To Wrangle A Witch (Southern Sanctuary Book 3) (11 page)

It
was Declan who draped her in a soft quilt, wrapping his strong arms around her,
providing comfort and support.  Of course it was that exact moment that
Locke’s eyelids fluttered open.

He
blearily noted Nell hunched over his gut, then looked to the side noting
Hadleigh crouched there, scissors in her hand.  “Goddess…. tell me… you
didn’t?”

Hadleigh
rolled her eyes, she knew her brother too well.  “Shut up and rest, you
have over a hundred other suits.”

Turning
his head in the other direction Locke took in the sight of Serena sitting
there, Declan wrapped around her.  Typical, he was the one who got his
guts introduced to the outside world whilst saving the day by dusting a sucker
but Declan was the one to get the girl.  Could his day get any
worse? 

Of
course it could, as the room around him came into focus.  Goddess look at
all those streaks of mud and blood stains marring his formerly pristine light
wood floors.  And what was that on his cream sofa?  It looked like
the outline of a vampire imprinted in the fabric in black dust.  Shit,
he’d have to burn the sofa and rip up the floorboards or he’d never sleep well
again.  And all these people tracking muck and mud and Goddess knows what
through his house.  The pain of that knowledge was worse than the distant
drug hazed ache of his injuries.  Though surprisingly not as painful as
the fact that Serena had met and fallen for Declan’s charm and handsome
face. 

Damn,
he should have beat on that kid more when they were younger.  They were
grown-ups it wasn’t like he could take his cousin on now, given Declan carried
an enforcer sword full time.  Not that a sword would prove all that
effective against the tax audit he was going to dob his cousin in for. 
That would teach him to steal Locke Valhalla’s woman.  Oh Goddess, he’d
gone and done it, he’d fallen for the most elusive, frustrating, sexy woman
that ever danced over the Goddess’s green earth naked… whoops, his head began
to spin as the painkillers once more took hold… he meant skyclad.

Chapter
Fourteen

“What
are you doing here?”  Locke eyed the african violet with a mixture of
horror and gut deep relief.  Horror that his bedroom had been invaded by a
pot full of dirt and relief that if the plant was still here then Serena hadn’t
run off to join Declan’s harem of adoring followers. 

He
performed a quick check of his bedroom, other than the copious amount of
pillows he was laying on keeping him in a permanent upright lounging position
nothing else seemed to be out of place.  Whew, deep breath… ouch, shallow
breaths from here on in. 

Looking
down he tried to get a sense of how injured he was.  Hard to tell when a
thick white bandage encased your body from hips to heart.  Places deep
inside his gut itched and burned, damn, a couple of those punctures were bone
grazing deep by the uncomfortable feel of it.  He performed a quick visual
inspection, noting a couple of long scratches on his arms and scabbed over
puncture wounds around his wrists, all disappearing fast thanks to Nell’s
healing.
 
Someone had dressed him in
pyjama bottoms, knowing it was silly he still pulled back the waistband for a
quick check that all vital things were present and accounted for.  That
settled, he allowed himself to relax back onto the pillows. 

From
the amount of sunshine radiating in through the glass wall overlooking the
courtyard he would guess that he’d slept the night away, probably thanks to one
of Nell’s magic healing potions.  It would have been nice to stay lounging
in bed but his bladder and the nasty taste in the back of his mouth needed to
be dealt with immediately. 

Thank
the Goddess the pyjama bottoms were silk, it made the act of sliding to the
edge of the bed that little bit easier.  Though standing up involved a lot
of swearing and caused actual perspiration to dot his brow.  And to be
perfectly truthful - wasn’t he always - standing was probably exaggerating,
what he managed to achieve was more reminiscent of bells, churches and mobs
with pitchforks.  Though, thanks to his gut injuries he was just hunched
over rather than hunchbacked. 

