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  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Well, you see, Witches have been escaping to Earth for a thousand years. We’ve always been safe here. Then you show up with a Warlock in tow. We have to be sure this isn’t some sort of plot to follow us here and destroy us all. But he’s tough—I don’t think he’ll break.” She slanted a smile at Shayla. “You know, Rachel thinks we might do better getting the truth from him if we torture you instead.”

  Shayla had thought him unconscious, but at Cassandra’s words, he raised his head. His violet eyes were dark, glazed with pain, but they had lost that unfocused look. They flickered from Cassandra to her, widening as he took in her changed appearance.

  He slowly rose to his feet. “Leave her alone,” he growled.

  Pride rose up inside her at his words. Even naked and chained, he radiated raw power. She could see the male arrogance in his expression, and she knew then that they could kill him, but they would never break him. She squared her shoulders and swung around to face Cassandra. “So, do you plan to torture me?”

  “Of course not, you’re one of us. But him”—Cassandra waved a hand towards Tallon—”he’s different. Most of the women here have suffered because of his kind. They want to kill him now. But I’ve been doing some thinking and it really depends on how well he cooperates.” She crossed the room to stand in front of him, reaching out a hand to stroke her fingers down his chest, scraping her nails across the masculine nipple. He tensed at the touch, his muscles locking. Her hand drifted lower, across his taut belly and she cupped his sex in her palm. She turned to Shayla. “He’s very well-endowed, isn’t he?”

  Shayla wanted to scream at her to stop, but at the same time, she couldn’t turn away. She glanced at his face. A dull flush shadowed his cheekbones; his jaw was rigid. She peered down, and his cock twitched in the other woman’s hand. Cassandra stroked the hardening erection, teasing the silky skin, squeezing her fingers around the growing length.

  Her lips curled up in a pleased smile. “Very obedient, isn’t he? A good little Warlock. Maybe we’ll let him live, after all.”

  Tallon struggled to move away, but he was held immobile by the chains. “Get your hands off me,” he said, his voice filled with menace.

  Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Or else? Besides, wouldn’t you like the chance to find out what it feels like to lie with a woman?” She turned again to Shayla. “He’s a virgin, you know. They’re all virgins except for some of the elders who are chosen to breed. They’re not allowed to actually take a woman. Oh, they have the pleasure slaves to suck their cocks, but sex is a complete no-no.” She stroked him again, and he flinched against the unwelcome touch. “What a waste.”

  Fully aroused now, his thick, long shaft arched up against his flat belly.

  Shayla glanced back to his face. His eyes briefly locked with hers, then slid lower to stroke over her body in the tight clothes, lingering on her breasts, the length of her legs, then back to her face, growing hot. Shayla studied him in return, unable to turn away. Heat rose in her body, her flesh swollen and sensitive, a sudden dampness between her thighs. She pressed them tight together and saw him follow the small, telltale movement, his nostrils flaring as though he could scent her arousal.

  Cassandra faded from the room, as every sense focused on Tallon. A connection forged between them, and the word echoed in her head.

  “Mine.”

  Chapter Four

  “Well, well.” Cassandra cut through the link between them. “What is it with you two?”

  The spell was broken. Tallon glanced down to see her hand still circling his cock, and a shiver of revulsion ran through him.

  “Get your hand off me.”

  Her grip tightened painfully. Then she shrugged and released him.

  She turned to Shayla. “When Rachel brought him in here, do you know what the first thing he said was? ‘Where’s the witch? Don’t hurt her.’ Isn’t that sweet? And quite strange for a man intent on killing you. Isn’t that what your job was, Warlock? To murder a young and innocent witch who never did The Order any harm.”

  Doubts crowded Tallon’s mind. He remembered his first sight of Shayla, the urge to protect, the sense of rightness that had swept over him when she had performed the moon magic. But those feelings went against everything he had ever been taught. He gritted his teeth. “We do it for the good of Arroway.”

