Witch's Moon (Daughters of the Morrigan Book 3)

  Witch’s Moon

  (Daughters of the Morrigan Book 3)

  By

  Nina Croft

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Also by Nina Croft…

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “Don’t go out there.”

  At Lola’s words, Regan paused, her hand stretched out to open the door. She turned around. Her sisters, Catrin and Lola, hovered by the kitchen table.

  “Why? Have you seen something?” she asked.

  Lola often had visions of the future, and they invariably came true. “No. But it’s dinnertime, and I’m starving.”

  Regan shook her head. Her baby sister, Lola, was nineteen and always hungry. She almost gave in, but something nagged at her mind, urging her out into the night, and beside her, Satan and Diablo, her hounds, whined and scratched at the door.

  Ignoring Lola’s exaggerated sigh, she turned back, reached out her hand, and opened the door. The dogs pushed past her, out into the open, then stood, bodies trembling, muzzles raised.

  She went still.

  Enchantment filled the air.

  Regan sensed it calling to her as she stood in the open doorway, staring out into the forest. The breeze carried the whisper of her name, and the night throbbed with the hum of a magic she’d never encountered before. It shivered over her skin, and a tremor of anticipation ran through her, coiling in her belly, tensing her muscles.

  “Regan?”

  She ignored Catrin’s question as she stepped out onto the porch.

  The sky was clear, filled with stars, and a sickle moon hung high overhead. A light wind rustled the leaves in the thick woods that surrounded the house, and in the distance, a dog howled. Satan and Diablo pricked their ears, and she laid a hand on each huge head, murmuring soothing words. The howl came again. Her hounds shook her off and stalked into the forest. Regan followed, a frisson of energy quivering along her nerves as she stepped under the cover of the massive oak trees.

  The ground was soft under her feet, the air heavy with the scent of growing things. These woods were ancient, maintained by a magic even older than Regan. Normally, she felt at one with them, and her own magic gained strength from being here, but tonight, something was different.

  She quickened her pace as she followed Diablo and Satan through the shadowed forest. They broke into a lope and were soon out of sight, but she didn’t turn back. The trees grew thicker, closer together. Regan could no longer even hear her hounds, but some inner sense kept her moving until the trees finally thinned and opened into a wide, circular clearing.

  At the far side, a man lounged against the trunk of a huge oak, and she came to an abrupt halt. For a moment, Regan thought he hadn’t noticed her, then he glanced up and straightened.

  She hadn’t encountered humans in the forest for many years, and she stepped closer, eyes narrowed. He was tall, taller than she was by at least six inches, dark-haired, dark-skinned, and a faint miasma of evil permeated the air around him. As she studied him, she realized he wasn’t human after all. At least not completely. Maybe once he had been, but no longer. His amber eyes glowed wild and feral, and a quiver ran down her spine.

  Moonlight glinted on something he held in his hand—a crystal star twirling at the end of a silver chain.

  “Regan?”

  She glanced up at his face. A cruel smile curled his lips, but she felt no fear yet, just a deep curiosity. She nodded.

  He laughed softly. “He told me you would come. I didn’t believe him, but here you are.”

  “He?”

  “An old”—he paused as if unsure of the right word—“lover of yours.”

  Regan gritted her teeth as a wave of remembered pain washed through her. “I don’t have any old lovers,” she said. “They’re all dead.”

  He shrugged. “Never mind—you’ll meet him again soon enough. My name is Ethan Stone.”

  “So? What do you want?”

  “You, of course.”

  He appeared handsome enough, well-built, broad-shouldered and powerful, but there was something cold and repellent in his expression, and a shudder of disgust rippled across her skin. She allowed it to show on her face. “No, thank you. You’re really not my type.”

  He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong.” His gaze lingered on the swell of her full breasts so that Regan had to resist the urge to pull her jacket closer around her. “Under other circumstances I could be tempted, but even if I did want you, you’re not for me. In fact, I was told I’d have my heart ripped out if I touched you that way.” He paused. “Not that I don’t mean to touch you.”

  “What makes you think I’d let you anywhere near me?”

  “You won’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah, right.” She was bored with this. Where were Diablo and Satan? Looking around the clearing, she whistled, but there was no answer, the woods surrounding them silent.

  Something moved at the edge of her vision, and she whirled around.

  For a moment, she saw nothing. Then from all around her, they came out of the darkness, huge forms emerging from the shadowy trees. Her mind clouded as their combined wills concentrated on her. Adrenalin coursed through her veins, and she forced herself to calm down and breathe in deeply. She needed to work out which spell to use, and it would help if she knew what she was dealing with. They stood upright like men, but their features were not human. Their bodies were covered with dark fur, their heads misshapen with protruding jaws, long curved teeth, and pointed ears. They reminded her of her hellhounds, and suddenly she knew what they were.

  “Werewolves!” She stared, wide-eyed, at the man who stood in front of her. “You’re a goddamn werewolf.” She’d never seen a werewolf before, not in two thousand years. “Wow.”

