dry tinder.

  “I don't want either of you,” Elizabeth insisted. “I ran away from Daemon. You brought me here against my will, remember?”

  She fought the urge to lean back into George’s arms.

  They had to prioritize here. The unconscious demon that had given her a revealing speech about his unresolved feelings and a little royal mutiny was more important than necking with George right now.

  “You pulled Daemon over by your choice, kerashemeria. Is he another one of your mates? What about that dinosaur that interrupted our embrace in the caves?”

  George continued his teasing touches, taking advantage of her being trapped in his arms.

  He’d been very handsy ever since those caves. It was like the feed he’d taken from her had set off newly bonded-male behaviour even though he’d not been allowed a claim.

  No, not any bond. Mate. Geer had warned her.

  “I pulled Daemon over because I misjudged him. He’s owed another chance. Are you referring to Geer interrupting your interrogation in the caves? Yes, Geer says he’s my mate. You and I weren’t cuddling, either. Feeding and priming are biological necessities. We’re stranded in the Wastes—your fault! I shouldn’t have even fed you after you staked me in the heart!”

  “We’re at the Wastes because you are my prisoner and your family was considered a threat to the royals. I carried out my orders.”

  How could George want to prime her if he still suspected her of treason? Shouldn’t that have been a major turn-off?

  Obviously, not.

  He continued to lick and suck at her neck, his fingers finding one of her hard, pointed nipples to roll through her shirt, all while they bickered.

  The only thing more embarrassing than her untimely lust was that her body found their verbal sparring added spice.

  She was moments from giving into the fire George had flamed back into her body, which meant she had to step away now.

  “Get off of me, hickey monster!” she ordered as George found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

  George growled his discontent dangerously close to her racing pulse. It should not have been a turn on. She was spending way too much time with vampires.

  “Are you rabid or deaf?” she asked. George required a firm hand. “Daemon needs our help. I don’t have time to play with you.”

  He finally released her. “I truly need to feed. The magic for Daemon to come over . . . it wasn’t only taken from the circle. It nearly drained me to modify and hold the lines while he transported.”

  “Later, I promise,” Elizabeth said, meaning it. She felt bad leaving George wanting, but it wasn’t her fault that they were in the Wastes to start with and he’d have to be reasonable.

  “Daemon’s going to want to feed as soon as he wakes up,” George predicted. “He’s completely drained.” A soft snore followed that pertinent fact. “Good luck denying him.”

  Somebody else was cranky when he was hungry, too.

  “Is he going to be okay?” she wondered out loud.

  All those times that Daemon had been in bed with her, and she hadn’t seen him sleeping even once. It was unsettling seeing him . . . disarmed.

  “Are you actually worrie
d about Daemon?” George clarified, astonished.

  Why was that so shocking? Daemon wasn’t indestructible.

  “He’s sleeping,” she tried to explain.

  George scoffed at her obvious declaration.

  “I think he’s in some sort of a magic-coma,” she added, supposing that sounded more serious.

  She demonstrated, trying to shake Daemon awake. She tapped him on the cheeks, then a little harder slap.

  “Beating him is only going to sharpen his temper when he wakes up,” George remarked.

  He came around to stare down at his brother’s vulnerable body. One kick from George’s booted foot could probably break Daemon’s ribs.

  “I’m not beating him. I was trying to help wake him up,” she defended, eyeing George’s boots.

  Was it ridiculous that she wanted to protect Daemon from his brother?

  George had been dragging her back to the castle at his eldest brother’s command. The earth-fire prince seemed the type to follow his orders to the letter, like any good soldier.

  No point hurting Daemon if he hadn’t been so commanded. That would deviate from his mission.

  Then, George kicked a rock really far as he waited for her to do something. George was obviously bored and fed-up with the situation.

  Definitely impatient.

  Hungry.

  She watched the rock, still skipping along the ground, until it was gone so far that she couldn’t see it any longer.

  He could break every bone in Daemon’s body with those boots and his earth-strength.

  She shifted herself to get between George and his unconscious brother. Out of the three of them, she had the most magic stored up to fight.

  The amplification circle had been tuned for her. She’d absorbed plenty of power to do all of her telepathy, so even now that the power of the circle was released, she still had the magic she’d built-up since her sudden return to Maeren.

  Witches had an advantage over vampires that few liked to acknowledge. As long as she didn’t let her mates drink too deeply, she’d have plenty of power to escape.

  “Stop fussing over Daemon,” George ordered, adding a frustrated sigh. “He needs sleep to recover after ripping through the dimensions to get to your side,” he added, laying on guilt. “We don’t have time for you to play nursemaid. Remember your captured sister? The fire-breathing dragon? Your estranged, barbarian of a general for a grandfather?”

  All good points. Barbarian . . . ? She hadn’t forgotten all that, she was just dealing with the immediate problems first.

  She met George’s eyes over Daemon’s body.

  Patience and persistence were necessary when dealing with George. She probably should say, ‘please,’ too, if she wanted to have her way. Her mother had always taught her to use her ‘P’s and Q’s.’

  Hell, no.

  George had kidnapped her. She wasn’t begging him for anything.

  “Are you planning to carry Daemon if he stays unconscious?” she asked, resigned to walking herself. “Good thing you’ve got all of those muscles for when your magic tank’s empty.”

  George’s cheeks turned slightly ruddy. Daemon might be taller, but with George’s earth that hardly mattered. George could carry quadruple his weight for miles.

  Had she actually dented George’s thick skin with her casual regard of his strength?

  Or was he blushing at her backhanded compliment on his physique?

