Enemy Lover. Bonnie Vanak
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in a bar on Bourbon waiting for Mark when I met Damian. He was … compelling. It was odd, the chemistry. He told me he was a Draicon, a werewolf. Mark arrived. He got angry when he saw Damian. I could tell they didn’t like each other. Mark told me to go home, but Damian had slipped a note into my purse with his room number.”
A wry smile touched Renee’s mouth. “Let me guess. You’re young, enthralled and you went to him.”
Jamie nodded. A hot flush filled her face. Her first time, her shyness, his commanding sensuality. His powerful body mounting hers. The wild, uninhibited feeling … their naked bodies straining against each other. The odd feeling that it had been more than sex.
“Damian said he’d teach me magick. I went to the hotel the next day to make him deliver on his promise, but he’d checked out. I felt so used. I went home and Mark was furious. He guessed what happened and ordered me not to leave the house. Draicon were evil werewolves and he would make Damian pay.”
Never had she seen her brother so angry, so concerned about her. For the first time he truly cared. And Damian killed him.
“And how did Mark know about the Draicon?” Renee asked.
Shrugging, Jamie stared at the shelves of herbs lining the wall. “Mark knew secrets about the magick world. He was my only family and I trusted him.
“That night, Mark needed help coaxing out a stray dog from this building he’d just bought. Said he would meet me there. He told me to wear new clothing he’d sprayed with this chemical compound to hide my scent so Damian couldn’t find me. I was inside the building searching for the dog when I heard motorcycles in the alley. I peered outside and I saw … I saw … Mark. He was facing Damian and these five bikers, all tall and dressed in leather …"
Emotion squeezed her throat. “I heard Damian say, ‘That’s him, Mark Walsh. Kill him.’ Th-the bikers undressed and turned into wolves. I saw Damian shape-shift into this huge wolf and … Mark screamed … Damian, he was … he was …” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the snarls, muscled wolves, the awful sounds her brother made as he died.
“I fainted. When I woke, I went into the alley. There was nothing but gray ash.” Jamie gulped down a breath. “I reported Mark missing and the police told me a witness saw Mark killed by muggers. Then I just ran, because I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Oh, Jamie,” the woman said softly. Opening her arms in invitation, she beckoned to her.
Oh, she wanted to! Wanted to let the older woman give her comfort she’d needed since Mark’s death. But Jamie didn’t dare remove the layer of steel she’d erected to shelter her from the uncaring world.
She shook her head. “I stayed in hotels, afraid to go home, afraid Damian would find me. A few days later, I met his friend. Nicolas was supposed to keep me safe until Damian arrived. I told Nicolas I’d go with him if he taught me magick.”
A grim smile replaced grief. “He did. And I used it to find the Morphs, gain magick and try to kill Damian. They used my blood to make a lethal disease and I infected him with a kiss.”
Anguish touched Renee’s expression. “You’ve suffered a horrible loss. But why would Damian order your brother killed? Perhaps you don’t know the full story.”
Jamie bristled. “He probably knew Mark was going to go after him for seducing me. I saw my own brother ripped to pieces. Draicon are merciless killers.”
The cries still echoed in her mind. The terrible screams of pain and tearing sounds …
Renee gently reached for her palm. “Jamie, you’ve had a rough life for one so young. You’re special, different and you suffered for it. It’s time you let go, and learned not everyone is the enemy. Sometimes the ones you think you can trust least are the ones you should trust most. They are your real family.”
Shifting in her chair, Jamie felt the rub of old scars against her lower back. Heard the mocking sneers from her cousins, felt the burning sting on her flesh …
Shame flared inside her. Relatives were highly overrated. “You’re more family than anyone else.” All I have left. “So there’s nothing you have to give me a smidgen of my old powers back?"
“Nothing.” Wisdom shone in Renee’s dark gaze. “What is holding you bound is ancient Draicon magick. If Damian did this, he did it to protect you.”
“I need an ancient Draicon spell to remove it. The Book of Magick.”
Renee looked troubled. “Such texts are meant to lie undisturbed, for they are too dangerous even in the hands of the wisest, most skilled sorceress.”
She wasn’t wise or skilled. But desperate.
“Promise me if you find the book, you will turn it over to the Draicon,” Renee begged. “You’ve already become a victim to terrible forces. The book could destroy you for good.”
“I wasn’t a victim, but a willing participant.”
The woman gently touched her wrist. “A victim, honey. The Morphs knew you were vulnerable. No matter how you argue the point, they took advantage of your weakness.”
Jamie bristled. “Not weak. Never. Thanks, Mama Renee. I can manage on my own.”
A cryptic expression touched the woman’s face. “Jamie, remember. Even good can come of darkness. The Draicon leader seeks you, and his kind need your healing power.”
The words made no sense. She didn’t heal, but destroy. Nothing made sense anymore.
The woman offered a sad smile. “And all Draicon are not evil.”
Jamie’s chest felt tight with emotion as she went with Renee into the main storefront. The little brass bell tinkled merrily behind her as she left.
Feeling lost, she headed for the Pedestrian Mall. Just another average day in the Quarter …
Jamie shrank back, her heart beating double time at the figure stalking toward her. Not Damian, the lean, chiseled face she remembered so well, but another, with cruel, twisted features, wispy hair and black, soulless eyes.
The Morph ambled along, its sallow, shrunken and hunched figure looking like a living nightmare. Couldn’t anyone see it? Run, you fools!
Jamie blinked hard. Instead of a Morph, she saw a middle-aged man in khaki shorts, his slight paunch covered by a flowered shirt.
I’m losing my damn mind.
Dragging in a lungful of air, she forced herself to relax. No Morphs stalked the streets. Only people, out for a good time. And one lone werewolf named … Damian.
Jamie froze in shocked fear.
Wind ruffled his short, dark hair. His elegant good looks made him stand out in the crowd like a sleek sports car among sedate sedans. He prowled with lithe grace toward her, his muscled body moving like a well-honed machine. Oblivious to the crowd, the artists, everything.
Everything but her. His hard green gaze riveted to her like a laser beam. Jamie’s heart raced.
Instinct urged flight. She turned, pushed past the crowd. Fast, faster, as she raced beneath the balconies of the Pontalba Apartments, feeling his breath on her like a warm caress of air.
A hand latched onto her upper arm, jerked her to a stop. Jamie gulped, panic racing through her veins, his muscled chest pressing against her as he herded her out of the crowd’s way against the brick building. Damian swung her into a faded doorway. Intensity radiated in his gaze.
“Jamie, ah, finally, I found you,” he said softly, her name rolling off his tongue in his whiskey-smooth accent.
“Let me go, Draicon. Let me go, now.”
She struggled against his steely grip. A hysterical sob rose in her throat. He was going to punish her for trying to assassinate him. Damian crowded her against the doorway,