Chapter 6
RUNE
“Why are we here?” Josie asks a few steps ahead of me as we descend the stairs to the basement of Club Sanguine. “Is my first lesson how to chug a pitcher of beer without barfing?”
The fabric of her black pants swish together with each step, a green tank top thrown over a sports bra and her hair pulled back into a tight pony, still damp from her shower and wafting the scent of hibiscus as it sways in front of me.
She’s come ready to fight.
“Or maybe you think I’m so weak you need to be drunk for me to stand a chance against the mighty Rune Leifson in a fight?”
“I am known to be quite a formidable opponent,” I tease. “I mean, come on. Have you seen these biceps?” I hop down the last few steps and lean past Josie to prop my hand on the door that leads to the vampire level of the club, making sure to flex my muscles obnoxiously as I waggle my brows at her.
She shakes her head, turning to hide the smile that creeps onto her face. When I open the door for her, she leads the way into the club.
In reality, I know Josephine Dumont could handle herself in a tête-à-tête against me. Win? No. But give me a run for my money?
Absolutely.
Josie has more power than she knows. A part of her remains untapped and I saw a hint of her potential in the mausoleum when she made Egan turn and run scared.
I plan to draw it out of her. Here and now.
“Wait here,” I instruct Josie before striding up and onto the rounded stage, empty of performers at the moment.
Placing my thumb and index finger to my lips, I let out an ear-piercing whistle that cuts through the chatter and hushes the room. Being the wee hours of daylight, the club is sparse of patrons—most vampires tucked away in sleep.
Three sit at the bar, with a few others coupled off at various tables and couches around the room.
“Good evening, friends and enemies,” my voice cuts through the air like a blade, drawing all eyes toward me. “Today, I offer you a unique challenge—an opportunity to witness the true power of a Dumont witch in action.”
The rhythmic thud of music sets the backdrop for my announcement, the anticipation of the crowd almost palpable.
Okay, maybe that’s just me.
I reel myself back in and calm down. This is about more than entertainment—it’s a calculated move, a display designed to prove a point.
“What are you doing?” Josie’s heart flutters nervously in her chest as she watches, the sound like the flapping of a panicked bird’s wings.
“You wanted an opportunity to test your abilities. Here’s your chance.” I step aside, gesturing for Josie to take center stage.
She shakes her head at me, and I raise a brow at her in challenge. “Is our deal void, then?”
The spotlight shifts, the red-tinted bulb illuminating the battle between uncertainty and resolve in Josie’s gaze. She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders before stepping up to the edge of the stage.
I give her an approving nod and offer my hand to help her climb onto the raised platform, but Josie ignores me and pushes herself up without my assistance.
“We could’ve just sparred in the courtyard back at the hotel,” she says, her gaze flicking out at the audience of curious faces. “You didn’t need to create a whole spectacle out of it.”
“It’s not me you’ll be going up against today.” I see the question mark beginning to form, so I answer before she can ask, throwing my voice across the club. “Whoever wants a taste, come and get her. The dinner bell is ringing.”
Josie gapes at me, and I face the crowd to hide my amusement.
“Yessir, for a limited time only. This deal won’t last forever, folks. You’re gonna want to get yourself a piece of this Dumont witch while you can. Her blood is like nothing you’ve ever tasted. Absolute magic.”
I have yet to have the pleasure of Josephine’s blood coating my tongue, but don’t doubt it’s exquisite. How could it not be?
Her very presence demands attention.
“What in Gaia’s name are you doing?” Heat simmers in Josie’s black gaze. She means to look intimidating—and she does—the look enough to send a lesser man turning heel or whimpering at her feet.
It’s sexy as hell.
Moments like this convince me I’m the one meant to be bound to her. When I wind her up like this, she looks like she could stomp a god through the chest with her heel. She has a commanding presence even before her magic is considered.
Being fierce is simply her nature.
“You said you wanted to learn. Here’s your chance.” I stretch my arms wide, gesturing to the surrounding room, giving her some targets to direct that anger towards.
Her gaze sweeps over the club, and the uptick of her heart rate echoes in my ears. “You mean get sucked dry by a handful of vamps.”
Maybe it was a mistake to draw her attention to the onlookers.
Too late now.
“It will be much more real for you if it isn’t me. If we spar, there will always be a part of you that knows I won’t hurt you.”
She blinks. “You give yourself too much credit. I’m not sure I trust you either.”
I press a hand against my heart. “Ouch. You wound me, mate.”
Her brow arches at the use of the word, but I try not to look at that too closely. We’ll get there. If Finn got through to her, I can too.
But a deal is a deal. First, she learns to fight—then she’ll let me get a taste of her.
The first of Josephine’s opponents jumps onto the stage and brushes past me. I stiffen when my gaze locks with Isaac Whaite.
Isaac is one of Sloane’s vamps from the Marigny horde. The guy hates my guts. The feeling is mutual, and the smirk on his face makes me want to pummel him into dust as he looks Josie up and down.
I don’t let myself falter because of him. This is the chance to push my witch to her limits and peel away a few layers of her protective coating.
“A word of caution though,” I call to Isaac as he takes the stage, “my Sun Witch is scrappy. I suggest using your thrall to your advantage and subdue her before laying a hand on her.”
As if he’s going to get the chance.
