Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night

35

Bowe opened his mouth to answer her, but again drew a blank. Not surprising. He was on edge that she'd sensed a threat when he still scented nothing. Plus there was the fact that there was naught for Bowe to tell her.

Over the last many decades, his life had centered around his aim of bringing Mariah back. He wanted to steer clear of that subject—as well as that of the Hie. Yet aside from those pursuits, he hadn't had a real life in memory.

Bowe had known his existence was soulless and barren, but that fact had never been hit home like this.

He could tell her that he used to lead an army, a stalwart one. Yet the Horde had decimated it in the same war that Rydstrom had lost his, and Bowe would rather her not know of his failure. Today she'd begun regarding him differently, and he didn't want that to change.

He was good at killing. Also not helping his efforts with her.

And friends? Bowe didn't have many—or, rather, any—that he saw regularly. He'd let friendships wane, because it was always so uncomfortable for others to try to convey their sympathies to him. He'd rather save them the trouble—and besides, too often sympathy crossed over the line and became pity. Or they studied him like Lachlain did. Bowe put up with Lachlain's scrutiny because he was like a brother, but he didn't suffer it from others.

Christ, he was a cipher.

For the first time, he worried if he could be worthy enough for Mariketa. Did he even deserve her? Yes, she was a witch, but she was also stunningly beautiful and brave and clever.

"I like football, too," he finally said.

"You've already told me, so that doesn't count."

"I love the color of your eyes."

She tucked a curl behind her pointed ear, sliding him the bewitching smile that made his heart punch the insides of his chest. "What's your favorite place to visit?"

He absently answered, "Wherever you are."

"Bowen, five things about you can't all be about me."

But you're the only good thing that I've got. "Why no'?"

"Where's your home? I don't even know where you live."

"I have a place in Louisiana, but my real home is in the north of Scotland." Though he said my home, in his mind the large hunting lodge he'd had restored was already their home—but he didn't want to spook her further.

"What about your family? I bet you have a huge one, being a Lykae and all."

"My family was unusual. I'm an only child." Except for his male cousins, he had no one left.

Maybe that was why he wanted children so much, to grow his own family. Soon, he would reveal to Mariketa that he wanted that bomb-blast look parents had at an amusement park. And he and Mariketa would have brave children together—fearless even. He began to resent that patch of hers as a barrier to a prize he'd wanted for so long... a prize he now believed was within his grasp.

For the present, he cast about for something to say. "Tell me something about yourself that only your close friends know."

She scrunched her lips, then said, "It drives me absolutely crazy that I can't control my magick better. I act like it doesn't bother me, but it does. Just when I was about to leave for the Hie, these baby witches of six and seven came up to me and said, 'Mari, look what we can do,' and their little spells were more than I could manage."

"Maybe you were just a late starter at that age."

"No, more than I could manage—now."

He swiped his palm over the back of his neck. "Oh, then."

"Why am I granted all this power and then no means to control it? It's like giving someone a Ferrari with the horses under the hood raring to go, but then you get into the buttery leather driver's seat, and holy hell, there's no steering wheel. It's so frustrating."

"I know you will no' like to hear this, but it must be so with someone like you."

"What does that mean? And I caution you to proceed with care."

The corners of his lips curled. "You read about people like you in myths and in the Lore, struggling with their gifts. But it's the struggle that brings greatness. If your powers came easily to you, without incident, you would never appreciate them as you should. And you would no' be a good leader because you would be impatient with others who did have to work hard. It never comes easy to all the great warriors in history."

"It came easy to you."

He gave a half laugh. "And why do you think me a great warrior?"

"Rydstrom said you were frontline in every battle, and you're still alive. Therefore... great."

He grinned down at her. "My ego thanks you for that verra sweet stroke." His grin swiftly faded though. Reminded of Rydstrom, he realized that hours had passed since the bridge collapse, and still Bowe hadn't scented the others once. Though he couldn't detect them as well as he could his mate—he could find her a hundred miles away—he still should have picked up on them if they were within a quarter of that distance. But there'd been nothing.

Tomorrow would bring the night of the full moon, they'd been forced days out of their way, and as of now, he had no one to guard her—from him. Over and over, he'd deliberated if he should reveal to her how Mariah had died. He dreaded the thought that history might repeat itself, and feared that telling her would initiate a self-fulfilling prophesy.

If Mariketa ran from him out here...

He shook his head hard. Tonight, he would take her continuously, and he would mark her as he claimed her, revealing a good bit of the beast within him. Tomorrow, surely the others would catch up. But if not, Bowe would have accustomed her to his body, and then, when he inevitably lost control in the heat of the moon, maybe she wouldn't suffer from shock. He might prevent her from wanting to escape him.

When they heard the distant rumble of thunder, he dragged his gaze from her and said, "We need to start scouting for a place to make camp. It'll likely rain on the mountainside tonight."

"I could consult my mirror."

"Doona like that, Mariketa. I'd rather see you blow something up than that eerie apple bullshite again."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Witches believe the 'eerie' spells are the most powerful ones. What's more unnerving? A charging wolf or a non-poisonous snake dropping down on the back of your neck?"

"And you witches ponder these things?"

"We've kind of had to."

No longer. At least not his witch.

If Mariketa wanted to make bees sting, then that was one thing, but he would forbid the dark magicks, like the conjuring and enchantments. He would lay down the law, and by the gods, she would—

She turned to give him her siren's smile as she lazily trailed her finger over a boulder—a hip-high one. His heart raced, his previous thoughts unrecallable. This was truly going to happen—after twelve hundred years, he was going to claim his mate.

Yes, tonight.