Wincing
with every shuffled step he made it into the bathroom.  Leaning heavily on
the basin for support he brushed his teeth, washed his face and then
contemplated the joys of using the toilet.  Ouch, things inside him still
healing didn’t appreciate the experience but at least his bladder was no longer
trying to internally drown him.  By the time he’d finished in the bathroom
he was beginning to pant from the strain, even if his internal muscles had
loosened a little bit enabling him to stand now with only the slightest of
hunches.  Goddess he loved Nell and her healing ways.

Exiting
the bathroom he gave the bed a longing look but forced himself to keep moving
past the promised comfort with a grim determination, displaying the kind of
grit and strength he thought similar to those men who dragged themselves miles
for help on two broken legs in order to save their loved ones. 

Switching
on the overhead lights in his large custom built walk in wardrobe he took a
deep relieved breath.  Coiled tension in his neck and shoulders easing as
the smells of cedar, leather and wool teased his nostrils.  The sight of
his suits… his babies… his friends… lined up so perfectly on padded wooden
hangers bought a relieved smile to his face.  Before the reality of two
empty hangers and a glaring bare space in the floor to ceiling shoe rack caught
his notice. 

Damn,
three fallen comrades.  Gone before their time. 

One
in the rescue of Serena and the other two last night fighting the blood
vamps.  When was the last time he’d taken such a hit?  A few years
ago when a waiter had spilt an oily salad dressing on his Armani tuxedo jacket…
gone to the Goddess now… but not forgotten. 

It
might sound frivolous to some but these clothes and props were his tools, his
weapons.  Being a corporate warrior of truth was no walk in the
park.  To don the armour of three piece suits every day, wielding the
contents of his briefcase like a sword, his platinum credit card his shield, it
could be exhausting because the results were rarely instantaneous or
gratifyingly bloody and visible.  Not like when Hadleigh or his father
fought an enemy and held aloft a severed head for all the Sanctuary to witness
their victory… show-offs. 

Great,
maudlin much Valhalla?  He needed his phone and fast.  A quick call
to his personal shopper and all would be right in the world.   Well
that and Sek and Mot’s heads on a platter. 

“Where
do you think you’re going?”

Locke
turned fast, grabbing his gut as pain lanced through him.  Shallow breaths
and no sudden movements, check.  Serena was standing next to his bed,
dressed in a long sleeved V-neck sunshine yellow top, tight worn jeans, her
feet encased in sneakers.  His gaze instantly zeroed in on her
footwear.  Mainly because it was the first time he’d ever seen her wear
any.

“I
could ask you the same question?”  For that matter the top and the jeans
covered more of her flesh than the pink flannel pyjamas or the hospital prison
garb.  Suspicion had him shuffling forward fast and grabbing her wrist to
push back the sleeve of her top.

“Hey…
Locke.  What do you think you’re doing?”

Locke
studied her unblemished arm, eyeing the rest of her clothes.  “How badly
are you hurt?”

“Me?” 
She frowned shaking her head in bemusement before lifting a soft hand to rest
it against his forehead.  “Hmmm, you do feel a little warm.”

“You’re
not hurt?”

“Couple
of scrapes and a few shallow punctures.  Nothing some of Nell’s magical
green gloop couldn’t heal.  Unlike you.  Come on.”  She reached
around his waist.  “Let’s get you back into bed.”

This
close her scent enveloped him with teasing notes of violets, jasmine, geraniums
and honey.  Despite his many injuries and the low level pain dancing on
every nerve ending his cock still leapt to get Serena’s attention.  Well
he’d checked everything was where it should be, but still, it was reassuring to
know that everything was in working order. Lowering himself down on to the bed
he whipped the top sheet over his lap as he scooted back to rest against the
pillows.  Heaving a relieved sigh as his stomach muscles unclenched.

“I
made a cup of tea with some herbs Nell left for you.” 

It
was a joy to watch Serena stride around his room in those tight jeans of
hers.  Until her words sunk into his brainbox.  He stared in horror
at the cup she now held out towards him, the smell of rotted leaves and over
ripe flowers impacting his sinuses.  “I’ll pay you a million dollars to
tip it out and say that I drank it.”

“It
will help with the pain.”  She promised, pansy coloured eyes wide and
reassuring.

