Page 26

The bar crowd thinned as I continued down the street.

I found myself approaching a narrower side street, poorly lit and lined with the back entrances of various businesses.

In my fearless state, the shadowy passage looked interesting rather than threatening–a path less traveled, a new perspective on the town I was still learning.

I had almost reached the entrance to the alleyway when I heard it–a female voice, tight with tension and barely controlled panic. "No. Stop it. I told you I'm not interested."

I paused, turning toward the sound. It had come from just inside the alley, where the shadows were deepest.

"Come on, baby, don't be like that." A man's voice now, cajoling but with an undercurrent of aggression that made my skin crawl. "I just want to talk. Just want to get to know you better."

In the dim light filtering from a distant security lamp, I could make out two figures—a man backing a woman against the brick wall, one hand gripping her arm while she tried to pull away. Her purse dangled awkwardly from her shoulder, the strap clearly broken.

This was exactly the kind of situation that would have sent Hazel scurrying away to find help. But Hazel was weak, frightened, controlled by others. Juniper was fearless, and could handle this herself.

"Hey," I called, my voice ringing with unexpected authority that seemed to echo off the brick walls. "She said to let her go."

The man turned, momentarily startled. He was handsome in a conventional way—strong jaw, broad shoulders, the kind of looks that probably got him his way more often than not.

His surprise quickly shifted to dismissive annoyance when he took in my appearance–just one woman, alone, clearly no threat to someone of his size and strength.

How wrong he was.

"Mind your own business, lady," he said, barely glancing at me before turning back to the woman. "My girlfriend and I are having a private conversation."

"I'm not your girlfriend," the woman protested, trying to pull away again. She was younger than I'd first thought, maybe early twenties, with a round face that looked made for smiling, though now it was tense with fear. "I told you at the bar, I'm not interested. Please just let me go."

"You heard her," I said, taking another step closer. The confidence flowing through me was intoxicating, making me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. "She's not interested. Let her go."

This time when he turned, his expression had hardened into something ugly.

He released the woman's arm, but only to face me fully, drawing himself up to his full height–at least a foot taller than me, probably twice my weight.

Under normal circumstances, this display of physical dominance might have intimidated me.

Now it just seemed pathetic.

"You really want to get involved in this?" he asked, his tone making it clear he thought I should reconsider. "Why don't you turn around and walk away while you still can?"

Behind him, the woman looked torn between hope that I might help and fear that I would leave her alone with him. I recognized that expression–I'd worn it myself, caught between someone's false charm and their true nature.

Something snapped inside me at the realization–a protective fury unlike anything I'd ever experienced. This man was another predator who thought his desires outweighed a woman's right to say no. Another man who used his physical advantage to corner and intimidate.

Well, I had advantages now too.

"I'm already involved," I said, my voice deadly calm. "And I'm not the one who should be worried about walking away."

He laughed as if I'd told a particularly amusing joke. "What are you going to do, exactly? Call the cops? Scream for help?" His gaze raked over me dismissively. "You don't look like you could hurt a fly."

I felt it then; that same power that had manifested when Pride had triggered my anger, when I'd demonstrated my abilities in his office. But stronger now, more focused, fed by the righteous fury burning in my chest and untampered by any fear or doubt.

Energy gathered in my palms, a tingling heat that spread to my fingertips like electricity.

Without conscious thought, I reached for the woman's terror, drawing it toward me, letting it fuel the power building inside me.

Crimson light bloomed between my hands, illuminating the alley with an eerie, pulsing glow.

The man's smug expression faltered, confusion replacing confidence as he took an involuntary step backward. "What the hell–"

I didn't let him finish. I extended my hands toward him, channeling the energy outward in a focused stream. I wasn't trying to hurt him physically–I was doing something much worse.

The crimson magick struck him like a physical force, enveloping him in a swirling mist of pure terror. He staggered backward, eyes widening as the fear hit him—not his own fear, but the concentrated essence of every woman who had ever been cornered, threatened, made to feel helpless and small.

