Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
The room put you at ease. Drew you in. Tempted you to come closer.
Just like the witch currently bustling around it, collecting this or that.
He claimed the stool near the stone fireplace just as she began laying things out on the altar. An athame, jars, a clay pot, a bottle, a few petals and a weirdly shaped leaf that had been left on the windowsill near small potted plants.
But no book of shadows.
‘You already checked the formula for the elixir?’
At the sink, she filled a large chalice with water. ‘No need. I make these all the time.’ Returning to the altar, she poured the water into the cauldron and set down the chalice. ‘I just need to ensure yours is stronger.’
She chanted, magick dust drifting from her palms and into the water. Water that began to simmer. Bubble. Steam.
She was boiling it without fire, he realized. He’d seen Millicent do the same.
‘The best way to do that would be to use a drop of your blood.’ She winged up a brow. ‘Any objections?’
‘I’ll be drinking my own blood?’
‘Not exactly. It’s not like with cooking. These ingredients will make a potion. Magick converts the potion into liquid power.’
‘Millicent never explained it that way.’
Emberlyn gave a small shrug. ‘She preferred to be mysterious. I, on the other hand, like to be transparent where magick is concerned. So, you gonna let me use your blood or not? I don’t need to. It’ll just be quicker this way. But if you wanna be a pussy . . .’
He felt his brows hike up. ‘A pussy?’
Humor swam in her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me the big, bad Alpha werewolf can’t deal with having his finger pricked.’
‘I wasn’t actually going to object,’ he said, holding out his hand toward her.
A dart of magick burst out of her finger and touched his. A bead of blood surfaced on his skin, and that same bead flowed on a glittering current of magick right into the cauldron.
‘That didn’t hurt,’ he noted, surprised he hadn’t felt a thing.
‘Because I didn’t want it to hurt you.’ She pulled a stopper from a small bottle and peppered some black powder into the bubbling water.
He folded his arms. ‘So, Millicent taught you how to make this elixir?’
‘No, it was my creation originally. She tweaked it to give it more of a punch, though.’
A line tugged at his brow. ‘She told me she created it accidentally.’
Emberlyn smiled, crushing a leaf in her palm. ‘She liked her stories. Don’t be so sure she always told you the truth.’
‘Why do I get the feeling it was more that she didn’t think it good for people to know how strong you were?’
‘I don’t know. Why do you?’ With one hand, she used her athame to stir the potion as she added magick with the other. The water hissed, and more steam rose.
He silently watched as she went about adding this and that. Bark shavings. Lavender. Seed pods. A crushed petal. A dab of honey.
Every now and then, she’d sprinkle more magick into the mix as she again stirred it with her athame.
In some ways, she moved just like Millicent as she performed magick. There was no hesitating, no wasted motions. She was brisk, efficient and focused.
But in some ways, Emberlyn differed from her grandmother. Millicent had always worn a little smirk as she worked, always looked up to no good. There’d been some theater with her – dramatic flicks of her hand, speaking in tongues, letting her eyes roll back as she dumped this and that in the cauldron.
Emberlyn was poise and serenity, her movements so fluid they were almost sensual. She was totally in command, the sheer strength of her will spilling from her. Her magick came to her easy, obeyed her every whim as if it adored and would never question her.
And right then, he saw the fundamental difference between how she and her mentor had operated. Millicent had directed her magick with arrogance and entitlement, like a tyrannical boss. Emberlyn brandished hers with confidence and care, ever respectful of this force she channeled as naturally as she moved her arms and legs.
She hadn’t only learned from Millicent’s successes, he thought. She’d learned from the woman’s mistakes as well.
It galled him that he hadn’t seen Emberlyn clearly until recently. Maybe it had been a case of self-preservation – if he considered her no better than Rosemary, he could fight wanting her. Because it was precisely the time she’d broken the mating tie that he’d started to really struggle to observe her in a negative light.
Whatever the case, he no longer had his guard up around her. Emberlyn wasn’t an open book by any means, but she was an uncomplicated person to be around. Balanced. Calm. Steady. Not a game player. And so fucking capable.
She handled everything with the ease of someone who had total confidence in her ability to get shit done. He’d never before met anybody so self-sufficient and competent. She didn’t need anyone – relied on herself. And she hadn’t let the assholes in the coven break her. Everything about her screamed that they’d failed with flying fucking colors.