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He thought about Willow’s headache, her uneasiness, and that she hadn’t slept well. Dammit, if he hadn’t been so caught up in leaving her, he might have figured out that something fae had been at work in her treehouse as well, disturbing her dreams and causing her pain.
Another wave of panic flowed through him. He didn’t have to be told that right now Axton was already inside Willow’s home and that Malik couldn’t do a damn thing about it because he was trapped in his own house.
~ ~ ~
Willow hadn’t moved from the time that Malik left. Instead, she sat with her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. She’d never experienced such a bad headache in her life and no amount of self-healing seemed to offer any relief. It was as though someone was pounding on her telepathic frequency demanding admittance, yet when she searched the vibration, nothing was there.
But there was something more. She regretted letting Malik leave without assuring him that she didn’t blame him for killing her father. She had just been so taken aback by his confession, that she hadn’t been able to process it quickly enough. And Malik had looked so stricken when he’d told her, but he’d left before she could tell him that she really did understand and that he was forgiven. She’d had decades to come to terms with what had happened.
She rubbed her temples, wishing the headache would let up.
Then suddenly, the pain was gone. But why?
“Hello, Willow. Sweet Goddess but you smell like heaven.”
Willow looked up. “Oh, no.”
Axton.
She glanced around. He appeared to be alone, yet she could feel a powerful fae presence supporting him. And just like that, she understood the whole picture, why she hadn’t slept well and why she’d had a headache and why the pain had just now vanished; she’d been under a terrible spell and now the spell had been broken.
In its stead, however, a great evil had entered her treehouse.
Margetta the Ancient Fae, the creator of the Invictus scourge, had come to call.
“Take her,” a female voice whispered along the air currents of the room.
She rose to her feet, wanting to face the enem
y while standing. “You’ve been behind all of this, Mistress Margetta?” She glanced around the space, looking for any sign of the woman.
“Of course.” The voice had a wavy, disguised sound, as though cloaked, a protective spell, maybe, that kept her hidden. “And all I needed to do was to wait for Malik to leave you as I knew he would.
“I want the wraiths in that little colony you’ve been hiding and I mean to have each and every one. They’ll make a fine army and Axton intends to help me pair them up with the willing citizens of The Society. Now isn’t that a match made in heaven?”
Willow’s heart raced. There had to be a way out of this mess, but how? And already her desire for Axton began to swell within her. The blood rose gift was anxious to feed any mastyr vampire who drew near.
Then a golden light appeared, and Margetta made herself visible. Willow turned toward her and gasped. The woman was so beautiful for someone with such a twisted soul. She had long blond hair, a lovely straight nose and wide-set, violet eyes.
“You’re Margetta the Ancient Fae.”
“I am.”
She waved a hand toward Willow that froze her in place. She’d heard rumors that the most powerful fae could create a stasis spell, but she’d never felt one before.
Margetta drew close to Axton and took his hand, leading him toward Willow.
Willow tried to back up, to move away, to run, but she was paralyzed. She tried to scream, but her voice was frozen as well.
When the Ancient Fae took Willow’s hand, a powerful shudder of revulsion rolled through her. She’d never touched evil before, but she could feel that something very sadistic ran through Margetta’s veins.
Willow breathed hard as Axton took her hand. He gripped it hard, squeezing until it hurt, but she couldn’t cry out.
“You’ll do as you’re told, Mistress,” Axton said. “I have command of you now, and you will do whatever I say.”
Margetta ran a hand down Willow’s head and hair. “Axton is going to drink from you now and somewhere in that drinking you’d better choose to bond with him, or he will take you all the way to the grave, do you understand? You bond or you die.”
Willow found she could move her eyes, the only thing that worked in the stasis spell. She shifted her gaze to the illuminated wraith-fae who smelled sickly sweet. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.
