Belong To The Night. Cynthia Eden

her legs straddling the wood. “What else is going on with you?”

      “Nothing. Why?”

      “To be honest, you look…tired.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You sure being called a champion is worth all this?”

      “It’s not. But it is worth the power it brings me.”

      Mac took a breath, let it out. She only did that when she was around Jamie and trying not to get upset. “I don’t see why you need more than you have.”

      “I know. That’s why having this conversation, yet again, is meaningless.”

      “Can’t you just enjoy it here? I don’t know what more you want.”

      “It’s that feeling you get, when untapped power flows through you for the first time. When you know, in that moment, you can do anything.”

      “But how long before it’s too much?”

      “It’s never too much.”

      “Bullshit. We both know what happens to the ones who step over the line, Jamie.”

      “That won’t be me.”

      “What if you have no choice?”

      “Nothing and no one can or will make me cross that line. Not now, not ever. And you should know that.”

      Mac slid off the banister and headed back to the kitchen. “Yeah, right,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I should know that.”

      Chapter Three

      It was nearing eleven when she left her house. She wore a simple slip of a dress but no shoes or jacket, even though it was a bit chilly being as they were so close to the ocean. Her hair was wet, smelling like she’d just washed it and the already-curling locks stretched down her back. Most days she wore it in a ponytail but not tonight.

      The only thing she carried with her was a very small bag, which he refused to hazard a guess at what might be in it, and a leather shoulder holster with her .380 that she didn’t bother to put on properly but instead had hanging from her left shoulder like a purse.

      Jamie trudged through the woods and Tully silently followed behind her. She made her way to the clearing she liked to use for this kind of thing after she’d “accidentally” burned down the last one. He stayed in the forest, moving up a small hill where he’d have an excellent view of what she was doing. She placed the holstered gun down on the ground. With the bag still clutched in her hand, she took several steps away from her weapon and kneeled in the grass. She unzipped the bag and pulled out a glass bottle that looked to be filled with water, and a knife with a jewel handle. She placed both items beside her and tossed the bag over by the gun.

      Still resting on her knees, she closed her eyes and took in and let out several deep breaths. She did this at least five minutes before reaching down and grabbing the hem of her dress. She lifted the thin material up and off her body and Tully let out a soft growl. Dang, but she was gorgeous. Real curvy, bigger than what society ever approved of, but just his speed: Fast, mean, and a hell of a ride. At least that’s what he was guessing.

      He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on what she was up to, instead of wondering how good her pussy tasted. He didn’t have time for that. Right?

      Right?

      She pulled the stop on the glass bottle and carefully poured out the contents around her in a large circle. While she did, she chanted softly. His wolf ears picked up her words but he didn’t understand them. They weren’t English or any of the other languages he knew. When she emptied the bottle, she placed it beside her and picked up the blade. It was a fancy looking thing and she used it anytime she worked alone. When she was working with her cousin, she had a different one.

      Grasping the hilt of the blade in both hands, she raised her arms high over her head. Her chanting became louder, necessary with that wind suddenly whipping up all around her. He couldn’t feel it near him, but it was definitely near her, her long hair blowing around her. And while the wind blew, flames burst up around where she’d poured out the liquid, surrounding her in a ring of fire. He worried about another forest fire situation but after the initial rise, the flames quickly lowered and then puffed out. Now he could clearly see she was in a circle from the burn marks surrounding her on the ground.

      She was screaming the words out now, calling out to those she worshipped. She pulled her arms back a bit more before slamming the blade into the ground, and then…

      Lord.

      And then she was gone.

      “I’m not getting in the middle of this,” she said again in her soft Irish brogue. “I warned you not to anger him. You did. Now you’ll need to deal with the consequences.”

      “I’ve tried everything.”

      “No.” She shook her head. “Not everything.”

      Jamie briefly closed her eyes. “Are you telling me to—”

      “There’s no going back once you start down that path. Just remember that.”

      Jamie did remember that. “That’s what he wants me to do, isn’t it?”

      “Of course. It amuses him to watch you twist in a noose of your own making.”

      Jamie threw up her hands. “Or you could help me.”

      “I’m not getting between you and him. You started it, you can finish it. Or…it can finish you.”

      “Thank you. That’s very nice.”

      “I do try.” She nudged Jamie with her shoulder. “You’re up.”

      “Can’t I do something other than this?”

      “Do you want to earn the title of my champion or not?” Jamie did want that title—and the power that came with it—but these…these…performances were wearing on her last nerve.

      “Fine.” Jamie stood, staring ahead at the silver and black hall of the Dark Mothers, only the goddesses’ chosen warriors and mages ever allowed through the gates. As soon as Jamie’s feet had touched the marble floors, her naked body was wrapped in the garments of those she aligned herself with.

      For tonight, it was the leather and chainmail battle gear of the Celtic gods. She’d been trained by Boudica, the Queen of Iceni, herself and wore two swords strapped to her back. She could use them like she used her .380—at least here she could, on this metaphysical plane of existence. At home, she tended to hit herself in the head with those long mailing tubes they had in the hotel’s main office.

      Jamie cracked her knuckles and watched as the opposing champion bowed before the goddesses. “Anything I should know about this one?” she asked the goddess beside her.

      “He fights with fire.”

      Jamie faced her. “Huh?”

      “He fights with fire.” The Morrighan, the Celtic goddess of war, raised a brow. “That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

      “Again with the fire,” Jamie muttered to herself as she headed toward the battle pits. “I’m getting so tired of the fire.”

      Tully wondered how long he would have to sit here. He wasn’t much for sitting when he’d rather keep moving. And although it had only been five minutes or so, he was already getting restless. Then, the earth beneath his feet moved, like a hard jerk, and the circle set into the middle of the clearing that was empty, now had Jamie Meacham in it once again. She was naked and on all fours, her body covered in bruises and cuts, and she was coughing up…uh…fire.

      You know…it’s just not every day ya get to see a woman cough up fire.

      Terrified he was watching her die, Tully tore down the hill he’d been on, heading right toward