Page 74 of Black Willow Witch
She frowned, thrown. The Rabid were animalistic and savage, but they weren’t stupid. Their survival instincts were sharp. Like any predator, if their prey proved to be too much trouble they generally moved on. Only on a full moon would they behave senselessly.
This wasn’t a full moon. It wasn’t even nighttime. It was late morning, the sun was shining . . . and, where usually there’d be an animal cunning in a Rabid’s gaze, there was a strange sort of glaze. Her nape prickled in suspicion.
Chanting, Emberlyn lifted both hands and sent out ribbons of magick. The Rabid made no attempt to dodge them, which was equally strange. The glittering motes rushed up its nostrils. The Rabid snorted and jerked back. It shook its head fast, blinking hard.
She kept chanting, the creature firmly in her magickal ‘hold’ now.
Its eyelids grew droopy, its body began to sway and it staggered like a drunk. With a weak snarl, it lost the fight and succumbed to the sleeping spell – falling flat on its back, out cold.
Emberlyn released a long, relieved breath. She descended the steps and cautiously approached the Rabid. Its muscular chest steadily rose and fell, every rough exhale seeming to chafe its throat.
She examined it for scars but only spotted two – neither of which made her think of any werewolf who’d turned Rabid. Eager to confirm her earlier suspicion, she waved a hand over its body – dripping seeking magick over it, making what was hidden come to the light.
Her mouth tightened as a mini web of magick showed on each of the Rabid’s eyelids.
Motherfucker.
The air in his lungs hot with rage, Ripper stormed up the path toward the manor. He could hear a vehicle approaching fast; knew it would be the Watchers. One of his wolves had called to say that Emberlyn had reported yet another Rabid incident. Ripper had leaped into his truck and hightailed it here in record time, determined to get to her; having no fucking clue if she was injured or not.
Again. She’d found herself fronting a Rabidagain. There was something very fucking wrong with this picture. No way was it a coincidence.
He cleared the porch steps with a single leap. The front door opened . . . revealing no one. The manor’s sentient power had apparently decided to bid him entrance. A thought he shoved aside, his only interest in tracking down the occupant.
He stalked inside. ‘Emberlyn?’ he called out, his voice unintentionally sharp.
No response.
Knowing she’d reported that the Rabid had entered her backyard, he made his way toward the rear of the house, again calling out her name.
The back door creaked open, and there she was. Her brow creased in a surprised confusion. ‘How did you get in?’
Making a beeline for her, he swept his gaze over her body. There was no blood or visible injuries. No indication she was shaken or upset. In fact, she looked her usual calm and steady self. ‘The manor let me in,’ he replied.
Her brows hiked up. ‘Well, that’s a – no, you don’t want to get close to me right now, Rip, I have dirt on my clothes.’
He kept on forging forward. ‘I don’t care.’Finallyreaching her, he curved his arms around her. She stilled in surprise. Okay, so he wasn’t much of a hugger – so what?
Relaxing, she settled her hands on the twin columns of his back.
He pulled in a breath through his nose, clenching his teeth so hard a shooting pain lanced through his jaw. Frustration, agitation, fury – the emotions boiled in his gut. ‘You hurt?’
‘No. I managed to get behind the house’s defensive barrier before the Rabid could get to me.’
Relief should have coursed through him at that, but the dark emotions simmering in his system left no room for anything else. He smelled the spot behind her ear, taking her scent inside him. ‘You should have called me,’ he insisted, his voice roughening with a barely contained growl. They weren’t an official couple, no, but she was under his protection.
‘I knew one of the Watchers would call you, so I also knew you’d already be on your way here by the time I’d put the Rabid to sleep – assuming you weren’t busy with other things.’
Feeling his brows snap together, Ripper pulled back enough to meet her gaze. ‘Look at me. It wouldn’t matter what was going on around me. If you had even the slightest brush with danger, I would come to you.’
She stared at him, her expression unreadable. ‘Even when there’d be nothing you could do?’
‘Even then.’ He smoothed a hand up her spine. ‘Now, where’s the Rabid?’
‘Outside, asleep. I was pruning herbs in the garden when I saw that Lucie was staring at the woods. Then she started growling. I walked over to see what had unsettled her, and I noticed the Rabid in the trees. I fended it off with magick as I fled to the porch, knowing it wouldn’t manage to bypass the protective barrier.’
‘How long will it stay unconscious?’
‘Until I or another witch awakens it. Don’t worry, it isn’t going anywhere.’
