Witching Time (The Wild Hunt #14) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,81

he was making love to me, slowly moving inside me, holding my hands against the mattress. I gazed into his eyes and saw the passion of the wolf, and the call of the moon echoed as he whispered my name over and over.

And right at that moment I knew that I would never find another passion like this. We were meant to be together, gasoline and fire, the wolf and the raven, brought together in the rains of autumn and the falling of the leaves.

“I love you, my Wolf Lord.” I wrapped my arms around his back, and we drifted on in our sex haze. Outside, the rain played against the window screen and, in the distance, the smell of woodsmoke drifted past, igniting all those melancholy dreams of autumn.

Chapter Seventeen

We showered and dressed, content in our silence. We were dressing for battle and even though our passion had helped ground me out of my worry and fear, I was still nervous. I wasn’t the best in a fight, and I’d be depending on my magic and the wand alone. At least Ember, Herne, and some of the Wild Hunt gang would be there.

I chose a pair of black leggings. Over that I draped a long-sleeved green tunic that reached mid-thigh, then slipped on a sturdy pair of knee-high platform boots. They were heavy leather, and would hopefully repel any attacks that came toward my legs. Over the tunic I slid on a black leather vest and after snapping it closed, I belted it with a silver belt. Finally, I buckled Venom’s sheath around my thigh. She might not be a holy knife, but she could come in useful if we encountered anything else out there.

Kipa dressed in heavy jeans, a form-fitting knit shirt that stretched with him, and he slid on his leather jacket. He buckled a short sword sheath around his waist. As he raised the sword to slide it into the sheath, I frowned.

“I’ve never seen that sword before,” I said.

“My stepmother made it. Its name is Rowan-Sting. Rauni works with fire, and she’s good at tempering weapons. She gave me this years ago, and I’ve always been judicious about using it. I don’t want to ever lose it. But it should bite deep against the wight. Wights. However many of them there are.” He handed the sword to me.

The metal resonated fire and magic through my fingers. I could feel Rauni’s flames and my hand trembled. “I like this,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful. Look at the etching on the blade.”

“Those are runic stanzas—song is sacred in our tradition. Rauni sang to it as she forged it, and her voice became embedded in the metal itself.” He smiled, taking it back from me to slide it into the sheath. “I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s beautiful.” I glanced around the room as we headed into the hall. “I guess we’re ready. I’ll just get my bag and we can go.” I stopped in my ritual room. My wand was in its case, sitting next to my magical tote bag.

My bag was always ready to go, but this time, I checked to make certain I had everything I might need: War Water, Blessed Water, a skull that I used for death magic, candles, a lighter.

Pausing by the altar, I lifted the protection charm off of the crystal ball I had draped it over. It was a pentacle on a black cord, and Llew had carved it out of rowan wood. I realized it had a similar energy to that of Kipa’s sword. I draped it around my neck and a rush of warmth flowed through me.

As I joined Kipa in the living room, I asked, “Does Rauni work with rowan wood, by any chance?”

He laughed. “Rowan is her sacred tree. Why?”

I held up the charm. “Llew made this last month for me. It’s made from rowan and I felt the same energy that I felt from your sword.”

“Yes, she’s definitely with us today,” he said.

I turned to my father, who was watching TV with Raj. “I’m not sure when we’ll be home. It all depends on how long this takes. Wish us luck.”

Curikan let out a long sigh. “I wish I could come with you. But since I can’t…”

“I’ll go.” My mother stepped out from the kitchen, startling me.

“What are you doing here?” I blinked, staring at her.

Phasmoria was decked out in black leather from head to toe and looked like a beautiful demon, her hair flowing down her