“Is
this payback for the green shake I made you drink on your first day here? 
If so, I’m sorry.”

Settling
onto the edge of his bed she smiled slowly, those bee stung lips rosy and pink
in the morning sunlight and distracting as hell as he found himself
unconsciously reaching out for the cup.  Wait, don’t get distracted by her
witchy ways. 

Serena
rolled her eyes.  “Don’t be a baby.  If it helps I added a slug of
whisky to it.”

Locke
huffed a defeated sigh, taking the tea.  “It doesn’t help but I appreciate
the thought.”  Staring down into the murky depths of the cup, he took a
deep breath and sculled the contents down.  Bah, by the Goddess that stuff
was horrible.  Handing back the teacup he contemplated Serena once
more.  “You’re really alright?”  Noting the dark circles under her
eyes and the faint white lines of tension pulling at the edges of her mouth.

“How
much do you remember about last night?”

Locke
frowned.  “Everything after dusting the vamp is kind of hazy.  Nell
came… and Hadleigh was there… and some of the Chippendales.”

“Chippendales? 
Huh… cute, they’d hate that.”

“I
know. As they say it’s the little things.  How’s Declan?  Is he alright?”

“Fine
as far as I know.  Nell insisted upon taking him home with her.  Drum
was not happy.  I had no idea the two of them were a couple.  He’s so
taciturn and she’s so sweet and elegant… I thought you and she made a much more
obvious couple.”

Locke
laughed, then groaned clutching his stomach.  “Nell and me?  We may
live in the country but we draw the line at dating our first cousins.”

Serena
smiled, faint pink colour in her cheeks.  “I didn’t know she was your
cousin until last night.  And it’s not like she wears a ring or anything.”

“The
marriage happened kind of whirlwind fast.  Drum didn’t want to wait for
the ring to be made.”

“And
thanks to my problems they don’t even get to have a honeymoon together.”

“They
did the honeymoon first, then the marriage… don’t beat yourself up about
it.  So who else is here?”

“Just
the two of us.  As soon as the sun came up Hadleigh and Vaughn left. 
Marcus thinks he may have found what the vamps were after at Maat Towers. 
If that’s the case Drum might be able to pinpoint their scent and track them
back to their lair and if they haven’t handed over Xander’s blood to Sek and
Mot… well.”

“We
might be able to get them off your case if they’re forced to go hunting for the
blood of a descendent for their ritual.”  Locke thought it through. 
“A short term solution at best but better than nothing.”

“Yes. 
Vaughn said he’d send some of the team back after sunset tonight to track the
vampire that got away.”

“Armless
escaped?”

“Armless?” 
Serena quirked a small smile.  “I wouldn’t get too attached to that
nickname. Hadleigh says that unless they lose their head they can regenerate
body parts.”

“Something
I could have lived without knowing.”

“Me
too.  There was no sign of him when Rafe and the flyboys searched. 
But he’s a paid assassin so Vaughn doesn’t think he’ll be far away.  In
the meantime I was thinking maybe the two of us could take a little trip
somewhere… somewhere really sunny until they catch him.”

“We’re
fine as long as we stay inside Serena.  And you’d be perfectly fine
outside during the day.”

Serena
glanced over towards the courtyard, a miserable expression on her beautiful
face as a delicate shudder ran through her frame; unconsciously she wrapped her
arms around her body protectively.

“What’s
wrong?”
 
Locke hated seeing that look on
her face.

“The
garden isn’t happy.  There’s a…. taint now, a blight… because of last
night.”

“A
taint?  In your garden?”  Locke’s jaw clenched.  It was bad
enough those parasites had invaded his property, his home, now they’d destroyed
Serena’s happy place?  That was completely unacceptable.  Sitting up
he flung back the sheet swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring
the pain.

“Locke! 
What are you doing?  You need to rest. Where are you going?”

“I
need to get dressed.”

“You’re
not well enough to suit up.”  She insisted, watching his bare shoulders
and silk clad buns disappear into the dressing room.  “Locke? …Locke?”