  “Oh, come on,” Cassandra drawled. “You’re not still buying into that load of crap, are you?”

  His eyes narrowed on her. Whatever uncertainties he held, he could not refute the truth of the Laws of Segregation. “The Witches have the power to annihilate us all. Would you deny it?”

  Cassandra pursed her lips, head tilted to one side as she studied him. “No. But then, so do the Warlocks, and I don’t see you stripping yourselves of your powers.”

  Tallon knew she spoke the truth—in their own way, Warlocks were just as dangerous as Witches. But Tallon had grown up within The Order, and for a long time, he had believed all that he was told. As he’d gotten older, seen more of the world, the doubts had crept into his mind. But was he ready to cast aside all his early beliefs?

  He felt as though he teetered on some sort of precipice—the world, as he knew it, lay behind him safe, secure. Before him, lay a new world filled with uncertainties, danger, and wild, uncontrollable magic. It called to him, and the truth was, he wanted nothing more than to leap forward into the unknown.

  Shayla stood, gnawing on her lower lip. She met his eyes and a wave of emotion washed over him; needing and wanting all mixed up with an urge to keep her safe, to protect.

  He shook his head and glanced away, he had to think clearly, and Shayla had the power to cloud his thoughts. “The Warlocks may have the power to destroy the world,” he said to Cassandra. “But we have discipline. The formality of our rituals prevents us from acting on whim. Witches wield the moon magic. They nearly destroyed the very fabric of the world.”

  “Not they. One Witch, only one acting alone.” Cassandra’s voice was harsh. “Should all Witches suffer for that one mistake? On the actions of one woman, mad with grief, The Order consigned all Witches to mutilation or death.”

  “They are not mutilated. They are cared for by The Order.” But even as he spoke, the doubts rose up inside him.

  “If you still believe that, you’re a fool,” Cassandra snarled. “Female children born to The Order undergo magical castration at birth, their magic ripped from their very souls. Many die during the process, others are left damaged, bewildered, to live out the rest of their lives as slaves to The Order.” Her face twisted into an expression of scorn. “And if they’re really lucky, they get to be pleasure slaves. Get the chance to suck your precious cocks. What do you think goes through their minds as they kneel before you, Warlock? Do you think they appreciate the honor?”

  “Stop it,” Shayla cried. “He’s not like that!”

  Tallon glanced at her in surprise. His little witch was championing him. Why?

  “They’re all like that,” Cassandra drawled. “Ask your mother. How many years did she spend on her knees before The Order?”

  “Tallon’s different.”

  “Of course he is.”

  “It’s true,” Shayla said. “He saves them.”

  “Saves who?”

  “The pleasure slaves.”

  A ripple of shock ran through him. How did she know that?

  “My friend, Leah, was a slave for The Order. Tallon found her trying to end her life.”

  Tallon remembered it well. It had been the start of his concerns. Up until that point, he had believed the pleasure slaves content to serve The Order. Discovering that Leah would rather die than continue to serve them had been a shock that had woken him from his complacent existence. But instead of questioning their way of life, he had sought the one job that would give him a measure of freedom and pushed the uncertainties to the back of his mind. He’d been a coward not to confront the Order, not to question
them.

  “He didn’t report her,” Shayla continued. “He listened to her and helped her escape. I was there, I saw him. And she told me what happened. That was nine years ago and there have been others since.”

  Cassandra turned to him. “Is this true, Warlock?”

  If The Order ever found out, Tallon would be punished. But what was the chance of that happening? What was the chance of him even getting out of here alive? And if he did escape, did he truly believe that he could ever go back to The Order now when there was no way he could fulfill his mission to destroy Shayla?

  “They were no danger to The Order, they had no magic.”

  Cassandra paced the room, deep in thought. Finally, she spoke. “It makes no difference. They were probably no more than a sop for your guilt.” She came back to stand in front of him. “But maybe we can give you a way to make up for it.”

