Possessing the Witch

Selene stretched out her mind to read into his thoughts, but the more she pushed the more frustrated she became. So many questions spun through her own thoughts, she couldn’t see into his.

The man in the backseat moaned. He’d lost a lot of blood and from the looks of him, had gone into the river, a very unsanitary place. If he didn’t die of exposure, the bacteria from the river water might kill him.

“Could you hurry?” Selene urged.

Deme shook her head, but the SUV’s speed picked up. A red light ahead made her slow the vehicle enough to look both ways before blowing through.

In what seemed like an interminable amount of time, but had been less than ten minutes, Deme pulled up in front of Selene’s shop.

“We’re here, now what?” Deme cast a glance into the backseat, where the man lay semicomatose. “How are we going to get him in the basement? Assuming I agree to this plan of yours.”

Selene bit her lip. “I don’t know. But we have to.”

Deme reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Cal can be here in fifteen.”

“No.” Selene put her hand over Deme’s phone. “I’d rather we kept this to just you and me.”

“What? You and me carrying a large unconscious man into your basement apartment?”

Selene nodded. “Yes. And I don’t want Cal to know that he’s even here. I don’t want anyone else to know. Not even Gina and Aurai. Especially not Brigid.”

“We’re your sisters. Why keep it from us? Look, just let me take him to the hospital. Let them handle him. They have big strong burly orderlies that—”

“No.” A deep voice cut into Deme’s words. The back door to the vehicle opened and the man got out.

Selene ripped her door open, but not in time.

One second he was holding on to the door, the next he’d crumpled to the ground.

Her heart beating hard against her ribs, Selene dropped to her knees. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t need your help,” he said.

Deme stood over them both, her fists planted on her hips. “Like hell you don’t.”

“I won’t go to a...” He lay still with his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, almost nonexistent.

Selene slid one of his arms around her neck. “Help me get him up.”

Deme sighed. “Stubborn witch.”

Selene’s lips twitched. “Shut up and get his other side.”

Deme lifted his arm to drape over her shoulder, but as soon as she moved it, he jerked, growling like a rabid animal, his teeth peeled back over sharp incisors. With her head down to get the arm over her shoulder, Deme didn’t see the pointed fangs.

But Selene did. Her stomach flip-flopped and she ducked her head to avoid Deme’s gaze. “Just get an arm around his waist and help me haul him to the stairs.” To him she said, “Could you manage to stay with us long enough to help yourself down a flight of stairs?”

“Must get below,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That’s where we’re going, just help us get you there.” Selene glanced across at her sister. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” Deme’s arm tightened around his waist.

Selene stepped forward at the same time as Deme.

The man between them lurched and stiffened, then a low rumble rose in his chest.

“Either stop growling, or I’ll drop you here and leave you on the pavement,” Selene threatened, her voice sharp, her back straining under his weight.

“You go, sister.” Deme grunted, easing toward the building and the next hurdle. The steps.

The rumbling abated, but his grip tightened around Selene. He snorted. “And I thought you were an angel come to rescue me.”

Deme laughed out loud.

Selene shot an angry glare at her before she responded. “Hardly. I’ll be your worst nightmare before this night is over.” She shuddered thinking of how she needed to clean his wound and how painful it would be for him. She guessed he wouldn’t like it in the least.

When they reached the narrow stairs leading down into the basement apartment of the shop, Deme laid the man’s hand on the rail and moved down the steps in front of him. “The stairs aren’t wide enough for three. You’ll have to help yourself down the stairs, big guy.”

The man groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the hand on the rail turning white with the strength of his grip.

Selene turned his face toward her and tried to probe his mind.

His chaotic thoughts were a jumble of pain, darkness and overwhelming sadness.

Unable to bear the ache and sorrow, Selene jerked out of his head and swayed.

“What is it?” Deme asked.

“Nothing. I just can’t read his mind.” She could sense emotions and pain, but not thoughts or words. She’d have to use other means to get through to him. “Listen, mister, if you want to get off the street and lie down, you have to help me get you down these stairs. Do you hear me?”

He moaned and leaned heavily on her.

