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Braden stood in front of the glass canisters and accessed his warlock-sense. He knew Maeve was in trouble. He’d felt her fall beneath one of Veyda’s spells.
He had to work fast. He wasn’t sure what Veyda planned to do, but it wo
uldn’t be good. When he heard her start chanting, his heartrate doubled.
He also had to subdue his wolf. The sheer physicality of his wolf-life, as well as his time as a Border Patrol officer, demanded he act.
If he did, however, they’d both die. He needed warlock cunning right now, not wolf brawn.
He pulled five glass containers from the shelves as though he’d been creating spells his entire life. He dipped into each one, took out a portion that felt right, then dumped it into the nearby mortar.
When he had the correct mixture assembled, he stared down into the marble bowl. He was missing one ingredient. He could sense it as though the letters were carved into the smooth surface of the stone: Emerald flame.
He hated this drug more than the others because he’d seen the results of its abuse in Savage. As a result, he’d had a zero-tolerance policy in his pack.
But if he was to save the woman he loved and the children she carried, it was the only way.
He took the container from the fridge and using tweezers as Maeve had done, he removed three grains exactly. He added these to the compound and ground away with the pestle.
It didn’t take long. He poured the dry compound into another ceramic bowl, held his breath as he added just enough water, then mixed and drank.
The potion bubbled down his throat.
When it hit his wolf’s stomach, it turned to lightning and spread through his veins. The flame drug had enhanced the potion a hundred-fold.
He lifted his left hand, stunned. He felt a warlock’s killing power forming. Only this time, he was using his wolf’s physical strength as well. He embraced this new ability and turned in the direction of the closed burrow door.
He crossed swiftly and with a powerful kick of his foot, knocked the door flat. It landed flat on the stone floor next to the bed of furs.
Veyda, who was hovering over Maeve and chanting, whipped in his direction. In the same split-second, she fired a red bolt of her own killing power. But it was as though the terrible witch energy moved in slow-motion.
Braden flipped his hand up and a gleaming gold stream shot back and caught the red stream. Sparks flew everywhere.
“So, you’ve used the flame drug. Sorry, but it won’t be enough.”
He didn’t bother to respond. Instead, while keeping his killing energy at full-bore, he moved toward her one careful, determined step at a time. Maeve, you there?
Barely.
We’ll need to do this together. Focus on your wolf, not your witch. You need your physical strength right now to escape the spell and Veyda’s not counting on that. But don’t move until you can leap to your feet and start firing. We can do this together.
I’m with you and I’m feeling it. My wolf wants to howl.
Good.
The whole time, Braden kept inching toward Veyda. Sparks still flew as he kept her distracted. The witch had miscalculated one thing in this equation, his trust in Maeve and that they’d journeyed almost to the point of mating.
He held his power steady and wasn’t surprised to watch Veyda taking a step backward then another. He saw sweat bead on her forehead.
She flicked her right hand in his direction.
The spell touched him, then fell away. Ironically, emerald flame had protected him.
But Veyda fought hard. She increased the stream of her power. This time, he was forced back several steps. Maeve was to the right of them both. He could feel her strength rising.
I’m ready, Braden. Tell me what to do.
She’ll try to use her spell on you again, so keep your wolf in the dominant position. Also, try to stay a step behind me. But when you rise from the furs, get as close to me as you can and start firing.