  Tallon watched her in silence. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.

  “What do you plan to do with him?” Shayla asked.

  Cassandra’s lips curled into a slow smile. “We’re going to breed from him.”

  Tallon felt his mouth drop open. It was the last thing he’d expected. “What?”

  “Do you understand the reasoning behind your vows?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but spoke to Shayla. “A Warlock mating with a Witch, even a latent one such as the pleasure slaves, produces potential Witches and Warlocks. The Order wants to control the breeding and hence the vows. So we’ll do our own breeding program. We’re going to breed Witches. Maybe if they’re born on this world, they will be able to use the Earth’s power as we used the power of Arroway.”

  “He’ll never submit,” Shayla said. Tallon could hear the certainty in her voice and it warmed something deep inside him.

  Cassandra folded her arms across her chest. “Well, you see, that’s the good thing about this world—he doesn’t need to. We’ll milk him of his seed and use technology to impregnate as many of us who desire it.” She looked at Shayla, one eyebrow raised. “You can be part of that.”

  Shayla shook her head. “I told you. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I can’t stay here. I have to go back to Arroway.”

  “You can’t go back,” Cassandra said. “Our magic here is too weak—you don’t have the power to make the return journey. A Warlock might do it. Their magic does not rely on drawing on the strength of Arroway as ours does. But forget it, there’s no point in going back. Arroway is dying.”

  Tallon glanced at her sharply. “What?”

  “It’s ironic, The Order claim they destroy Witches for the safety of Arroway, when in fact, it is that very destruction which is leeching the land of power. Witches draw power from the land, but the land also gains from the Witches, and neither can exist without the other.”

  Tallon’s whole world tilted, his mind reeling in shock. Could it be true? But her words spoke to some truth deep inside him, crystallizing the doubts that had plagued him for so long.

  It made so much sense.

  The Order blamed the Witches for Arroway’s slow decline, and it was obvious that something was destroying their world. It was the one thing that had kept Tallon from a total break with The Order—the belief that they acted as they did to save Arroway. But the Witches were all but wiped out, had been for years and yet there was no respite for their world.

  Cassandra turned to Shayla. “No, you must reconcile yourself to staying. You can have a good life here.”

  “You don’t understand. I have to find my mother.”

  “Forget your mother.”

  “I can’t forget her. I have to find her before The Order does.”

  “It’s too late,” Tallon said softly.

  She swung around to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s too late for your mother. I delivered her to The Order the day before yesterday.”

  He watched as the knowledge sank in, saw the horror dawning in her eyes. Pain and guilt warred inside him.

  “What will they do with her?” she whispered.

  Cassandra answered. “They’ll kill her, of course. Probably torture her first, in case she knows anything that might be of use. Isn’t that so, Warlock?”

  He suspected she was right. The Order could be ruthless in observance of the laws, and Shayla’s mother had flouted them and managed to stay free for more than twenty years. They couldn’t allow that to go unpunished. He’d known that when he handed the woman over, but he’d still believed he’d had a duty to The Order, to Arroway.

  Shayla peered up at him, her expression pleading. “Tallon, is it true?”

  His guilt flared again. The Order had been his whole life, and this had just been one more job, or so he’d thought until he met Shayla. Now, he wanted to lie, to save her the pain, but he found he couldn’t keep the truth from her. She deserved to know what he had done. He nodded.

  She reached out a hand to Cassandra. “You must know some way. I have to get back, now! I have to save her.”

  Tallon forced his guilt down, and made his tone harsh. “Don’t be a fool. It’s not possible. She’s in the dungeons beneath the keep.” There was nothing for Shayla on Arroway now, but death. She needed to understand. “Take the Witch’s advice. Make a new life for yourself here. Forget Arroway and your mother.”

  Shayla froze, her mouth tightening into a harsh line. “What is it with you two?” she asked, her voice vibrating with anger. “How can you even think I could forget the woman who risked everything for me?”

