Chapter Six #2
Marcus loomed closer, his fingers tapping the table in an idle rhythm that made Willow’s skin crawl.
“How does it feel, bitch?” His tone dripped with superiority and disdain.
“You think you can turn me down, walk away and that there would be no reckoning? Your reckoning will be at my hand and I am looking forward to making you scream. You did so beautifully the last time you bled out before me.”
“I think you’ll find me harder to kill than last time.” Willow’s voice was low, steady. No fear. Marcus jerked back a little, surprised.
“Well, look at that. The little witch has a spine.” Desire flared in his eyes, twisted and hungry. “I will enjoy breaking you of that spirit. Time is running out, little witch.”
Liam felt Willow’s confusion. A pulse throbbed faintly in the tattoo on her stomach, the wolves inside straining. “What has time got to do with it?”
Marcus crossed his arms. “Everything. You have until the next full moon to break this curse, or your men will be lost to you forever.”
“How is that possible?” Liam demanded. “Would we not just return to fight for our mate in another life?”
“If we fail in this life,” Willow said, her confidence sharp enough to surprise even Liam, “then we will just kill you in the next one.”
Marcus’s grin widened, eyes glowing demonic red.
“Your mongrel mates have manifested in this time. Somehow, that little witch friend of yours gave them form. Once they die in this life, or the curse is not lifted, they are gone for good. Think about that. They have been living a half-life for two centuries. Lost in a void between realms. I’d rather be dead than live like that. Wouldn’t you?”
Shock and grief rolled through Willow, nearly breaking Liam. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. Jacob growled low in the void between, his rage vibrating through their shared bond.
“But,” Marcus continued smoothly, “if you surrender to me—give yourself to me, as you should have always been—I will make it so that they can return to the time they were meant to be. Let them live a normal life.”
Willow swallowed. “You can do that?”
Marcus’s grin turned cunning. “Yes, little one. Once you and I are together, there will be nothing I cannot do. They’ll live out their lives happily back in their time, never remembering the last two hundred years of non-existence you forced them into.”
Liam pushed against the barrier, furious. The tattoo on Willow’s skin burned, a reminder of how close yet unreachable they were. Willow was listening to the bastard. Dangerous ground.
“Your witch friend can’t stop me,” Marcus added, almost apologetic. “She is not that powerful. I will end her too, if you force me to continue this chase. I am growing weary of the game. You will be mine in this life, the next and every other life. Because you. Belong. To me.”
“Not yet she doesn’t, asshole!” Ursula’s voice cut through from the doorway, fierce and sharp.
Relief surged through Willow and Liam felt it too. Ursula strode into the room just ahead of a dark curly-haired woman who seemed oddly familiar. “Get the fuck away from her before she chokes on your demonic stench.”
Marcus growled, the sound reverberating through the walls and took a step forward, his hands curling into fists. But the dark haired woman stepped between them, calm and lethal. Power shimmered faintly in the air around her. “Don’t make me stop you. You know that I can.”
Marcus froze, hissed, then stormed out of the room, his presence leaving the space colder, fouler for having been there. Liam didn’t know what hold this woman had over him, but he would find out.
She turned to Willow, her smile warm, her eyes kind, though her aura carried quiet power.
“Hi, Willow. My name is Saffron, but you can call me Saffie and I’ll be your lawyer and your rescuer this evening.
” She extended her hand. When Willow took it, Liam felt a surge of energy pulse through their bond, the tattoo on her body glowing faintly before fading.
Willow blinked. “Um, hi?”
Saffie grinned. “It’s good to finally talk to you.
” She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“And to you too, Liam and Jacob. But let’s get you all out of here before we welcome you properly, shall we?
” Straightening, she turned to the mirror, her tone snapping into steel.
“I would suggest, Captain Riley, if you don’t want to face a litany of charges for what you’ve put my client through—and the truly appalling behavior of your officers—I suggest you drop this charade and allow her to leave.
Otherwise, I’ll call the Mayor, who happens to be a close personal friend of mine and I’ll make sure the only place anyone calls you Captain again is that dominatrix bar you frequent every second Thursday while your wife is at the movies. Are we clear?”
There was a sharp click in the room, then a man’s voice answered: “Ms. Anderson, we apologize for any inconvenience we have caused you this evening. You are free to go.”