“Wake up.” She shook his good shoulder. “I need your help.”

“No angel,” he muttered, his eyes opening.

“I’ll be the devil himself if that’s what it takes to get you down those steps. Now, move!”

Deme chuckled. “Didn’t know you had it in you, sis. Sure you don’t want me to get him down here? I’m bigger than you are.”

“I got him.” Selene fished in her pocket for her keys and tossed them to Deme.

Her sister hurried down in front of Selene and the stranger to open the door to the little apartment.

Straining against his weight, Selene stepped down first. In a combination of deliberate steps and clumsy falling, she got him down the short flight so quickly he slammed into the door frame.

The big man roared, his eyes flashing open, exposing deep, tawny gold irises, like a lion.

Selene gasped.

“What?” Deme leaned past the man to stare out at her sister. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no.” Selene couldn’t meet her sister’s gaze. “Let’s get him to the bedroom.” No need to worry her sister. Especially when she wanted her to leave as soon as she got the injured man settled. If Deme had seen what Selene had, she’d have this man out of her apartment so fast his head would be spinning more than it was already.

By the time they reached her antique cast-iron bed, the man teetered on the verge of passing out. He was more a dead weight than a help. Or that’s how he felt to Selene, bearing the brunt of his weight. He leaned toward the bed, but she held on.

“Not yet. You’re soaked to the skin.” Selene pushed him toward Deme. “Hold him up while I get his clothes off.”

“You’re going to strip a stranger?” Deme asked.

“You want the honors?” Selene quipped. “He’s not lying in my bed in those wet, smelly clothes.”

“Why is he going to lie in your bed? I’m not liking this arrangement, Selene. You don’t know this guy. He could be a serial killer.”

“I can’t leave him on the streets, Deme.” Though her back hurt, she held on to the man. “Look, if it makes you feel better. I can sense that he won’t hurt me.”

Deme’s lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. “You said you couldn’t read his mind.”

“I can’t read his individual thoughts, but I can tell he’s harmless to me.”

Deme stared hard at her sister. “I’m not convinced, but I’ll hold on while you do the stripping. I don’t think Cal would be thrilled to know I’d stripped a strange man.” She took over by sliding beneath the arm Selene had been holding him up by. “Just hurry. He weighs a ton.”

The man groaned, his knees buckling.

Selene helped Deme straighten him, then she went back to work, reaching for the waistband of his trousers. She wasn’t a virgin, but removing a strange man’s tattered pants was...well...disturbing. She quickly flicked the buttons loose and stripped the damp trousers down thick muscular legs coated with a fine layer of tawny hairs.

Her heartbeat quickened when she realized he wore nothing beneath his trousers.

Breath caught in her throat and she hurriedly removed his pants, setting them in a pile on the floor.

“Holy smokes, the man is hung like a frickin’ horse!” Deme grunted and almost fell over. “Damn, I think he’s out again. It’s all I can do to hold him up.” She shifted his weight, leaning hard to keep him up.

With her heart already beating a rapid tattoo inside her body, Selene hoped Deme wouldn’t mention the man’s nakedness again. Her older sister couldn’t be happy about this stranger being totally nude in her sister’s bed. She’d never leave him alone with Selene at this rate.

Selene knew, by way of her “gift,” that she had to get Deme out of the apartment before she tried to clean this man’s wounds. Something about him screamed danger. But not necessarily a danger to her. Those eyes, that growling and the roar, were only the beginning, she feared.

Deme wouldn’t understand. She didn’t have the gift of spirit like Selene.

Trousers off, completely naked, the man swayed. Selene helped Deme maneuver him to the bed, where they sat him on the edge and laid him back gently, lifting his feet up onto the mattress. Once settled, Selene pulled the sheet up over his legs and hips.

Selene went to work on the padding she’d tied over the wound, pulling it carefully over his shoulders, easing the fabric caked in sticky blood loose from his injury.

He sat straight up, his hand reaching up to grasp hers in a surprisingly strong grasp.

“Easy now. We have to clean it so that it doesn’t get infected,” she said in a stern but gentle tone.