  She spun away from them. Her small fists clenched at her side. When she swung back around, her face showed grim determination.

  “Have neither of you any sense of what is right?” She glared at Cassandra, fierceness in every rigid line of her small body. “How can you live here so complacently while your sisters suffer on Arroway? Mutilated, you said, yet you calmly talk of making a ‘good life’ here.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but Shayla had whirled from her and now stalked across to stand in front of Tallon. She only came up to his shoulder and had to tilt her head to look him in the face. “And you!”

  Tallon raised an eyebrow. He had no clue what was coming.

  “You,” she continued. “You know The Order is wrong. I know you do, else you wouldn’t have helped Leah and the others. Yet, you don’t stand up and speak out against a system that is evil. How can you stand by and watch Arroway die?” She dashed a hand up, rubbed at her eyes, which were bright with unshed tears. Her body sagged, shoulders drooping in misery. “You captured my mother. You gave her to The Order. How could you?”

  Tallon watched in dismay as she turned from him. He wanted to speak, to tell her he had done it for Arroway, to defend himself and then to give comfort, wrap his arms around her, and promise it would be all right. But he could do nothing.

  One of the reasons he’d taken the job as Enforcer was because it got him out into the world and away from the confines of the Order, where life had become almost unbearable. Then they had sent him after Shayla and her mother. They had told him both the mother and daughter were evil, and that their magic was draining Arroway of power. And he’d known that something was happening with their world, so he’d agreed. Only when he’d seen Shayla had his doubts risen up to taunt him.

  How could someone who felt so right be a thing of evil?

  Now he wanted desperately for a chance to put things right, but all he could do was watch as Shayla walked from the room, leaving him alone with the dark-haired Witch. He looked at her warily. She was not like any Witch he had met before. There was a flavor to her that spoke of age and power, but held tightly in check. In some ways, she reminded him of Shayla, though their appearances were nothing alike. He studied her, trying to understand the resemblance. She was beautiful in a hard way, flawless except for a small scar high on her right cheek. His skin tingled, some old knowledge stirring deep in his mind.

  She caught him staring and twisted away, so she stood in profile, and he could no
longer see the mark.

  “Well, that was interesting,” she said after a moment’s pause.

  “Interesting?”

  She leant against the wall, arms folded across her chest. “Hmm. You know, I think she likes you.”

  Tallon shook his head in disbelief. “I tried to kill her. I took her mother. She’ll never forgive me.”

  “I think she already has forgiven you for trying to kill her. The capturing her mother, no. With that one, I think you may be right. Anyway, I didn’t say she would forgive you, I said she liked you.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “You know, in the past, before the Laws of Segregation, Witches and Warlocks were natural mates. And Witches did the choosing. A Witch would be drawn to a particular Warlock. There was a ceremony where the Warlock was ‘chosen’, and they formed a mating bond that was unbreakable. It doesn’t work with the poor wretches with no magic, which is why it doesn’t happen anymore. But Shayla is pure Witch. You can sense the raw power in her, even here. And I think she may have chosen you as her mate.”

  Tallon tried to reject the idea—he had never heard of such a mating—but couldn’t quite dismiss it from his mind. Could it be one more thing The Order had kept from them? “I don’t believe it. Besides, we only met today.”

  Cassandra raised one eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s been watching you since she was twelve. A very impressionable age, that. You saved her friend. You’re her hero. It must have been doubly upsetting for her to realize that the man sent to kill her is the same one she believes herself in love with.”

  Love?

  Could Shayla really believe herself in love with him? Tallon thought back to that moment when she had first caught sight of him in the clearing on Arroway. He was sure he’d seen recognition in her expression, but he’d dismissed it as impossible. He closed his eyes and remembered his strange reluctance to carry out his mission. The feel of her soft and yielding beneath him. The touch of her lips. A thought occurred to him, and he opened his eyes.