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Illiandra was one of the oldest and wisest wraith leaders of the colony. Keep me advised.
Willow flew swiftly the three miles to the tall, granite outcropping that had created a natural barrier to the colony. She could see smoke spiraling into the air.
A short tunnel, hidden behind a thick fall of vines, led through the granite wall straight into the wraith colony. A Guard-sized man stood directly opposite the entrance holding a charm in his hand made up of glowing purple crystals. As he aimed the charm toward the secret opening, the vines smoked and burned.
She knew who he was: Mastyr Axton.
Sweet Goddess, no.
But how had he made it past her property’s protective shield? He’d never done so before, which made Willow think that the same fae that had created the purple crystal charm must have helped him move past Willow’s spell.
She held her own disguise tight around her then simply melted into the vines. The moment she made direct contact with the thick stems and released her protection vibration, power surged.
At the same time, she aimed a strong burst at Axton’s charm. She wasn’t a powerful fae for nothing and the singular wave of energy that she released broke the charm’s spell. The glow of crystals fizzled, the burning stopped, and Axton cursed long and loud. He looked around as though astonished, then cursed once more.
Because dawn was so close, she wasn’t surprised that he simply took to the air and sped southwest high above the forest canopy.
She pathed to Illiandra. Mastyr Axton somehow came into possession of a powerful, illegal charm. Some of the vines were destroyed, but as soon as I made contact, I repulsed his attempt. I’m rebuilding the vine-wall now.
Well, done. Illiandra paused, then, You’re unsettled though, aren’t you? Did Malik give chase again?
Yes. She had shared her dilemma with Illiandra, but the wise woman had merely told her to do everything she could to remain strong for the colony.
You must end this, Willow. He’s distracting you from the shield. And if Axton has found the entrance to our lands, he’ll be back. We’re in trouble here, Willow, so please be strong for us. We depend on you.
I know.
The wraith colony was spread out over twenty square miles of land that belonged to Willow on paper. The sheer size of the shield she’d created and supported was one of the reasons she couldn’t get distracted. The population had doubled as well in the last forty years, which had made it increasingly difficult for Willow to keep streaming her protective energies.
Willow had fulfilled her duties for decades without too much difficulty. However, in recent years, she seemed to have reached some kind of personal limit. She’d tried repeatedly to tell Illiandra about her concerns, but the wraith had no other answer than to tell Willow ‘to be strong’.
Willow wouldn’t give up — never that — but she truly feared that something unexpected might happen and she would no longer be able to sustain the protective colony shield.
Illiandra, do you think it’s possible that Mastyr Axton knows about the colony?
Impossible, Illiandra responded firmly. My guess is that he’s found a fae willing to help him build charms in order to find wraith-sign. He no doubt stumbled upon the entrance by accident.
Willow wasn’t convinced, but she was tired from the chase and from repulsing Axton’s charm. And dawn was on her heels.
She bid Illiandra good-night and headed to her treehouse complex as swiftly as she could.
As she finally fell into bed, her last thought was simple: She had to talk to Malik and end their chasing ritual.
But Sweet Goddess, she didn’t want to. Not even a little.
~ ~ ~
“Mastyr, you’re hurting me.”
Malik heard the woman’s voice and somewhere within his mind he knew he needed to ease back on her wrist. Though a full day had passed since he’d last seen Willow, hungry images clouded his head as he once again mentally chased her through the forest. His mind got lost in the erotic images of the smooth, pale skin of her firm buttocks shifting back and forth along the trail, which had him fully aroused.
“Mastyr, you must stop. I’ll be bruised to my elbow.”
As he continued to suck on the rich vein, his donor’s words were a dull noise at the edge of the seductive memories, of needing to catch Willow, of wanting her beneath him, of hungering to pierce her neck and take down her life-force.
“Mastyr, please!” A hand shoved at his head until he finally awoke to his crime.
With a terrible jolt of remorse, he released the wrist of one of his sweetest doneuses from whom he’d been feeding. The lovely fae woman, with tears in her bro