  “Glad you’re impressed.”

  “I never said I was impressed.” She glanced around at the hulking figures circling her. “You’re not exactly a good-looking lot, are you?”

  He smiled. “This is our half form. We find it easier to stay in control and perform certain tasks. Not quite as aesthetically pleasing as our full-wolf form as you’ll soon see for yourself.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll skip that one. Some other time, perhaps.”

  All around her, the bodies pressed closer. A bitter, feral stench filled her nostrils, and she swayed, but at least she knew the magic she needed to stop them. She raised her hand, but before she could speak the words, two of the creatures leapt for her. She went down, crashing to the forest floor where she lay winded, more angry than afraid, but unable to free herself from the hard hands that pressed her into the earth. Fury surged through her, and she fought, writhing against them, but they were stronger than anything she had ever encountered. After a minute of pointless struggle, she forced her body to go limp and allowed the magic to build inside her.

  Something touched her side. She peered up to see Ethan Stone standing above her, and she snarled. He laughed and nudged her again with the toe of his boot.
br />   “Do you know who I am?” she asked, her tone deadly.

  “I not only know who you are,” he replied. “I know what you are.”

  “Then you also know you’ve just signed your own death warrant.”

  Ethan ignored the comment and crouched down beside her. “He told me you were spirited. He was right. But don’t worry—we’ll soon cure you of that.”

  “You’ll—”

  “Shhh,” he murmured, putting his finger to his lips. He was still holding the silver chain. Now he lifted the necklace over her head so it settled around her throat.

  As the crystal star touched her skin, a jolt of power slammed through her. She flung her head back as a vise-like grip seized control of her mind. For a moment, it held her frozen, then ripped free. Relief washed over her, and she opened her mouth to fling out the words that would destroy those who dared to hold her.

  And nothing happened.

  She closed her eyes and searched her mind for her magic. Behind her closed lids, she could see the words, but she couldn’t speak them, only a wordless croak issuing from her throat. Panic flared, clawing at her insides. She tried again, concentrating hard, but the sound that emerged bore no resemblance to the phrases running through her head. Forcing her eyes open, she glared at the man who crouched beside her, a small smile playing across his face.

  What have you done?

  The words whispered through her head but refused to leave her lips. She reached up to tear the crystal from her throat, but something stopped her, she couldn’t make herself touch the thing. She stared up into Ethan’s darkly amused expression. “What is it?” She mouthed the words.

  “The crystal? Oh, it’s just a little trinket, impregnated with witch’s bane. A present from that old acquaintance of yours. Don’t worry—it’s not permanent. That would rather defeat the purpose of this whole little scenario.”

  Regan bit down sharply on her lip, the pain focusing her mind, as she searched for an identity. She’d only had one old lover who would have this much power—Sardi. But it couldn’t be Sardi. He was long dead, destroyed by her magic.

  “Stop thinking so hard. You’ll find out soon enough.” Ethan straightened. “Get her on her feet and tie her hands.”

  They hauled her upright and dragged her wrists behind her, securing them tightly. She stood between her two attackers, not fighting, her mind frantically hunting for answers.

  They’d said they needed her. They weren’t going to kill her, or at least not yet. She had to think. She would find a way out, and then they would pay. Especially their leader. She would make sure he regretted this night’s work before he died.

  He was studying her now, his face filled with a curious anticipation. When he caught her eye, he grinned, then pulled his T-shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. He held her gaze as his hands went to his waist and unbuckled his belt. Leaning down, he tugged off his boots then shrugged out of his jeans to stand before her.

  Naked, he appeared even bigger, the smooth bulge of muscle clear beneath his skin. Nausea churned in her gut, and her legs trembled with the need to run. He stalked toward her, coming to a halt only a foot away.

  “Hold her,” he said, and the claws tightened on her shoulders.

  She swallowed, her breath coming hard and fast, her heart pounding. Gritting her teeth, she glared defiantly at him, hoping her fear didn’t show.

  He grinned again. “You think you can fight this, but in the end, you’ll do what we want because you’ll be one of us.” He took a step closer. “I’d like to tell you this won’t hurt, but—” He shrugged.

  It came to her then, what he planned to do. His eyes changed, until they glowed amber in a face that was blurring, losing its definition. She gasped but couldn’t look away.

  This was no painful transition; instead, his body flowed into his new form until he stood before her, half-beast, half-man. He flung back his head and roared.

  Regan fought then. She couldn’t help herself. She struggled, writhing and twisting until she could fight no more, and she hung, limp and exhausted, only held upright by the hands that still gripped her shoulders. Ethan stood before her. She searched for some faint glint of humanity but could find none.

  A beast stared back.

  His hands were covered in a coarse fur and ended in vicious claws. Reaching out, he pushed her jacket from her shoulders, clasped a clawed hand in the front of her shirt and ripped it open. A low growl trickled from his mouth as he looked at her breasts.