His grip loosened, his hand falling to his side. Golden eyes, glassy with pain, stared at her before they rolled back in his head again, and he slumped against her.

Selene braced herself to keep from falling over with his weight.

Deme moved forward to steady Selene. “You got him?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Selene and Deme held on, lowering him back to the mattress. Once there, they stood back and flexed their arms and shoulders.

Selene took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sure you have to get back to Cal. I can take it from here.”

Deme crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“Yes, you are. If I need your help, I’ll call you. I have you on speed dial.”

“Selene, be serious. You don’t know him and what he’s capable of.”

“I told you. I can sense he won’t hurt me. Trust me, Deme. I need you to leave me and go check on the woman who was attacked earlier.”

“He could be her attacker.” Deme’s brows rose and her gaze captured Selene’s. “Your sense of spirit has been wrong before, hasn’t it?”

Selene shook her head. “Never. And no, he didn’t attack the woman.” She knew beyond a doubt this man wasn’t the girl’s attacker.

“Still, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with him.” Deme’s cell phone buzzed and she pulled it from her back pocket. “Hey, Cal. What’s happening?” She listened for a minute, her gaze going from Selene to the man on the bed and back to Selene. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She clicked the off button.

Selene’s brows rose. “Cal wants you at the hospital to question the woman, doesn’t he?”

Her sister nodded. “He’d like you to be there, too.”

Before Deme could finish the last word, Selene was shaking her head. “I’m not leaving him. His wounds must be treated.”

“He’s unconscious. We could take him to the hospital with us and let the professionals fix him up.”

Selene stared down at the man’s pale face. “Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t get him back up the stairs.”

“The woman regained consciousness. I need to get there before they knock her out completely.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.” Selene didn’t wait for her sister to leave—she started gathering supplies to clean and bandage the man’s shoulder.

“Well, then, I’ll check back here when I’m done at the hospital.”

“No need. I tell you, I’ll be fine.”

Deme snorted. “I’ll be here.” She touched her sister’s arm. “Be careful, and whatever you do, don’t trust him. You’re my sister and I care about you. I don’t want you to be the next woman in the hospital, or dead.”

Selene took Deme’s hand and squeezed it. “Then trust me. I know what I’m doing,”

“Fair enough.” With one last pointed stare, Deme left.

As the door closed behind her sister, Selene filled a bowl with hot water and set to work cleaning the wound.

She dabbed at the dried, caked blood all around the jagged, ripped skin, careful not to cause him more pain. But the effort was hopeless. She’d have to scrub to get the dirt and grime off. She applied more pressure, anxious to get the river water off and treat him for infection with one of her mother’s poultices made of the dried herbs she kept in her pantry.

After she’d cleaned the skin surrounding the injury, she took a breath and, with a fresh, clean cloth, attacked the wound itself.

Her first dab was hesitant and as gentle as she could be and still get it clean.

The man, whose hair was drying to a tawny gold, jerked with each touch. As she worked toward the center of the jagged, torn skin, his chest rumbled, his body tensed, the muscles in his arms seemed to grow.

Selene tried to hurry but she didn’t want to be careless and hurt him further. Her next touch set him off.

He flinched away and a bellow erupted from his throat. His back arched off the bed and his arms and legs writhed against the sheets.

Selene jumped back, tripped over his pile of clothing and fell hard on her butt.

The man rolled to his side, away from her, twisting and jerking, his skin stretching taut over bulging muscles. Thick golden hair sprouted from the skin covering his back, arms and neck. His hair grew longer, thicker and coarser around his head.

The man’s back arched again and he roared, falling to the floor on the opposite side of the bed from where Selene sat on the floor in stunned silence.

As soon as he hit the ground, another roar echoed off the walls of the small bedroom and knocked sense back into Selene. She pushed to her feet and threw herself across the bed.

If he continued to thrash around, his wound would start to bleed again.

“Stop it,” she yelled. “Whatever’s happening to you, stop it now.” Selene’s heart raced as she stared down at the back of an animal that appeared to be half human, half lion. “What are you?”

He roared again, his back bowing upward.