"What are you doing to me?" he gasped, his voice rising in panic as his hands flew to his chest.

I advanced on him, the magick growing stronger as I fed it with my anger, my sense of justice, my complete lack of fear. The crimson energy darkened, taking on deeper hues as it showed him exactly what it felt like to be powerless, to be afraid, to have someone bigger and stronger decide your fate.

"Teaching you how it feels," I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears, layered with power, "to be cornered. To be afraid. To have someone ignore your no."

He clutched at his chest, breath coming in ragged gasps as the magick showed him visions of his own vulnerability.

"Stop," he pleaded, dropping to his knees as the weight of terror pressed down on him. "Please stop. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

The woman he'd been threatening pressed herself against the wall, her expression now as fearful of me as it had been of him. She inched along the bricks, then slipped away, casting one last frightened glance at both of us before disappearing around the corner.

The man whimpered, curling into himself as the crimson energy pressed down on him like a living weight.

He was experiencing pure terror now, the kind that stripped away all pretense and left only quivering animal fear.

Part of me wanted to see how far I could push it, and wanted to break him completely.

"Juniper!" The voice cut through my concentration like a knife, breaking the spell. I turned, the crimson energy still swirling around my fingers, to find Lust standing at the alley entrance.

His expression was one of shock–eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. But there was something else there too, something that looked almost like recognition. And approval.

The man took advantage of my distraction, scrambling to his feet and bolting past me. He gave Lust a wide berth as he fled, not looking back once as he disappeared into the night.

"What did you do?" Lust asked, his voice lacking its usual sarcastic edge. He approached cautiously, hands slightly raised.

I tried to explain, but the words wouldn't come. The power rush was fading, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. The alley seemed to tilt around me, and I swayed on my feet as the full weight of what I'd just done crashed over me.

I'd nearly broken that man's mind. Had wanted to. Had enjoyed it.

Lust closed the distance between us in two quick strides, reaching out to steady me. His touch sent a jolt of awareness through my body–warm, grounding, unexpectedly gentle.

"You need to calm down," he said, his usual sardonic tone replaced with concern. "Let me take you home."

"Okay," I agreed, hating the weakness in my voice. I wanted to refuse, to insist I was fine, but my legs felt like they might give out at any moment. The adrenaline crash combined with whatever magickal energy I'd expended left me drained in a way I hadn't anticipated.

Lust kept a steadying hand at my elbow as we walked back toward the cottage, his touch surprisingly respectful. We moved in silence for several minutes.

"Diana sent me," he finally said, his voice carefully neutral. "She felt the magickal disturbance, and was worried about you. Good thing too–that could have gone very badly."

"She was monitoring me?" I asked, though I wasn't sure if I was more grateful or annoyed.

"She cares about you. We all do." He paused. "What happened back there? That level of power...it's not normal, even for someone with your abilities."

I glanced at him sideways, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression remained inscrutable in the dim light, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his concern.

"I tried an experiment," I admitted. "With my emotional alchemy. I wanted to see if I could extract my own emotions–specifically, the fear and confusion about being...reanimated." The word still felt strange in my mouth. "It worked. Maybe too well."

Lust's brow furrowed. "You removed your own emotions? Juniper, emotions exist in equilibrium for a reason. Remove one and the others intensify to fill the void."

We had reached the cottage. I fumbled with the key, my fingers still trembling slightly from magickal exhaustion.

Lust reached over and steadied my hand with his, helping me fit the key into the lock.

The door swung open, and I expected him to bid me goodnight.

Instead, he followed me inside without asking.

I was too tired to object. The cottage felt smaller somehow, more confining than it had earlier when I'd been riding high on fearless confidence.

Lust moved to the kitchen with surprising familiarity, returning with water. His expression was more serious than I'd ever seen it.

"Drink," he instructed. "Magick requires grounding. Water helps."

I obeyed, draining half the glass in one long swallow. The water felt incredible—cool and clean as it slid down my throat, somehow anchoring me back to my physical body.

"How did you find me so quickly?" I asked when I could speak again.