Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,43

him, catching her before her head hit the ground.

“Is she okay?” Tala asked from across the room.

Greyson knelt beside her, running a hand over her clammy skin. Thankfully, her breathing was steady and even. “She’ll be fine after a few days of rest. Magic uses energy. She just used more than her abilities support.”

“Daddy?” With Rowan’s spell dissipating from the room, his daughters’ temporary calm was evaporating in the face of confusion and terror. He rose and gathered them close, heart breaking again at the trembling he could now feel in each of their slight bodies.

Greyson looked to Marrok. “Can you take Rowan downstairs to her bed?”

He hated not being able to do it himself, the need to protect this woman all but screaming at him, but he had no choice.

“I’ll take her,” Castor offered.

Greyson shook his head. “No. We need more information, and, frankly, I don’t trust you with her.”

“Marrok and I will take care of Rowan,” Tala said.

Castor grimaced but handed Rowan’s limp form over to the alpha wolves without quibble.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Leia suggested.

“Good idea,” Greyson said. “We need to know everything.”

…

The magical alarm Grey had put on the girls at night and grudgingly extended to include her woke Rowan from a deep sleep and a lovely dream where she and Grey had danced under the light of a full moon. Her body still ached from the burn of desire reflected in his eyes.

With a reluctant groan, she dragged herself out of the dream, only to gasp as memory returned in a rush of images.

The girls.

Grey.

The magic she’d used way too soon after her whole ghostly thing.

Oh my gods. How long have I been out?

But she couldn’t think about that now. She needed to follow the girls. At least they were still breathing; that much was obvious if they were doing their sleepwalking bit. Limbs heavy and sluggish, Rowan managed to toss off her blankets and get out of her bed, stuck her feet into fuzzy slippers and pulled a ratty old sweatshirt on over her head. Cautiously, she made her way upstairs to find Grey waiting on the screened-in back porch with two steaming cups of coffee.

“No tea?” she asked.

“I didn’t know if you’d wake up or not,” he whispered through a smile. As he spoke, he trailed his gaze over her face. He held out a cup for her. The tender light in those dark eyes had to be a trick of the moonlight.

“How long have I been out?” she asked in sleep-hushed tones as she accepted her cup, curling her fingers around the warmth and inhaling.

His lips flattened. “Two days.”

Well, damn.

Nothing could be done about it now. “Same place?” She waved toward the woods where the girls had gone last time.

Despite her warm sleepwear and thick sweatshirt, she shivered as his gaze licked over her. She wore layers of clothes, and suddenly she felt naked before him. Laid bare.

“Yes,” Grey finally whispered. He held out his hand. “Ready?”

Rowan hesitated only a millisecond before she placed her hand in his. Immediately, the lines on her wrist heated up at his touch, though not in an uncomfortable way, more like an electric blanket plugged in and turned to high. With a tug Grey led her down the stairs to the frost-covered grass, then into the woods and up the incline of the mountain.

Rowan tried not to soak in how right her hand felt in his, how that small contact engendered a sense of safety and protection. Grey would take care of her.

What am I thinking? Grey was the hound the Syndicate had set on her trail.

Before she knew it, they arrived at the edge of the clearing where the girls had already gathered. Just like last time, the three stood in a circle, bathed in the pure light of the moon. They’d already started their swaying. The glow wasn’t as much of a shock this time, as Rowan knew to expect it. However, their light still blinded her, painfully bright, even as silence descended.

Lachlyn’s voice sounded this time, instead of Chloe’s. “Rowan would never hurt us. She loves us.”

Rowan jolted at the impact of those words. Fear spiking through her, she jerked away from Grey, snatching her hand out of his. At the same time, the lines on her wrist flared to horrible, burning life. She dropped to her knees, cradling her arm—which she sort of expected to be wreathed in flames, but wasn’t—against her. Swallowing around the pain, which, once again, oozed