  “You can’t keep using my magic without offering me a feed. Can’t you float Daemon with your air? I’m not wasting earth on dragging a demon through the Wastes. You pulled him over. He’s your responsibility!” George insisted with a good deal of bluster.

  She scoffed. George hardly needed to use his magic to carry his brother, which had been her point.

  George had skipped right to comparing magic, clearly his hangup.

  “What do you have against earth? You sure seem to sling rocks as well as the rest of them,” she snidely commented back. “My grandfather isn’t a barbarian because of his earth!”

  She’d defended a vampire she had never met because he was family.

  George was acting like an ass. He obviously didn’t know how to take a compliment.

  “Your grandfather’s unofficial title is General Bloodstone,” George revealed.

  She shrugged. That only upped his cool factor, like making the X-Men club.

  “I’m a vampire slayer. Daemon’s a dark enforcer. Don’t be jealous because you wish you had a cool moniker. I’m sure I can think one up for you.”

  She wanted to call George ‘The Rock’ or ‘Rocky’ so badly, but she hesitated. She didn’t know how much human culture George knew, and thus, what he might find offensive.

  George was more sensitive than the average earth-lord.

  He gave the visual impression of a typical, beefed-up soldier: short on brains and all about brawn. It wasn’t until you got to know him that you realized a mind for strategy was hidden under the muscles, and he liked to cuddle.

  She looked back down at Daemon’s naked chest.

  George definitely wouldn’t agree to hauling his naked brother over his shoulder. That would be awkward.

  “Uh, do you have some clothes for him?” she asked.

  George had done all the packing before they’d left his cave to wander the Wastes for a new portal.

  “Don’t tell me the vampire slayer is afraid of a little chest hair,” George mocked.

  “Daemon doesn’t have chest hair,” she replied, before looking up and seeing George’s sardonic glance.

  Oh. He was so close to being called ‘boulder.’

  She decided to explain her concern, biting back the unhelpful remark in her head.

  “Daemon has a bit of a sun aversion. We are in the desert with only a few hours left until sunrise. His skin is quite pasty.”

  She forced herself to assess said pale skin, more of a light honey due to his mother’s darker ethnicity.

  He was toned to perfection, leading to the slabs of muscle on his thighs that were meant for riding horses in a dimension without technology.

  “His chest isn’t down there,” George sulked.

  “Right, eyes up,” she blurted, blushing. “He needs clothes more than you,” she decided, looking at George’s chest.

  George’s skin was darker, obviously exposed to the sun more often, although she remembered his chest paled in colour along his scars.

  He had the muscular bulk to match his earth. It was the size of him that distracted her, not his scars.

  “Can you give Daemon your shirt and pants . . . Unless you have something more to hide?” she asked, challenging him.

  George peeled his shirt off so fast, he almost snapped the buttons off. He tossed it to her to unbutton properly.

  She looked down at the shirt in her hands instead of the rapidly undressing vampire in front of her. This time, she was the one to get pink cheeks.

  George dropped his pants and drawers at the same time, hooking them under his thumbs and yanking them off of his hips.

  She heard the pants hit the ground.

  She didn’t dare look back up after she had gotten a glimpse of George’s naked body from the corner of her vision.

  He had been so uncooperative so far, she hadn’t expected him to strip like he was paying by the minute for her attention.

  “The pants should be enough,” she squeaked out, keeping her eyes focused on her task of unbuttoning George’s shirt.

  It required all of her attention to undo the buttons one-by-one.

  “I have a problem that needs fixing as well,” George grouched, reluctantly pulling his drawers back up . . . a lot slower.

  It seemed to require undue tugging.

  She threw the unbuttoned shirt over Daemon’s body. It covered him like a sheet.

  Figuring it was safe, she looked up, now that George was half dressed.

  Immediately, she regretted it.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked,
looking back down at the partly covered demon. That was more prudent. “Can’t you go five minutes without . . . ? Just what is your refractory period measured in . . . milliseconds?”

  George smirked at her. She didn’t have to look to know, hearing it in his tone.

  “Are you comparing me to human men or vampires?” George asked.

  Why was he such a big dick? Guess, he was born that way.

  “Demons,” she answered, braving a look back at him and noting his flinch.

  “Daemon is sleeping like a baby,” George said, ignoring her implication.

  So, nobody else knew about George’s daddy issues?

  George manhandled his dick over the drawers into a more comfortable position, right in front of her.

  She’d say he was faking nonchalance, but it was obvious that he’d gotten way too comfortable around her. His hands-on approach to their trip so far had been enlightening.

  She sighed, not as indifferent to George as she wished.

  She was still feeling the effects of the earlier priming by George, when he’d licked her tattoo to help her make contact with Daemon by using her bond and lightning.

  They weren’t quite enemies anymore, but very reluctant allies with opposing viewpoints and disparate pasts.

  Biology would overcome most of those stumbling blocks. She could feed George without having to be in love.

  George wasn’t as hard on the eyes as he thought, either.

  “Get Daemon dressed. I’ll help you deal with your problem,” she offered.

  It would be on her terms. Perhaps a quick and dirty fantasy that she’d tell him while he jerked off his dick. A few sips of blood, once he was less frustrated.

  She had to set rules and expectations if this was going to continue, especially now that Daemon was back.

  Had pulling Daemon over here with the spell been the equivalent of declaring her feelings for him?

  She shoved that thought back in her mind, not ready to deal with it so soon.

  None of her so-called mates were out of the dog house yet. She would see them properly contrite before she would let them lick the hand they’d nipped.

  George crossed over to Daemon’s side. He dropped to his knees, whipping off the shirt placed over Daemon’s body, and then shoving Daemon’s arms unceremoniously into the sleeves.