Selene fell back on the bed, knowing that deep inside, this man was in pain, and the pain wouldn’t get better until the injury was tended to. Pushing back her fear, she forced her voice to be calm while she shook inside. “If you don’t get back in the bed and lie still, you could die. And I’ll be damned if you die on my watch.”

The beast’s body stilled, the only movement the heaving of his chest as he breathed in and out, his thick, hairy skin twitching.

Taking a deep breath, Selene slid off the bed and crouched on the floor beside the huge creature, touching his uninjured shoulder. “Please. Let me help you.”

He flinched away from her.

“You might as well let me help you. I know your secret now. We’re past the awkward part. I know why you don’t want to go to a hospital. But that doesn’t mean your wound can’t be treated here.” She touched him again.

This time he didn’t withdraw.

Taking that as acquiescence, Selene urged him to roll over onto his back.

He laid still, his eyes those of a lion, staring up into hers, unblinking. The hairs on his naked body receded back into his skin, the huge bulk of his lionish muscles reduced to those of a bodybuilding hulk of a human.

Selene reached for his hand, her own shaking. “Come. Get back in the bed where I can clean that wound.”

His eyelids fluttered.

She tugged on his uninjured arm. “I can’t do it for you and you’re not staying on the floor.”

He let her help him back into the bed, where he lay completely naked, his skin returning to normal.

Selene’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze ran from his toned calves up to thick thighs to the juncture of his legs, where a thick, hard erection, bigger than any Selene had ever witnessed in her limited sexual experiences, jutted upward. As she ran the sheet over his body, she forced her gaze up to his head. The angles in his face eased from the animal he’d become back to the handsome, clean-skinned complexion of the man she’d rescued from beneath the bridge.

Once settled, he lay as still as death, his face pale, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Selene collapsed on the chair beside him, her heart racing, her confidence in the world she’d known shaken even more. What had she gotten herself into? This man obviously wasn’t human. Selene laughed shakily. Deme would be livid if she knew what she had in her apartment.

Selene shook her head, staring at the man lying so innocently against her clean white sheets.

What the hell was he?

Chapter 3

Gryph floated in and out of consciousness, pain forcing his beast to the surface more than once. Each time he was coherent enough to realize his body’s metamorphosis, he fought the change. A gentle but firm voice led him through the darkness, each time bringing him back from that place so primal and dangerous that he feared he’d go there and never return.

In a burst of pain his body stretched, flexed and altered, his lion surfacing, ready for battle. But an angel’s voice cut through his confusion, through the instinct driving him to lash out against the source of his suffering.

Once his eyes opened and he thought he saw a brown-haired beauty hovering over him. A halo of light surrounded her head. A dark angel there to drag his sorry ass back from the grave. She dabbed something cool and moist across his brow, whispering assurances to him. Then she pressed a glob of thick, oozing paste into the angry wound on his shoulder, bringing him fully awake and off the bed. The pain stabbed through his muscles and his jaw tightened. He could feel the lion fighting to break through. He opened his mouth to yell, but the lion’s roar erupted from his throat, echoing off the walls.

The angel became the devil, glaring at him, her dark eyes flashing. “Shut up and lie down. That’s the second poultice I’ve applied that you’ve shaken off.” She laid her cool hand on his heated, good shoulder and pushed him down onto the pillow.

A wave of nausea washed over him and he let her guide him back to the mattress. As soon as his head hit the pillow, the lion backed off and his human thoughts became clearer. “Why?”

“Why what?” Her hands dug into a stainless steel bowl on the table beside the bed and came up with a glob of greenish-brown mud. “Let’s try this again, and this time don’t sit up, or roar. And most of all try not to kill me, will ya?”

Her words cut through his pain, causing him to clench his teeth and focus on maintaining his humanity. “Why did you help me?”

She laid the poultice over his wound.

He gasped, his fingers clenching the sheets at his sides to avoid lashing out at his angel.

The woman shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone else coming to your rescue.” She adjusted the sheet around his waist and tucked a blanket over him.

For the first time, Gryph realized he was naked. His brows shot up. “My clothes?”