Isaac’s mental capacity is as lacking as his physique. The only good thing about the guy is that he never questions orders. He is hardly a threat to Josie. He will be the perfect warm up.
Drawn by the allure of the challenge, the vampires in the club move to surround the stage.
Josie’s stance is guarded, her magic simmering beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed.
Perfect.
It’s not just power I want from Josie. I want a partnership—a queen to rule at my side, not a mindless blood whore. As a Unity Witch, her magic will continue to grow. She needs to be prepared.
She will be a force to be reckoned with. Even more than she is already. By challenging her, I hope to jumpstart the process.
“Classic wrestling rules apply; if you can catch my witch in your thrall and make her submit for ten seconds, or make her tap out, I’ll let you borrow her for the rest of the night.”
“You bastard,” Josephine hisses at me, nothing but fury in her dark eyes.
Good. She can use that anger.
The invitation to drink from a famed Dumont witch is more than enough incentive for the vampires here, but there’s no harm in pushing Josephine’s motivation to win.
Unless being used by someone else was something she wanted.
I don’t mind sharing my girl. Not with Isaac, though. I draw the line at that scumbag.
“Woah, hold up.” I grab the shoulder of the vamp that tries to push onto the stage. “One at a time,” I say, holding him back. “Let’s make sure this is a fair fight, yeah?”
I want to challenge Josie, not overwhelm her and make it impossible for her to hold her own.
And hold her own she will.
Josie splays her hands in front of her, and I feel the thrum of her magic building as Isaac prowls a slow circle around her.
Kick some vampire ass, Josie.
It becomes clear very quickly that my luck isn’t needed.
Josie doesn’t give Isaac an opportunity to attack. The second he stops his circling, she makes her move, thrusting her hands out in front of her and sending an impressive blast of wind towards her opponent.
Isaac is knocked to the edge of the stage, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the shiny wood as he digs his heels in, gliding to a stop. Spinning, he growls and advances again, lunging for her with a wordless cry of frustration as he’s pushed back once more.
My focus is anchored on Josie as she navigates everything the vampire throws at her. I take notes, filing them away for later when she and I begin one-on-one training.
Her form is nonexistent, and her movements are a whirlwind of uncoordinated attacks. Still, she manages to best Isaac and her second opponent all within ten minutes.
Not bad.
Josie’s raw skill is there, but she needs fine-tuning to turn her into a force. She must stop focusing on taking a defensive stance and switch to an offensive strategy. Otherwise, her future opponents—vampire, werewolf, witch, or whatever—will eventually overpower her.
After three vampires, Josie loses steam.
In a real battle, that would mean almost certain death, but I won’t let it go that far tonight. Or ever. Even if she were incapable of protecting herself, she will always be safe with me.
But of course she is capable of that and much more. I knew she was holding out. Any witch the goddess binds to Rune Leifson has to be a force.
And that she is.
Melvin is the next at bat. An unfortunate name for an unfortunate man.
Josie pivots as he comes around her, body poised like a coiled spring in anticipation of his attack. But when the vampire lunges towards her with a snarl, she doesn’t dodge.
Her eyes shut tight, and the moment Melvin’s hand dares to graze her arm, a spark of energy surges through Josie’s veins, her will channeling the very essence of her magic as she zaps Melvin with so much power that his scraggly hair frizzes and stands on end.
With a fluid motion, she counters his advance, her palm a conduit for her power. A searing spell bursts forth, an arc of flames that ignites upon contact with his flesh.
His anguished cry echoes through the air as his skin blisters and smolders, the scent of singed flesh mingling with the heady atmosphere of the club. The vampire stumbles back, clutching his scorched hand as he flees the stage.
The next vampire takes the stage. One after another, Josie fends them off.
“She is incredible,” I say to myself, fully enraptured by my witch.
I watch until Josephine’s movements begin to slow and grow sluggish with the weight of her fatigue. Even then, Josie holds off her fifth attacker, Draven, lashing out with just enough energy to keep him from advancing on her.
But Draven has barely started, and circles her. He’s a cunning fucker and I worry in her depleted state, she might be in trouble.
Again and again, he tests her defenses and drains her energy. He’s biding his time, and it’s obvious in the panicked look in Josie’s dark gaze that she realizes it.
She won’t win this one.
I’m about to call the spectacle to an end when a sudden swell of magic stops me in my tracks. It brings the whole room to a standstill, all of us watching, transfixed.
Raising both hands to the ceiling, Josie screams as she unleashes the spell. Blinding light erupts from her palms, filling the dim club.
“Fuck.” I hiss in pain as my arm sizzles where the sunlight touches, and I have to duck behind the edge of the stage in the safety of the shadows. I watch my skin knit itself back together until the blinding light of Josie’s spell dies out.
Peeking over the edge of the stage, I catch sight of the vampire first. Draven lies curled up on the wood now slick with his blood, his skin bubbled and blistered and oozing even as his body tries to mend itself.
With a dull thud from the center of the stage, my eye is drawn to Josephine as she collapses to a knee, her magic unleashed, her body spent.
She is truly amazing.
“That’s enough.” I let out an ear-splitting whistle that ricochets through the club and call the whole thing to an end.
Josie has proven her prowess to every person in the room, including herself.
Mission accomplished.