  Regan focused over his shoulder, forcing her brain to go blank. She had no choice. This was going to happen, and she tried to make her mind go to another place.

  One claw scraped across her breast. The pain brought her back, and she glanced down. A trail of crimson welled up, stark against her pale skin. She clamped her mouth closed to prevent the whimper escaping as he leaned closer. The fetid stink of his breath filled her nostrils before he lowered his head and licked the line of blood from her breast.

  For a moment, he peered up into her eyes, and through the pain, she saw there was a flicker of humanity there after all. Then it was gone. His lips drew back, revealing razor-sharp incisors, and he lunged forward, his teeth tearing into the soft flesh where her shoulder met her neck.

  Red-hot agony wrenched through her. She opened her mouth and screamed, could still hear her own screams as the darkness took her.

  Chapter 2

  A howl shattered the night’s silence. Caleb raised his head. Then he shrugged—not his business, climbed into his truck, and slammed the door on the sound. He turned the key in the ignition and slowly pulled away.

  He’d only gone a few feet when a woman’s scream tore through the night. The sound was inhuman, a creature in agony, and without conscious thought, his foot crashed onto the brake. The force of the stop stalled the truck and hurled him forward, slamming his body into the steering wheel. For a moment, he sat, his hands gripping the wheel, his knuckles white.

  He tried to tell himself it didn’t have anything to do with him. That the scream was probably some ruse of Ethan’s to drag him back. But even knowing it might be a trick, Caleb couldn’t ignore that cry.

  He’d turned his back on Ethan’s world over twenty years ago, and he’d sworn he’d never return. But Ethan knew him too well, knew the one thing that would induce Caleb to come anywhere near him or his pack.

  Caleb’s mother had died when he was born, and Caleb knew nothing about her except she was human. He’d clung to that fact through the horrors of his childhood, dreamed of one day finding his mother’s family, a human family.

  Tonight, Ethan had lured him here, claiming he was finally willing to talk, tell him the truth at last. And Caleb, like a fool, had come running.

  Of course, it was a lie. He should have known Ethan would never reveal the secrets of the past. Instead, he’d had to listen to yet another crazy plot for world domination, some nonsense about the wolves finally getting their proper place in the world, and how Ethan wanted Caleb at his side.

  Caleb had walked away without a backward glance, but he could still feel the rage churning in his gut.

  The scream came again, and he cursed loudly. He restarted the truck and backed it off the road. Climbing out, he slammed the door and listened. The screams had stopped, the night was again silent, but Caleb’s whole being vibrated with a sense of wrongness.

  He glided through the forest, following the direction the screams had come from. After a few minutes, he paused. The trees were thick; he could sense their age, feel the magic. He closed his eyes and allowed his inner sense to guide him. The air of foreboding increased with each step he took, until it was a tangible thing pressing against him. Finally, he came to a clearing.

  His hatred rose as he breathed in the familiar, feral scent of the pack. But beneath that, he sensed something new and sweet mingled with the sharp, acrid aroma of fresh blood.

  Ethan was no longer in the clearing, but two huge creatures stood guard over the huddled shape of
a body lying at their feet. Caleb swore softly. No way could he put both of them out of action without bringing the rest of the pack down on him. Not that he had any worries he couldn’t take on the pack, but he’d had his fill of Ethan for one night.

  Hell, for one lifetime.

  He settled in to wait, but at that moment, a man appeared at the edge of the trees. Caleb recognized him instantly—Tom, the pack’s second-in-command. He spoke quietly with the two weres, who nodded and melted into the forest. He’d probably sent them off to hunt before they shifted back. Feeding always made the transition easier.

  Tom glanced once around the clearing, and then turned his attention to the body. He appeared relaxed, oblivious to Caleb’s presence.

  Caleb pulled his gun from the holster at his shoulder and crept forward. At the last minute, Tom swung around, but it was too late. Caleb brought the pistol down sharp on his temple, and he crumpled to the ground. Holstering the gun, Caleb leaned down and checked his pulse before moving on to the body.

  He’d found the source of the screams. A woman lay curled on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands tied taut behind her back, the rope looped around a fallen tree. She was dressed in jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket, her long, dark red hair loose about her face. He crouched down and touched her on the shoulder. She didn’t move, and he slid his hand up under her hair and pressed his fingers to her throat. She was alive. Beneath his fingertips, the blood pulsed steady through her vein.

  Sitting back on his heels, he thought about his next move. He drew his knife from the sheath under his jacket, sliced though the ropes that tied her hands, and gently rolled her onto her back. The scent of blood was stronger now. Hot blood and warm flesh. A craving burned in his belly, but he forced himself to ignore it.

  Her jacket was open, and her shirt ripped apart, revealing breasts covered by a black lace bra. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the full curves. A deep scratch marred the perfection, and he reached out and ran a finger over the soft swell of flesh. Her skin was warm, feverish. Then his gaze moved upward. She’d been bitten, her shoulder a bloody mess, and his muscles tightened as he studied the wound.