“What’s left of them are in the dryer.” Her lashes swept down over her deep dark eyes, her cheeks reddening. She pushed a long wavy strand of rich brown hair behind her ear. “They smelled like stinky river water. I washed your trousers, but I’m not sure they’ll be fit to be worn.” She looked up, her gaze capturing his.

“Did you...?” He nodded toward the sheets covering his body.

“Undress you?” Her chin tipped upward. “You weren’t lying on my bed in the soaked clothing. And you weren’t cooperating much in a semiconscious state.”

Gryph chuckled, and regretted it immediately as the movement shook his shoulder. Pain sliced through him and he growled.

Her eyes narrowed and he stopped.

“Perhaps you can tell me your name.” She ripped a white sheet in half, then in half again. Her movements were smooth, capable and graceful. Slim flingers made quick work of reducing the sheet into bandages.

Despite his pain, Gryph found himself fascinated by the firm, capable movements of her slender fingers, wondering what they’d feel like running over his naked skin. The animal in him purred.

Her brows rose. “Is it so hard to tell me your name?”

He hesitated. Having spent his young life avoiding answering questions posed by surface dwellers, he still didn’t feel comfortable sharing anything about himself with those above the world he’d grown up in. But something about this woman inspired his confidence. “Gryph.”

She nodded. “Gryph.” On her lips, his name sounded like the music he listened to with Balthazar in the Lair. “I am Selene.”

Her fingers folded the sheet into a neat pad, which she laid gently over his wound. Using white medical adhesive tape, she taped it down firmly, holding the poultice in place.

“What is that foul-smelling stuff you put on me?”

“A poultice my mother used to make when we fell and scraped our knees. Guaranteed to help you heal quickly.”

“Was your mother an angel like you?”

The woman’s lips tipped upward. “She was the angel. I’m not. In case you don’t remember, I cleaned your wound earlier. You were somewhat out of it. But not enough that you didn’t raise a ruckus several times throughout the procedure.”

Gryph cringed, his fists tightening into knots. “Did I say or do anything?”

“You didn’t say anything. You growled and roared.”

She’d only answered half of his question. Gryph’s eyes narrowed.

The woman wouldn’t meet his gaze and she busied herself gathering the bowl and washcloths on the nightstand.

Gryph grabbed her wrist.

The bowl upended and fell to the ground. The woman’s eyes widened.

“What did I do?” His voice came out gravelly and as more of a growl than he’d intended. The flash of fear in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He dropped her hand.

She stepped back, rubbing at the red marks where his fingers had been.

Gryph sighed. “You didn’t turn me over to the authorities.” He shook his head, staring hard into her eyes. “Why?”

“Should I have?”

“Any surface dweller would have.”

Her brows dipped together. “Surface dweller?” She bent to retrieve the bowl, scooting back out of his reach as soon as she straightened, clutching the bowl to her chest. “What do you mean by surface dweller?”

His lips clamped shut. Damn. He’d said too much. The less this woman knew the better off he was, and the safer the community of souls was who lived far below the hustle and bustle of Chicago in the dark tunnels under the oldest part of the city. The scarred, the unusual, the mutants and the physically and mentally disfigured freaks who slid beneath the surface to live out their lives unnoticed by the beautiful, so-called normal people of the light.

“I should leave.” He pushed to a sitting position and the room spun so fast, he tilted toward the edge of the bed.

The woman was there to catch him, steadying him against her breast. Her tantalizing scent cut through the gray fog consuming him, bringing him back from the edge of unconsciousness.

“You’re not going anywhere in your condition,” she said, her voice firm.

As much as he wanted to remain with his cheek leaning into the softness of her breast, he straightened. “I’ll be fine. I heal fast.” His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears.

“If you let yourself.” She held on to his arm, her gentle fingers urging him toward the pillow.

Too exhausted to fight her, Gryph lay back, the slightest movement shooting pain through his shoulder. The gray fog swirled around his peripheral vision, shadows sneaking up to claim him. He closed his eyes, giving in to the darkness. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

As if from the bottom of a deep well he heard her answer, “Because I know what it’s like to be different.”