Page 41 of Black Willow Witch
Vanilla. Pink pepper. Power. Warmth. Life. Danger.It was all those things wrapped into one.
It had been clear that he had taken her by surprise when he’d invited her inside. Honestly, Ripper had surprised himself. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much of his leeriness of her had drained away.
There were times when he wondered if she’d put some kind of spell on him. He had good reason for preferring not to get entangled with a witch. It should have been enough to override her draw, but it wasn’t. Never had been. And since the moment he’d watched her laugh at Reena for thinking to challenge her, Emberlyn’s draw had sunk its claws in him deeper.
More and more he found himself staring at her mouth. More and more he had to clench his fists against the urge to reach out and touch her. And the slightest fucking thing – her smile, her laugh, her scent, her walk – could make his cock stir in his jeans.
At this point, he’d stopped merelyimaginingwhen it came to her. And that was bad. Fantasies could stay stuck in a mental draw. But now he constantlywondered.
Wondered how she tasted, how soft her skin was, how her hair would feel in his hands, how her eyes would look when she came apart around him. And all this obsessive wondering made him feel that he was coming a little too close todoing.
He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that had gripped him so tightly. No other woman had snared his attention thisway. She was some kind of living, breathing lure to him. A temptation he didn’t know if he could fully resist.
What pulsed between them was tireless. Persistent. Stubborn. And a little addictive in its potency; in the way it made endorphins and feel-good chemicals flood his body.
He could do as Kerr often urged and give into it. But . . . Ripper still wasn’t entirely sure of her. He also didn’t know if she was still hung up on Michael to any degree. It would be natural enough, but he didn’t want to share a bed with someone who also harbored feelings for someone else. He’d had enough of that with CeCe.
The wall-mounted phone rang, splintering his thoughts.
He crossed to it and picked up the receiver. ‘Yeah?’
‘Rip, it’s Logan,’ said his brother, a hint of urgency in his voice. ‘I’m at Black Willow Manor. I was on patrol; heard roaring and howling and came right over. The witch who lives here just got attacked outside by a Rabid.’
Emotions surged through Ripper – shock, anger, concern, protectiveness – and every muscle in his body locked in position. ‘She all right?’ The words came out through gritted teeth.
‘She’s fine, just a little banged up.’
‘You didn’t need to call him,’ he heard Emberlyn say in the background. ‘I’m good. There’s nothing anyone can do that I’m not already doing.’
The hint of pain lacing her words sliced at Ripper. ‘I’ll be right there,’ he told his brother. ‘Stay with her.’ He hung up, darted out of the house and jumped into his truck.
He took a shortcut through his territory, arriving at the manor in record time. He quickly stalked up the path, vaulted up the steps and knocked on the door.
Logan answered, tipping his chin. ‘Hey.’ He opened the door wide. ‘She’s in the kitchen.’
Agitation in every step, Ripper prowled past him, tracking the sounds coming from what could only be the kitchen. ‘Did you capture the Rabid?’
‘No,’ replied Logan, trailing behind him. ‘I would have tracked it, but it had clawed the witch good so I figured it was more important to get her inside. Then you asked me to stay with her.’
Ripper clenched his jaw, annoyed that the Rabid had gotten away even as he conceded that his brother had made the best choice.
As Ripper entered the kitchen, the pleasant scents of herbs, flowers and chamomile wafted over him . . . but they did nothing to hide the smells of pain and blood. The latter two dragged his instincts to protect and shield straight to the surface.
They also made his blood boil.
Protectiveness was hardwired into his nature, amplified by his Alpha status. It chafed everything in him that someone he’d sworn to safeguard had been harmed; grated on his very being, until his skin felt rubbed raw. Emberlyn wasn’t one of his wolves, but she was his to keep safe.
Even Millicent’s will said so. Sort of.
Emberlyn stood at the cluttered table, her wrist rolling as she ground herbs into a mortar with a pestle. She’d changed into a racerback top and shorts, probably because her clothes were torn. She’d also styled her hair into a side braid that dangled over her shoulder.
Ripper stalked over to her, briefly eyeing the growling black cat who was angrily prowling up and down on the countertop. ‘You all right?’ The fury-edged words came out curt and gruff.
Emberlyn slid him a quick look, cool and composed. ‘Mostly.’ She sighed at the pacing feline. ‘Lucie, calm down.’
He felt his face harden as he saw the four rake marks creeping over Emberlyn’s shoulder.Motherfucker.He shifted behind herto properly examine them. They were long and deep, though not so deep they’d require stitches. ‘You hurt anywhere else?’
‘Only my lower leg. Got clawed there, too. It could have been worse,’ she added with a loose shrug.
