Page 41 of Druid Cursed

Did he know that, truly? Caedmon had made it clear he would sacrifice Kellen’s heartmate if it meant breaking the curse.

But if he could not trust his brother with the one most precious to him, their relationship was naught.

And ’twas obvious Caedmon and Maggie were in cahoots against him.

Any argument was already doomed to fail.

Two stubborn people who would stop at nothing to save those they loved.

That they deemed him worth the consequences of facing a vengeful witch annihilated any contention.

“ Cacamas .” He sighed, frustration a knot in his chest. He lifted Maggie’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss at the pulse on the inside of her wrist. The mere touch ignited all the memories of the previous night, the slide of her skin on his, his name groaned from her lips, the consuming sweetness of her heat surrounding him.

His body tightened, throbbing with need.

Before he decided to follow the excellent notion of locking them both in the dungeon until Samhain to be alone, he released her and stalked across the room to the hearth, beyond hearing range.

More than anyone else, he trusted his brother. He had to. Caedmon was all that stood between them and utter destruction.

…

Standing next to Caedmon with Kellen all the way across the room, Maggie couldn’t deny a shiver of cold.

Even though Caedmon had done nothing to scare her, had in fact treated her kindly and even made her laugh, a shadow seemed to hide beneath his surface.

He reminded her of a wolf lured from the wild, never quite tamed.

“Thanks for talking Kellen down, little sparrow. You good?” His voice was no more than a soft lull, and he watched her with only concern. “I know this is a lot to take in for a druid newbie.”

“Or for anyone normal.” The tension unraveled some, and she grinned. “Not that I’d ever make that claim.”

“You’re in exceptional company.” He shifted so he blocked the sight of Kellen brooding before the fire, sadly disrupting her view of his fine backside. Looking at Kellen for days, years, would never get old.

“I wasn’t kidding about doing whatever you need to free both Wendy and Kellen.

” If she sounded brave, maybe courage would sink into her chilled bones.

“I’ve only battled witches in video games, so keep your expectations low.

My best weapon is playing possum, but I’m open to learning some quick, down-and-dirty moves. ”

“My opinion of you continually improves.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

“What’s our strategy?” She kept her voice to a whisper. “What are we going to do to free Wendy? Track Sorcha down in her cave and take her out, like King Arthur did with the Very Black Witch? Without being trounced first, of course.”

“What a strange storage bank of history you keep.” His smile flared and faded just as fast. “Until the new moon on Samhain, we do nothing.”

“But—”

“Detaching Sorcha from her vessel is necessary for my counter-spell, to break the curse for good. We’ll only get one shot at it.

If we try and fail, your friend will be tortured until Sorcha has no more use for her.

The witch isn’t one to forgive and forget.

From what you say, Wendy is smart, letting Sorcha have her way, knowing Samhain is the deadline. ”

He had a point, dammit.

“I’ve woven a spell certain to disrupt a possession.” He removed a shiny silver sphere from his pocket. “It requires contact with Wendy’s flesh. There is no scenario that leads me to believe Sorcha would allow either me or Kellen close enough to apply it.”

Maggie tried not to hyperventilate. “But where you or Kellen wouldn’t have a chance, I might.”

He nodded. “You are her kin and radiate only kindness and goodness. She believes you are weak, helpless, and will not expect foul play from you.” His voice softened. “There’s no shame if you’re not up to the task.”

“I’ll do it,” she blurted, before her pounding heart drowned her logic or fear killed her bravery. “Sorcha’s my long-lost, super-evil grandmother. I have to represent the part of the family that doesn’t cackle, imprison druids, or cast nasty spells.”

He studied her a moment, his expression unreadable. “Both Wendy and my brother are fortunate to have found you.”

She made a face. “I’m not sure ‘fortunate’ is the best description.”

“I am.” He didn’t smile, and those shadows returned to his gaze, adding a sheen to his black eyes. “Never marginalize who and what you are, little sparrow. You’re important. Without your assistance against Sorcha, we will surely fail.”

She wanted to laugh him off, but her throat was too dry, and her usual humor deflection came up short. He was completely serious, not a hint of teasing detectable, and the fact he believed what he said slipped an invisible knife between her ribs. What if she screwed up and ruined everything?

“There is nothing wrong with being afraid,” he said, surprisingly gentle.

“Fear is merely a sign that you have found someone precious enough to fight for, and that is fortunate indeed.” He pressed the palm-size ball into her hand.

It was lighter than she expected and warm in her cold fingers.

“The smallest, briefest contact and Sorcha will be expelled from Wendy’s body. I’ll handle the rest.”

She studied the sphere and found the surface dotted with pinholes, like a tea infuser. There appeared to be no seam to take it apart. Maybe a different druid magic was used to put ingredients inside. “I don’t have to say taibhse ?”

“And all this time I thought Kellen was wooing you when he was merely teaching you helpful Gaelic words.”

Heat crept into her face. “Wooing” was a tame word for all that she and Kellen had done in his castle last night, details Caedmon would never hear from her. She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Words are unnecessary,” he said, the humor evident in his tone. “But if you wish to add a little Gaelic kick to the spell, feel free.”

“Wendy left this with the last clue card.” She pulled the spindle free from her pocket, where her sweater had kept it hidden. “And before you ask, I know absolutely, one hundred percent, that Wendy left it there, not Sorcha.”

Caedmon’s eyebrows lifted. “If you’re certain, then it’s good enough for me.” He leaned forward and studied the iron whorl and its symbols. “Ancient. Not a Ravenwood relic. Interesting.”

“I think Wendy left it there to encourage me to be brave, to fight.” She hesitated a moment, feeling silly saying more and yet… “I don’t know why, but I think it’s important.”

“Always listen to your instincts,” he said gravely. “Bring it with you when we confront Sorcha.”

“I will.” The fact Caedmon had taken her seriously only confirmed the feeling she’d had since finding the spindle in her sandal. How or why an old spindle might be important, she hadn’t a clue, but she wasn’t going to risk being wrong. She slipped it back into her pocket.

“What if it doesn’t go as planned?” She swallowed hard, ignoring as best she could the distinct sensation that she slid toward an endless well. “Is there a plan B?”

“No.” His voice held a promise of poison. “We have one opportunity to win or lose. Everything.”