Page 45 of Samhain Savior

“Deceiver!” he hissed, his eyes wild.

“Ghoul!” I shot back, refusing to be cowed by him

“Sorceress!”

“Fiend!”

“Enchantress!”

“You are the biggest pain in my—”

My words were cut off when Archer reached for me, his fists clenching in the fabric of the hideous dress, and hauled me against him.

“And you refuse to leave my thoughts.”

Then he slammed his mouth against mine.

All thought left my head, my entire world narrowed down to a singular focus: Archer’s lips.

Every twist and pull of his kiss was like a spell I happily fell under. His lips danced against mine, the subtle taste of smoke lingering on my tongue and giving me a thrill of the forbidden.

At my throat, the shadow collar hummed in what felt like satisfaction.

That warmth in my chest ignited into an inferno, and as I closed my eyes, I imagined it as a supernova, the light exploding between us as Archer ravaged my mouth and clutched me to him like he simply couldn’t get close enough.

I whimpered when he pulled back, but he didn’t leave me bereft for long. Repositioning his hold, Archer secured one hand on the small of my back, the other moved to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair and pulling deliciously tight.

Lifting my own arms, I raised them to his shoulders, draping them around his neck as I pulled him down to me, my sensitive breasts pressed tight against his rock-hard chest. The growl he released at the contact had my nipples peaking beneath the rough fabric in a way that made me want to beg for more.

I probably would have, too, if not for the loud clearing of a throat from somewhere across the yard.

Gasping for breath, I rested my head against Archer’s chest, a bit dazed and a lot turned on. Finally regaining some composure, I blinked my eyes open, expecting to see Archer gazing down at me, a smirk on his handsome face.

Instead, he was frowning, not at me, but at the ground beneath our feet.

“Archer?” I asked, pulling back reluctantly. Before I could question him further, I realized what he was staring at, and my own frown formed as a match to his.

Beneath our feet, in a near perfect circle, the dry autumn grass had been charred to ash. Spinning, I cast around, noting with muted surprise that all of Archer’s shadows somehow disappeared, too.

“What did you do?” I asked, kneeling down to touch the still-warm grass. The blackened blades were brittle, crumbling beneath my fingers and leaving behind dark streaks of evidence which I hastily wiped on my dress.

“Me?” Archer replied, his tone accusatory. “You’re the one who is responsible for this. Whatever you did also chased my shadows away.”

“I didn’t do this!” I gestured to the mess at our feet. “I have never done anything like that bef—” Clamping my lips together, I shook my head, not wanting to reveal my greatest shame under his recriminatory stare. “I didn’t do this.”

“If you would both please put a fucking sock in it,” Corson called, and I spun to see him standing in the doorway, looking between the two of us like he’d never seen us before. “Nathaniel’s back. Archer, we got a fuckin’ problem.”

Chapter twenty

Archer

What the fuck was that?

I turned away, my confusion as overwhelming as my anger, as I headed for the house, needing to put distance between me and the witch.

How had she done that? Chased my shadows away?

In all my many years roaming the earth, no mortal had ever managed such a feat. Other powerful beings had come close, some even managing to nearly rival me in power and control, but in the end I had always had the upper hand. There were very few who could best me, and at this point, nearly all of them were on my side.