Chapter Eight—Theories #4
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t have a criminal record and a few years ago was credited with saving the life of a young woman who was accosted while jogging in some park in Ft. Worth, according to the paper’s archives.”
Great. So the guy was a hero. Okay, Ramsey. Look at the good side. He can protect Sara. He noticed that Gavin had hesitated. “Is there more?”
“Strange story. According to the girl’s statement, a panther sprang out from behind some bushes and chased the men off first.”
“A panther? In Ft. Worth?”
“I guess it could have escaped from a zoo,” Gavin said, “but just moments later, Michael McCain comes strolling from the direction that the cat went.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in and then his hackles rose and he understood the reason for Gavin’s barely concealed fangs. “Shapeshifter?”
“Maybe.”
Which made him dangerous, since there was no way of knowing what shape he’d take. And if he had magical protection as well, and Balor managed to scent it…
“I wonder if Sara knows,” he mumbled.
“Aha! I thought there was a girl involved in this,” Gavin said with a smile.
“I’m just trying to protect her from Balor,” Lucas said quickly.
‘Oh.” Gavin attempted a straight face.
“She has a copy of the manuscript. She knows what we’re searching for. That makes her Balor’s prey.”
“True. Well, I don’t know if she has any clue about the shapeshifting, or if that’s even true, but she must know he’s a warlock.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because she’s a witch.”
“What?”
“Witch. Well, I guess you’d actually call her more of a priestess, if they still use that term. But this McCain sometimes meets with twelve of them in what they call a Sisterhood Circle to worship the goddess Brighid.”
My sister. Lucas sat there, stunned, and then memories of Sara’s apartment flowed through him.
The picture of Avalon, the statue of Venus, the gypsy painting.
Her name itself. St. Sara. Sara, the daughter of Mary Magdalene.
The Magdalene herself descended through a royal bloodline that led back to Brighid.
And Brighid was Balor’s archenemy, having banished him from Avalon and taken his divinity. If Balor found out that Sara was a priestess of hers, her life would be forfeit. And not in a fast and merciful death, either.
He had to get back to Texas.
****
“I’ll be fine,” Sara assured a worried-looking Michael. “Your mom needs you.”
“I don’t like leaving you,” Michael answered. “Not with what you told me went on in Halifax. The jerk could be out there now, stalking the place.”
“I’ll lock the door after you leave,” she said, “and I won’t open it to anyone, I promise. Your mom’s been hit by a car, Michael. It’s a good two-hour drive to the hospital in Waco. It’s already getting dark. Go.”
He still looked hesitant.
“I’ve got the gun, remember? I know how to use it.”
It took a few more minutes to persuade him that she would be all right for the night and that tomorrow she would stay at Mr. Smith’s home until either he or Lucas got back into town.
She smiled as she threw the deadbolt. Unless this Mr. Baylor had a key, he wouldn’t be breaking down this door. It was solid oak. She checked the windows to make sure all the latches were down. Feeling rather silly, she even pulled the curtains. Now, no one could even look in.
She read for a while and then, getting bored, turned on the TV.
One of the cable networks had on something that looked like soft porn.
Not that she needed that, but she couldn’t seem to find anything else on.
She glanced at the time. Ten o’clock. She might as well watch this in her bedroom. That way she could just fall asleep.
The man on the screen fisted his lady’s hair, bringing her head back and exposing the curve of her throat to him. He ravaged her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss while his hand tore the flimsy negligee off her, exposing large breasts.
Wow. A real bodice-ripper, Sara thought as the heroine moaned and the man grabbed her buttocks and gyrated against her belly.
What would it be like, making love to Lucas?
Would he take her like this, hard and fast, leaving little room for anything except raw passion?
Or would he take his time to make sure she was pleasured?
Would he explore every inch of her, running his tongue down her stomach and up the insides of her thighs and then teasing her very core until she shattered into mind-blowing nirvana?
She turned off the TV and snuggled under the covers, drifting off to sleep.
The dream came again. A Templar, his face lost in shadows.
He removed the white mantle with its red cross, a lopsided smile on his face as he stood naked in front of her.
His erection jutted out from a mass of tawny curls and Sara reached to stroke it as he lowered his tall, well-muscled bronzed body over her and cradled her head in his hand.
He brushed her hair back and began the long, leisurely exploration of her mouth and throat and breasts—
DANGER!
With a jolt, she sat up.
DANGER!